I continue to eat my words

I decided to take a risk this final semester of graduate school and take a furniture course. I figured that if it was 20th century furniture I would be okay, since I do love some good design and my good friends, Charles and Ray Eames were 20th century designers. For my course, we took a field trip to the Knoll factory in East Greenville, PA, this past Friday and I was completely wowed.

Their museum, while small, contains their iconic pieces from the Knoll Studio collection, as you can see above. You walk in and are immediately greeted by a number of chairs and a handful of tables that speak volumes about mid-century Modern design. As you move through the room, you see more pieces that tell the story of how it progressed and how Knoll worked to be at the forefront of design and innovation. But the best part: you can sit in almost every single one of these pieces. Please name another museum where you can do that.

We then were given a tour of the factory, and while factory work is usually not at the top of my list of jobs I'd like to have, this one could be a contender. The factory is well-lit, open, comfortable, and every single person we talked to seemed excited and happy to be there. They were more than glad to tell us what they were doing and show us how they make their furniture. We were even allowed to touch the fabric that goes on the Life chair! Other employees from the engineering and marketing sides talked to us, and I got the overwhelming impression that Knoll works incredibly hard to be at the forefront of good design.

The most amazing thing they've come up with in the last year is the Generation Chair. It's a chair that borders on being intuitive, and as soon as I sat in it and realized the potential, I was sold. You can sit in it like a normal chair at your computer. Sit in it sideways. Sit backwards. Lean on it. Push it around. Basically, it does everything I've ever wanted a chair to do. Visit this site to learn all about how amazing it is.

Now, if only I could afford it...

Did I say I hate furniture?

I did, didn't I. But I did give a brief mention to my love of Belter. I realized (as I pondered that I should blog a little more regularly) that I've never fully devoted an entry to the Belter tete-a-tete and why I find it such an amazing furniture form. The time has come.

I discovered this beautiful piece of furniture, lovingly housed by the Metropolitan Museum of Art while goofing off one day in undergrad. I'm not sure what I was researching, but I used to click through the pictures of the American Decorative Arts collection because there was a wedding dress that I thought was absolutely, breathtakingly, extraordinarily beautiful (that I can't find now). I also liked to look through the other decorative arts on the page. (This was a point in my life where I kind of wish someone had said, "Did you know there is a way you can study just these things without all the paintings and sculpture?) In this way, I stumbled across this sinuous form. It was amazing, and so perfectly named. "Tete-a-tete." I imagined my life wherein I would own a home large enough to house this piece of furniture. Couples and friends could sit, completely ensconced in the piece, shut off from the rest of the world, but able to focus solely on one another.

It is quite the Victorian piece of furniture. I want to use the word "delicious" here in imagining a woman in her hoop skirt, laced up bodice, leaning back and exchanging words with her dashing young man in his long coat and sideburns, with a bit of a rakish look in his eye.

To this day, I'm not sure what it is about this piece. But I think it is the form, I love all tete-a-tetes. And in the Rococo revival that was the mid-19th century, the form works well. There are a few additional decorative elements on the top that I could live without, but I actually like the deep blue and gold upholstery. (I doubt it is original.) The Belter piece I had to learn for my survey class just makes me feel repulsed and a little embarrassed by just how much I love the other piece. Which, again, leads to the conclusion that it's the form. If anyone knows of a modern take--like Le Corbusier or Mies van der Rohe--on the tete-a-tete, please send it my way!

Photo courtesy metmuseum.org

My true feelings about furniture

I've been at "furniture camp" for the last month. Otherwise known as the MESDA Summer Institute at the Museum of Early Southern Decorative Arts in Winston-Salem, NC. I was incredibly excited to come and learn more and see what this would have in store for me. I interned at MESDA as an undergraduate during my Salem College Jan Term, 2005. Going in, I didn't consider that I've never really a) studied colonial American and b) don't really like furniture as a subject of study. These were probably considerations to take before I signed up.

But I did all of my pre-course reading. And I found it interesting. Sure probate inventories and ads for runaway slaves aren't the most scintillating reading, but I managed to get through them and get excited about the course. And I got to look at nice pictures of furniture. And I was okay.

Then I got here. I learned a lot about material culture--lots more than I'd ever learned before. Pulling together inventories, court records, archaeological information, decorative arts, anthropology, and history to create a new course of study was exciting and interesting. So many things to see and look at. Then came my object for study. A blanket chest. From eastern North Carolina. (pictured above) From the turn of the eighteenth century. I was not thrilled.

I tried to examine this piece and why it would be interesting. I couldn't come up with anything. I just wanted a nice coffee mug, plate, punch bowl--anything made of clay!--to study. No such luck. I was going to learn all I could about this chest and it was going to kill me, I was pretty sure. Then I started to ponder how someone could get a degree in decorative arts and not care about furniture at all. My thesis has furniture aspects, and I'm not recoiling at the thought of that. Why don't I find furniture interesting? I can't tell you that, any more than I can tell you why I love ceramics. After 4 long weeks of wondering and fretting, I have one conclusion:

I don't like furniture until the 19th century. And even then it's touch-and-go. I like it to sit on, to lie upon, to eat at, but I don't know that I want to study it forever. Fortunately, there are lots of people who do. I'll look at all the plates and you can take the table and chairs. For now though, I'm just happy to return to the 20th century and studio craft.

Photo courtesy MESDA object photograph files. For amazing information, photographs, and research materials about Southern decorative arts and culture prior to the Civil War, MESDA is one of the best resources you could have. I am very grateful to the people of MESDA and Old Salem for this experience and highly recommend it to those interested in this time period, decorative arts, and material culture.

Who wants machine made?

I walked in to my kitchen this morning to discover this lovely collection of cups from last night sitting on our counter, bathed in sunlight. I will admit to taking some license in moving an actual glass out of the way for the photo, but I loved seeing our collection of handmade objects along the counter. The tallest tumbler in the back was made by the man who taught me pottery for two years at Montgomery Community College, Mike Ferree. He's a phenomenal craftsman, and this shot totally blocks the beautiful salt-glazed texture, the use of gold slip and green celadon, and the slight carving Mike added to keep the cup from getting to slippery when condensation formed on the outside. The two yellow and ones with black stripes (really, they're green) are from my dinnerware set. The back left tumbler is a wood-fired one I purchased at the American Craft Council Baltimore craft show last year. I used to have trouble buying pottery, since I figured I could make it myself. But, the longer it's been since I've turned or fired anything, I've decided supporting other artists (craftsmen) is more important than my pride. The tumbler closest is my lovely roomie's--a fellow potter! Her's is wood fired and has some awesome zig-zags running down the side for a fantastic visual and tactile texture. The coffee mug is my coffee mug. My constant morning companion. The little piece that gets me going in the morning. It probably should be washed, but that can wait.

Bonus pottery: There is a utensil holder behind all of this, made by my great friends at Whynot Pottery. I spent 2 (or 3?) lovely summers working for them in their fantastic shop. If you're headed to NC and near Seagrove, pop by and visit them. They have beautiful stuff. And the drive up to their shop is one of the most beautiful vistas you'll get.

Summer is Upon Me

Since I moved to DC in August of 2008, people here consistently ask me about the humidity in NC, my home state. I always laugh and tell them it's humid in NC and I'm pretty sure DC has nothing on it. I lied. The people here know what they are talking about. Maybe it's because I walk more here than I ever did in NC, or that my apartment isn't air conditioned, but I'm pretty sure the humidity here is way worse than any of the 23 summers I spent in NC.

But all of this heat and summery weather has me thinking about last summer. I didn't experience much of the DC summer as I hopped from Newport, RI to Limoges, France, to Anchorage, AK. As I walked down 2nd st. SE here in DC the other day I was reminded of Paris. The humidity, the houses, the leafy trees, they all reminded me of walking down leafy streets with amazing houses. To be clear, Paris apartments are much cooler than DC rowhouses. In being transported back and dreaming of one day going to Paris where my trip isn't a huge whirlwind of visiting every tourist hot-spot in 3 days, I thought of my favorite painting.

Olympia by Edouard Manet. It's in the Musee D'Orsay and, sadly, I didn't get to see it when I was there. It's on the list of reasons why I need to go back. This is such a risque painting. It was introduced to me in my senior year of high school by my very hyper-sexualized AP English teacher. Oh, the things I learned that year that probably didn't need to. I finished an assignment early and Mrs. Graham (aforementioned teacher) had a book of 100 important paintings or some such thing and gave it to me to entertain myself while everyone else finished what they were doing. She told me I would have to tell her what my favorite painting was at the end. It was Olympia. It was sexy, amazing, and I found it incredibly intriguing.

Fast forward 4 years to my senior year of college as an art history major. We're studying Impressionism and Manet gets a nice mention. We learn all about Olympia and her basis in historic paintings of women. The great thing about Olympia is that Manet acknowledges that history, but throws it away at the same time. (Is he a Postmodernist?) Olympia is based on a variety of paintings featuring reclining nudes, but is most often associated with Titian's Venus of Urbino. Sure, they're both nude, but the Venus is much more demure than Olympia.

Venus is blonde (angelic!); Olympia is brunette (earthy, base, evil!). Venus has handmaids in the background, preparing her clothes; Olympia's maid brings flowers (presumably from a customer/suitor) rather than clothes, further suggesting to us that she has no intention of getting dressed any time soon. Venus casts her gaze to the side; Olympia looks straight into our eyes. But my favorite changed symbol telling us that Olympia is no demure, virginal Venus: Venus has a small dog, Olympia has a black cat. Much like the blonde/brunette symbolism, dogs represent kindness and friendliness. Having a small dog is the sign of a well-bred lady. A black cat matches the dark hair as cats are associated with evil, darkness, and ill-breeding.

Maybe it's because I'm a brunette. Or maybe because I just like how forthright Olympia is. But whatever the reason, this painting still intrigues, excites, and amazes me. Even the Nocturne Radio doesn't amaze me like this does. Here's hoping for a return to Paris to see it in person!

Wherein I solve Art v. Craft

I can't solve Art v. Craft. I'll be honest. I'll admit defeat. This debate is older than I am and probably will not be resolved in my lifetime. I recently saw a button on Etsy that caused me to throw up my hands with the realization that no matter how much I write, I can't ever solve this debate single-handedly. The button in question features a pregnant woman and the text read "I'm SO crafty, I make people." Cute. But not helping my cause. When "craft" is now creeping into reproduction, I think I've lost all footing for serious study.

And that makes me sad. I want to argue so passionately for craft. For fine craftsmanship. For people who want to knit in their spare time. For those who occasionally dabble in the line between fine art and craft. Decorative arts tries to walk that line. Decorative arts is very easily defined as "the arts concerned with the production of high-quality objects that are both useful and beautiful." (According to my handy Mac dictionary widget.) But let's dig a little deeper in to that. What counts here?

- ceramics: soup tureens, Greek amphoras, Della Robbia tondos

- clothing: dresses, shirts, boots

- sliver: muffineers, vases

- jewelry: brooches, necklaces

- wood: furniture in a variety of forms

There are many other things that count, but I think by now you're getting the idea. So, where do Etsy sellers or this strange object fit in that? Well, Etsy sellers run the gamut from traditionally trained craftspeople to Do-It-Yourself folks who hope to make a small income from their hobby. The object linked to above (a memory jug) is a type of folk art. Both of these are subsets of craft. The best way I can explain this is the very, very simple chart above. I hope this provides some help in the Art v. Craft debate as I'm pretty sure I'll never solve it.

Apologies for the lack of posts in the last few months. Thesis is officially approved and it's now summer break, so hopefully I'll get back to posting more regularly!

Nocturne Radio

Now that the thesis proposal is turned in, I have nothing to do but wait. Okay, that's not really true, I have lots of other work to attend to, but when reading this today, I was reminded of seeing a version at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. Which in turn reminded me of the Nocturne Radio, also at the MIA. (If you give a girl a Bauhaus designer...)

I know that as you're looking at the incredibly blue picture above, you're not overwhelmed. To be honest, neither was I as I memorized facts about it in Survey of Dec Arts 2 at this time last year. Made by Walter Dorwin Teague in 1937, manufactured by the Sparton Corporation, made of glass. Yeah, sure. It's a radio. And I was told it was a giant radio. The measurements on the MIA website list it as "H. 46 x W. 43 1/4 x D. 12 in." But that still doesn't really give you any idea as to how imposing, startling, and life-changing this radio is.

This radio is part of the Northwest Modernism Collection, which is tucked nicely away on the third floor of the institute. I was visiting this fall and looked forward to seeing iconic works by designers I'd come to love over the previous year. But none of this prepared me for what would happen when I would turn the corner into the exhibit space and find myself confronted with this marvel of design. I was speechless. The radio was breathtaking. It was huge, but not imposing. The reflective glass front was inviting, not repelling. I wanted to touch it and absorb all its perfect design glory through my skin. This sounds disturbing, doesn't it? But I was enthralled. It was a religious experience. Sadly, it was against a wall, so I could not fully appreciate it in the round, but I leaned as close as possible to absorb every aspect of it. From the sides and the front--I couldn't pull myself away. But for my deep abiding respect for the rules of "no touching!" in museums, I would have hugged this radio. There are other iconic modern pieces in this collection, and it covers a range of things from American to European to Arts and Crafts to Art Deco. But none struck me or affected me so deeply or so powerfully as the Nocturne Radio.

According to the entry about this radio, it was "intended to appeal to men, who supposedly would be enthralled by its futuristic form and space-age technology." Perhaps I have the same taste of a man of the 1930s, but that's fine by me.