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Kitty Calash

~ Confessions of a Known Bonnet-Wearer

Kitty Calash

Tag Archives: art history

Documented Fantasies

08 Monday Aug 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Clothing, Events, History, Living History, Museums, personal, Reenacting, Research

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

19th century, 19th century clothing, art history, authenticity, Events, fashion, Federal style, happenings, interpretation, living history, performance art, Reenacting

It was three years ago on a warm August afternoon in the museum room we’d turned into a photo studio when I quipped, “All my fantasies are documented.” It’s been hard to live down ever since.

With Mrs B watching Miss B self-perambulate upon the sidewalk.

With Mrs B watching Miss B self-perambulate upon the sidewalk.

Documentation, research: we all do it, everyone who reads this blog does it. What matters is how you use it– or, maybe even more importantly, how well you understand how you are using your research. This past weekend was the Salem Maritime Festival, and round number three for me in the West India Goods Store (WIGS, which sounds far more political than it is). The year was 1804, and as you may recall, that required a new dress.

Reader, I wore it. And it survived!

Yes, it is made from an IKEA curtain. The pattern is my own, derived from examples in Janet Arnold, at Genesee, and the KCI. Once again, I discovered the power of upper body strength and leverage. It’s not that my stays are too big necessarily. The busk is too long, that I will grant you. But I think the shoulder straps are as well, and the shift– that slattern! She was rolling a la Renaissance Faire, which is completely unacceptable, of course, as she slid down my right shoulder by the end of the day when the shop had been unpacked into the conveyance.

So let us focus on the non-slattern part of the day, when a mercantile enterprise briefly overtook the WIGS.

Behind the Counter
Behind the Counter
DSCN4425

There was some custom, though numerous debts were recorded in the ledger.  (Somehow, there are no images of Mr K sweating over the figures in the book, though I recall them clearly.)

IMG_7634 (1)

The shop was hot, but we attempted to stay fed and hydrated, as we discussed the various kinds of goods imported to places like Salem and Providence in 1804. Politics were rather difficult to discuss, as Mr K has a marked antipathy for Mr Jefferson that caused a mild agitation; expanding the country does seem a bold and perhaps unconstitutional move, given the deal Mr Jefferson has struck with Bonaparte, but perhaps this is for the best. The Indians will surely benefit from Christianity and education.*

It’s engaging in the moment, and we’ve done our research. But it’s a fantasy nonetheless, a kind of happening grounded in primary sources and material culture. I’m OK with that– I understand what I am doing– but I wonder sometimes if the people I’m watching on social media understand what they are doing with the fantasies they portray.

 

 

* To be SUPER clear, I’m staying in character here. I worked in Missouri and I have enough understanding of “manifest destiny” to disagree with this point of view.

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Friday’s Fright: A Dress in White

05 Friday Aug 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Clothing, Events, History, Living History, Research, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

19th century clothing, art history, Costume, Events, fashion, Federal style, living history, Research, sewing

The Frightened Girl, oil on canvas by Cephas Thompson ca. 1810. MFA Boston, 1986.397

The Frightened Girl, oil on canvas by Cephas Thompson ca. 1810. MFA Boston, 1986.397

Two paths crossed for me this week, both in the early Federal era. Cephas Thompson, a self-taught New England painter, recently became very interesting to me. Although he grew up in Massachusetts, Thompson painted extensively in Virginia, but also in Providence, so of course the story resonated with me. But even more than the story, I loved the images. What a show the portraits would make– and he seems to have painted miniatures as well– so when I met with a local preservationist who turned out to be a fellow art school fugitive, wheels began to turn.

“What clothes!” my new friend said.
“I can get you a room full of people in those clothes,” I replied. And what fun would that be, a gallery opening where the people in the portraits appear to have come to life? Beats the pants off mere mannequins, but keep your Cossacks on: this one’s gonna take a while. In the meantime, what about those clothes?

Salem Register, July 14, 1803.

Salem Register, July 14, 1803.

Saturday marks the third time I’ve been part of the Salem Maritime Festival, and once again the West India Goods Store will be the base of operations for a mercantile enterprise. Millinery has its charms, but this year, the park historian shared fascinating notes on “She Merchants” of Salem, and the Hathorne sisters really intrigued me. Drunk Tailor dug into online newspapers (harder than ever to access remotely) and found an 1803 issue of the Salem Register

That’s an incredibly helpful list of goods to sell (and to pack from the Strategic Fabric Reserve), but a new year means a new dress, of course, and for reasons still not entirely clear to me, this seemed like exactly the right time to wear white. That’s sort of where Cephas Thompson comes back into play: white dresses.

Mrs. Cephas Thompson (Olivia Leonard). Oil on canvas by Cephas Thompson, 1810-1820. MMA, 1985.22

Mrs. Cephas Thompson (Olivia Leonard). Oil on canvas by Cephas Thompson, 1810-1820. MMA, 1985.22

There’s a pile of white cotton and white linen on my table, ready to be packed up this evening: with the dress on for a fitting, I felt like a bowl of whipped cream, the red silk Spencer and scarf the cherry on top. Happily, white and red are documentable to New England, though I would be mortified to be as frighted of a garter snake as the girl in Thompson’s painting. Strawberries and coffee are entirely different, and I shall probably require a bib for Saturday, lest my whipped cream be spoilt.

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Fine Art Friday

20 Friday May 2016

Posted by kittycalash in History, Living History, Research

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Tags

19th century clothing, art, art history, fine art, history, interpretation, sewing, sketchbook, sketching, women's history

Sketching a Cottage, Sept 29, 1816. Watercolor by Diana Sperling

Sketching a Cottage, Sept 29, 1816. Watercolor by Diana Sperling

In a mere four weeks, I will pack the Subaru and head west into New York State as so many Rhode Islanders have before me. And while I will have clothes suitable for the time of the RI Quaker Migration, I will be leaving not to found a more utopian society nor to seek my fortune on a farm. Instead, I’ll be joining some dear friends for a weekend sketching party (minus the horse and carriage).

This new enterprise has required some additional research, and while I look forward to painting miniatures at some point this summer, I suspect this venture will be a simpler proposition. A new dress and apron are the least of my worries: brushes, watercolor boxes, sketchbooks, pencils and pens all require research just when I should be thinking more seriously about the way the Revolution played out as a civil war in New Jersey.

Anne Rushout, ca. 1768–1849, British, 3 sketchbooks of 82 drawings by Anne Rushout (B1977.14.9506-9587), 1824 to 1832, Watercolor on moderately thick, slightly textured, cream wove paper, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Anne Rushout, ca. 1768–1849, British, 3 sketchbooks of 82 drawings by Anne Rushout (B1977.14.9506-9587), 1824 to 1832, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Still, the Yale Center for British Art has rarely failed me: a simple search for sketchbook turned up a catalog record for three sketchbooks of 82 drawings by Anne Rushout. These are lovely, well-executed landscapes in a fine British tradition, far more sophisticated than Diana Sperling or Sophie DuPont– I fear I will closer to Sperling and DuPont when I take up sketching again, and can at least console myself that my wonky drawings will be part of a fine tradition of ladies’ accomplishments.

Man and cat, 2004

Man and cat, 2004

The Yale Center for British Art also has a nice Romney sketchbook for Paradise Lost, which demonstrates the cartoon-like nature of preliminary drawings (and I mean cartoon in the old sense, not the Animaniacs sense, though the uses are related). And as I sew my dress of unmatched checks, I have art programming to entertain me: Fake or Fortune, thanks to a tip from Ms B, has provided happy, envious hours of conservation labs, artists’ colourmen, and auction rooms. Vicarious delight, indeed.

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That Belongs in a Museum

11 Thursday Feb 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Art Rant, Collecting, Museums, personal

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

art history, collections, historic house museums, museum collections, museum practice, personal, philosophy

Sotheby's Sale 8278, Lot 586. Easy Chair, Philadelphia ca 1770

Sotheby’s Sale 8446, Lot 20. Easy Chair, Philadelphia ca 1770

We’re taking a brief break from this week’s nightlife programming to bring you this special report. Regular snark resumes with the next post.

It’s not a secret that I work in a museum. I operate in a world of objects that cannot be touched, sat upon, slept in, worn– you get the idea. Well, sometimes things that I believe belong in a museum don’t end up in one. Sometimes beautiful objects with great stories and deep resonance with the museum I think they belong in don’t make it there. Sometimes museum professionals take phone calls from irate family members who are incensed that you’re even talking to someone in the family about how to organize their materials. Sometimes objects do make it,  but then, before the paperwork is executed, the gift is rescinded. People get weird about stuff.

Sometimes they get weird about stuff because of what it’s worth. Eleven years ago, a family chose not to fight over objects, but instead sold their family furniture. They grossed nearly $13 million. Thirteen Million Dollars: Enough for a baker’s dozen of Dr. Evils. With chairs that sell for $204,000 (Sale 8278, lot 586), it’s no wonder people get weird about stuff because of money.

Lot 586. It’s a pity the catalog is no longer available online, but even Sotheby’s has to conserve server space. It was a beautiful chair: a 1763 upholstered easy chair– upholstered by Plunket Fleeson of Philadelphia.* I pored over that catalog page in the Important Americana sale catalog. It would have come in just before Christmas, or just after, slick clay-coated pages printed with fine ink. When the auction catalogs arrive at work, we stand in the kitchen-mail room and bury our noses deep in the gutter: smells like money.**

Staircase Group (Portrait of Raphaelle Peale and Titian Ramsay Peale I) Charles Willson Peale. Philadelphia Museum of Art, E1945-1-1

Staircase Group (Portrait of Raphaelle Peale and Titian Ramsay Peale I)
Charles Willson Peale. Philadelphia Museum of Art, E1945-1-1

I wanted that chair, Lot 586, that walnut easy chair made in Philadelphia. Wrong town, you say? Mais non, Philadelphia was the place to buy fancy goods– especially upholstered goods– in the 18th century. Providence merchants were trading with Philadelphia, the town that set the style for the colonies.*** It was sophisticated, urbane, refined. So, when Sarah Brown was pregnant with their first child, John Brown sent to Philadelphia for an easy chair. It would be the best.

He’d already ordered a tea table and roundabout chairs from Newport at the time of his marriage in 1760. These objects were about more than function: they were signifiers of taste and sensibility as much as wealth. So, as the time came closer for Sarah’s confinement, John Brown became increasingly agitated with Plunket Fleeson, who was delaying the delivery of the chair. John Brown was concerned for Sarah’s comfort postpartum, and said so in a letter. I can’t quote or link to it, because it’s in private hands, quoted in the catalog entry for lot 586.****

So what about that chair? Well… I got permission from the Authorities (a Board-level committee, with the support of the Executive Director) and we bid on the chair by phone. You know already we were not the winning bid. We were willing to bid a lot– really, a lot of money for us– for this chair.

Why?

Not because it’s worth so much. Not because of Plunket Fleeson, or the quality of the carvings, or the craftsmanship, really.

Because Sarah Brown sat in that chair cradling her son, James Brown, in 1763. She sat in that chair with the children who came after him, the babies who lived, and the babies who died.

Because that chair told a story about a family, about a relationship between a husband and wife, a man and a woman, at its most basic level.

That chair told a story about love.

Even I am a sucker for love.

Love is why people get weird about stuff, about the chairs, the family photos, the workbaskets, heck– the drill presses. We imbue objects with meaning, with memories, that substitute for the people we love when they’re gone. Sometimes it’s a t-shirt that smells of a lover. Sometimes it’s sewing basket used by three generations of women. And sometimes it’s a chair.

In the case of the easy chair, imagining the cradling comfort of the chair and the memories it recalls is simple. In the case of, say, shield back side chairs, the leap is a little harder. But perhaps– just perhaps– arranged around a festively set table, those chairs conjure memories of holiday meals, birthday dinners, graduation parties. Maybe those chairs take you back to the people and times when you felt loved.

Or maybe they’re worth $100,000, and you consign them to auction.

But if you value the story as much as the object, here’s the funny thing: you can keep that memory forever, and share the story with everyone, if you give that object to a museum.*****

When people really love an object and are fighting with their families over who gets to keep the things, I don’t play Solomon. I tell them a story about memory, and preservation, and about endurance. Sometimes I can convince them. Sometimes I can’t.

When I can’t, I tell them I understand, and that my priority– and my institution’s priority– is not things, but people. They can keep their object: we’ll be here when they’re ready. It’s all true, and I do mean it.

But inside, I feel like Indiana Jones, soaking wet on the deck of a pitching ship.

That belongs in a museum.

When-you-visit-home-and-see-your-parents-outdated-computer

*If money were no object, I’d buy it for that name alone.

**The quality decreased in 2008, when the financial crisis hit everybody hard, but the paper weight and ink have been creeping back up in quality of late.

***I know, it sounds crazy now, but it was true. At the time of the American Revolution, it was the second largest English speaking city in the world, after London.

****You are correct, sir: I’d like the letter book it’s in, too.

*****Subject to acceptance. Some rules and regulations apply. Leaning is touching. Don’t lick it.

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Small Obsessions

09 Saturday Jan 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

18th century, 19th century clothing, art, art history, interpretation, living history, miniatures, paint boxes, paintings, Rhode Island, Rhode Island history, women's work

IMG_5625Some of you may recall that I am a recovering artist with a fairly constant need to keep my hands busy. To encourage industry and the domestic arts, and to keep me out of trouble generally, a thoughtful friend provided me with a start to furnishing an early nineteenth century-style paint box. They’re hard to come by, these paint boxes, and extant examples fetch far more than we can afford chez Calash, being in somewhat reduced circumstances of late.

Thomas Reeves & Son Artists watercolor paint box c. 1784 to 1794. Whimsie Virtual Museum of Watercolor Materials

Thomas Reeves & Son
Artists watercolor paint box c. 1784 to 1794. Whimsie Virtual Museum of Watercolor Materials

Researching paint boxes and miniature painting in the early Federal era has been a happy fall down a deep rabbit hole. It’s clear that Reeves watercolors were being sold in Providence in the early 19th century; Peter Grinnell & Sons include “Reeves watercolor boxes” among the extensive list of items for sale in an 1809 newspaper ad. Frames and cases were also to be had; John Jenckes, gold and silver-smith and jeweler, advertised gold miniature cases in 1800.

Distraction is always easy to come by, tunnels leading from main entrance to the warren. Painting manuals, scholarly articles, and extant examples, which prove most distracting of all. SO shiny.

George Catlin Artist: John Wood Dodge (1807–1893) Date: 1835 Medium: Watercolor on ivory Dimensions: 2 3/16 x 1 13/16 in. (5.6 x 4.6 cm) Classification: Paintings Credit Line: Rogers Fund, 1926 Accession Number: 26.47

George Catlin byJohn Wood Dodge, 1835, MMA 26.47

Searching the Met’s collection, I found a portrait of George Catlin, remarkably similar in pose to an image of a friend I considered copying, but had thought too modern. My assumption has been proved wrong, and I am delighted. And then I found the HIDEOUS checked neck wear, always distracting. Historic New England provided super-tiny-bowtie man, and then I really had to focus, since I’m only enabling, not making, neck wear.

My real focus, of course, is on female miniaturists, especially in Rhode Island (gallery of RI miniatures can be found here.) From the scant number of women I’ve found advertising in the local papers, (okay, two: Miss Mary R. Smith, in 1820, and Mrs Partridge in 1829) I’ll have to expand my search geographically. Nantucket Historical Association had an image attributed to Anna Swain, and ten attributed to Sally Gardner.

Eye

The Met, repository of so many wonders, has works by six women miniaturists, including Sarah “Wowza” Goodridge and Anna Claypoole Peale. For all we know, some of the works by unidentified makers might be the work of female painters. The extant miniatures in all collections, range in quality from excellent to amateur, giving hope to those of us unpracticed in portraiture, and regaining our hand.

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