Day 371 - Mid-19th century furnishings and paintings

July 29, 2024

Gallery 736 is a very large  gallery filled with works from the middle decades of the 19th century: furniture and decorative objects, primarily ceramics and cut glass goblets and bowls, along with a number of paintings.  Introductory signage explains that economic prosperity and a growing middle class fueled the market for "refined domestic interiors." It also notes that skilled European craftsmen found employment in the new country, a fact that gained new resonance for me after I recently met a man whose German grandfather, a glassblower, emigrated to the United States to work in the Corning glassworks. 

For me, the gallery is a lesson in the evanescent and culture-bound definition of what constitutes good taste. It makes me realize that the couches and chairs and tables with clean, simple lines that I like so much were not prized 175 years ago; who knows how they will be regarded 175 years from now? 

The armchair shown above is a case in point. Made in New York City in 1853 by a Prussian-born cabinet-maker, the chair is fashioned primarily of rosewood (which must have been precious even then) and intricately carved with birds and female heads. It was part of a suite shown at the New York Crystal Palace that year (I didn't know there even was such an exhibition!); the suite was identified as "Louis XIV-style" and widely praised for its"taste and spirit."  But I find it heavy and fussy, redeemed only by its sprightly green upholstery, which is, however, a modern addition.

The most that strikes me as most absurd is unquestionably the "Egyptian table" made in New York around 1870-1875. The object's placard says that Egyptian subjects and Egyptian-influenced designs were very popular during that period. (A digression: Verdi's Aida reflects and may have contributed to that popularity. The placard states that the opera was commissioned to celebrate the opening of the Suez Canal,  a fact I wasn't aware of; I always thought it was to celebrate the opening of the Cairo Opera House, but in fact while the opera premiered there in 1871, the house was dedicated two years earlier.)  The table is highly ornate, with a marble top and bowed legs; it is described as having a Renaissance Revival form that has been imbued with Egyptian design elements, including the four sphinx heads at the top of the table's legs and the lotus blossom insets; I also note the V-shaped marquetry. I think the piece is laughable, but its owners must have taken great pride in it. 

Wealthy Americans of this period clearly wanted to show their awareness of and respect for ancient and Old World culture. But really, doesn't my taste for simple lines owe much to my own awareness of and respect for the Bauhaus (with the added fillip that so many of the Bauhaus artists were anti-Nazi)?  Am I so different from the Americans of yesteryear who wanted to be seen as citizens of the world and conversant with the cultural icons of the past?

In contrast to the furniture in the room, a number of the paintings are relatively simple and straightforward,  executed as they were by self-taught artists. Among these is Robert Peckham's 1838 double portrait entitled "The Raymond Children." The sister and brother stand out against a dark background in a room whose most conspicuous feature is, not incidentally, a desk on which several books are displayed.  The artist has paid close attention to elegant details of the children's clothing: the sheer organza of his shirt collar, the delicate lace insets on her pantaloons. The siblings have nearly identical faces and hairstyles, but their toys are strictly gender-differentiated: he holds a string pulling a toy wagon, she holds a doll that's as finely outfitted as the children. It's all very charming.