Art captures, seduces, obsesses. It breaks the heart. And screams. He knew it, so much so that he stole it. He was born in Oslo, but he didn’t come from high society, in fact he grew up in the infamous neighborhood of Tveita, he was part of Jan Kvalen’s gang that collected money on behalf of loan sharks, at 19 he ended up in Ullersmo prison (where Zaniar Matapour is now locked up, sentenced to 30 years for the attack in Oslo in 2022). Pål Enger played football for Vålerenga, not as well as Erling Haaland, current striker for Manchester City and the Norwegian national team, but he got by. In the world he is known as a footballer by day and an art thief by night. And yes because Enger is the man who stole Edvard Munch’s The Scream. Just to make you change your mind about the ignorance of footballers.
Many have associated Marco Tardelli’s (liberating) scream in the 1982 World Cup final between Italy and Germany with the (anguished) scream, symbol of the neurosis of modern man, by the Norwegian painter. Enger had always been obsessed with it since he saw it for the first time as a boy on a school trip. “The terrible and speechless anxiety on his face, the hands over his ears reminded me of how my violent stepfather made me feel. I thought I wasn’t the only one. For years I went back to look at the painting at least twice a week.” That figure spoke to him. You know, when you’re young you choose paths, without being sure which one is really yours, to understand you have to experiment. And sport lends itself to being a guinea pig.
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Pål played in midfield, was a promising player for Vålerenga, made one appearance in the UEFA Cup (a few minutes). A versatile talent, on the pitch during the day beating opponents, running away from the police at night. He emptied shops, jewelry stores, and government offices. “Always when there was no one there, never in private homes, never sold drugs or used physical violence, even though many of the gang members were drug addicts.” A gentleman thief. But also narcissistic and vain: he bought himself a Porsche (“Mine was the only one in Oslo”), he loved girls, yachts and the good life: “I was Beckham before him, in my neighborhood everyone came to see me while I washed the car.” He scored few goals as a footballer, and not even many stolen balls (from opponents, mind you), but he pulled off a sensational coup on February 12, 1994. That day was not a normal day in Norway, the opening ceremony of the Winter Olympics was scheduled in Lillehammer and all the police forces were busy guarding the Games. Enger and an accomplice drove up to the National Gallery in Oslo in a van, left the engine running, one climbed the wall with a ladder, entered through a window on the second floor, and took down The Scream. In 50 seconds. In its place a note: “Thank you for the poor security”.
The police waited for a ransom demand. Who was crazy enough to steal a very famous and impossible-to-sell work? Not Enger, who put it between two glass panes inside his dining table and hid it there. “I wanted to enjoy it at home, every now and then I took it out and looked at it.” Munch had made four versions of the painting between 1893 and 1910. In 2012, the pastel version was sold at auction for 120 million dollars, which today in 2024 with inflation is equivalent to over 247 million.
You may ask, but was it so difficult to include Pål in the list of usual suspects? No, not at all, he leaves traces: he is caught on camera because that same day he had visited the museum, stolen a postcard depicting drunks, had a drink at the bar and left it there, writing: “I don’t think there’s much surveillance”. Not content with that, he had an ad placed in the newspaper Dagbladet to announce the birth of his son: “He arrived with a scream”. Very funny. The Norwegian police asked for the help of Charles Hill, a detective from Scotland Yard who specializes in art thefts, who devised a plan: pretend to be a representative of the Paul Getty Museum under the false name of Charley Roberts and book a room in the most expensive hotel in Oslo. Unfortunately, the local police forgot to mention that the annual Scandinavian conference on drug trafficking was being held in the same hotel, not the best place to invite thieves for a deal. The chain of contacts went wide: there was someone who knew someone else who in turn would talk to others. After three months the thieves brought a package wrapped in a blue sheet and placed it on the dining room table of a vacation home. It was The Scream. Enger ended up in jail, sentenced to six years and three months, only him, the other three could not be charged because the police had used false identities.
In December 2015 he was back in prison for stealing 17 paintings from the Fineart gallery in the centre of Oslo. Twelve were by Hariton Pushwagner, a Norwegian pop artist, former tennis champion in 1955, a drug addict, an alcoholic, a vagabond, another who has suffered and who screams in his own way. Enger admits the theft, also because he forgot his wallet and identity card in a space in the gallery. His passion for football faded, but not for art, on the contrary. In prison he started painting: animals, vehicles and then abstract figures. It wasn’t bad, critics say, so much so that he also exhibited in some shows. It turns out that his first theft wasn’t The Scream but another masterpiece by Munch, Love and Sorrow, also called The Vampire (a woman kissing a man on the neck). What could Pål do, he liked that anguish, that pain of living, that torment. And as a great expert he only dedicated himself to valuable works. There is a documentary about him (The man who stole the Scream) where he reveals a sense of irony and a vision of the game even off the pitch: «When in 1988 I heard Juan Antonio Samaranch, president of the IOC, announce the choice of Lillehammer, I decided it would be a good time to steal Munch. I was under arrest at the time and so from prison I ordered some books to become an expert window burglar. Among other things, I hid Love and Pain in a bar frequented by policemen, in the billiard room, when they came out I took it out and looked at it». Munch spoke to Enger’s senses, he knew that violence: «When I broke the frame I felt a very strong shiver, I would have sent it back to the sender after a few years, I didn’t want it with me forever». In 2022 the mother of one of his four children (had by women of different nationalities) was killed. «His loss has greatly distressed me».
Pål Enger died on June 29 at the age of 57. His former team, Vålerenga, remembered him with respect and affection: “He wasn’t the best footballer in the world, he was better as a thief, that’s why he chose a career as a criminal.” In short, go where you can score the most beautiful goal and feel proud of a job well done. Although he was keen to say that he had understood not only Munch, but also sport: “What I liked was the challenge.” Amazing.
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– 2024-08-06 10:23:12
