Art dealer: How does the fraudster Achenbach live today after his sentence?

advisers and scammers
What does Helge Achenbach actually do?

You are a project manager at the non-profit organization Culture without Borders. What are you doing?
I care about artists. Currently, for example, about a Ukrainian artist who fled the madness in Ukraine. Here, on the farm near Düsseldorf, where the association is based, there are even more artists. I make sure they are okay and try to support them in their projects.

Do you only accommodate refugees?
No, an African sculptor from Ivory Coast lives here. A Lithuanian painter lives here, but also a German sculptor. They have different destinies that brought them to us. Now it’s about building them up. Materials, accommodation and meals are free for them.

Art got you in jail. Still, you can’t let her go. Why not?
Art didn’t put me in jail. That was the greed. Art is a wonderful thing. It has something healing about it, has been with me all my life and will be with me until I die.

But you can no longer earn money with art. Or?
With interest and compound interest, I owe around 30 million euros and earn around 980 euros a month. And occasionally support my student children, but I can live quite well on the money.

Are you paying off your debts to the Aldi heirs?
Family members have a right. As soon as I earn more, the bailiff will come.

Achenbach was born in Weidenach in North Rhine-Westphalia in 1952. As an art consultant, he advised wealthy clients such as Aldi heir Berthold Albrecht. He cheated on the commissions. In 2015, the Essen Regional Court sentenced him to six years in prison for fraud. His marriage fell apart and he lost his millions of dollars. After four years, Achenbach was released early from prison. He lives on a farm in Karst, looks after artists and has written a book: “Self-Destruction. Confessions of an Art Dealer”.

They lived in a villa, jetted around the world. Do you lack the luxury?
Not at all. To understand that, you have to know where I come from. I studied social education, was a social worker, wanted to be a development worker. But I’ve lived with art for as long as I can remember. That was the only important thing. And now I have that again, even doing a bit of art myself. That’s what fulfills me.

They discovered artists who later became world famous. Who is still loyal to you today?
One or the other artist is loyal to me. But many ignore me. That also has something to do with the art market. I cheated on sales commissions, breaking a kind of sacrilege. I was suddenly the bad boy of the market. I was ostracized and still am ostracized by some.

They were in jail for four years. Are you still in touch with people from back then?
I have contact with individual people from prison, with the pastor, who was an important support to me at the time. To the art therapist with whom I painted there, but also to a few ex-convicts.

When you were in prison, your wife disclosed intimate details in her bestseller “Everyone now knows my laundry”.
I can understand very well that my wife was disappointed. She was completely clueless and innocent. She needed a form to process all of this.

You recently turned 70. Your balance sheet?
It pays to be truthful. I deeply regret what I did. That’s what I wrote in my book “Self Destruction”. Now I strive for radical honesty. Every day.