Part II: How Love Turns People into Art Thieves: The Psychology Behind Infamous Heists
- sasharpe
- Oct 31
- 3 min read
Updated: 6 days ago
Part II: Protection—The Robin Hood of the Art World
(Read Part I here.)
In sharp contrast to the obsessive art collectors Stéphane Breitwieser and Ann-Catherine, John Quentin Feller was a respected American professor and a widely published scholar of Chinese porcelains. When I read about the sad life and crimes of this distinguished professor, I could feel the sting of tears welling up in my eyes.
Professor Feller began to steal in 1972 when he discovered a cache of nearly 30,000 pieces of antique porcelain in the basement of the Wadsworth Atheneum in Hartford. He was horrified to find thousands of what he called the "van Goghs of the porcelain field" covered with dust and ignored.
When Passion for Art Turns to Theft
Driven to protect these priceless artworks, he stole as many as he could fit in his camera bag and donated them to Harvard’s Peabody Museum. There, the neglected works were protected, cared for, and put on prominent display.
The International Foundation for Art Research dubbed Professor Feller “a Robin Hood of the arts” because he frequently stole from one museum or private collection and lent or donated the spoils to another. It should be noted that Feller could carry on this kind of unique thieving because many museums do not keep track of the artworks stored in their often crammed, disorganized basements.
Also, typically, museums do not ask a donor where the donated work(s) came from, especially a donor with status and impeccable credentials like those of Dr. Feller. In addition, authentication of the donated works is often slack because the museum doesn’t really want to find out if the donated artwork is a forgery.
Humiliating important donors is a certain way for museums to lose their critical financial supporters.
Feller’s unusual “protective” motivation is clearly revealed when he told a friend that he thought of the porcelains he knew about in dusty storage in certain museums as "orphaned and abused children, rejected and outcast by their parents."
When Feller, in tears, began to report the details of an 18-year criminal career, he recounted stealing more than 100 precious objects from 8 museums in the United States and England, making him one of the biggest art thieves of the century. Unlike many thieves who are drawn to crime by the risk and excitement of breaking the law, Feller got no thrill from stealing.
The Robin Hood Reputation
"Each time I took something, I was terrified," he said and vowed to reform. (William H. Honan, New York Times, 1991 & Gerald Stiebel, Missives from the Art World.)
An examining psychiatrist concluded that Professor Feller suffered from "an appalling poverty of interpersonal relationships" and therefore found in what he stole "surrogate objects to love, admire and take care of." The fact that the professor restored some of the pieces he stole, rarely sold them, and never claimed a tax deduction for his gifts lent weight to this interpretation.
Many found it difficult to hate or punish this lonely, cultivated man who stole because he loved and wanted to protect art. However, the professor felt very guilty and pleaded guilty. “His crimes were so unlike every other aspect of his life,” Feller reported, “he could not exclude the possibility of demonic possession,” even though he was not superstitious.
A Life of Contradictions and Compassion
Dr. Feller was sentenced to 18 months in prison and a $30,000 fine. I’ve not been able to find out if he went back to thieving when he got out of prison. In order to give up his preoccupation with the welfare of porcelain and ceramics and saving them, I’d think he would need therapy and to develop richer human relationships.
A devout Catholic, he sought counseling with a priest and became active in the community, playing a significant role in several organizations. He died at 84 in March of this year, 2025, a respected, well-liked professor at the University of Scranton, an internationally esteemed historian, and a community activist.
Chances are, he’d built up enough warm-blooded connections that he could stop seeking abused ceramics to steal and save. Despite being an art thief, John Feller was otherwise a good man.
What do you think of Dr. Feller? I'd love to hear from you!
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Find out more about my novel, 𝘼𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙨𝙩, 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧, 𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙚𝙧, 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙚𝙛: 𝘼 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙊'𝘿𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝘼𝙧𝙩 𝘾𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙉𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡!
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