Lehmann-Made Tut-Tut, No 490 (1913). Coll. of L. J. Buehler, 1999. Gifted to Hoyt Institute of Fine Arts, New Castle, PA

“Genius is no more than childhood recaptured at will, childhood equipped now with man’s physical means to express itself, and with the analytical mind that enables it to bring order into the sum of experience, involuntarily amassed.” ~Charles Baudelaire

“Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home!” ~Charles Dickens

We may be shopping for the children in our lives, reminiscing about the holidays of our youth, or analyzing our portfolios, hoping that the decision to invest in Barbie instead of G.I. Joe this season turns out to have been the right one; whatever the case may be, whether or not they are a part of our daily lives, the December holiday season is upon us. This is the time of year when toys find themselves at center stage. artes fine arts magazine

Hoyt Institute of Fine Arts, New Castle, PA

Amid parties featuring our finest china and specially prepared meals, adults understand the inherent significance of a holiday, religious or otherwise, knowing that the music, dishes, and décor are not the reasons for the celebration in and of themselves, but the expression of an historical tradition based on an event like the miracle of the oil or the birth of Jesus Christ. However, while children can be told the significance of a date on the calendar, they often cannot grasp its full meaning without something tangible to bridge the gap between mature comprehension and youthful naivety. Often, that something is a new or special toy, which stamps the occasion with the kind of wonder and delight that children then continue to associate with holidays throughout much, if not all, of their lives. In short, toys have always made the holidays special for children, and that simple fact is being recognized this season by The Hoyt Institute of Fine Arts in New Castle, Pennsylvania, as it warmly invites children and parents to come and enjoy a unique collection of antique toys which have been brought from their usual home in the Period House, Hoyt West, to the second floor of the Greek Revival style mansion known as Hoyt East, with plans to remain on display through the end of January.

Gifted by third generation furniture manufacturer, Louis J. Buehler, in 1999, just one year before he died, the Hoyt’s toy collection dates from the early 1900’s. Buehler’s grandfather, Gottlieb, had been born in Germany in 1857 where he trained as a carpenter. He emigrated to the US in 1881, bringing his woodworking skills with him, eventually settling in Allentown, Pennsylvania, where he built a prosperous career making furniture. Louis succeeded him in the family business.

Left: Loius Buehler (c), with father (l) and grandfather, Gottlieb (r). c. 1920

While Louis never married or had any children of his own, he obviously cherished his possessions because, while he was still alive, he gifted a few important pieces to his nieces and nephews only to have them sell the items, which disappointed Buehler enough that he decided to give his estate to museums. Having been involved with museums throughout his life, he understood their continuous need for money, so along with his childhood treasures, furniture and art, he included The Hoyt Institute of Fine Arts in a trust providing annual support for display of the collections.

Steiff bears, early 20th c.

Some of the most noteworthy items include at least 1000 small lead figures. Some of the figures are animals and many are people, some British, German, Japanese, and American. There is a variety of turn of the century wind ups, most of which are still in working order, and a collection of at least a dozen board games that are among the few items which are not often shown.

Regularly on display in the Period House is a collection of Little Folks magazines, an educational board, a homemade doll house, built by his father, and a model of Buehler’s own house, which he built himself as a child. There is a tin tea set, a viewfinder with several slides, loads of Matchbox cars, many still in the original boxes, and a number of Steiff pieces. The Steiff bears are protected by a glass case, and the smaller of the two is most unique, with a removable head that reveals a glass vile within the cavity of the bear’s body, meant to hold candy.

Lehmann Halloh Motorcycle (1908). A 'Gyro Action' tin toy.

The toys themselves speak volumes about the material culture of childhood, a trending theme in today’s fine art galleries. They also remind us of what was happening in the areas of art, industry, science, and social progress during a previous age. Significant changes were occurring in the world of art and design during Buehler’s childhood, including a reconsideration of who sets artistic standards, and how art should be shared with the public. He would have witnessed the industrialization of America, which provided much of the subject matter for the realist movement. It was a new era, one of mass production, and popular culture grew to be a profitable national product. Tickets for a twelve-day cruise could be purchased for roughly $60, and the Ziegfeld girls earned $75 per week (Whitley 2008).

It seems fitting for Buehler’s collection, which includes such a charming group of tin toys, to have made its home in New Castle, Pennsylvania, which was known as the tin plate capital of the world in the early 1900’s, boasting the largest tin plate mill in America at that time.

Production of tin toys began in the mid 1800’s as an inexpensive alternative to wooden toys. Initially they were hand painted, until a process known as “offset lithography” began being used to print designs on flat tinplate, which was then shaped using dies and assembled with tabs. Leading tin toy manufacturer Ernst Paul Lehmann, of Germany, produced original, high quality designs, but eventually their proliferation tapered off in the U.S., when American manufacturers like Louis Marx and Company, amid post-World War I anti-German sentiment, tapped into a newly discovered supply of tin ore in Illinois.

'My Friend' celluloid & metal swimming figure, Japan, 1930s.

Again, war had an impact on tin toys, when the need for raw materials during World War II, halted production altogether; afterwards, under the Marshall Plan, Japan took over “all of the low profit, high labor manufacturing and the U.S. companies could sell the imported tin toy product. It worked better than expected, and Japan became a tin toy manufacturing force until the end of the 1950’s…In the 1960’s, cheaper plastic and new government safety regulations ended the reign of tin toys” (Konter 2010).

Perhaps the most remarkable piece on display at the Hoyt is a 1908 Lehmann Halloh Motorcycle, a ‘Gyro-Action’ mechanical tin toy, featuring rubber-coated wheels and a young male rider, clad with tall red socks, white skull cap, and blue jacket. The piece is in excellent condition, valued at roughly $2,900.00, with working gears and minimal wear. Another notable tin toy, a 1913 Lehmann Tut Tut No. 490, wind-up automobile in very good condition, features a red German eagle on the side and a driver blowing a horn (see above). This piece would likely sell for about $700 at auction. Comparatively, a red Louis Marx & Co. No. 7 Coo Coo Car tin wind up in somewhat better condition is worth slightly less.

Jolly Jocko and Hiking Bear (c. 1930).

While some certainly do it for the money, according to toy expert Robert Skingle, of Skingle Antiques, many collectors enjoy antique toys for a combination of two other reasons–the nostalgic sentiment that they convey, and the artistic quality of the toys’ design, all the way down to the graphics on the original packaging. From Japan in the 1930’s, a blond-haired, blue-eyed My Friend clockwork celluloid-and-metal girl swimmer wears a red bathing suit, and rotates her arms in a freestyle swim stroke. Its original box, decorated with red seagulls flying above the ocean upon which a sailboat can be seen in the distance, and a swimmer who appears to be soaring with them, features the Kuramochi trademark, CK. The Hoyt takes great pride in having this rare childhood plaything, complete with the original box, among those on display.

Wind-up tin alligator with skirted rider, 1930s.

Among the most charismatic toys in the Hoyt’s collection is a 1930’s wind up tin toy tribal figure riding atop an alligator, complete with original string reins, putting its value at approximately $250. A variety of wind ups are covered with soft fur, including an endearing monkey called Jolly Jacko who gazes into a pink hand mirror while combing his hair. He is joined by Stinky the Skunk, who hops when wound, wearing around his neck the original red ribbon with comical tag that reads ‘Caution,’ and Hiking Bear, who carries a red walking stick and, naturally, hikes.

Home-made motor yacht, made by Buehler father & son, 1930s.

Three large and lovely painted wooden boats, despite being safely perched on wooden stands, appear as if they are ready to set sail down a small and winding creek in a young child’s back yard. A popular pastime, Buehler and his grandfather built their own working sailboats, some of which were motorized. The open deck of one boat in particular features exquisite detail, including eight portholes, a life buoy, three fabric flags, a red and white striped canopy with a blue party light suspended beneath it, movable search light and throttle, spinning metal propeller, and an anchor whose tiny chain slinks gracefully in and out of a hole in the bow. The boat is wired so that, at one time, the spot light and a light inside the cabin would illuminate.

Of all the toys in the collection, the board games suggest, most clearly, the daily thoughts, actions, and expectations of young children during the first half of the twentieth century.  Perhaps this is because they implicitly require the participation of more than one child, and therefore one can imagine the interaction–including bits of conversation and mannerisms–that certainly played out among the living, breathing members of an older generation when it was young. It could be that the games inspire an adult viewer’s imagination more so than the individual toys, which primarily elicit nostalgic sensations; this, presumably, would not be the case for young visitors of the Hoyt, who would, hypothetically, reach for the wind ups or boats first.

Gilbert Co., Electric Eye (1935), 'an electric marvel'

The selection of games includes The Standard Radio Game, King Kong Oriental Checkers by Sam Gabriel & Sons Co., NY, and All Star Comics Playing Card Game by King Features Syndicate, 1934. Two exceptionally interesting games in the collection are the 1935 Gilbert Electric Eye, and the Playbox. Best known, perhaps, for its Erector Sets, The Gilbert Company produced a variety of scientific toys that tell of the technology of the day. Called ‘an electric marvel,’ this photoelectric device was surely a thing of wonder for the few affluent young boys whose families could afford such a cutting-edge plaything. The detailed instruction manual accompanying the Electric Eye proclaims its ability to turn on lights and radios, operate a burglar alarm, start and stop electric trains, and ring the door bell—all from a distance.

Parents Assoc., Pleasant Hill, OH, The Playbox, early 1900s, taught manners and skills

The set requires batteries, including a 22 volt dry cell, and two ‘C’ cells in the Power Pack to operate the low voltage relay. The switch linking the low voltage (sensitive) relay and the operating (power) relay is a primitive form of amplification. The Electric Eye is just one of the Gilbert company’s many products that targeted, through focused advertising campaigns, young boys who dreamed of adult achievement (“My Experience…”). To today’s children, this game would still appear to be scientifically challenging, but to an adult, it is the equivalent of, perhaps, a rotary telephone.

The Playbox, an educational toy from the early 1900’s produced by the Parents Association in Pleasant Hill, Ohio, claims to teach and drill children on a long list of skills, both academic and social, including Arithmetic, Astronomy, Botany, Geography, Ambition, Good Manners, Self-Control, and Tidiness. The sturdy metal box houses nearly 80 individual game pieces, including dominoes, checkers, ten-pins, marbles, a jointed ruler, and four brightly colored metal Versatilla Men, above which is written, ‘A place for everything and everything in its place.’ The most endearing feature of the Playbox is the black-and-white photo on the inside of the lid wherein several children, wearing tall white socks and Mary Janes, play a game together with pieces set atop a chair on the rug in front of a fireplace.

That photo, while not related to the Buehler household, appears as if it could have been taken just down the hall from where these items are displayed; The Hoyt Institute of Fine Arts boasts a unique setting in which the period opulence and grandeur subtly blend with a sense of intimacy and comfort. This atmosphere somehow transcends the years which have passed since the mansion was occupied as a residence. So while the vintage toy collection displayed there may be received in different ways by children and adults, the glimpse into the past, through the lens of childhood trifles, is sure to engender pleasant feelings for all.

Above: The Buehler homestead (l) and a model of the house, built by Louis Buehler as a child (r), in the collection of the museum.

Certainly, those with an interest in vintage toys should plan to visit the Hoyt, where an impressive permanent art collection and variety of seasonal exhibits, as well as the beauty of the facility itself, make for a satisfying museum experience.

By Autumn Miller, Contributing Writer

Visit the Hoyt Institute of Fine Arts collection at www.hoytartcenter.org

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Works Cited:

Konter, Stanley. Tin Toy History. Retrieved Nov. 13, 2011 from VirtualBargains.com.

My Experience with Gilbert Science Sets. Lindy Week Review. Retrieved Nov. 13, 2011 from Jitterbuzz.com

Skingle, Robert. Telephone interview. 15 Nov. 2011.

Whitley, Peggy. ‘1910-1919.’ American Cultural History. Lone Star College-Kingwood Library, 1999. Web. 7 Feb. 2011.

Above: Louis Marx & Co. No.7 Coo Coo Car (c. 1920) 

Harbor, Newport, RI, at peak of the season. Photo: Keith W. Stokes

Newport, Rhode Island, widely renowned for its Jazz Festival every August and its Gilded Age, turn-of -the-century mansions—many of the most awesome overlooking the Atlantic – is filled to the brim with hidden and not-so-hidden treasure. Saying that this small enclave of some 26,000 year-round folk (swelling three-fold, plus, in the summertime) is an embarrassment of riches, is a gross understatement, for around every corner await astonishing surprises, many of mesmerizing proportions. fine arts magazine

On a recent, 2 night, 3-day visit there, I dined and wined—well, actually, vodka is my preference— and toured some of the city’s finest wonders.

The Breakers, Cornelius Vanderbilt's 70-room Italianate Newport 'cottage'

Right off the bat, after checking into The Clarkeston – yes, I’d gladly stay there again – I took my father’s advice: “See everything in one fell swoop, get the lay of the land, then return to those places you want to see in depth.” I hopped on the Viking Tour’s Trolley for a guided tour and for ninety minutes was treated to an eye-popping, history-rich lesson in “Newport 101”.

The town’s many Gilded Age mansions cum museums are its biggest draw, as everybody dreams – gilt by association – of being rich. Around three hundred thousand of those dreamers visit the art-filled troves every year. Two of the most popular—Rough Point, the 49-room home of Doris Duke until her death in 1993, and The Breakers, the Vanderbilt’s 70-room summer Italianate “cottage” designed by Richard Morris Hunt (1827-1895) were at the top of my list. Hunt also designed the façade and the Great Hall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, as well as the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty. His last work, the Breakers, was built in 1893-95, and is over-the-top in royal grandeur. The main hall is fifty wide-by-fifty long-by-fifty feet tall, and a John La Farge (1835-1910) stained glass skylight hovers over the grand staircase. Rough Point, however, its rich interior filled with French furniture, Chinese porcelain, Turkish carpets, and paintings by Gainsborough, Van Dyck, and Renoir– all collected by the tobacco heiress, herself– has a homey, lived-in feel. So personal and present is Duke’s taste that one almost expects her to suddenly waltz into the room. For those interested in fashion, The Sporty Style of Doris Duke exhibition is on view through November 5, featuring a selection of Duke’s clothes and photographs documenting her surfing, swimming, playing golf and tennis, as well as scuba diving and bowling.

John N.A. Griswold House, home of Newport Art Museum & Art Association

Another architectural classic was Richard Morris Hunt’s first major Newport commission–The John N.A. Griswold House (1864). It is the main building of Newport Art Museum & Art Association’s three-building campus, and houses the museum’s permanent collection and exhibitions, both focusing on the work of Newport and southeastern New England artists– contemporary and 18th, 19th and 20th Century. Its walls are a lively walk through the history of American art, populated with paintings by Fitz Henry Lane, George Inness, William Trost Richards, John La Farge, and Gilbert Stuart. Also on view, following in the footsteps of their respective fathers, are works by John Allen Twachtman (1882-1975), son of John Henry Twachtman, and Gilbert Stuart’s daughter, Jane (1812-88).

China Blue, with an installation piece from Firefly Projects. Photo: David Hansen

On the contemporary scene, during my early June visit, I viewed still-current, solo exhibitions by artist China Blue and Trent Burleson, whose work occupies the museum’s largest gallery, with around 22 bird paintings, most dated 2010. This uber-prolific artist is obviously a factory unto himself! Many of his birds soar in full flight, diving for berries and insects amid beautifully-rendered foliage. Though reminiscent of Audubon, they are post modern in their soft colored tones and slightly blurred execution. Viewing Burleson’s paintings, as museum curator Nancy Whipple Grinnell suggests, is as though we are seeing them “through a gossamer veil.” His exhibition ends August 17th.

Firefly Projects is China Blue’s ‘fragility of life’ installation, occupying a chamber-like gallery on the first floor. A small, dark room, it is lit with twinkling blue lights, while sounds, robotics, and several electrifying photographs create an other-worldly feel, where the artist brings us back to our ‘collecting fireflies in a jar childhood.’ Commanding pride of place are two 7 ½-foot artist-constructed trees, on whose thin wooden branches perch flashing LED fireflies, all faithfully synchronized to mimic a mating dance. Known internationally for her interest in the intersection of science, art and technology, the iconoclastic Blue has recorded vibrations emanating from the Eiffel Tower, as well as sounds permeating Venetian canals, the latter with recording devices fixed to the underside of a gondola.

International Tennis Hall of Fame & Museum, Newport, RI

The two biggest surprises – who knew such museums even existed – are the International Tennis Hall of Fame & Museum and the National Museum of American Illustration at Vernon Court (1898), a Beaux Arts adaptation of a 17th century French Chateau. The mansion was designed by Carrére & Hastings, architects for the New York City Public Library, the U.S. Senate Office Building, and the Frick Collection in New York, and features the work of the most illustrious illustration icons: Norman Rockwell, Maxfield Parrish, NS Wyeth, JC Leyendecker, Charles Dana Gibson, and Howard Chandler. Sharing the spotlight through the summer, along with Norman Rockwell’s America exhibition of 70 paintings, is another surprise–writer Tom Wolfe’s humorous pen and ink illustrations from his book, In Our Time, a compilation of essays originally printed in Harper’s Magazine, during the 70’s.

The International Tennis Hall of Fame and Museum—with its 13 manicured grass tennis courts—shares grounds with the recently renovated 1880 Stanford White Casino Theatre, where Orson Wells, Helene Hayes, Lillian Gish, Will Rogers and Oscar Wilde tread the boards. How’s that for theatrical history!? The museum itself, in the historic Newport Casino, was designed by McKim, Mead & White in Victorian shingle-style, and chronicles the history of tennis from the 12th century to the present, in its 18 galleries. It overflows with tennis memorabilia– photographs, videos, art, fashion, trophies, and attire–many donated by the game’s biggest stars: Gussy Moran’s once “scandalous” 1949 Wimbledon lace-trimmed tennis ensemble and a Chris Evert portrait by Warhol – he is everywhere – are among them. While I am still skeptical of interactive anything, I did find the museum’s touch screen research kiosks addictive!

John LaFarge, Snow: January, Southerly Wind, Cloudy Sky and Sunlight (1879), o/c. Courtesy Wm. Vareika Fine Arts

The most serious museum-quality gallery in Newport– some say in all of New England– is William Vareika Fine Arts. I happened upon this little bit of heaven – think of it as a mini Metropolitan Museum or even a room or two at Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts – at the tail end of the stunning John La Forge: In Paradise: The Painter and His Muse exhibition, curated by William Vareika, gallery proprietor. Enough of the show remained, though, to set my head spinning! The gallery specializes in the purchase and sale, of 18th, 19th, and 20th century American paintings, watercolors, drawings and prints. One is apt to run across the work of John La Farge, whose estate they represent, as well as the work of William Morris Hunt, John F. Kensett, Winslow Homer, Worthington Whittredge, Alfred T. Bricher, William Trost Richards, William S. Haseltine, George Bellows, John H. Twachtman, Childe Hassam, John S. Sargent, and Martin Johnson Heade– all American artists inspired by Newport’s unique society and the sublime natural environment of Narragansett Bay.

Cloyery Georges, Carrefoure at Adjame (2010). Courtesy Cadeaux de Monde (Gifts of the World)

While my days were spent running with the big boys, on Newport Gallery Night which occurs the second Thursday each month from 5:30-8pm, I managed to get up close and personal to some of the local artists, thanks to my guide du nuit, Katie Dyer, the proprietress of Cadeaux de Monde (Gifts of the World). Her domain is an eclectic, green, fair trade, international folk art gallery, including several of Newport’s own contemporary artists.

My tour started at Cadeaux with Nina Hope Pfanstiehl, a local jewelry and ceramic artist, demonstrating various jewelry wire wrapping techniques. Also catching my attention – it practically jumped off the wall – was Carrefoure at Adjame, an exquisite city scene painting by Cote d’Ivoire painter Cloyery Georges. Interesting, also, was T.M. Dyer’s abstract pen and ink drawings lining the walls of Galerie Escalier, a section of Cadeaux dedicated to New England artists.

Edward Fey, The Sooloo of Salem, Mass (2010). Courtesy Harbor Fine Arts Gallery

Harbor Fine Art Gallery—in a 1704 wooden building in the historic downtown area for 3 years now—specializes in Rhode Island artists, primarily plein air painters, whose subject is Newport and its surroundings. Artist Betty Anne Morris owns and operates the gallery, also featuring original glass art and jewelry. It functions as a studio, as well, where visitors can experience artists immersed in creating new pieces. Laura B. Fernandez’s stained glass fishes, Edward Fey’s ship paintings, and Kathy Weber’s peopled beach scenes are veritable showstoppers. Following a plein air workshop, Morris– previously a leather and freeform basketry enthusiast and purveyor of antiques—very successfully dedicated herself to outdoor painting. She recently converted the top floor of the gallery into The Borden House B-no-B, meaning a soft queen size bed there and breakfast at one of many nearby eateries.

Didi Suydam, PaTh (2005), digital print, 40x40" Courtesy Didi Suydam Contemporary

Artist Didi Suydam and husband, sculptor Peter Diepenbrock, founded Didi Suydam Contemporary 12 years ago, and feature fine art and studio-designed jewelry. The gallery is architecturally light and airy, modern and minimal, and housed in an historic firehouse. It is also a showcase for their own work. While Suydam’s jewelry was displayed elegantly in the back of the gallery, it was her stunning black and white digital photography in front that held my eye. PaTh (2005), an other-worldly photograph of storm clouds–with a graphic ‘T’ symbol placed slightly left of center–is the artist’s attempt, as she explained to me, “to visually convey the metaphysical notion of alternate or coexistent, concurrent realities. The image and the presence of the symbol,” she adds, “may also be interpreted as a metaphor for the passage from the life experience to an afterlife experience.”

The Lady Who Paints Gallery houses both the studio and gallery of Rosemary Kavanagh O’Carroll and is one of the most unique art-viewing spaces in Newport. Part warehouse, gallery, and a little bit salon, it is dedicated solely to her own work, most based on her life experiences. The very Irish O’Carroll – reddish brown hair and freckles add to her charm – is a consummate story teller, verbally and in paint, following her passions wherever they lead.

Rosemary Kavanagh O'Carroll, Flamenco Dancer (2010). Courtesy The Lady Who Paints Gallery

In Grenada, Spain, she explored a cave below Alhambra, where, “There were flamenco gypsy dancers and I was totally fascinated. The woman dancing was intense and raw. There weren’t any windows in the cave, no air to breathe, but it was the real thing. I pulled out my sketch book and started going to work,” O’Carroll told us. “I took photos of her different movements and worked on the paintings in my studio back in America. To document migrant workers, I flew down to Florida, rented a car and drove to Homestead, where they toil in the fields.” Both trips yielded a series of paintings.

Since The Lady Who Paints was the last stop on our whirlwind treasure hunt, I was able to sit and chat for a while. It was a lovely way to end the evening. But this all was just the tip of the iceberg. Hopefully I would be able to return soon, to discover even more!

By Edward Rubin, Contributing Writer

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Newport Contact Information:

Below you will find the websites as well as the telephone numbers of the B & B that I stayed at, the room was large and airy, and the home cooked breakfasts scrumptious, the 3 restaurants I ate at – I had a different lobster dish at each one – and every museum and gallery venue that I visited.

While prices fluctuate season-to-season (summer is the high season), accommodations, eateries, and entertainment can be found to fit every pocket, from baked beans and beer to champagne, caviar, and a yacht in the harbor. Newport’s official website www.gonewport.com also has a wealth of information, from travel packages, special deals, and events, to where to stay, eat, shop, and things to do.

Bannister's Wharf, Newport, RI. Photo: Newport Breeze

The Clarkeston www.innsofNewport.com 28 Clarke Street (800) 524-1386

Viking Tours www.vikingtoursnewport.com (401) 847-6921

The Breakers 44 Ochre Point Avenue www.newportmansions.org (401) 847-1000

Rough Point 680 Bellevue Avenue www.newportrestoration.org (401) 847-8344

Newport Art Museum & Art Association 76 Bellevue Ave. www.newportartmuseum.com (401)488-8200

International Tennis Hall of Fame & Museum 194 Bellevue Ave. www.tennisfame.com (401) 849-3990

National Museum of American Illustration www.americanillustration.org (401) 851-8949

William Vareika Fine Arts Gallery 212 Bellevue Avenue www.vareikafinearts.com (401) 849-6149

Cadeaux du Monde 26 Mary Street www.cadeauxdumonde.com (401) 848-0550

One of many Norman Rockwell originals on view at Nat'l Museum of American Illustration, Newport, RI

The Lady Who Paints Gallery & Studio 94 Bridge Street www.theladywhopaints.com (401) 450-4791

Harbor Fine Arts 134 Spring Street www.harborfineart.com (401) 338-4462

Borden House B no B 134 Spring Street www.bordenhousenewport.com (401) 338-4462

Located in an old fire house, 25 Mill St. www.didisuydamcontemporary.com (401) 848-9414

The Lady Who Paints Gallery and Studio www.theladywhopaints.com (401) 450-4791

Newport Jazz Festival www.newportjazzfest.net (800) 745-3000

Great shopping and yacht watching at www.bannisterswharf.com

Gas Lamp Grille, 206 Thames Street www.gaslampgrille.com (401) 845-9300 $$

The Cliff Walk Terrace at the Chanler Hotel 117 Memorial Blvd. www.thechanler.com (401) 847-1300

One Bellevue Fine Dining & Seafood Restaurant at the Viking Hotel One Bellevue Avenue www.hotelviking.com for Reservations (401) 848-4824 $$$

Flo’s Clam Shack, 4 Wave Avenue www.flosclamshack.net (401) 847-8141 $

Gorham silver coffee pot (c. 1932)

How can you explain the allure of silver? Like its rich cousin, gold, silver is one of those rare earth elements that has served the imagination and creative hand of artisans over the ages- often with breathtakingly beautiful results. Silver in its purest form is soft and pliable, reflective and lustrous when polished to a high shine and filled with beautiful light-effects when cut, shaped, hammered or cast.

Over the ages, silversmiths have taken their inspiration largely from nature to create works of art with both utility and beauty. Most familiar are the elaborate coffee services, candelabras and jewelry fashioned in the style of 19th Century Romanticism. These pieces showcased the craftsman’s skill with elaborate floral scenes and design elements inspired by the classical Revivalist style of the Romans and Greeks. In America, the austere, but elegant creations of the colonial silver-making tradition, popularized by our most famous silversmith, Paul Revere, can be found in many well-to-do homes.fine arts magazine

Chrysler Building, NYC, 1930. An Art Deco masterpiece

But few are aware that silver design flourished well into the 20th Century, reflecting the new sensibility of an industrial age, where streamlined utilitarianism became the guiding principle of the newly-defined modern lifestyle. In the first quarter of the 1900s, many were ready to throw off the mantle of Victorian sensibilities and embrace the spirit of “The New”. Advances in science, manufacturing and inventions such as the airplane, the automobile and wireless communication were shrinking the world. Speed and radical reform became the watchwords of a new and outspoken group of intellectuals called, The Futurists.

The public fervor surrounding this new industrial age inspired many artisans to redefine traditional approaches to their craft. They increasingly sought inspiration in the changing world around them, rather than in the lessons of generations past. Notably, Cubism had emerged from the artists’ studios of Paris and the International Style of architecture (Bauhaus) was employing the fundamental lines of the square and the minimalist effects of glass in their building designs.

Silver makers, too, began to figure the clean lines of geometric shapes into their designs. Some of the most beautiful examples of this radical new objets d’art were being created in French studios. A handful of progressive designers, many coming from families with a long heritage of working in precious metals and jewels, set the stage for this revolution in form.

Covered serving piece by Jean Puiforcat (1930s). Note industrial chain incorporated into design

To learn more, I traveled to the lower west side of New York City to meet an expert on the topic of 20th century silver. Audrey Friedman has spent a lifetime collecting and learning about modern silver, glass and artifacts and her Primavera Gallery contains some of the most beautiful examples from that period.

She explained that the Paris exhibit of 1925, Exposition des Arts Decoratifs introduced the public to a new design movement, Art Moderne, later deriving the name Art Deco from this show. Here, artisans like Jean Puiforcat, Tétard Fréres and Maison Desny would exhibit their sterling and silver plate creations to the acclaim of some and the disdain of others. But there was no mistaking the reality that modern sensibilities were taking hold in a field that had been dominated by traditionalist views.

Gorham silver brooch (c. 1934)

The event was originally scheduled to be held some years earlier, but was delayed because of World War I. “If the show had come off earlier, the silver of the time would have had a very different look,” according to Audrey. “The Deco ‘look’ was heavily influenced by the sleek and aerodynamic appearance of the machinery of the time and the technological advances made possible by industrial expansion. Ironically, the complexity and beauty of these early modernist designs meant that they could only have been turned out, one at a time, by the hand of the craftsman, himself.”

In the handful of years that followed, before the Great Depression of 1929 changed the face of the American economy, retailers attempted to promote the Art Deco style for use in the American home, but with little success. Audrey points out that resistance here was due to, “the American view that silver was something to be passed on by previous generations, hinting at inherited wealth; or at the very least, that classic silver could be purchased to become an ‘instant heirloom’.”

Georg Jensen, ‘Pyramid’ Sterling Silver Tea Service, Waste Bowl and Waiter Tray (1927)

Nevertheless, a number of well-known European silver designers were rushed to New England factory studios and, by the following year, 1926, several American companies, including Gorham, International Silver, Reed and Barton and, to a lesser extent, Tiffany & Co. were embracing the cause of modernist design; although some would argue that their offerings were more heavily inspired by architecture than by a desire to capture pure form. In spite of these constraints, many of these New England manufacturers made timeless designs in the modern style right up until the eve of World War II.

To see some period pieces from the American school of Art Deco silver, I called on my friend and colleague, Bernard de Maillard, of Westport’s Léonce Antiques. As if by sleight-of-hand, he made several beautiful examples of mid-20th century silver magically appear from the back row of one of his many display cases.

Georg Jensen, 'Lily of the Valley' flatware pattern (c. 1925-1935)

He explained that the Art Deco movement allowed room for design influences from an earlier, more stylized period. Here, European moderne geometrics are supplanted by softer, more graceful lines inspired by nature. Taking their cue from the turn-of-the-century Swedish designer, Jorge Jensen, these silver pieces are designed to appeal to the eye using the same modernist’s techniques of form, balance and surface effects, but with a very different result. “Many of these companies are now history,” Bernard says, “leaving us with examples of the period that will never be replicated.”

With such a broad range of unique designs to choose from, consider including several examples of modern silver in your collection. But, I have to confess that, for pure geometric symmetry, quality of craftsmanship, luxury of detail and balance in the hand, these functional works of art beg to be used and enjoyed!

By Richard Friswell, Managing Editor

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DEFINITION OF TERMS

Understanding 20th Century design means differentiating between several design movements that may sound alike, but have different influences and objectives. There is some overlap as certain styles emerged from others:

Romanticism (1780-1880)- An artistic and intellectual movement in Western culture that rejected established values in favor of individualism and reason. The life and times of the ancient Greeks and Romans were idealized and impacted all phases of artistic design. Nature was extolled and its themes were idealized in painting, literature, functional art (silver, ceramics, furniture, architecture, etc.). It was in response to overblown sentimentality and flourishes of Romanticism and Victorianism that many of the late 19th century artists, writers and craftsmen rebelled.

Art Nouveau (1880-1914)- An international style of design, begun in Paris, using highly stylized, flowing and curvilinear designs incorporating floral and plant-like motifs to create repeating abstract and geometric patterns.

Arts and Craft – A British (1880- 1910) and American (1910-1925) aesthetic movement, founded in response to the increased use of industrialized methods, emphasizing the importance of hand crafting and natural inspiration; sometimes called the Craftsmen Style.

Modern (1880-1945)- A period or fervent social, cultural and political changes, defined by a shift in power and influence from Europe to the U.S. and reflected in a rejection of Victorian values for a more open social value system, artistic experimentation, innovations in manufacturing and scientific research and the realignment of the world political map by two global wars.

Art Deco (1920-1939)- A functional art movement that incorporated several influences [Cubism, Symbolism, Bauhaus Internationalism, industrial design and Modernism] into the design of everyday objects

Art Moderne (1920-1925)- The early name for geometric functional art design until the Paris show of 1925, Exposition Internationale des Arts Décoratifs et Industriels Modernes, lent its shorthand title to the movement, Art Deco.

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(Above) Stuart Davis, (1894-1964) United States, SWING LANDSCAPE (1938), o/c, 86 3/4 x 173 1/8”, Frame: 88 1/2 x 174 3/4 x 3 ½”. Originally painted by Davis for the Williamsburg Housing Project, Brooklyn, NY. ©2011, Indiana University Art Museum, Bloomington, Indiana, #42.1. Photographers:  Michael Cavanagh and Kevin Montague fine arts magazine

Only then would I notice it, hidden in the shadows and veiled by the same ubiquitous gray that obliterated so many other features of this once-elegant building. Framed by dark walnut molding that coursed horizontally above a single door, marked ‘Postmaster’ in the center of the far wall, then moving upward at a forty-five degree angle from both sides to form an apex high above the floor, was a painted scene. Its colors dulled by years of neglect, I could make out a group of figures—Puritans by the look of it—the lead figure extending one hand toward a sundry collection of trade goods on the ground; the other upraised in the direction of a group of Native Americans, passive but cautious in the face of these strangers with their offer of uninvited largess. The scene appeared to represent, pictorially, my recollection of how my Connecticut city was once ‘purchased’ from the Pequot Indians, three centuries ago. Behind the gathering, the rendering ofa familiar landscape, marked by the convergence of three rivers and a configuration of rolling hills, mostly unchanged to this day.

I thought to ask myself at the time, “Who decided which scene should be painted here; how long ago was it done and who was the artist?” But, I must confess, the overall condition of the mural, the absence of dramatic lighting, or any signage describing its origins—together with the generalized indifference toward public art and its obvious Depression-Era stylistic influences—left most people, and me, cold.

As it turns out, the antidote for all of us, myself included, was the passage of time, a renewed interest in American art during the years leading up to and during the frenzy of World War II and—in light of our recent economic crisis—a fresh appreciation for the innovative programs that helped thousands and brought original art to hundreds of public places, like my once-regal post office.

A circa 1935 photo of FDR, rarely pictured in his wheelchair

Art had a friend in the White House in the 1930s. And it had the reluctant support of a divided Congress on how best to put America’s unemployed back to work. The Great Depression had taken its toll on everyday life, with snaking bread lines and desperate men selling what little they could offer on street corners, in every city in the country. Many had lost everything and hoped the government, under the newly-elected Franklin Roosevelt, could at least offer a hand up to a subsistence lifestyle. At the lowest point in the American economy, following the stock market crash of 1929, President Roosevelt proposed a far-reaching plan, as part of an omnibus recovery program, to put artists, crafts people and designers, among others, back to work in public spaces.

Coming into office in March of 1933, Roosevelt wasted no time implementing his economic rescue plan. The ‘New Deal’ was an effort to intervene in an unfolding economic disaster, quelling desperation and fear regarding rapidly deteriorating working and living conditions among a cash-strapped population. He believed that dependence on relief alone would destroy the American spirit and he mobilized the Congress to appropriate funds for a variety of infrastructure projects, including new roads, highways and public buildings. It is hard to imagine by today’s standards, with such skepticism and mistrust of the legislative process and the artistic establishment; but in the 1930s, artists and craftsmen figured prominently in plans to turn around the economic climate, while adding quality of life to the nation’s cities and towns.

Mount Rushmore's George Washington being maintained by WPA workers (1933-34). Courtesy National Parks Service, Mount Rushmore, S.D.

My source for understanding, in greater depth than the standard material usually available for examining the Federal government’s response to the crisis related to the artistic community, is William Barber’s, “Sweet Are the Uses of Adversity”: Federal Patronage of the Arts in the Great Depression (a complete citation appears at the end of this article). His title comes from Shakespeare’s, ‘As You like it’ and reads as follows: “Sweet are the uses of adversity/Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, /Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.” These words aptly describe the wealth of art and craftsmanship that arose from a program aimed at drawing on the talents and resources of a community of artists who, in today’s culture, would certainly be passed over in a search for solutions to our economic woes.

Barber cites the ‘Mexican Connection’ as he describes the inception of a work relief program for artists, conceived in the first hundred days of the Roosevelt administration. Artist and former Harvard classmate, George Biddle, prepared a memorandum for FDR, who was busy working out solutions for the country’s banking and manufacturing sectors. Biddle’s memo “reported that artists in Mexico had produced the greatest national school of mural painting since the Italian Renaissance’ and, though working at ‘plumber’s wages’, they had. “express[ed] on the walls of the government buildings the social ideals of the Mexican revolution.” He proposed a similar program for U.S. government buildings, using young artists, “eager to express their ideals in a permanent art form, […] convinced that our mural art with a little impetus can soon result, for the first time in our history, in a vital national expression” (Biddle, in Barber:236).

Under the president’s direction, Biddle set out to bring the program to life within the bureaucratic morass of the departments and under secretaries that typically stood in the way of this form of liberal policy implementation. His primary requirements for launching a successful program were: first-rank artists; assignment of wall space to express social ideals of the government and the people and; complete freedom of personal expression and technical execution.

Ross Dickinson (1903-1978) Valley Farms (1934) o/c, 39 7/8 x 50 1/8”. Smithsonian American Art Museum Transfer from the U.S. Department of Labor, 1964.1.40

Biddle had in mind a specific list of artists, among them: Thomas Hart Benton, Edward Laning, Reginald Marsh, Henry Varnum Poor, Boardman Robinson and Maurice Stern. He envisioned this core group of artists getting to work and creating a groundswell of public interest, with the help of the press, ‘liberal’ magazines and other organization devoted to the arts. His first obstacle was the civilian body created during the first Roosevelt administration in the early 20th century—the Fine Arts Commission. Tasked to oversee the ‘artistic merit’ of proposed government projects, the conservative commissioners saw little merit in the ‘modernism’ of the artists Biddle selected, or for their liberal social agenda. In the commission’s view, the mural project was “reactionary” and “unsound”. The project would have foundered on the administrative rocks of Washington’s politically-treacherous coast, except for the one key factor. Biddle was able to maneuver through the shoals of the larger national financial crisis, finding a way to have funds from a larger appropriation redirected to his small program. Just one-million dollars out of a 12-month emergency allocation of $400 million would be enough to put scores of artists to work, in the short term and provide proof-of-concept, in the longer range.

The man selected to run this project (Public Works of Art Project, or PWAP), was artist, Edward Bruce. According to Barber, “Bruce shared Biddle’s enthusiasms for promoting art with a distinctive American identity. There were fundamental differences in their approaches, however. Bruce was not attracted to the idea that public wall space should become a vehicle for social commentary.” Instead, Bruce wanted artists to assume the symbolic role of “spokesman for his community”, uniting Americans around a common cause and offering “powerful encouragement” through their work. “He preferred to see the national experience celebrated in ways that braced the country’s badly bruised morale. If things worked out the way he wished, government-sponsored art would educate and elevate popular tastes, thereby stimulating an increase in private demand for the artist’s product…he did not believe that painters and sculptors could expect government to be their principle patrons over the long term” (Barber:239).

Paul Cadmus, ‘The Fleet’s In’ (1933), Navy Art Gallery, Washington Navy Yard, Wash., D.C.

The PWAP program began to ‘hire’ artists that same day, after funding was approved—on December 9, 1933. The job description was clear: encourage works that interpreted the American scene and retain the services of the most competent artists, not just the neediest. By the time the program ended in the fall of 1934 (end of the federal fiscal year), more than 3,700 artists had participated, producing nearly 16,000 items of art (McKinzie:27). A public event was planned at Washington’s Corcoran Gallery at the end of the program, to demonstrate the success of the program to the public. Censorship nevertheless, came into play here, as well. For certain paintings, like Paul Cadmus’, The Fleet’s In (right), it was pulled because it depicted of drunken sailors arm-in-arm with women of questionable reputation (Editor’s Note: This banned painting served as inspiration for choreographer, Jerome Robbins’s 1944 ballet, Fancy Free; and in the same year, the Broadway show, On the Town, with music by Leonard Bernstein . Most memorable from the theatrical hit: New York, New York ["…the Bronx is up but the Battery's down"]). “Critics noted the absence of nudes, night club subjects, pretty women, aristocratic men and genteel houses. [Instead, there was a] preponderance of machinery: locomotives; steamships; workers and common subjects of village and farm life” (McKinzie:30). Because these works were paid for by public funds, at the end of the exhibition, Bruce freely presented paintings to the White House, various cabinet departments and to the House of representatives office building (Barber: 241).

WPA artist, Walter Speck, working on mural at Local 174, Auto Workers Union Building, Romulus, Michigan (1937) Photo: Worldwide

With the end of the year-long PWAP program came a new burst of energy by Edward Bruce and the politicians (including the president) who believed in perpetuating the program in some form. In 1934, the Congress approved a department within the Treasury’s Procurement Division, called the Section of Fine Arts. Bruce was named its head and he set about to use the one-percent of federal building construction and renovation funds set aside for art decoration to further the recently-expired working artists’ program. Imagine in today’s political environment, a federally-baseddepartment such as this, with a committee formed to mitigate the conservative influence of the Fine Arts Commission, consisting of two members of the president’s cabinet, the National Planning Board chairman (the president’s uncle), an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court, as well as architects, leading museum directors, artists and sculptors!

The newly-formed Section of Fine Arts was to open the field for competition to complete murals in many of the building around Washington, as well as ‘Section’ funding for buildings in other parts of the country. The already esteemed list of artists was expanded to include George Biddle, John Stewart Curry, Rockwell Kent, Leon Kroll, Eugene Savage, Gant Wood and sculptors Paul Manship and William Zorach. Many ultimately chose not to participate, citing possible bureaucratic interference. Ultimately, more than 1,100 building throughout the U.S., in 1,083 cities and towns received the attention of these and 1200 other artists. More than half their works appeared in post offices and many of us, today (like this author in younger years), stand beneath these expertly-rendered—but often forgotten or overlooked—murals, reflecting a time in history and a view of the role of the artist in our everyday live, that thrived from 1934-43. Next time you hold a Jefferson nickel in your hand, recall that it was designed by a Roosevelt-era artist, working as a part of Bruce’s, Section of Fine Arts program.

Nils Gren, Oveture to Spring (1936). Coll. Jefferson High School, Portland, OR.

But the ‘Section’ project, as successful as it was, was overshadowed by the larger and much better known, Works Progress Administration (WPA) and Federal Art Program (FAP). Much more far-reaching that either the Public Works Art Project (`33 to`34), or the Section of Fine Arts mural and sculpture project (`34-`43), FAP was part of an omnibus spending bill launched under the Roosevelt Administration in 1935, to boldly accelerate the slowly-improving economy, as it emerged from the Great Depression. The program put millions to work, building dams, canals, roads and public buildings. He also approved Federal One, which consisted of the FAP, as well as theater, music and writing projects. Harry Hopkins, a former Roosevelt aide, headed the program, sharing the same aversion to the ‘dole’ that drove Biddle’s gestation of the ‘work relief program for artists’ in 1933.

Generously funded by the Congress, $3 million was allocated for the first six months of the project, allowing for the hire of 5,300 artists, artisans and craftspeople. WPA’s Hopkins turned to Holger Cahill, a New Jersey art collector and social theorist, to run the FAP. Cahill, a colorful figure, saw elements in the American culture of violence and vulgarity. He looked to art as a way of transcending the obscene into something beautiful (McKinzie:79). Cahill believed that patrons of the arts were still being held in the grip of European tastes and that, as a consequence, American artists had little opportunity to be understood and appreciated by their own nation. Hailing artists like John Sloan, George Luks and George Bellows for their, “rediscovery of the American scene” and “clear return to the interest of the average man” who had “brought the gusty vitality of city streets into the staid salons of the genteel tradition” (Cahill: 14-15).

Robert Muchley, Work with Care (1941), relief printing on paper, 25x 19".

Structured differently than previous arts programs, Cahill’s far-reaching vision was of an American cultural scene saved by government support and intervention, meaning that our cultural heritage would not die the same death, in the face of industrialization, as traditional crafts of Asia and India. He…”pledged that what had happened in Asian nations would not be repeated in the United States. It was altogether in keeping with this purpose that slightly more than half of those on the projects’ payrolls were “’craftsmen, workers in commercial and applied arts’, while slightly less than half were ‘working in the fine arts’” (Cahill, quoted in Barber: 247).

For several years, the FAP spearheaded the creation of and defined the foundation for future community arts education programs in the U.S. Within the FAP organization, there were several sections: art production, art instruction and art research. Mural painting and fine art paintings and prints continued to find their way into public building around the country; public art education was available for children and adults in community centers, principally in the West and South and nearly 1,000 artists were employed to conduct art research under the Index of American Design program, cataloging nearly 18,000 watercolor renderings of American decorative arts from the colonial period through the 19th century.

Frank Rudkowski, American Industry (1941), New Britain High School, New Britain, CT

By 1939, internal divisions and a debate over the degree of control the government should exercise over the output and standards placed on artists and the increasing strain of responding to a mounting global crisis resulted in a decline of interest within the administration regarding the future of FAP. In that year the management of the program was turned over to the states. After 1941, many of these same artists and draftsmen began devoting their time to the war effort. Posters and placards, civil defense pamphlets and rousing military music all managed to keep thousands of artists, writers and musicians busy during the early years of the war. By 1943, WPA/FAP had lost its funding and the monies previously set aside for this unique program (a total of $35 million over 10 years) were redirected to the war effort.

“But, during that period, a total of 2,250 murals were placed in public building around the country (courthouses, hospitals, schools, libraries and even Ellis Island); 13,000 pieces of sculpture were positioned in such places as parks, housing projects and historic battlefields; more than 100,000 paintings were created and placed on loan to public institutions and; nearly 240,000 prints from 12,500 original designs were also placed in public venues” (Dows, quoted in Barber:249).

“The experience of federal patronage of the arts in the Great Depression left no lasting mark on American institutions, but at least one aspect of the legacy is memorable. Thanks to government support, a number of major contributors to the American art scene kept going through some dark days; among them were Jackson Pollock, Ben Shahn, William de Kooning, Mark Rothko, Philip Guston, [Stuart Davis] and Arshile Gorky” (Barber:254).

READERS’ ALERT! How you can help…

Today, nearly seventy years later, a new effort is underway to account for and catalogue the paintings, prints and murals that were produced during the period 1933-1943, under the Public Works of Art Project (`33-`34); The Section of Fine Arts (`34-`43); the Treasury Relief Act Project (TRAP,`35-`38, not mentioned in this article); and Works Progress Administration/Federal Art Project (`35-`43). The U.S. General Services Administration’s Fine Arts Program (GSA) and the Office of the Inspector General (OIG) are working together to locate, identify and recover lost portable works of art produced by artists through the New Deal era art programs of the 1930s and early 1940s.

Mary De Neale Morgan, Trees on Coast (c. 1935). Courtesy of the Fine Arts Program, Public Building Service, USGSA.

When a new deal artwork is offered for sale and/or is suspected to be federal property, OIG should be notified. In conversation with program coordinators, Jennifer Gibson and Kathy Erikson, they explained that the notification can be made by anyone, including, but not limited to the Fine Arts Program, a private individual, a museum staff member, art dealer, appraiser or lawyer. The possessor of the work(s) is requested to maintain care and possession of the artwork until research about title is completed.

If the artwork is determined to be federal property, The GSA works with the possessor to return the work of art to federal custody, with the ultimate goal of having the artwork loaned to a qualified institution. Gibson points out that in some cases, works have been transferred with ownership of a commercial building or house and the owner might not be aware of the fact that art found in any given location still maintains government ties.

If you are aware of a New Deal work of art that may be federal property, please contact the GSA’s Fine Arts Program at wpa@gsa.gov or the office of the Inspector General at fraudnet@gsaig.gov. The OIG can make every effort to maintain the anonymity of those persons who provide information.

You may also write for more information to:

Fine Arts Program

Office of the Chief Architect

U.S. Government Services Administration

1800 F Street, NW

Washington, DC 20405

www.wpa@gsa.gov

By Richard Friswell, Executive Editor

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Bibliography:

Barber, William J., “Sweet Are the Uses of Adversity”: Federal Patronage of the Arts in the Great Depression. In Economic Engagement with Art, History of Political Economy, Sup. to Vol. 31, ed. by Crawford D.W. Goodwin & Neil De Marchi. Durham, NC and London: Duke Univ. Press, 1999.

Cahill, Holger, New Horizons in American Art, New York: Museum of Modern Art, 1936.

Dows, Olin, The New Deal’s Treasury Art Program. In New Deal Art Projects: An Anthology of Memoirs, ed. by Francis V. O’Connor. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institute, 1972.

McKinzie, Richard D., The New Deal for Artists. Princeton, NJ: Prineton Univ. Press, 1973.

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Above: Art appraisers, David Weiss, foreground and Alasdair Nichol, of Freeman’s Auctioneers work the Paintings & Drawings table for Washinton, D.C.’s Antiques Roadshow. All photos, unless otherwise noted, by Katherine Arcano fine arts magazine artwork  

A maze of temporary, cordoned isles traced a zigzag gauntlet across a city-block-sized section of the convention hall to a row of registration tables. By late morning, an estimated 5,000 people, of the 23,000 who called hoping for a pair of tickets, will shuffle through the slow-moving, meandering path for a pass to enter the inner circle for a shot at the remote likelihood of riches and a few minutes of fame. A team of experienced Roadshow staff and a phalanx of 120 volunteers from the local network affiliate act as guides, carefully moving individuals from one step to the next. Potential chaos is averted because of the careful training the staff receives in advance of each appraisal event, and the years of experience of the Road Show personnel. In a period of ten hours, these 5000 people, with their approximately 10,000 objects, will be individually seen by a team of 70-80 expert appraisers in 18 different categories. This cadre of appraisers will collectively see 700 people and 1400 objects per hour. The entire one-hour episode will be taped on the spot over the course of the day and will ultimately feature just 15-18 objects of value that make the final ‘cut’.  

Nearby, in another section of the hall and glowing under racks of bright lights, like a modern-day Stonehenge, is the appraisal and video-taping area. Screened by tall, temporary barriers arranged in a circle no larger than twin tennis courts, the heart of the Roadshow is already beating wildly at 9 a.m. on a Saturday. Tables ring the perimeter of the enclosure, while the center of the circle becomes a, ‘no-trespass zone’, defined by a 40-foot square line of green tape that separates camera crews, presentation stations and taping activity from the din that constantly surrounds them. Volunteers stand like centaurs on the green line, assuring that those who enter the production area have good reason to be there. The whirlwind of activity and generalized buzz in the appraisal area, noticeable to any fan of the show, is deliberate and conceived to lend a sense of excitement and discovery to the events that are unfolding. With acres of space around them, the producers could easily expand the boundaries of the appraisal area, but would lose the feeling of tension and intimacy that is one of the hallmarks of the show’s success.  

Host, Mark Walberg tapes the opening sequence of the show

 Punctuating the Inner Circle are regular breaks in the screens, allowing people to line up again under signage that matches the ticket they have been issued that describes the object(s) they want to have appraised. Trailing off from each doorway in gentle arcs, like pinwheel blades off a central axis, those waiting to enter have made the first cut (no religious artifacts, family bibles, contemporary ephemera, coins, stamps, vehicles and, not surprisingly, explosives!) and are now within sight of their objective. Objects that people bring to the event range from massive chests of drawers being pushed on hand carts, to stacks of paintings, drawing and posters, to rugs and wall hangings slung over shoulders, to tiny boxes containing a single piece of jewelry—an heirloom passed down from generations past. Each and every object comes with a story attached; some fanciful; some sentimental; some steeped in history; some smacking more of fiction than fact. Royalty, great men and women of history and lore, movie stars, Indian princesses and Russian Tsars seem to have possessed more than their average share of ephemera making their way from attic to showroom floor, but each and every story is carefully considered and each piece carefully examined and its potential provenance explored.  

Appraiser, Alasdair Nichol takes a closer look

 Standing behind the appraisers’ tables in the ‘Paintings’ section (by far the busiest, with seven appraisers and more art than any other single type of item coming in the door) offers an insightful perspective on the process. Again, volunteers carefully manage the growing crowds, as early morning turns to mid-day and anticipation rises. The taping of some lucky treasure holders has already begun close by, only serving to build excitement in the crowd of people who have been ushered into the appraisal and sound stage area. They are now only steps away from appraisers whose long years of service to the show, familiar faces and colorful styles have made them art and antique superstars. With the raising of a hand, the next entrant is called forward to the appraisal table.  

For the most part, the tools of the appraisers’ trade remain the same as they have always have been—a keen eye, years of experience in auction and appraisal settings, a strong light and a good magnifying glass. In addition, each station is equipped with a computer and the on-line data bases of art values, artists’ auction histories and biographies are constantly being called up. The work of art is examined, both front and back, the owners are invited to tell the story of how they came to possess the piece and questions about treatment, storage and restoration attempts are asked. This exchange represents a fascinating and impressive moment in the Antiques Roadshow process. For every work of art that is brought to the table, no matter how mundane, inauthentic or precariously-conditioned a piece might be, each attendee gets the earnest and undivided attention of the appraiser for the few minutes they have in his or her company. One appraiser told me that, “In spite of the fact that I might know immediately that what I am looking at is worthless, I want to show that person the respect they have earned, by travelling great distances in some cases and waiting in line for hours for my opinion. I want their trip to be worthwhile. Even if the work of art has no value, I want the owner to leave here feeling like we took a careful look and offered an opinion they can feel confident about.”  

Appraiser, Elaine Banks Stainton, of Doyle New York examines details of painting selected for possible inclusion in show , as owner watches

 Everyone who approaches the appraiser’s table hopes to hear that they have stumbled upon a lost treasure, a missing link in the story of America or a priceless piece of history. What they are usually told, in fact, is that the work has little or no value, it is a print or reproduction, that the story that has been told in the family about royal or celebrity connections to the piece are apocryphal or that steps to restore or improve the piece have lessened its value. In the time that I spent at the art appraisal table, dozens of works were presented and most fell into these categories. Some, however, were beautiful and expertly rendered. But, in the absence of an auction history or sales record, or an obscure and ambiguous artist’s history, these compelling pieces were determined not to be ‘ready for prime time TV.’ Lesson for attendees: Just as there is ‘no crying in baseball’, there is no room for sentimentality in the art and antiques appraisal business.  

Roadshow executive producer, Marsha Bemko, interviews owner of painting regarding inclusion in the taping line-up. Her work was selected for airing.

 Then, finally…pay dirt! A woman approached with an expertly rendered painting of a uniformed soldier, mounted on a horse and riding through a winter landscape. With detail and touches resembling Winslow Homer, upon closer examination, it was determined to be of an Eastern European military figure, rendered by an obscure, but not unknown, Polish artist, Michael Gorstkin-Wywiorski (Polish, 1861-1926). A cursory investigation by the appraiser showed an impressive sales history, good condition, original frame, signature of the artist and desirable subject matter, expertly portrayed. Once selected as a possible on-camera appraisal event, the owner is immediately sequestered away from the work. It is explained to her, “I believe this may be an important work, but from this moment on, I cannot talk to you about it anymore.” The owner of the piece is then accompanied out of the area to sit in a holding area while the appraiser completes her research and builds her case for why this painting deserves to go on-air.  

Once the work is thoroughly researched and other appraisers are consulted for their view, the ‘pitch’ is made. The busy executive producer, in jeans and sneakers, with coffee in hand and cell phone at the ready, pays a short, stand-up visit, along with the appraiser, with the owner of the painting. My impression is that the story of the painting has to be compelling, as do the photogenic qualities and personality of the owner. All factors pass muster and the painting is slated to be filmed at a camera station in just a short while.  

It is hard to tell who is more excited at the moment the go-ahead is given—the owner or the appraiser. With thousands of people working one side of the table and dozens of appraisers working long hours on the other side, live camera time for the expert is a career booster, and for the owner of the work, the event offers a brush with fame, if not a modest payday. This rare, win-win outcome is at the synergistic center piece of the long-running show and a key to its success.  

The owner is then taken to the ‘Green Room’ for make-up while the appraiser pulls together her facts and pricing estimates for presentation to a, hitherto, uninformed owner of the painting. Once on camera, spontaneity and authentic interaction is the key to the success of Antiques Roadshow, even if the object is shown to have little or no value.  

In Tucson, Arizon, amazement at learning a Navajo blanket he kept over back of chair is ‘national treasure’, worth $350-500,000. Photo by Jeffrey Dunn, WGBH, Boston, MA

 But, over 15 years, true value has emerged on occasion on the show. In 2002, a plain-looking, wide-striped, black-and-white Navajo blanket, hand woven and dyed and worn by a Ute chief was declared a national treasure and valued at $350,000 to $500,000; in 1998, a rare Federal-style card table made by John and Thomas Seymour of Boston in the late 1700s, purchased thirty years earlier at a garage sale was estimated to be worth $200,000 to $300,000; in 2009, a 1937 painting by noted American Abstract Expressionist, Clyfford Still, received as a housewarming gift was conservatively estimated to be worth $500,000. For the 2010 series, a set of four Quianlong Period (1736-1795) carved jade objects were valued at $710,000 to $1,070,000, making it the highest-value appraisal in Roadshow history!  

But, as one appraiser told me, “After doing the show for so long, I came to realize it was as much about the people as the objects. It’s not really about the value of the items, it’s about the stories.”  

by Richard Friswell, Executive Editor  

Watch for the airing of the Washington, D.C. Antiques Roadshow in the 2011 Season and learn how much the Michael Wywiorski painting was appraised for!  

Full episodes of Antiques Roadshow are streamed at www.pbs.org/video  

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Above: Alex Maclean, Las Vegas, Housing subdivision built out in the desert, from his solo exhibition, ‘Vegas-Venice’  

Alex Maclean's, 'Vegas-Venice' at ERES-Stiftung, Munich, Germany

  Having traveled through much of the United States and parts of Europe, Maclean documents the changing landscape with stunning aerial images, traversing historical, as well as physical boundaries. He has earned a reputation by perceptively documenting the changing nature of the landscapes below him—from agricultural rows to city grids. The images he gathers serve as symbols for a larger matrix of ideas. On a superficial level, Maclean’s photos are spell-binding studies in geometric shapes and patterns. They might be initially dismissed as studies in form over context. But the power of the image and a more detailed analysis of his subjects draws the viewer back to read, inquire, and interpret the altered landscape more carefully. Only then does the viewer encounter the leit motif of Maclean’s work: the impact of the hand of man on his three-dimensional surroundings over the course of a fourth dimension, time.  

Alex Maclean, 'Vegas-Venice', Dense island settlement inside the lagoon is connected to the mainland by causeways

  Using the sun to cast light and shadow, Maclean captures the changes brought about by both human intervention and natural events, far below him. While hovering over a site in his fuel efficient Flight Design CT light sport aircraft, Maclean says his methodology is actually circular, rather than a linear approach to history. “My strategy with a subject is to rotate around it, while taking in the regional and cultural context. I then shoot at four different angles—vertical, oblique, horizontal and bird’s eye view,” says Maclean. “Different angles and shifting lighting can produce very different results when shooting the same subject, exposing years of stories.”  

It is human nature to take a chance; the American dream was built on it. Today, under the ominous cloud of global economic crisis and a wide range of environmental disasters, the dream seems more a mirage, not only in the U.S., but in every corner of the world. Maclean asks us to consider whether las Vegas and Venice, cities built by serendipity in unlikely and hospitable environments, (and staking their reputations on the game of chance), are destined to collapse in much the same way?  

Alex Maclean, 'Vegas-Venice', Las Vegas, single-use residential subdivision block devoid of any urban amenities

 The oldest casino in the world was established in Venice, the city of masks. Casinos once served as centers of gambling, dance, and decadence–a perpetual carnivale, as it were, where aristocrats and merchant classes alike were known to mingle. A similar portrait can now be painted of America’s, Las Vegas, the city of sin. Removed from reality, whether by desert or lagoon, both Venice and Vegas are suffering the consequences of excess and neglect of precious resources. Climate change is causing sea levels to rise world-wide, while Venice, sitting for centuries on its crumbling sub-structure of ancient foundations and pilings, is slowly sagging into the Adriatic Sea. Preservationists are taking measures to preserve the protective wetlands that surround the city, as well as to conserve some of the most beautiful art and architecture in the world. Vegas’ lights, too, are dimming, as real estate markets go bust and excessive water use to irrigate golf courses and maintain green lawns in a desert climate, is literally drying up the most precious of the city’s resources.  

File photo of debris at an abandoned Las Vegas construction site after economic down-turn

After photographing Las Vegas and Venice from the air, Maclean discovered in his studio that he had difficulty sorting the photos, noting that, “there were some images where even I had difficulty distinguishing which city was which. I started to see how the cities were coming undone. Side-by-side, I saw ‘waves’ of water and sand, serpentine canals and paved roadways, all emerging from fragmented lands. How can two such distant landscapes and cultures seem practically identical? I love land and am witnessing how history makes things valuable; how places are becoming memories; how we’ve become environmental refugees seeking shelter. I can’t walk away without taking a chance and hoping that what I do matters.”  

Maclean’s solo exhibit, Vegas-Venice, set to open at ERES-Stiftung in Munich, Germany, on September 7th, 2010, is an exploration of two very distinct landscapes in distress, the similar patterns that emerge, and how time changes our perception of what truly exists.  ERES-Stiftung is a non-profit organization that encourages a collaboration of the arts and sciences to better understand and communicate in an increasingly complex world. Rather than simply asking questions, ERES-Stiftung emboldens society to be part of the solution. www.eres-stiftung.de  

by Michelina Docimo, CSBA, Contributing Writer  

Michelina Docimo is a certified sustainable building advisor and writer. Her focus is on sustainable or “green” architecture, landscape, design, and the representation of nature in art. Her writings have appeared in ARTES Magazine, CT Green Scene, D’Art International, and other industry publications.  

Visit her blog http://michelinadocimo.com/myartobiography  

Over the past 33 years, Alex Maclean has exhibited his work in galleries all over the United States, as well as Canada, Belgium, France, Spain, Italy, and Germany. He has been the recipient of: the CORINE International Book Award: For OVER: The American Landscape at the Tipping Point, 2009; Boston Society of Landscape Architects: Award of Excellence, 2006; American Academy in Rome: Awarded the Rome Prize in Landscape Architecture for 2003-2004; The American Institute of Architects: Citation for Excellence awarded to “Taking Measures Across the American Landscape,” 1997; The American Society of Landscape Architects: Honor Award in Communications bestowed upon “Taking Measures Across the American Landscape,” 1997; National Endowment for the Arts: Design Grant, 1990-1992; among a host of other honors. Some of his public collectors include: Banque Nationale de Paris, Centre Pompidou, DeCordova Museum, Chase Manhattan Bank, Bank of America, Citibank, Fidelity Investments, Goldman Sachs, Museum of Contemporary Photography in Chicago, and J.P. Morgan.  

Alex Maclean  

www.alexmaclean.com

Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt (circ.1910)

This is a tale of two historic homes in a beautiful seaside, New England town, and of how visionary zeal and coincidence braided history, friendship and a passion for things beautiful together in a most unusual way…

On May 1, 1915 Alfred Vanderbilt boarded the Lusitania bound for Liverpool as a first class passenger. It was a business trip, and he traveled with only his valet, leaving his family at home in New York. On May 7th, off the coast of County Cork, Ireland, the German submarine, U-20, torpedoed the ship, triggering a secondary explosion, sinking the giant ocean liner within eighteen minutes. Vanderbilt and his valet, Ronald Denyer, helped others into lifeboats, and then Vanderbilt gave his own lifejacket to save a female passenger, even tying it onto her himself, since she was holding an infant child in her arms. His selfless actions cost him, and those of 1197 other passengers, their lives. Fine Arts Magazine

WW I recruiting poster, following the 1915 sinking of the Lusitania, which killed Vanderbilt

Vanderbilt’s fate was ironic, as three years earlier he had made a last minute decision not to return to the United States…on the Titanic.

Thus, ended the life and colorful saga of one of America’s wealthiest men. He was of a generation of Americans who rose attained power and prestige, born of family legacy. The privileged class at the end of the 19th century had made their money in industry: steel, oil, railroads and manufacturing. And many of these families fled the crush of New York City for the fresh ocean breezes and genteel lifestyle of in Newport, Rhode Island. There, they planned and constructed great stone, seaside fin-de-siècle ‘cottages’; elaborate and massive homes in the classical European style, still standing today, emblematic of an era in American history, sometimes called the Gilded Age.

Vanderbilt Hall, Newport, RI, built be Vanderbilt for his mistress in 1909

In 1909, when Alfred Vanderbilt was still very much part of the Newport scene, with his family’s homes, The Breakers and Marble House, on prominent bluffs overlooking the Atlantic, fate dramatically altered the course of his life. A chance encounter in Central Park with a beautiful woman would provide Newport with an architectural treasure, standing today in a restored setting—the vision of yet another wealthy businessman—this time in 21st century style. Vanderbilt Hall, in the heart of Newport, was originally erected by Alfred for Agnes O’Brien Ruiz, wife of the Cuban attaché, who became his mistress after one day managing to bring her unruly horse under control in the city’s park. This fervent affair drew the wrath and indignation of the Vanderbilt family and it soon came to an end. Tragically, Ruiz was disowned by her husband and committed suicide a few years later.

Over the decades, Vanderbilt Hall has found many uses, principally as a hotel. But time and neglect took their toll on the building and much of its inherent charm was lost to expedience. Then, in 2007, the property was purchased by Peter de Savary, an English businessman with global property holdings and a vision for what Vanderbilt Hall might once again become.

Vernon Court, Newport, RI, home of the National Museum of American Illustration

Just as the Alfred Vanderbilt saga played out, another wealthy individual had taken up residence at nearby, Vernon Court, on prestigious Bellevue Avenue. Constructed in 1898 by architects, Carrère and Hastings (NY Public Library, U.S. House and Senate Office Building, Flagler Museum, Frick Museum), in the style of an 18th century French country chateau, Vernon Court served as a summer cottage for the young widow of wealthy businessman, Richard A. Gambrill. Surrounded by beautiful gardens, inspired by those of Henry VIII for his ill-fated queen, Anne Boleyn, and adjacent to Stoneacre, a park conceived by Frederick Law Olmstead (New York’s Central Park, Boston’s ‘Emerald Necklace’), it was a showpiece in many ways. It remained occupied by descendants of the family until 1956 and filled many uses over the decades since, until purchased in 1998 by Laurence and Judy Cutler, founders of the National Museum of American Illustration (NMAI).

It is here that the story of two historic properties and the divergent objectives of their two owners intersect.

Englishman, Peter de Savary is known internationally as a businessman, luxury hospitality property developer and a 1983 America’s Cup competitor for Britain. He is also an avid art collector. Various homes throughout the world house hundreds of his period works from Old Masters to the Romantic Era. It was not until he decided to undertake the renovation of the then-closed Vanderbilt Hall property in 2008 that he contacted New York City art dealer and 20th century American illustration art expert, Judy Cutler. They had met before, in 1998, when the Cutler’s purchased the property that was to become their museum from its current owner, Peter de Savary, befriending one another in the course of the transaction. Her art gallery was, as they had discovered, directly across the street from de Savary’s New York City apartment!

Vanderbilt Hall, now a luxury masion hotel and spa, owned by Peter de Savary

De Savary’s vision for Vanderbilt Hall, which he was then converting into an exclusive, membership-based resort hotel, was to capture a certain feel—of optimism and good times, of hope and a sense of home. With just 33 suites, it would make a glittering statement about a time long-past, when Newport thrived as a destination for the rich and very rich, and America enjoyed a period of prosperity. The ‘Roaring ‘20s’ were called the Jazz Age, the Age of Intolerance, and the Age of Wonderful Nonsense. But, under any moniker, the era embodied the beginning of modern America. Numerous Americans felt buoyed up following World War I (1914-18). The period of a deadly worldwide influenza epidemic (1918) had also abated. The new decade would be a time of change for everyone —only to be brought to an abrupt end by the stock market crash of 1929 and the Great depression that followed.

But, the spirit of the Roaring Twenties was marked by a general feeling of optimism associated with modernity—and a break with tradition. Everything seemed possible through modern technology. New inventions, especially automobiles, moving pictures and radio, proliferated, bringing ‘modern times’ to a many Americans. Formal decorative frills were shed in favor of practicality in daily life and architecture. At the same time, jazz and dancing rose in popularity, in reaction to the mood that gripped the country during the ‘war to end all wars’. F. Scott Fitzgerald, in The Great Gatsby, captured the tenor of the times best when he wrote:

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter–tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…. And one fine morning– So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” - The Great Gatsby, Ch. 9

Howard Chandler Christy, Stephen Foster Composing, ‘Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair’, originally painted as a 3-part panel.

Peter de Savary wanted to capture Fitzgerald’s mood of unbridled optimism when it came time to install art at Vanderbilt Hall. For this, he contacted Judy Cutler to learn more about how early 20th century illustration art might help set that very mood. Collabortating as a team, each room, from the 24-karat gold leaf dining room, to the area surrounding the many restored, working fireplaces, to the most intimate corner of the property, was hung with authentic, rare and strikingly dramatic examples of illustration art for a period-appropriate touch of elegance.

John Lagatta, The Bather (circ. 1935)

The artistic centerpiece near the lobby is a three-panel screen, by Howard Chandler Christy (1873-1952), now hung like a painting. It is densely embellished, in a modern variation of Rococo styling, titled, Stephen Foster Composing, ‘Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair’. In it, the alluring young woman of the song’s title languishes on a sofa, gazing directly at the viewer, while among the many naked figures, Christy’s mistress dances on the far left. It is spicy and suggestive—much less saccharine than hasty perusal would suggest. Vanderbilt Hall is filled to overflowing with brilliantly-colored, familiar works like this and those by other noted illustration artists, including Pruett Carter, William Soare, Earl Steffa Moran, Julian De Miskey, Earl Bergey and Elbert McGran Jackson. If these artists’ names are unfamiliar to aficionados, it should be noted that they worked largely for the booming magazine and advertising trades in the 1920s and’30s. Their images graced the covers of such cultural icons as Vogue, Colliers, The New Yorker, The Saturday Evening Post, American Weekly Magazine and the New York Herald Tribune Sunday Supplement. Deliberately evocative and sexually suggestive in ways that would never do today, these skillfully-executed works conjure a time that we would like to believe was simpler and social issues were more easily navigated.

Rico Tomaso, Center of Attention (1934)

By far, my favorite pieces in the Vanderbilt Hall Collection include one hung in the breakfast café by John Lagatta entitled, Bather (circ. 1935). For anyone who has not viewed illustration art ‘up close and personal’, the lessons that this painting teach are important. First, the technical merits of the work, including pronounced and skillful brushwork, image composition and color layering that would be the envy of any artist; the sentimental theme, while contrived, conveys a specific, unstated tension between the two figures and a charming period-specific flavor that gains in aesthetic appeal over time; and lastly, the use of light to dramatize the interaction and heighten the illusion of depth and surface planes with merely a few well-chosen brush strokes are just short of masterful.

Another favorite hangs in the dining room and it just might be everyone’s favorite work. It is a sultry portrait of a 20’s socialite, by Rico Tomaso, titled, Center of Attention. She sits on a bar stool, surrounded by men, draped in silk and gazing over her shoulder at something or someone of interest in the distance. Seductive, childlike, sophisticated, bored, calculating, manipulative, naive, unnaturally beautiful are all terms that come to mind, simultaneously, when considering this painting. A 20’s version of Paris Hilton, this mystery woman is clearly in command of the scene. Tomaso’s subtle portrayal of this inscrutable, physically-appealing individual, who sits idly by, as the men surround her competing for attention, is all captured in this small, but elegant painting.

The works were, of course, all purchased by Peter de Savary from Judy Cutler’s, American Illustrators Gallery, in New York City . For anyone interested in an expanded, dramatically-more comprehensive tour of illustration art, the Cutler’s, National Museum of American Illustration, is a short distance away at Vernon Court.

Charles Dana Gibson, The Market Basket (circ. 1900)

A suitably elegant setting, the mansion currently houses the museum’s extensive collection of American illustration; the Gilded Age in architecture is contemporaneous with the “Golden Age of American Illustration”, and is a theme on which the collection focuses. Over a period of more than forty years, the Cutler’s collection has grown to become remarkably comprehensive. Anchoring the collection are some of the iconic drawings of Charles Dana Gibson (the Gibson Girls), paintings by Howard Pyle, the father of illustration art, his students, Maxfield Parrish, N.C. Wyeth and J.C. Leyendecker , who in turn influenced many others, like Norman Rockwell. The NMAI has the second largest collection of Norman Rockwell paintings, next to the Rockwell Museum, itself, in Stockbridge, MA.

The museum also includes the work of J.M. Flagg, Elizabeth Shippen Green and Frederick Remington, to name a few. Hung in abundance throughout elegantly-appointed rooms in the house, the exhibition presents more like a salon than museum. Personal touches and period furnishings add to the visual appeal of the works, contextualizing them for the viewer.

Panels from Maxwell Parrish's, A Florentine Fete (1911), hung in the Rose Garden Loggia at National Museum of American Illustration

For any that would argue illustration art is not ‘serious’, consider first the technical merits of the work and the fact that many artist, adopting this genre did so because of a lucrative publishing market, that sought out competent image-makers to support their editorial content and offer visual appeal at the newsstand. Director, Judy Cutler points out that, “At that time, if you were paid in advance to complete a work of art on a specific theme, then you were not considered a serious artist.” Consider that many illustrators trained with well-known artists of the early 20th century and that some, like Rockwell and Flagg, during their long careers and on their own initiative, tackled profoundly important patriotic and politically-charged issues as subject matter for their paintings (Artist, James Montgomery Flagg, himself, was the model for Uncle Sam in the iconic, ‘I want YOU! poster).

Maxfield Parrish, A Florentine Fete (1911), detail

Commenting on her own extensive collection of illustration art, celebrity, Whoopi Goldberg, describes the strong emotion and magic associated with finding well-crafted illustration plates of her childhood books. She points out that Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel was, in its day, illustration art! It should also be noted that early 19th century painter, John Trumbull, was intent on documenting key events in the American Revolution, before they were lost to collective memory. His brush was his camera of the day. Winslow Homer began his career as an illustrator for Harper’s Weekly. George Lucas, director and master story-teller on film, defines illustration art as, “Cultural artifacts infused with a sensibility of time.” For Lawrence Cutler, this means that, “illustration art carries with it a sense of history; either defining who we are through mass-produced images, or reflecting our identity as discovered through the artist’s eye.”

Norman Rockwell, Miss Liberty, Saturday Evening Post cover, July 1, 1943

A breathtaking series of large panels by Maxfield Parrish, hung in the Rose Garden Loggia and the stairwell leading up to the second floor, is an astounding representation of the early Art Deco style, epitomized by Parrish. Once adorning the 175’-long cafeteria walls at Curtis Publishing Company in Philadelphia (publisher of Ladies Home Journal), this commissioned series, entitled, A Florentine Fete (1911) was acquired by Judy Cutler when the business closed several years ago. Theatrical and romantic in their conception, each panel radiates with individual motifs and implied dramatic ‘moment’. Yet each is infused with the rich glowing color and subtle inflection of gesture or intent. One less obvious theme linking the works is the repeated appearance of Parrish’s companion, Susan Lewin. These panels, once part of a work-a-day office building setting, are well served in the naturally-lit loggia, garden views outside every window.

Norman Rockwell’s, Miss Liberty is another favorite, not to be missed. The central figure, preoccupied with her heavy burden, seems poised to bustle directly off the canvas. She represents America herself, carrying symbols of many of careers that women in the 1940’s were prohibited from. Rockwell captured a seminal historical moment as doors were being opened to women in the competitive market place, previously denied them. With humor, dynamic action and rich symbolism, he thus educates the viewer on an important issue in our collective history, without uttering a syllable.

Vanderbilt Hall and Vernon Court are symbols of a common history that define what Newport, Rhode Island once was. Both homes embodied the hopes and dreams of a people and era, long-past. Henry James once bitterly remarked that the Newport ‘cottages’ should stand there always, reminders “of the peculiarly awkward vengeances of affronted proportion and discretion.” But James could not imagine the dreams of a new generation and the re-purposing of these splendid spaces as havens of enlightenment and rejuvenation.

Thanks to people like Peter de Savary, and Judy and Lawrence Cutler and their exceptional efforts, Newport Lives!

by Richard Friswell, Executive Editor

Please post your secure comments in the section below. We welcome your feedback.

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Visit Vanderbilt Hall at www.vanderbilthall.com

See the collection of illustration art and scenes of Vernon Court at www.americanillustration.org

Interior of Maurice Agis's, Dreamscape (2006) Disaster would soon strike. See video, below

 Seeking – Director for Museum, open 4-10 days a year with hundreds of curators involved, and tens of thousands of visitors. Must be able to cope with logistical nightmares and able to please everybody all the time.  

How many museums are there in the world? Have a guess. I have no idea so email me if you know. My point is there are thousands upon thousands of museums, more than it would be possible to count with any great ease. Museums are, for the most part, continuously in operation. Their time horizon, as a business, is long range. They are afforded the luxury of time to organize, correct, and improve. But, in the case of an art fair or expo, how do you cram all of these operational considerations into a just a few days of intense activity, and accomplish it without serious incident?Fine Arts Magazine  

The Armory Show (2010): one of NYC's biggest art fairs, with dozens held in the city each year.

 That is the task that art fair managers aim to achieve. It has long been said, usually when journalists are within ear shot, that art fairs are temporary museums; the only difference is the art is for sale. But the often elegant façade betrays a huge undertaking. Logistically, this is a monumentally complex machine to assemble—sometimes years in the planning and just a week or two in the execution. Events like this would not be realistically achievable without the liberal application of insurance to grease the cogs. And this strategy stretches far beyond insuring the art on the walls at the show.  

“The most important thing in both personal and business life is peace of mind – insurance is part of achieving that.” That’s from Paul Morris, president and co-founder of the Armory Show. He definitely recognizes the importance of insurance to art fairs. In order to achieve that ‘peace of mind’ a fair needs to protect itself and its exhibitors from potential financial losses. According to Morris, Pier 94 in New York City (the expanded home of the historically-significant, annual Armory Show event) is undergoing a significant renovation, courtesy of MMPI (the fair’s parent company).  

As a rule of thumb, here are just three important considerations for art fair organizers:  

Venice Biennale (2009), Elmgreen & Dragset, curators/artists. 'Body' floats in a pool outside a house being 'sold.' Photo: Todd Hesler, The New York Times

 1. Workers Compensation Insurance: Required of staff for maintenance and building of all the booths at a fair venue. Add to this any and all employees working for the fair organizers, the exhibitors, and fine art shippers. This may represent hundreds of policies that each party involved must have to employ personnel. Without this coverage, the booths would never be built, the fair organizers and galleries would have no staff and the art would never ship. All of which adds a level of expense and difficulty to holding even a modest event. The insurance is there to protect both the employer and the employee–creating a protected environment for business to be conducted.  

2. Commercial Liability Insurance: For the fair venue, itself, its organizers, gallery participants and shippers, in the event an accident occurs. Without this insurance, exposure to financial losses due to accident or injury can quickly become extreme, in the face of an unexpected event. And the unexpected can occur, sometimes with fatal results.  

Maurice Agis, artist, 77, following his arrest on manslaughter charges on 2006

 Though not installed as an art fair, per se, the British artist Maurice Agis, created a public art event in 2006, when he erected a temporary, onsite immersive art work, Dreamspace, in a park outside a small town in North England. The acre-sized inflatable sculpture was designed as a series of huge intersecting, colored bubbles, inviting the public to walk through as they experienced the multi-sensory world of lights and colors of the artist’s creation. On one particular day, with a few people inside the structure, the wind outside picked up, breaking the moorings, and lifting the structure into the air. As it came crashing back down, coming to rest against a large pole, two women were killed and several were injured. Agis had no insurance. He was taken to court on manslaughter charges (a verdict on which the jury could not agree) and was fined $15,000. This fine was later reduced to $4,000 to better reflect his minimal income of $180 per week, from a state pension. He died in October 2009, at the age of 77, with the debt still standing. If this had occurred in the US, at a major art fair, the damages sought would have been exponentially higher. (left) Sequence of events as Dreamscape takes to the air.  

3. Event Insurance: Designed to protect the operators if the whole event is canceled, due to weather or some unforeseen circumstances. Seem unlikely? In 2008, the Summer Arts Fair in Omaha was completely flattened by very high winds. While not a major fair, it underscores the need to protect against unforeseen or even far-reaching natural occurrences. The organizing company, as well as a number of other parties, stood to be significantly out-of-pocket if they were not adequately covered. Event Insurance goes a long way in protecting the financial investment involved. Having to cancel an art fair or expo in the late stages can be more than enough to sink a great company. It can be doubly-hard when the event has brand recognition that may have taken years to build.  

Taking on the task of organizing and mounting a large art fair is multi-faceted and involves assuming responsibility for scores of people who may be involved. All of this before we even start to think about the juggling act needed to make exhibitors happy or the steps needed to protect the art itself!  

Claude Monet, Fishing Boats at Sea (1868). Alfred A. Pope Collection, Hill-Stead Museum, Farmington, CT

 In this complex mix of people, business interests and product, the art represents, far and away, the single largest financial exposure. Christiane Fischer, President and CEO of AXA Art Insurance in North America, says that at any major international art fair, “AXA Art insures anywhere between $100 million and $1 billion+ in art”. That is a pretty incredible number for a single, large event. Combine that with the exhibitors insured with other companies and you start to see a sweat-inducing number. The whole of The European Fine Arts Fair (TEFAF), widely recognized as the largest fair in the world, has approximately $4 billion in art on display each year.  

The Windsor Hotel fire, NYC (1899). Note the Monet painting, pictured above, being rescued from Mr. Pope's hotel room window by fire depart. Photo: Archives, Hill-Stead Museum, Farmington, CT

 In addition to the art work that will be on display, there is another key component for any event: shipping and handling. This is a massive undertaking. Transporting multiple billions in art at any one time is enough to cause a cardiac event. In order for the shippers to be able to conduct business, they need significant insurance policies in place to protect themselves from potential losses and lawsuits. Even the most cautious shippers, unfortunately, suffer losses at some point. In fact, shipping is the most common cause of art insurance claims. This is such a huge topic and I don’t want to digress so I will be dedicating an entire article to it in the near future.  

There you have it; everybody and every company involved needs the proper insurance in place for a market to trade. Often I get the impression some would rather do without all of this insurance. I have heard it said, “Insurance gets in the way of doing business. Why can’t we all just forge ahead without it? It costs money. It delays progress. It’s… simply put…annoying.”  

Those of you who have been reading these articles know that this notion is counter-intuitive. As my last article explained, insurance allows us to conduct business while transferring the large majority of risk to a third party. Indeed it allows us to take on larger financial risks than we would otherwise be able to assume. Rather than getting in the way of business, insurance facilitates it. It provides a safe environment in which to conduct serious business.  

What is serious business?… $4 billion art fairs are serious business.  

by Thomas Galbraith, Contributing Writer  

  

Contact Thomas at tgalbraith@gendelman.com  if you have any questions you would like me to address in the coming articles.  

Thomas Galbraith is Director of Fine Art for Bruce Gendelman Insurance Services. Galbraith has years of expertise in the art insurance marketplace. He previously worked as an art historian at the Art Loss Register, assisting in the recovery of stolen art, and as a collections specialist at Chartis Private Client Group. He most recently served as fine art expert for AXA Art Insurance in the U.S. and as part of the team that spearheaded the company’s Canadian operations.

I

Left: Twenty‑eight piece toilet service in original leather case marked by Johann Erhard II Heuglin (master 1717–1757) and Philipp Jakob I. Jäger (active 1715–1763), (German (Augsburg), about 1725–1730). Silver gilt, glass, boars’ bristles, original leather‑covered case with wrought‑iron hardware. Photo © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston. Fine Art Magazine The toilet service is comprised of four small toilet boxes (for storage of toilet articles), one large casket with lock, two round spice boxes, brush (for grooming), mirror, pair of candlesticks, écuelle with stand (for the morning bouillon, or broth), ewer and basin (for ceremonial hand-washing), tazza (for presentation of a drinking vessel), two glass flasks, scent funnel (to fill bottles with perfumed water) , covered beaker, table bell, candle-snuffer with stand (for snuffing out burning wicks), set of knife, fork, spoon and marrow spoon, all stored in its original leather-covered case. 

Baroque-style residence, Würzburg, Germany 1719-1744, der Kaisersaal (architect: Balthasar Neumann)

 Each piece of the service displays an oval cartouche decorated with small scenes of figures, such as Dianna, goddess of the hunt, with winged putti, and animals, such as stags, geese, mice, dogs, lions, horses, and fish. The form and decoration of the gold-work contains appliqué medallions on a punch-marked ground, popular Baroque motifs popularized during the Régence Period, under the reign of Louis XIV (1643–1715). 

Johann Erhard II Heuglin specialized in making table silverware and also produced a toilet service in 1722 for Empress Marie-Amélie, wife of Emperor Karl VII of Germany, conserved today in the Schatzkammer (treasury) of the Munich Residenz. A second large enamel toilet service made by Heuglin was formerly owned by the grand dukes of Mecklenburg and is now in the Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe in Hamburg. [1] Although the original owner of this elegant service is not known, it was later owned by Christian IX, King of Denmark (1818 – 1906), descending within the family to Carl Castenskiold (1923 – 2006), Commander of the Royal Danish Navy. 

Interior contents of the toilet service. Photo © Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

 Toilet services, also known as Toilettegarnituren, are Baroque creations of eighteenth century goldsmiths’ art. They have always been symbols of refined, ceremonial life at court during late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries and were given to both men and women as wedding gifts at princely weddings. [2] Unlike silverware owned by the crown, these sets remained the private property of the owner and were often stored in the boudoir and several toilet services of varying sizes and materials (gold, silver, enamel) might have been found in a princess’ chamber. [3] We know from several paintings and engravings that toilet services were arranged on a table draped in white muslin or lace and placed in front of a window for light, with the boxes and bottles arranged according to size in the center of the table. [4] 

Augsburg was the leading center of production of this distinctive type of toilet service containing breakfast dishes and cups for drinking coffee, tea or hot chocolate and could be appropriately transported in a fitted case when traveling. The sheer volume of toilet services produced in Augsburg during this period is partly due to the client’s ability to order a service directly from the silver dealer with the specific size, shape, and decoration in mind, which was then distributed to specialized goldsmiths. 

The MFA toilet service will soon be on view in a new permanent gallery dedicated to eighteenth century continental European decorative arts and sculpture scheduled to open with the New American Wing in November 2010. 

by Rebecca Tilles, Contributing Writer 

Rebecca Tilles is a curatorial research associate in decorative arts and sculpture in the Art of Europe Department at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston and has assisted with the exhibitions “Symbols of Power: Napoleon and the Art of the Empire Style, 1800-1815” (2007) and “Splendor and Elegance: European Decorative Arts and Drawings from the Horace Wood Brock Collection” (2009). She holds a BA in French and French Cultural Studies from Wellesley College and an MA in European Decorative Arts from The Bard Graduate Center in New York. 

[1] Lorenz Seelig, “Dressing-Table Sets of the Régence and the Rococo,” in Silver and Gold, Courtly Splendour from Augsburg (New York: Prestel, 1995), p. 40. 

[1] Silber und Gold: Augsburger Goldschmiedekunst fir fie Höfe Europas, p. 431 

[1] Ibid., p. 433 

[1] Seelig, p. 40. 

Museum purchase with funds donated anonymously and William Francis Warden Fund, Mary S. and Edward J. Holmes Fund, Frank B. Bemis Fund, Edwin E. Jack Fund, Arthur Tracy Cabot Fund, Russell B. and Andrée Beauchamp Stearns Fund, Harriet Otis Cruft Fund, Seth K. Sweetser Fund, H. E. Bolles Fund, Helen B. Sweeney Fund, Jane Marsland and Judith A. Marsland Fund, Warren Collection—William Wilkins Warren Fund, Mary L. Smith Fund, Alice M. Bartlett Fund, Samuel Putnam Avery Fund, Benjamin Pierce Cheney Donation, Frank M. and Marty T. B. Ferrin Fund, Joyce Arnold Rusoff Fund, Amy M. Sacker Fund, and by exchange from the Bequest of Maxim Karolik, Gift of Mrs. Sidney T. Allen, Bequest of Frank Brewer Bemis, Gift in memory of Dr. William Hewson Baltzell by his wife Alice Cheney Baltzell, John Gardner Coolidge Collection, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Stephen C. Greene, Gift of Mrs. George Linder, Gift of Miss M.H. Jewell, Gift of the Walpole Society, Bequest of Helen S. Coolidge, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. John Templeman Coolidge, Gift of Mrs. Joseph Newhall Smith in memory of her husband, John Wheelock Elliot Fund, Otis Norcross Fund, Gift of the Trustees of Reservation Estate of Mrs. John Gardner Coolidge, Gift of Mrs. Henrietta Page, Susan Greene Dexter Fund, Anonymous gift in memory of Charlotte Beebe Wilbour (1833‑1914), Gift of Francis H. Bigelow, Bequest of Charles Hitchcock Tyler, Swan Collection—Gift of Miss Elizabeth Howard Bartol, Gift of Mrs. Guy Lowell in memory of her husband, Guy Lowell, Bequest of James W. Paige, Gift of Mrs. Henry Mason, Bequest of Mrs. John H. Thorndike, and Gift of Miss Louise M. Nathurst.

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(left):  An illustration of Edward Lloyd’s coffee house, 1798, which served as a headquarters for marine underwriters.  Fine Art Magazine

Lloyd's of London World Headquarters today. Design by Richard Rogers

But consider this: coffee is pivotal to the story of how insurance came to be. Without coffee, and a place to drink it, the insurance industry may have taken a very different course. Lloyds of London, the original, official home of insurance, was first and foremost a coffee house, founded in 1688. At that time there were around 3,000 such coffee houses in London. So Lloyd’s must have been an entertaining and engaging-enough venue to have been frequented by ship owners, sailors and merchants – a rowdy bunch. Edward Lloyd’s coffee house provided a venue for weather reports, news from distant locales and discussion of business and, significantly, insurance agreements; all while slurping down cup after cup of coffee.

Santa Croce, Florence, Italy flood of 1966 destroyed 1000's of historic artifacts

Lloyd’s moved, expanded and stopped selling coffee. It became the global center and catalyst for the modern insurance industry, as we know it today. There’s much more to Lloyd’s history, of course. Their coffee house origins are merely a prelude to how the company grew and consolidated into the fully-functioning industry it is today.

So how does it work, is it important and why should we have it? Most importantly, why should a collector of art or other fine things want to understand the workings of the insurance world?

The answer is simple: because it is an important part of your collection management strategy, protecting what you’ve spent years building. And, because your broker says so! Also, as with the English game of Cricket, it’s slightly more fun when you understand the rules.

St. Mark's Square, Venice, Italy, floods each day due to sinking city and rising water levels, globally

Insurance works in its most basic form by pooling or transferring risk. A group of individuals, say art dealers, come together and all agree to pay a certain amount of money, premium, into a fund. Should one of the members suffer a loss or damage–like to a painting–they can then extract money from the fund for the amount of the loss. An individual taking a financial hit alone may very well bankrupt their business. When the loss is distributed among the members of the fund/group, not only can each individual afford to take on slightly larger risks, and therefore reap potential higher rewards, they also protect one another from financial ruin in the event of a large loss.

That is the core principal of insurance. Essentially, with some modifications, an insurance company extrapolates the principal to a much larger scale. Insurance loves the law of large numbers–the more people in the pool, the more predictable it becomes to measure likely losses and the more accurately annual premiums can be priced.

Portrait of a Flood, A. Sisley, Flood at Port-Marly, France (1876)

Insurance is everywhere and without it, very little could ever be done in the business world and art collecting, as you know, is often managed much like a business. I’m sure that if you’ve read this far, you have a story about insurance, perhaps involving an art fair, a shipping nightmare, or a consignment agreement gone wrong. All these are very direct examples of insurance at work, but what about the indirect examples? There is also workers’ compensation insurance so an art fair can be set up, a gallery staffed and art handlers hired; professional liability insurance for art advisors with overly litigious, “I’m-recording-this-for-my-lawyer” clients; and general liability insurance, in case a collector looses a toe to the unintentional and rapid descent of a large Kris Martin work!.

It is astonishing to consider how we are affected by insurance every day, in a wide variety of often invisible ways. In the coming articles, I will address exactly how important the role insurance is in our everyday lives, and particularly, how critical it is to the functioning of the art market. I also hope to offer some advice on how to handle your insurance proactively.

So at the very least, next time you’re making coffee for guests, you can talk about insurance in a most unusual and interesting way!

by Thomas Galbraith, Contributing Writer

Contact Thomas at tgalbraith@gendelman.com  if you have any questions you would like me to address in the coming articles.

Thomas Galbraith is Director of Fine Art for Bruce Gendelman Insurance Services. Galbraith has years of expertise in the art insurance marketplace. He previously worked as an art historian at the Art Loss Register, assisting in the recovery of stolen art, and as a collections specialist at Chartis Private Client Group. He most recently served as fine art expert for AXA Art Insurance in the U.S. and as part of the team that spearheaded the company’s Canadian operations. He currently serves on the board of APAA.