The Backstory
Born in Baumgarten, Austria, just outside of Vienna, Gustav Klimt (1862-1918) was a prominent symbolist painter and one of the founders of the Vienna Secession movement. He was instrumental in introducing modern art to Vienna and was renowned for his profound influence on the Art Nouveau style. His art included famous paintings such as The Kiss, Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, Lady with Fan, and many other iconic portraits of women, which challenged the boundaries of art at the time, with its symbolic and allegorical content.
Members of the Vienna Secession in 1902: From left to right: Anton Nowak, Gustav Klimt (seated in chair), Koloman Moser (in front of Klimt with hat) Adolf Böhm, Maximilian Lenz (reclining), Ernst Stöhr (with hat), Wilhelm List, Emil Orlik (seated), Maximilian Kurzweil (with cap), Leopold Stolba, Carl Moll (reclining), Rudolf Bacher.
Known for his sensual and ornate style (often depicting the female body with an eroticism that stirred controversy), his art provoked both public praise and outrage, making him one of the most prominent and controversial artists of the early 20th century. Yet despite his renown, Klimt remained a private individual, leading to a persona shrouded in mystery.
Not unlike Gustav Klimt’s own disposition, one of his paintings in particular, also captivated audiences with its expressive style and mysterious, dramatic history that reads like a whodunit.
The Creation
Completed during the later years of Klimt's life, Portrait of a Lady (1916-1917) was a clear departure from his earlier “Golden Phase,” famously characterized by the use of gold leaf and intricate patterns. Here instead, Portrait of a Lady features a style more likened to Expressionism, abandoning detail for hasty brushstrokes.
In 1925 oil painting Portrait of a Lady was acquired by Giuseppe Ricci Oddi, a local jurist and art collector in Piacenza, Italy (1). The painting was initially hung in the billiard room of the family home (2) before it was moved to the gallery (3) in 1931 to become part of a collection of foreign art at the Ricci Oddi Gallery of Modern Art (4).
The Discovery
For the next 65 years, there the portrait sat leading a quiet existence until, in 1996, an 18-year-old high school student made a startling discovery. Claudia Maga, a student at the Experimental Artistic High School in Piacenza, was assigned a research study on female portraits exhibited at the Ricci Oddi Modern Art Gallery.
While leafing through an old volume of the Rizzoli Classics of Art (shown at left), she came across a photo of a missing earlier portrait that bore a striking resemblance to Portrait of a Lady. The original painting was in fact titled Portrait of a Young Lady (also known as Portrait of a Girl) which had been considered lost—last seen in Dresden, Germany in 1912.
Intrigued by the likeness of the two paintings, she dug a little deeper. Not only did she discover that both paintings had the same exact dimensions (60 x 55 cm), but that tracing the lady’s figure matched it’s counterpart exactly!
Could these two paintings be one and the same?! Brimming with excitement at the possibility of a double painting, Claudia took her findings to the Ricci Oddi Modern Art Gallery’s former director, persuading him to have Portrait of a Lady X-rayed, thereby proving her theory.
Enthralled by the idea, the former director was immediately on board. A few weeks later they both traveled to the gallery, extracted the painting from its frame and proceeded to the local hospital where, as anticipated, an X-ray analysis confirmed her theory! Faint outlines of an earlier painting were exposed, hinting at the “missing” Portrait of a Young Lady hidden underneath.
As the news emerged of Klimt’s missing painting now having been discovered, the city of Piacenza was buzzing with excitement. A special exhibition was organized to display the painting in a new location near the city hall.
With such an incredible story now added to the painting’s provenance, the value of Portrait of a Lady had dramatically increased overnight—some suggesting a figure just south of $100 million.
The Disappearance
As the exhibition was being organized to reintroduce the newly-discovered double-portrait to the city, the Ricci Oddi Modern Art Gallery itself also underwent renovations, prompting the packing and storing of numerous artworks. Amidst the hustle of workers arriving and departing, the unthinkable happened—the painting went missing!
At first, the disappearance of the painting went unnoticed. Gallery staff believed it had been intentionally taken down as part of the arrangements for the upcoming exhibition. That, unfortunately, was not the case. The painting was stolen, with its discarded frame found on the gallery roof, suggesting an escape route that seemed implausible due to the small size of the adjacent skylight.
Its disappearance sparked numerous theories, including the possibility of an inside job. Despite efforts from law enforcement, the leads dried up and the case went cold.
And for over two decades, the whereabouts of Portrait of a Lady remained one of the art world's most perplexing mysteries.
The Rediscovery
The saga took an astonishing turn on December 10, 2019 when gardeners working on the gallery estate discovered the painting concealed wrapped in a plastic bag within the external walls of the gallery itself. Hidden behind a metal panel and covered by ivy, the artwork had somehow remained undetected for 22 years.
Following the portraits retrieval, experts conducted a comprehensive analysis to verify its authenticity. In January 2020, the painting was officially recognized as the original Portrait of a Lady, much to the relief and joy of the art world.
The Enigmatic Lady
To this day, the subject of the painting remains a mystery. There are as many theories as to her identity as there are love affairs connected to the artist. And the rogues' gallery reads as follows:
Some believe it is Consuela Camilla Huber (1896–1978), a young model who later gave Klimt three children; while others believe it is Ria Munk (1887-1911), a woman from a prominent Viennese family who tragically committed suicide after a called-off engagement by her fiancé. The predominant theory however, is that she is simply an unknown secret lover.
By a simple image comparison, Huber and Munk never struck me as a fair likeness to the portrait. And “unknown secret lovers” are a clear dead end. Considering the lack of documentation and abundance of deceased witnesses, it could be next to impossible to identify the woman with certainty. Perhaps it is a question of the ages not meant to be answered…? And who doesn’t love a good mystery?!
Nevertheless, for my own closure I had to keep digging for an answer—one that (fact or fiction) at least made sense to me. And so I dug; rifling through the digital “filing cabinets” for an image, painting, note, diary—anything!
And then the penny dropped! One article, out of hundreds, mentioned a name in passing that it could've been—a name that surely thickened the plot! And that name was Alma Mahler.
Born Alma Maria Schindler (1879-1964) in Vienna, Alma was celebrated not only as a multi-talented Austrian composer, author, editor, and socialite, but also for her striking beauty. Described as "the most beautiful girl in Vienna," her beauty was such that it became almost legendary in the artistic circles of Vienna, drawing the attention of many prominent figures of the time, including the likes of Gustav Klimt.
Klimt first met the 17-year old Alma through Carl Moll, who was not only Alma's stepfather but a co-founder of the Vienna Secession, the same group Klimt had helped establish. This connection through her stepfather provided Alma with access to the Vienna’s vibrant artistic community, where she encountered numerous influential artists and intellectuals.
Klimt became enamored of Alma for her beauty and intellect. Alma, in turn, found herself drawn to the renowned artist, known for his salacious behavior and charm, and developed feelings for him. One such early passage from her diary reads:
“Gustav Klimt entered my life as my first great love, but I was an innocent child, totally absorbed in my music and far removed from life in the real world. The more I suffered from this love, the more I sank into my own music, and so my unhappiness became a source of my greatest bliss.” — Alma Mahler, 1899
Klimt pursued Alma as far as Italy while the family was a holiday trip. There, Klimt and Alma met in secret and she pledged everlasting loyalty to him. It was during this trip that Klimt caught her alone and kissed—the first time in her life that she had ever kissed a man. Alma's mother and stepfather learned of the flirtation, which caused significant tension with Moll, and quickly intervened. The confrontation resulted in Klimt’s departure and vow to stay away from Alma thereafter.
Although, their relationship did not develop into a lasting romance, they remained friends over the years—a friendship facilitated by their mutual connections within Vienna's artistic circle of friends. One such mutual friend, Dora Kallmus (1881-1963), a renowned Austrian fashion and portrait photographer, had in fact organized a rare photoshoot of Gustav Klimt in 1908. Subsequently, Dora also captured images of Alma Mahler (Exhibit A) and Klimt’s lifelong friend, Emilie Flöge, just months later in February 1909.
I would now like to introduce Exhibit A (bottom image) as evidence:
Yes, there is a clear difference in age, figure and demeanor compared to the painting. Here, we see an older, voluptuous Mahler who exudes confidence and embodies the femme fatale for which she was renowned. Conversely, the painting portrays a younger, innocent, and less experienced Alma—perhaps a version of Alma Mahler Klimt might have preferred and clung to in memory.
Knowing that Klimt often painted his portraits from photographs, there is an undeniable similarity in the composition, attire, wide-brimmed hat, hair, facial features are all… down to the last beauty mark!
As for the time of events, these also align perfectly. The photo of Alma Mahler shown above was taken in February 1909. The photographer, Dora Kallmus, regularly had her photos published in magazines while living in Vienna. That Klimt would have seen this photo, in passing or within their shared circle of friends, is almost a certainty. The original Portrait of a Girl was then completed just months later, circa 1910.
I’ll leave you with one final detail that piqued my interest—it was a German title given to Alma’s photo above. Whether or not this title originated from Dora Kallmus, could not be determined. And the title read, “Ach, Klimt! Warum haben Sie nicht ihr Porträt malen?” which translates to: “Oh, Klimt! Why didn’t you paint her portrait?”
So the story concludes with a classic tale of forbidden love.
Case closed (at least for me)! 😉