“Manifesting” Truth, Goodness, and Beauty: Kaplan’s Voyage Through Art and Fortune
March 2025, FT Chinese Columnist Fanyu Lin
He owns the world’s largest private collection of Rembrandt’s works. And he wonders:
What if the most universal artist of all time, Rembrandt, could once again shape the world centuries after his death?
What if the masterpieces he collected were not private treasures, but vessels of fortune, forces of diplomacy, and an offering to the world?
Dr. Thomas S. Kaplan is a visionary investor, a philanthropist, and an evangelist for the power of art. He did not set out to be a collector; he set out to restore a legacy. In this installment of the Global Leadership Conversation series, we explored not only the extraordinary journey that led him here and the future he sees as inevitable for art itself.
Portrait of Dr. Thomas Kaplan in front of the calligraphic artwork 观远 (Vision Beyond). Photo by Jing Ya
This is a story of collecting art, recognizing cycles, seizing opportunities—and, ultimately, of what truly endures in the human heart.
A Historian’s Blessing from La Fortuna
“I think that when I look at my career, when I look at collecting, when I look at our philanthropic pursuits, there is a common denominator in what I call the presence of La Fortuna.” Tom reflected with great respect and metaphysical certitude.
The Roman goddess of chance, luck, fortune, and fate La Fortuna is always at play, weaving together moments of destiny with moments of opportunity. Tom never imagined he would become an art collector. At Oxford University, he trained as a historian, studying the rise and fall of civilizations, the ebb and flow of power, and the forces that shape history. He might have spent his life in academia, but history had other plans.
Instead, he built his career by investing in natural resources—first in precious metals like gold, silver, and platinum, then in hydrocarbons—recognizing patterns where others saw uncertainty.
For decades, many questioned gold’s relevance in a world where it was no longer the reserve currency. To Tom, this was an aberration. While no longer the official standard, gold had never lost its fundamental role. Through recessions, inflation crises, and financial shocks, it remained a store of value, particularly in times of economic uncertainty. For 5,000 years, civilizations turned to gold as the ultimate safeguard, and he believed it would reclaim that role once again. This wasn’t speculation; it was a long-term bet on history repeating itself.
To him, these metals were more than commodities, they were civilization’s ballast in the storm of history. Today, through the Electrum Group, he continues to pursue assets with enduring value, expanding beyond precious metals into strategic materials—copper, nickel, and zinc—essential to industry, infrastructure, and the technologies shaping the future.
Tom’s foresight led to bold bets that transformed markets. Every decisive move begins the same way:
A spark—an idea, an opportunity.
Then comes the deep dive, a relentless pursuit of knowledge, uncovering historical parallels, geopolitical forces, and economic undercurrents that others overlook.
Tom is not a conventional investor. He doesn’t rely on spreadsheets alone, nor does he follow market sentiment. He trusts instinct sharpened by research—and when conviction takes hold, he describes it as “metaphysical certitude”—the unshakable confidence that he has seen the inevitable. And when he reaches that point, he goes all in.
He didn’t just invest in gold; he took the far riskier position of mining it, maximizing returns by engaging in the entire value chain. Extracting gold from the ground is a double gamble, balancing the immense costs and uncertainties of mining operations with the volatility of commodity markets.
While others speculated from a distance, he went all in.
“It's going to be the French principle of l’audace, l’audace, toujours l’audace. Basically, boldness, boldness, boldness.”
But his boldness was never reckless. It was a calculated leap, not a blind one. Because La Fortuna does not favor the gambler, she blesses the strategist, the visionary.
As a historian, Tom lives with the wisdom of giants. His metaphysical certitude is rooted in ancient philosophy. He admires the humility of Marcus Aurelius, quotes Cicero on gratitude, and echoes the insight of Talleyrand:
“I like to quote the great French statesman Talleyrand, who said that the art of statesmanship is to identify the inevitable and to expedite its occurrence. I think that this is an idea that is, as you would say, meant to be.”
One such moment came in 1994. At 31 years old, armed with a PhD in military history from Oxford, Tom stepped out of an elevator and straight into an introduction to George Soros—an opportunity to present his radical thesis:
Silver was undervalued and misunderstood.
At the time, silver had plummeted from its 1980 high of $50 an ounce to just $3.50. While the world remained pessimistic, Tom didn’t just analyze the silver market, he dissected its entire value chain, from supply and demand dynamics to the technological shifts reshaping its industrial use.
Historically the world’s primary monetary metal, silver had become indispensable in industry. Many feared digital photography would erase a key source of demand, but Tom saw what others missed: the real shock wasn’t declining consumption but the disappearance of recycled silver from film development, once the second-largest global supply source.
Where others predicted a prolonged decline, he recognized a structural deficit—silver demand was outpacing supply by 20-30% annually. The market was focused on the wrong number. What seemed like a collapse in demand was, in fact, a net loss in supply. Meanwhile, silver’s industrial applications were accelerating, with no viable substitutes in solar panels, electronics, and medical technologies. The market had mistaken a cyclical dip for an irreversible trend.
Seeing the gap widen, he knew silver’s dual role—monetary and industrial—would drive it higher. He predicted a return to $50 and began investing aggressively.
The Soros team was skeptical:
“You have zero knowledge of mining.”
But they were charmed by his entrepreneurial instinct and couldn’t ignore what he had already done. Tom had used his own money to option properties in Mexico, Bolivia, Peru, Uzbekistan, and Mongolia—actions that spoke louder than credentials.
Within hours, he secured a mutually exclusive deal with the Soros. Paul Soros, George’s brother, told him:
“Either this says that you're a genius, or you're an idiot.” He paused. “But we're in, and you have your exclusive.”
After consulting their portfolio managers, they found that none had silver holdings, neither the metal nor mining stocks. When asked if they were considering investments in the sector, they all said no. It was a glaring contrarian signal: either Tom had spotted an opportunity no one else saw, or he was making a costly miscalculation.
Tom took that silver mining company from a $13 million valuation to over $1 billion. Then he did it again in platinum and hydrocarbons—each time generating 100X returns.
But his greatest coup was yet to come.
An Investor’s Raid on Rembrandt
“When he said ‘silvered copper,’ I immediately knew it was an omen. I could see it, and I followed it. I’ve had so many of those experiences across all the interests and disciplines that I have. But Rembrandt and art is probably the most emblematic of that.” Tom recalled, his excitement palpable.
It was 2003. On a boat in Croatia, curator Sir Norman Rosenthal posed a question:
“If you could collect anything, what would it be?”
Tom didn’t hesitate.
“Paintings from the Dutch Golden Age, School of Rembrandt.”
He assumed they were all in museums, lost to time. He was wrong.
At the time, he had no collection, no paintings, no roadmap to acquiring some of the rarest works in existence. In fact, just a year before, when his mother-in-law, artist Mira Recanati, suggested he start collecting, he dismissed the idea outright:
“I will never become a vulgar materialist! I have no intention of collecting anything.”
Yet, a serendipitous sequence of events led him to his first acquisition.
A dealer presented him with a painting by Gerrit Dou, Rembrandt’s first pupil. There was some doubt about its authenticity because it was painted on silvered copper, an unusual medium, as all known Dou paintings were on wood panel.
Gerrit Dou, Portrait of Dirck van Beresteyn, ca. 1652. © The Leiden Collection
Still image from the film “Gerrit Dou, Portrait of Dirck van Beresteyn”; Director, Martin Huberman. © The Leiden Collection
Most would have hesitated. Tom saw a signal from fate.
“Silvered copper? I’m coming to London to see it.”
Because this was not just a painting.
This was an omen.
“I made my fortune in silver in Bolivia, my first fortune.”
When he saw the painting, he understood. The sitter, Dirck van Beresteyn, belonged to a prominent family, one with the means to commission an extraordinary portrait. It made sense: only someone of his stature could have afforded the most expensive support available, kwikzilverig koper—silvered copper.
La Fortuna whispered.
He answered: “I’ll take it.”
Then something even stranger happened.
A few weeks later, the dealer presented him with another Dou, this one with solid attribution and impeccable provenance. It had been taken to England by a family fleeing the Nazis, locked away in a safety deposit box for decades.
Tom bought that one, too.
His wife, Daphne Recanati Kaplan, asked:
“Where is this going? You said you were going to buy one painting. Maybe two!”
But he felt the pull of something greater.
“I’m going to do more work.”
Tom devoured everything ever written about the Dutch Masters. By the time he met the top Old Masters dealers in New York, he already knew exactly what he wanted.
And then, it began:
A painting a week. For five years. Some weeks, two or three.
“I knew exactly what I was looking for. I didn’t have advisors or curators. I had, for years, been going to museums to look at paintings by Rembrandt and his school, from the time I was six years old. So by the time I became a collector, I was already marinated in the subject.”
But he never imagined he would own one.
Until he did.
Then another.
Then another.
Then another.
Until one day, he found himself standing in front of his collection and asked himself:
“Are people going to let me get away with this?”
Because, somehow, he now has 17 Rembrandt paintings. More than any collector in a century. Including Minerva in Her Study, the most important history painting by Rembrandt in private hands.
Rembrandt van Rijn, Minerva in Her Study, 1635 © The Leiden Collection
Just as with gold and silver, he saw what others missed. Modern and contemporary art soared, while Old Masters faded from favor. But he knew—like gold, like history itself—Rembrandt would endure.
He went all in.
Tom told me about the 2007–2008 Raid on Rembrandt, a term he coined himself. At the time, the prices of Cy Twombly and Andy Warhol were skyrocketing, while Old Masters were, in Tom’s view, undervalued relative to their historical and cultural significance.
“I don’t say that Cy Twombly is overvalued, but there was a time when I was buying Rembrandts for what probably would have been the signature of a Cy Twombly.”
At one point, he bought two Rembrandts for the same price as an Andy Warhol Car Crash painting.
“Which to me was insane. I mean, in my favor, but how many Rembrandt paintings are there? 400, 450 maybe? And there are only about 40 in private hands. There are tens of thousands of Warhols. Tens of thousands. Here, one ‘Car Crash’ was going for $75 million. I just looked at that and I said, ‘Good for Warhol and great for me.’”
This wasn’t speculation.
“I wasn’t looking to arbitrage. I wasn’t even looking at capital appreciation. I just knew I wasn’t being silly.”
In 2007, as he prepared to sell his energy company, Tom seized the moment—acquiring every available Rembrandt in a market-shifting move the art world had never seen before.
“A corporate raider would call that a raid, where they buy up all the stock in a day, and then leave people going, ‘What the hell just happened?’ I did it. But I did it in art.”
Today, after more than two decades, The Leiden Collection—founded by the Kaplans and named in honor of Rembrandt’s birthplace—holds more than 220 paintings and drawings, making it one of the most significant private collections of Dutch Golden Age art in the world.
And it all began with a tiny oval painting on silvered copper.
A Collector’s Champion for a Universal Artist
“I stumbled into this position of having these transcendent artists in such quantities that one could never duplicate the collection again. The barriers to entry are just impossible,” he recalled, with both humility and pride.
If The Raid on Rembrandt was an audacious financial maneuver, what drove it was something far greater—a mission to restore a master to the world’s consciousness.
For Tom, acquiring the largest privately held collection of Rembrandts in a century was never about hoarding wealth, it was about sharing it. From the moment he and his wife, Daphne, began collecting, their guiding principle was clear:
“We looked at this art and said, ‘We can’t live with this. This has to be seen. We’re taking from the private domain and putting everything back into the public domain.’ It's the only way that we could have actually continued. Otherwise, we would not have been collectors.”
Owning a masterpiece is one kind of power. Ensuring that the world experiences it is another kind entirely.
Tom did not want The Leiden Collection to be a static trove hidden behind private walls, existing only for an elite circle of collectors and scholars. Instead, he envisioned a living, breathing force in the cultural ecosystem, one that could move, inspire, and educate across continents.
His goal was not just to collect Rembrandt, but to reignite Rembrandt’s relevance for a modern audience.
Why Rembrandt?
“Rembrandt was the first truly universal artist.”
In the 17th century, Rembrandt was not just an artist, he was a brand.
He sold prints internationally, long before the concept of mass distribution existed. He built the Rembrandt School, mentoring artists and ensuring that his influence would outlive him. His work transcended cultures, languages, and borders.
Centuries after his death, Rembrandt’s art remains a window not just into 17th-century Holland, but into something more timeless, more human.
Unlike the court painters of his time, who flattered their noble patrons, Rembrandt painted people as they were—wrinkles, imperfections, and all. He captured not just their faces, but their souls. His portraits were studies in light and shadow, mastery and vulnerability. His self-portraits, in particular, were ruthlessly honest, revealing the passage of time, personal struggle, and even defiance against fate.
Rembrandt van Rijn, Bust of a Bearded Old Man, 1633 © The Leiden Collection
Rembrandt van Rijn, Head of a Girl, ca. 1645 © The Leiden Collection
Rembrandt’s radical approach to beauty—capturing an interior life with raw, unfiltered expression—paved the way for generations of artists:
“Because of the way that Rembrandt expressed with such freedom his own view of what is truly beautiful and therefore captured interior life in a way it had never been done before, he liberated future artists to be transformational.”
Tom understood cycles. He knew that art, like history, moves in waves.
To him, Rembrandt’s impact wasn’t just historical, it was genetic. His influence stretches from the Dutch Golden Age to modern masters like Picasso, Van Gogh, Turner, Delacroix, and Francis Bacon, as well as contemporary artists like Zeng Fanzhi in China.
Despite his universal power, Rembrandt was not universally accessible.
This is changing.
The Leiden Collection became the most extensively loaned private collection of Dutch art in the world. Paintings from the collection have traveled to over 80 museums, embarking on a global tour that took them from the Louvre in Paris to the National Museum of China in Beijing, the Long Museum West Bund in Shanghai, and the most prominent museums in Moscow, St. Petersburg, Abu Dhabi, and Amsterdam. Each exhibition brought Rembrandt to audiences who had never experienced these paintings in person before.
Rembrandt and His Time: Masterpieces from The Leiden Collection, 2017, National Museum of China in Beijing. Photo by Wu Hong/EPA/Shutterstock
“We potentially impacted millions of people. So my next great ambition is to find ways to impact tens of millions or hundreds of millions of people.”
One of the defining aspects of Tom’s approach is art as a bridge between civilizations. He believes that, much like trade and philosophy once flowed freely, so too should great art travel between cultures. This philosophy has led him to place The Leiden Collection in conversations between East and West, past and present, private and public.
Thomas Kaplan is not the first person to collect Rembrandt. But he is perhaps the first to collect Rembrandt for the world.
And for him, this is just the beginning.
A Philanthropist’s Pursuit to Democratize Wealth Through Art
Rembrandt, perhaps more than any other Western artist, belongs to everyone.
This is not a metaphor.
Tom’s vision for The Leiden Collection goes beyond making art accessible. He envisions a future where masterpieces are not only exhibited publicly but also owned collectively, where people can hold a stake in a Rembrandt, just as they would in a public company—A Leiden Collection IPO.
There are only 40 privately owned Rembrandts in the world. With such limited supply and enduring value, these works hold scarcity and permanence—just like gold. As gold becomes a hedge against fiat currency, great art can become a hedge against cultural oblivion.
Tom’s passion for Rembrandt and the Dutch Masters echoes the very essence of the Dutch Golden Age—a time of explosive creativity, commerce, and the spirit of independence and inclusion.
It was a period when the balance of power shifted.
The Dutch did not inherit their prosperity. They created it:
They built a republic when monarchies dominated Europe.
They opened their doors to merchants and scholars when others shut theirs.
They democratized wealth through the invention of the stock market, global trade, and financial instruments that changed history.
Just as the Dutch Golden Age democratized commerce, we can democratize art ownership.
“My vision for the art world is greater democratization. In the future, the market won’t be shaped by the few, but by the many. I want to take it further—through fractionalization—so that, for the first time in history, anyone can own a share in a Rembrandt. Anyone.”
He believes in a future where masterpieces are not just admired but activated, where they become part of a new system of wealth creation, accessible to all.
What if a Rembrandt could be part of a shared cultural trust, open to everyone?
What if art could generate sustainable value—financial, cultural, intellectual, and emotional wealth for all of society?
“I think that those who follow me on this voyage are going to do extremely well,” Tom said with conviction.
But this voyage is not just about financial returns. Those who try to follow his investment decisions without understanding their foundation will miss the point entirely.
Tom’s approach is not just about recognizing market cycles or spotting undervalued assets. He understands why certain things hold value and, more importantly, why value matters at all.
His greatest investment is not in silver, gold, or Rembrandt.
It is in something far more enduring:
Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.
They are the real legacy of The Leiden Collection.
They are the real wealth Tom hopes to pass on, not just to his children, but to the world.
And in that sense, the greatest investment any of us can make is not just in art, history, or markets.
It is in who we choose to become.
In 2018, on the night of The Leiden Collection’s exhibition opening at the Pushkin State Museum of Fine Arts in Moscow, news broke of a diplomatic crisis.
Tensions ran high. Geopolitics overshadowed the evening.
Tom was about to deliver his prepared speech—but in that moment, he knew he had to say something else.
He turned to Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s Nobel Prize speech, where the writer offered a deeply moving interpretation of Dostoevsky’s timeless words:
“Beauty will save the world.”
At first, Solzhenitsyn dismissed it—when had beauty ever saved anyone?
But then came a moment of realization—if truth and goodness fail, perhaps beauty can redeem all three. That is the promise of the ancient trinity: Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.
“If we believe that beauty can save the world, then we must fight to protect it.” Tom has fought to preserve beauty where it is most vulnerable. He co-founded The International Alliance for the Protection of Heritage (ALIPH), an initiative dedicated to protecting cultural treasures in war zones.
In more than 40 countries devastated by war, including Iraq, Mali, Syria, and Afghanistan, where civilizations’ histories are at risk of being erased, ALIPH works to restore monuments, protect artifacts, and rebuild cultural legacies that violence seeks to destroy.
For Tom, truth, goodness, and beauty are not sentimental ideals, they are the foundation of how he navigates the world.
These principles are not separate from his investments; they underpin them. His success in finance, art, and philanthropy comes from seeing cycles, understanding human nature, and recognizing the inevitability of value—whether in gold, in Rembrandt, or in the preservation of beauty itself.
In the pursuit of goodness, Solzhenitsyn’s words wake us—only into deeper dreaming:
“But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?”
