A $1 Million Painting Was Ruined After a Bored Security Guard Drew Eyes on Faceless Figures
There’s something about being alone with art that can stir your imagination — or, in one very unfortunate case, spark the worst kind of impulsive creativity. In 2022, at the Boris Yeltsin Presidential Center in Yekaterinburg, Russia, one man’s boredom during his first shift as a security guard made global headlines. Why? Because he took a pen — a basic, cheap ballpoint pen — and casually drew eyes onto two figures in a million-dollar painting. Just like that.
The painting was called Three Figures — a piece by Soviet avant-garde artist Anna Leporskaya, painted between 1932 and 1934. It was subtle, modern, intentionally faceless. That was the whole point of the composition. The forms were stripped-down, abstract, intentionally lacking emotion, meant to represent something beyond individuality. But apparently, that message didn’t land with the man on duty that day. His reasoning was almost laughable in its simplicity: he was bored.
That’s it. No great protest. No viral challenge. No political act or artistic rebellion. He was simply bored and decided the painting looked like it “needed” eyes. And in a matter of seconds, he defaced a piece that had survived nearly a century.
The damage wasn’t even caught right away. It took visitors strolling through the gallery to notice the freshly inked pupils staring back at them — awkward, misplaced, utterly out of place on the otherwise blank faces. It looked like a meme. Like someone had used Microsoft Paint on a screenshot. But this wasn’t a joke. This was a real canvas, a real piece of history, now permanently altered because of a single careless moment.
Once reported, the response was swift. The gallery staff acted immediately. The security guard, whose name wasn’t initially released, was fired on the spot. The Russian Ministry of Culture launched an investigation. And within days, the man was charged with vandalism — a crime that may sound dramatic, but in the world of art, it’s entirely fitting. He later received a sentence of 180 hours of community service and was ordered to undergo a psychological evaluation. Many online felt that was surprisingly light, considering the value and heritage of the painting.
But here’s where things get stranger. The painting had been on loan from the State Tretyakov Gallery, one of Russia’s most important art museums. It had insurance coverage of nearly $1 million. Art conservators were called in to assess whether the pen marks could be removed without further damaging the original paint. Luckily, early reports suggested the ink hadn’t deeply penetrated the canvas, and there was some hope that professional restoration could salvage it. Still, once a work of art has been touched — especially like this — it’s never quite the same again.
The story took off online like wildfire. People joked that it was the “worst art edit ever.” Memes popped up with people drawing googly eyes on other famous works — the Mona Lisa, the Scream, even classical sculptures. TikTok creators reenacted the moment with exaggerated disbelief. The internet does what the internet always does: it turned the bizarre into a circus.
But beneath the humor was a real conversation. About respect for art. About training for museum staff. About how boredom — in the wrong context — can become costly. About how fragile even the most well-guarded pieces of our history actually are.
For some, it was a reminder that we’re still not great at balancing modern staffing with the responsibility of cultural preservation. Museums often rely on outsourced private security, and this incident raised questions about background checks, orientation, and how guards are trained to interact with valuable works. Was it fair to put someone on their first day alone with art that valuable? Maybe not. But no one expected that kind of reaction.
Others asked how the painting could have been so easily defaced in the first place. Why wasn’t it behind glass? Why wasn’t there a stricter barrier? The truth is, in many galleries, art isn’t encased. Part of the experience is being able to see the brushstrokes, the texture, the raw presence of the piece. But that trust relies on a shared respect — and that’s what broke down here.
And perhaps the saddest part is what it means for Leporskaya’s legacy. She was part of a male-dominated era in Soviet art and held her own with a distinct style that prioritized form and emotion in a unique, understated way. Three Figures was one of her standout contributions — a quiet, thought-provoking work that asked the viewer to sit in discomfort, to imagine beyond the features. And now, that silence has been interrupted by a ballpoint pen.
It’s one thing to deface property. It’s another to rewrite history. What the guard did wasn’t just draw eyes — he rewrote part of an artist’s voice. Maybe unintentionally, but the effect is the same. Something sacred was tampered with.
Still, the story ends with a lesson. Restoration teams are doing their best to bring the piece back to its original form. The museum has updated its security procedures. And the art world — as always — moves forward, remembering the absurd alongside the profound.
Because art, like life, is vulnerable. And sometimes, even the smallest, dumbest mistake can leave a mark you never meant to make.