The DePaul College of Law was treated to an engaging
discussion during the lunch hour on October 17th. ELS sponsored a moderated career panel
featuring attorneys working in the fields of environmental law, conservation,
and policy. Students were joined
by Evan McGinley from the Illinois Attorney General’s Office, Stacy Meyers of
Openlands, and Steve Kaiser and Gary Steinbauer with the U.S. EPA. The
attorneys provided thoughtful comments about what courses, experiences, and skills
are valuable in preparing students for careers in environmental law and beyond. Our panelists were kind enough to pose for a photograph with ELS President Brandon Clark following the successful event.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Monday, October 1, 2012
What’s the difference between $0 and $65 million?
Apparently, a bald eagle. Robert Rauschenberg’s
painting, Canyon, is ruffling some major feathers in the Art,
Environmental, and Tax legal world. Why? Because the art at issue, a
sculptural combine, includes a stuffed bald eagle: a bird under
federal protection.
Illena Sonnabend’s heirs inherited
Rauschenberg’s Canyon along with the rest of her estate in
2002. In most cases, inheriting a Rauschenberg would equivocate to
winning the lottery. However, the problem is that Canyon can
never be sold since it contains a stuffed bald eagle, a violation of
the country’s 1940 Bald and Golden Eagle Protection Act as well as
the 1918 Migratory Bird Treaty Act. The law provides criminal
penalties for persons who possess,
sell, purchase, barter, transport, import or export any bald eagle—alive or dead—according to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife
Service website.
Canyon first caught the
attention of the Fish and Wildlife Service agents in 1981, when it
reentered the U.S. through customs after a European tour. As a
result, Sonnabend applied for and received a special permit to retain
possession of the bird carcass mounted on canvas. Later, in 1998, the
Sonnabend Gallery encountered new resistance. The Department of
Interior officials notified the gallery that it would have to relinquish
the carcass to U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service or donate the piece to
a nonprofit museum, unless it could prove that the carcass was taken from
the wild prior to 1940, when the Bald Eagle Protection Act was
enacted.
To settle the matter, Rauschenberg
himself swore before a notary-public that the eagle was old enough to
be legal, explaining the eagle had belonged to a member of Teddy
Roosevelt’s Rough Riders, who had taxidermed the bird prior to
1940. After his death in 1959, the family had tossed the unwanted
carcass in the garbage. The artist then came within possession when a
friend retrieved it from the trash and offered it to Rauschenberg.
Since federal statutes prohibit any
traffic of bald eagles or their remains, the art cannot legally be
sold. For this reason, three qualified appraisers, including
Christie’s, have valued the unsalable work at “zero” for
estate-tax purposes. However, the IRS Art Advisory Panel disagrees and is demanding Sonnabend’s heirs must pay another $29.2
million in taxes, as well as a related penalty of $11.7 million,
maintaining that the heirs inaccurately stated the piece’s value.
The original IRS estimation contained a suggested valuation of
$15 million. But after refusing to pay, the Sonnabend estate received a
formal Notice of Deficiency that increased Canyon’s value to
$65 million. Ironically, due to the Federal law, this value is
entirely hypothetical: normally, market price will determine the
value of art, but Sonnabend’s heirs cannot sell Canyon
without facing criminal penalties. Yet, the IRS justifies this
number, arguing that the painting has potential value on the black
market. To put the piece into market perspective, the top price ever
paid for a Rauschenberg at auction is $14.6 million, which sold at
Sotheby’s in 2008. The heirs are currently contesting the Notice.
The work currently hangs in the
20th-century galleries at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where it
remains on long-term loan. Sonnabend’s original collection, left to
her heirs, was valued around $1 billion; they have already sold off
about $600 million of art to cover the cost of taxes.
This isn’t the only circumstance
in which these statutes have allowed for little to no reasonable
excuse. A decade ago, Lawrence M. Small, secretary of Smithsonian
Institute, allowed magazines to photograph his collection of
Amazonian tribal art, much of which was made of feathers of protected
rain-forest birds. The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service soon began an
investigation, which lead to Small pleading guilty to federal
misdemeanor violations under the Migratory Bird Treaty Act.
The IRS policy has been unwavering
over the years, so it’s certainly possible, however unfair it may
seem, that the Sonnabend heirs will have to pay this tax and penalty.
Yet, it is circumstances like these in which public policy may
demand that the law consider its potential effect on individual lives
in order to adjust to a more fair and workable standard.
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