Residents of Fitzrovia have been left scratching their heads—and clutching tiny scraps of painted canvas—after an anonymous gift-giver, dubbed “Monet Santa,” began handing out small pieces of what appears to be a genuine Claude Monet painting to unsuspecting passersby.
Over the past week, reports have emerged of people encountering a figure cloaked in a long, woolen coat, with a hat pulled low over their eyes, quietly pressing a tiny, torn rectangle of impressionist art into their hands before uttering the cryptic words, “Have a merry Fitzrovia Christmas.”
“It’s surreal,” said Martha Plum, who received a fragment showing what she believes is part of a water lily. “One moment I was buying a flat white on Charlotte Street, and the next, this mysterious figure hands me a bit of what I’m fairly certain is a Monet. What am I supposed to do with it? Frame it? Sell it? Take it to the Tate?”
Experts at the Fitzrovia Art Academy are already weighing in on the puzzle. Dr. Horace Dapple, a specialist in 19th-century French painting, has examined several of the fragments and believes they are authentic—or at least very convincing forgeries. “The brushwork is unmistakable. We believe the pieces may come from a lesser-known Monet, Dawn Over Rouen, which has been missing since 1953. However, we cannot confirm without seeing the entire canvas—or what’s left of it.”
Each scrap has been carefully torn, rather than cut, leading some to believe that the act is symbolic. “This could be a commentary on the commodification of art,” speculated gallerist Tabitha Chisel of the prestigious Fitzroy Street Gallery. “Monet’s works sell for tens of millions, but here we have an anonymous benefactor redistributing a masterpiece to the masses, one fragment at a time. It’s radical. It’s subversive. It’s very Fitzrovia.”
Others, however, see less noble intentions. Inspector Nigel Toff of the Fitzrovia Police suspects the “Monet Santa” may be linked to the art heist community. “If this really is a Monet, it’s possible the canvas was stolen and is now being ‘disposed of’ in pieces to make tracing it impossible. It’s quite a clever way to muddy the provenance.”
Despite the mystery, the streets of Fitzrovia have been abuzz with excitement. Social media is awash with posts under the hashtag #MonetSanta, as recipients compare their scraps to piece together the full painting. A group of Fitzrovia art enthusiasts has even set up a “Monet Reconstruction HQ” in a café on Percy Street, where they’ve started pinning the fragments to a corkboard in the hope of assembling the canvas like a jigsaw puzzle.
“I think I’ve got part of a sunset,” said Douglas Crimp, who received a piece while walking his dachshund on Rathbone Place. “But it could just be a bit of pond scum. It’s hard to tell with Impressionism.”
Meanwhile, theories about Monet Santa’s identity are swirling. Some believe they might be a disgruntled art restorer exacting revenge on the elitist art world. Others think they’re a rogue performance artist staging a statement on the nature of ownership and value. And a particularly festive faction of Fitzrovians are convinced it’s just a very wealthy eccentric trying to spread Christmas cheer.
“Whoever they are, they’ve made Christmas in Fitzrovia a little more magical,” said local florist Ivy Whistle. “I don’t know if my fragment is worth millions or just the price of a latte, but it’s certainly made me think about art—and generosity—in a whole new way.”
Until the mystery is solved, Fitzrovians are keeping their eyes peeled for the cloaked figure with the Monet scraps. Some are even hanging around art galleries and antique shops in the hope of being gifted a piece of the masterpiece.
“Whoever you are, Monet Santa,” said Ivy, holding up her tiny canvas scrap, “thank you—and merry Fitzrovia Christmas to you too.”
