Prologue
James Kaur is on the museum’s permanent staff and security is his responsibility. The video cameras throughout the museum are permanently fixed, but traveling exhibits require repositioning the camera heads and additional considerations. He has spent a long day working on video surveillance and is ready to go home to his family.
Masters of the Italian Renaissance is a complex exhibit. It will be a late-spring showpiece for the museum, but its many set pieces, display cases, and specialized lighting have made security more difficult than usual.
Mr. Kaur is still not sure about the tableau in the north gallery, closest to the restrooms. The layout of this portion of the exhibit features an imposing portrait of a Venetian gentlewoman and her dog. The woman is looking straight out at the visitor. The dog, however, is looking down, perhaps at something on the ground. The art director for the exhibit has specified a display case beneath and to the left of the painting. It’s in line with the dog’s gaze and draws the visitors’ attention from the large painting down to the details of the showcase. The case contains objects from the Renaissance woman’s personal belongings. The overall effect is quite dramatic.
The lighting for the room is focused on the large portrait. It’s one of the most valuable pieces of the exhibit. The video surveillance for the room also focuses on the painting and is angled to pick up people who approach it or withdraw from it.
Mr. Kaur is troubled because the display case doesn’t really show up in the camera feed. The case provides illumination for the objects within it, but lighting was not designed for its exterior. On video, you can barely see the side of the case. Even then, it’s poorly lit. He could add an additional camera. It would require rewiring for proper placement, but it could be done.
Mr. Kaur removes his glasses and rubs his eyes. Recalibrating the video feeds has given him a headache. He’s inclined to let things be the way they are. It’s a small display case. The Italians didn’t specify any particular security for it.
He puts on his coat and prepares to leave.
On his way out, he walks through the exhibit. He takes pride in his work and is pleased with the results. Masters of the Italian Renaissance looks wonderful and meets all the security standards that the museum and its insurance provider require.
As he passes the doorway to the north gallery, he notices the portrait of the woman and her dog. The woman’s gaze catches his eye, and he enters the room. Her stare is commanding, and Mr. Kaur is drawn farther into the gallery. The placard in front of the painting reads: Paolo Veronese (Paolo Caliari), Portrait of Veronica Conti, Venice, 1570.
She’s a stout figure with one hand resting at her hip. Mr. Kaur wonders what she would think of the exhibit. Could she have imagined strangers looking at her, centuries after her death? Perhaps that’s exactly what she planned by having commissioned the portrait: a form of immortality.
She stares straight at Mr. Kaur with an imperial gaze.
On the left side of the portrait is the subject’s dressing table. It’s covered with a variety of personal items: a set of combs, a perfume bottle, a hand mirror, and some jewelry, including a broken bronze talisman.
On the right side of the painting is the dog. Mr. Kaur follows its gaze down to the display case. He sighs. The security is not perfect, but it will have to do.
He looks into the case and sees a variety of small items that once belonged to the Venetian. Suddenly, he realizes, These are the actual items from the painting. Her personal items have been preserved down through the centuries. He frowns. One of them has shifted out of its stand. It’s the broken talisman depicted in the painting. The placard for the item reads: Roman Bronze Talisman. Pompeii. Early Imperial Period, 1st Century BC. Apparently, the Venetian gentlewoman herself collected ancient pieces of art.
He fishes a set of keys out of his pocket and spends a minute searching for the correct one. He disables the alarm wire, opens the case, and places the talisman back on its small stand. It’s heavy for its size, likely solid bronze. Where broken, its edges are sharp.
Mr. Kaur looks up at the portrait, but from this angle, the gentlewoman is looking over his shoulder. The dog is now staring directly at him. Without relocking the case or enabling the alarm, he stands back to review his work. It’s been quite a long day, and he’s glad to be going home. All is well. All is safe. Mr. Kaur is smiling.
Above, and to his right, the small dog appears to be smiling right back at him.