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The Deer by Gustave Courbet

Gustave Courbet · 1865-01-01

This is *The Deer* by Gustave Courbet, painted in 1865 and now held by The Metropolitan Museum of Art. On the surface, it is a stark winter landscape, two deer in deep snow, observed with the unsentimental eye of a Realist who refused to idealize nature. But the painting has a second life: it was stolen twice.

Look at the central tree trunk splitting the composition, then find the second deer nearly lost in the shadow at right. Courbet loaded his brush to mimic wet snow clinging to bark, and used the rock's cast shadow as active camouflage for the animal. No footprints mar the foreground. This is a scene recorded, not invented.

During World War II, the painting was looted by the Nazis from a chateau in France, packed for shipment to Germany. Allied victory cut the transport short and the work was recovered. Then, decades later, a thief entered a public gallery and slipped the canvas from its frame, walking out with it under his coat. It was found and returned once more.

A quiet painting of deer in snow, but it has traveled further and seen more than anyone who stands before it in the gallery.

Details

A cold, unromantic winter. Pure Realism.
A cold, unromantic winter. Pure Realism.
By 1940, it hung in a French chateau. Then the Nazis arrived.
By 1940, it hung in a French chateau. Then the Nazis arrived.
They packed it up for shipment to Germany. The war ended first.
They packed it up for shipment to Germany. The war ended first.
Decades later, a thief sliced it from this frame in a public gallery.
Decades later, a thief sliced it from this frame in a public gallery.
The unbroken snow records no human footprint , Courbet asserts this is a scene observed, not staged, in a place undisturbed before the painter arrived
The unbroken snow records no human footprint , Courbet asserts this is a scene observed, not staged, in a place undisturbed before the painter arrived
Transcript

Gustave Courbet painted this in 1865. A cold, unromantic winter. Pure Realism. By 1940, it hung in a French chateau. Then the Nazis arrived. They packed it up for shipment to Germany. The war ended first. Decades later, a thief sliced it from this frame in a public gallery. He walked out with the canvas under his coat. No one noticed. The Met recovered it. Twice stolen, twice returned.