Smells Like Money: Must be Auction Season

30 Monday Mar 2015

Posted by in Art Rant, Collecting, Snark

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There’s nothing like a little frivolity to lighten your day when you’ve been pondering some really serious and stomach-churning topics. Hail, then, the arrival of the Sotheby’s catalog and the momentary dropping of all material culture pretenses.

This time, it’s Private Collections.  You say Private Collections, I say Disturbing and Hyper-Overpriced Gift Shop. But what does Snarky Duck say?

A Continental creamware duck tureen and cover. Duck ways, no more hot soup, please.

A Continental creamware duck tureen and cover. Duck says, No soup for you.

Poor Strangled Parrot: I don’t think he can say much.

A Holitsch parrot-form jug and cover ca. 1760.

A Holitsch parrot-form jug and cover ca. 1760.

And these guys, described as playful dogs, look more like dyspeptic pugs to me.

A pair of Hochst fayence figures of seated pugs ca 1770.

A pair of Hochst fayence figures of seated pugs ca 1770.

It is amazing what people will make and buy (which delights me), and I’m certain that things I own would astonish and appall someone with different taste. But animal effigies always intrigue me, and (aside from Snarky Duck, our 19th century friend) figures like these could have graced the mantels and tables of the finest homes of the 19th century. It would have been a crowded and raucous world.

Here’s the whole catalog, should you care for some ormolu chairs or Aubusson drapes (which I did not know existed until today).

Bellevue in the Rain

28 Saturday Mar 2015

Posted by in Living History, personal, Philosophy

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Marble House, Newport, R.I. Bain News Service, Glass plate negative, 1910-1915. Library of Congress. LC-B2- 3547-5 [P&P]

Marble House, Newport, R.I. Bain News Service, Glass plate negative, 1910-1915. Library of Congress. LC-B2- 3547-5 [P&P]

Bellevue Avenue: in Newport, that’s a fancy street. I don’t spend much time on fancy streets anywhere I go, but I had a meeting at a museum on Bellevue so there I was, curving out onto the point on a wet, grey day that made everything look like a WPA photograph.

Newport, R.I.: Ochre Point, Cliff Walk. Library of Congress, LOT 9192. It can feel like Rebecca.

Newport, R.I.: Ochre Point, Cliff Walk. Library of Congress, LOT 9192. It can feel like Rebecca.

Bellevue runs down the eastern side of Aquidneck Island; the houses look out onto the water of Easton Bay, or across the street at each other, in the rare cases where they’re even close to facing.

It was a kind of mysterious trip; the rain curtained the street, hiding facades better than fences, and even listening to the kind of music I like, I could have slipped into an afternoon of pre-code films on TCM.

CALLBOX IN MRS. BERWIND'S BATHROOM - The Elms, Bellevue Avenue, Newport, Newport County, RI. Library of Congress, HABS RI,3-NEWP,60--29

CALLBOX IN MRS. BERWIND’S BATHROOM – The Elms, Bellevue Avenue, Newport, Newport County, RI. Library of Congress, HABS RI,3-NEWP,60–29

There was a for sale sign on one property (Sotheby’s Realty, of course), and for an instant, I imagined walking into the house and owning it, starting a life completely different from the one I live, with different people and places.

Isn’t that what we do, or try to do, when we dress in these funny clothes and inhabit these historic places? We’re trying to slip the bonds that tie us to the mundane, quit the quotidian, and live a different life and time.

I wouldn’t want to live in the Elms or Marble House, but moments of imagining, and truly inhabiting, a different world are what make living history so appealing for interpreters and visitors alike.

Feeling Materialistic

27 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by in History Space, Living History, personal

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Chinese Export Porcelain bowl for the American market, 1790-1810. RIHS collection

Chinese Export Porcelain bowl for the American market, 1790-1810. RIHS collection

I went to Newport yesterday for a History Space program on material culture. I don’t know why I  was nervous, really, because I love stuff. I try not to accumulate too much stuff in my own life, and to be a careful curator, but really: beautiful objects make me really happy, and I love talking about “the thingness of things.”

Living history is fun for me for a lot of reasons, some esoteric and personal. I spent a lot of time in school thinking about images of America, and what they meant (it was the age of semiotics and Derrida) so creating living history personae and clothes and based on images and research is a way of making art of history, or else dressing up in funny clothes and enjoying loud noises.

Historical research is most fun when it asks questions– the journey is as good as the destination–and there are good questions to ask the things you carry with you or use in living history. (They’re probably good to ask if you’re in a mood to downsize at home, too.)

  • What is it?
  • When was it made?
  • Who made it?
  • What is it made of? Where did the materials come from?
  • Where did you get it? When did you get it?
  • How does it work, what does it do?
  • What does it mean to you?

If you can answer those questions, you’ll be a lot closer to knowing the why of what you have.

It’s the stories we tell about our objects that give them meaning: sometimes it’s who made or used a thing, sometimes the story has a meaning that you can’t tell from the object itself.

Think of this: I crossed the Pell bridge last night to come home, the road climbing into a storm cloud, the car lashed with rain and wind on a road surface daguerrotype-reflective and hard to read. The buffeting gusts on the car reminded me of the carpenter who didn’t like crossing the bridge to work in Portsmouth. Still, he told a story about crossing the bridge in storm on a motorcycle, with a girl riding behind him. The wind would rise, you’d both get scared, and she’d squeeze closer. He shivered inside his t-shirt as he told the story, with a tiny smile, and you knew he’d gone to Newport in that weather, on that bike, with that girl, on purpose.

You’d never get that story just from a jacket, a helmet, or a bike, but somewhere, there’s a object tied to that story.

History Camp Next Weekend!

21 Saturday Mar 2015

Posted by in Events, History, History Space, Living History, Museums

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Gradient--Boston2015

Where will you be on March 28th, now that the LTB muster is cancelled? How about HistoryCamp 2015? You can register here for free if you volunteer or for a nominal fee otherwise.

You can check out sessions here, but I know there’s a really good one on living history…because I’ll be presenting along with Elizabeth Sulock of Newport Historical Society in the Risky Business: Living History Events in Tradition Museums session. There’s a lot of other good stuff, too, so if you’re in the area, why not register so you can check it out?

Blue Coats and Shiny Buttons

20 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by in Clothing, Museums

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Once upon a time, I worked (twice) for an interim boss I called (behind his back) Shiny Buttons. You know I’m in a coastal state, so you can guess what he wore: a navy blue blazer with brass buttons. It’s a uniform of its own kind, even in civilian life. For a new show at work, one of the things we’re looking at are blue coats and shiny buttons.

It got very “Hey, sailor!” in painting storage earlier this week, as we pulled out portraits looking for gents in blue coats. Sea captains are definitely representing.

Captain John Gladding, 1810-1820. Miniature. RIHS 1980.80.1

Captain John Gladding, 1810-1820. Miniature. RIHS 1980.80.1

Philip Crapo, ca. 1801. Miniature attributed to Thomas Young. RIHS 1906.3.4

Philip Crapo, ca. 1801. Miniature attributed to Thomas Young. RIHS 1906.3.4

There are other gents in blue, and it’s interesting to see the proliferation of style across time.

Portrait of a Man in Blue Coat, French, early 19th century. Metropolitan Museum of Art, 48.187.735
William Man Godschall by John Russell, Pastel on paper, laid down on canvas, 1791. Metropolitan Museum of Art, 61.182.1

It’s a classic look, often seen in the preppier enclaves. It’s an easy target, but don’t you love this review of a Brooks Brothers blue blazer by Biff? Timeless.
Biff