With his fortune, Barnes spent a good deal of time in Europe, where he developed a tremendous love for the impressionist and post-impressionist artists of the day.  Works by Renoir, Matisse, Cézannes, and many others became part of his growing collection.  He was far ahead of the curve in appreciation of these artists, and had a tremendous eye for the best pieces they produced.  After a few years Barnes decided to have a showing of these works, which took place in Philadelphia.

To his dismay, the showing was panned by the art community of Philadelphia, and in particular in the Philadelphia Enquirer.  The art was described as ugly, amateurish, and illegitimate.  The upper crust of Philadelphia society had, in effect, poked Barnes in the eye.  So, he took it upon himself to thumb his nose right back at them, and to do everything in his power to ensure that the city of Philadelphia and the artistic community there would never get their hands on his collection.

With that in mind, Barnes founded the Barnes Foundation, which designated its purpose as promoting the education and appreciation of fine arts.  In Marion, Pennsylvania – rather than in Philadelphia proper – Barnes built a large building for use as a school.  The entire collection was placed there, specifically displayed according to Barnes’ instructions (his unusual choices of how to group works from different cultures helps to show that art is universal).  And Barnes went a step further, using the best legal minds of the day to write an ironclad trust which would prevent the collection from ever leaving the walls of the building; they could not be sold, loaned, or disposed of in any way. Public access to the collection was permitted but was limited; the main purpose was for use in the classes taught at the Foundation.  When Barnes died in an automobile accident 1951, he felt he had left behind the Foundation in a state where those he despised – the Philadelphia Enquirer and the elite of Philadelphia – would forever be unable to acquire the collection they had so mercilessly criticized, but now so desperately wanted.

The rest of the film follows the legal and financial and political machinations of Philadelphia in their efforts to gain control of the collection, which (we are told early on) they eventually succeed at.  In many ways, the story seems a battle between personal property and freedom versus the “greater good,” and a collection which was initially regarded as worthless, and now is valued at over $25 billion dollars.  In the end, that seems to be the message: that when it comes right down to it, this isn’t about art, but about the control of a vast fortune.  Whichever side of the issue you might find yourself on, The Art of the Steal is a moving and powerful documentary.