While I lament the general lack of concern shown for Americana by many of my peers outside the field, there's one aspect of the market that continues to bring material to the forefront and helps push the sales upward: folk art. Forget for a minute that the term is impossible to cogently define, as the Esmerian sale demonstrated, good folk art makes people go slightly crazy. Why? I have my theories, some of which may be useful. The first is that there is generally an abstract quality to the works which appeals to many generations, for a number of different reasons. I think younger generations relate to the work as contemporary in form, and see a formal resonance with the post-war art that they have been raised on. Spanning all generations (to my mind) is the association of integrity to the pieces, a belief that artists unencumbered by formal training have something more substantially individual and unique to say than trained artists working in an established style. This dovetails with the general quest for things authentic and vital that arose during the Industrial Revolution and accelerated as the 20th century became increasingly mechanized and corporate. The commodification of simplicity as honest and authentic has a long history which I see the current fad for folk and outsider art as belonging to. That said, I am somewhat at a loss to explain how the highest priced figure in the sale was Samuel Anderson Robb's carved Santa Clause, from 1923, which sold for $875K. Perhaps the combined forces of the folk market and the timeless appeal of Santa were simply too powerful? In any event, this was an exceptional sale of 227 lots that realized just under $13M. To put this in context: that's more than Christie's silver, Christie's Furniture, and the Sotheby's furniture sales combined. It is difficult to guess who is happier at the moment: Nancy Drucker who brought this to market, or Ralph Esmerian's creditors who will finally be paid. The loser in all of this, it should be remembered, is the American Folk Art Museum, to whom the collection was a promised gift. While the chance to see the objects, and the incredible work of Nancy Drucker promoting and selling is commendable, I couldn't help but feel that the pieces belong were taken from the folk art museum, not through any fault of their own, but through the inexcusable and unethical actions of a donor. That these represented probably the finest publication of the museum in modern memory, and that they gained a certain caché as a result of this association, only to be ordered sold as an asset is the real travesty behind this monumental sale. Hopefully, some of the pieces will find their way back to the Folk Art Museum through the generosity of donors and supporters.
The sale started off with a bang, and was generally unrelenting. An oval, glazed earthenware dish seemed to stall momentarily at its low estimate of $40K, before finally realizing $281K. There was a brief respite and steady sales, a few lots passed, but just 17 lots later a poplar spice cup more than doubled its high estimate and sold for $245K. Just ten lots later a painted pine hanging cupboard (with spoon shelf) went for $209K, well over the $80-120K estimate--and just 26 lots into the sale mind you. A rare green glazed Rudolph Christ fish flask? $53K! Jacob Mantael's John and Caterina Bickel? $401K! A pair of portraits attributed to John Durand? $389K. A Ruth and Samuel Shute painting? $665K A rare Boston sampler estimated at $30-40K? Try $233K on for size. A painted pine box (with hearts, always a good thing)? How about $209K. If you needed a miniature checkerboard chest to go with it? Just $377K. And what about rugs you ask? Well, a knitted wool rug attributed to Elvira Curtis Hulett and estimated at $8-12K sold for $161K.
The pent up demand for folk art that this sale spoke to is indicative of continuing strength in this sector of the Americana market, but one should be cautious too. All too often after a sale like this, you'll see the market flooded with similar items as people awaken to the realization of what their objects could be worth. Unfortunately, it sometimes does not occur to these people that the prices they see were the result of pent up demand, and that without competing bidders to bolster the prices, there is little chance of seeing these prices again, without new players entering the market. Once you remove the top bidder from a sale, it's not the underbidder that matters, but where his underbidder stopped that helps determine the price. Sometimes, this is well below the sale prices and often a shock to those who consign pieces in the hopes of striking it rich quickly.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Americana Week Part 2: Sales and Such
Americana week is really all about the sales (or to be honest, the previews, since most of the items are beyond my price point). Maybe it's just me, but I always sense a certain nervousness about these sales as auction houses, collectors, and scholars wonder whether the market will be able to maintain forward momentum. Prices realized ultimately matter, but so do the season's offerings. In many ways the market for American furniture and decorative arts is facing similar crises to other established markets--the Old Master's market comes to mind--as much of the field's best material has been removed from the market into museums and foundations. If, for scholars anyway, this is a good thing since the public is more able to view items, and since objects are more easily accessible, the reverse is true for the auction houses, which have to make do with much less. In addition, there is the persistent challenge of getting a younger audience interested in the field. For reasons that I don't quite comprehend, my own generation (not to mention those younger) seem more comfortable plunking down their money at Pottery Barn than they do at auction. They'll go to Design Within Reach and spend more for a reproduction often than they would by visiting Wright Auctions, or David Rago's modern sales. What this means for the market is that the great objects which come up are generally insulated from the downward pressure of prices, while the middle and lower sections of the market continue to struggle. This was in abundant evidence this week in the major sales at Christie's and Sotheby's.
Christie's struck first, and had a number of exceptional lots to offer including items from the estate of Eric Martin Wunsch. It should be noted that they did this even while continuing to have a September sale (Sotheby's did not). The Christie's sale totaled just over $5.6m on 136 lots, and saw six lots exceed the quarter million dollar mark. By the contrast, the Sotheby's sale netted more than $5.4m for 428 lots, with one lot exceeding the quarter million dollar mark (all figures include premiums). If we add in the results for the silver sale at Christie's (which makes sense as the Sotheby's sale included silver) the Christie's total exceeds $7.3m for a total of 225 lots, with an additional lot passing the quarter million dollar mark. It was a strong performance, and Andrew Holter (a Sotheby's American Arts Course alum, by the way) an John Hays deserve a lot of credit for continuing to find property and bring it successfully to market.
Some highlights from Christies included an exceptional silver bowl, made by Cornelius Vander Burch in New York, ca. 1690, which went for $317,000 and set the high water mark for silver this week at auction. A Philadelphia tea table, probably from the shop of Benjamin Randolf, ca. 1770, sold for $905,000. The storied pedigree of the table (at least in the twentieth century), is indicative of the persistent desirability of the table. Beginning in 1929, when it was exhibited and illustrated in the Girl Scouts Loan Exhibition, the table remained with the Keep family, until it was acquired by Israel Sack in 1966. From there, it went into the Wunsch family collection, continued to receive accolades, and was illustrated in in Wendy Cooper's In Praise of America (1980). Albert Sack thought it worthy of inclusion in his 1993 The New Fine Points of Furniture and since the 1990s it has been referenced in a number of important sales catalogs from both Sotheby's and Christies. The Chipstone Foundation continued to deaccession objects to benefit acquisitions, and sold the Deshler Family Chair, which brought in $725,000.
The star of the show, in terms of performance vs. expectation, was surely the Octagonal sewing box, attributed to Thomas Seymour and painted by John Ritto Penniman. The modest estimate of $3-5,000 made even the lowliest of collectors think they might have a chance at this box (I'd buy it for that price). When the smoke cleared after bidding, and the final price of $125,000 was realized, it became clear that exceptional quality and rarity, even in a seemingly small item, continue to thrive in this market. If there was hiccup or two at Christie's (certainly the Wunsch chair that passed at its $200-300K comes to mind), the general tenor of the sale was strong, the quality of merchandise very good, and buyers seemed eager.
The Sotheby's sale started more quietly, and if the Audubon prints proved a dependable way to get things rolling, any assurances that the sale would go smoothly quickly evaporated with the frankly dismal performance of the export porcelain (lots 17-70). Then the silver portion of the sale (lots 72-166) struggled mightily. While many lots just reached their estimates (if premiums are included) a number of lots failed to generate sufficient interest to sell. In a particularly grim stretch of ten lots (90-99), only four sold. The high point was a piece of Southern silver, a Thomas You bowl made in Charleston, ca. 1765 which went for well beyond its $20-30K estimate and finally was bought for $53,125.
Furniture at the Sotheby's sale fared better, and here the efforts of Erik Gronning (another alum) and Leslie Keno deserve credit for getting salable property even in a tight market. As expected, the major northeastern producers (Philadelphia, New York, Boston, and Newport) continue to be strong in sales and fine examples, such as the Chippendale side chair, ca. 1765 from Philadelphia performed well for Sotheby's. The standout of the furniture was a classical work table, ca. 1815 from Boston, that went for more than twice the high estimate of $60K. It was somewhat curiously listed as "the property of various owners" suggesting perhaps that a number of dealers or investors had gone in on this and brought it to auction.
All of these figures, however, were dwarfed by lot 319, a decoy of an eider drake, carved about 1900 probably on Mohegan Island, by an unknown craftsman. Having never been offered publicly before, the decoy surpassed its high estimate of $500K and realized a whopping $767K. As the catalog noted, "This is arguably the most sophisticated of all eider decoys, with flowing lines and stylized abstract paint worthy of a Zen calligrapher." Whether or not that's true, it does provide a fitting transition to part 3 and allow me to wrap things up here. I leave you with the following thought: the folk art market is apparently alive and well, and amongst the strongest performers of Americana Week.
Christie's struck first, and had a number of exceptional lots to offer including items from the estate of Eric Martin Wunsch. It should be noted that they did this even while continuing to have a September sale (Sotheby's did not). The Christie's sale totaled just over $5.6m on 136 lots, and saw six lots exceed the quarter million dollar mark. By the contrast, the Sotheby's sale netted more than $5.4m for 428 lots, with one lot exceeding the quarter million dollar mark (all figures include premiums). If we add in the results for the silver sale at Christie's (which makes sense as the Sotheby's sale included silver) the Christie's total exceeds $7.3m for a total of 225 lots, with an additional lot passing the quarter million dollar mark. It was a strong performance, and Andrew Holter (a Sotheby's American Arts Course alum, by the way) an John Hays deserve a lot of credit for continuing to find property and bring it successfully to market.
Some highlights from Christies included an exceptional silver bowl, made by Cornelius Vander Burch in New York, ca. 1690, which went for $317,000 and set the high water mark for silver this week at auction. A Philadelphia tea table, probably from the shop of Benjamin Randolf, ca. 1770, sold for $905,000. The storied pedigree of the table (at least in the twentieth century), is indicative of the persistent desirability of the table. Beginning in 1929, when it was exhibited and illustrated in the Girl Scouts Loan Exhibition, the table remained with the Keep family, until it was acquired by Israel Sack in 1966. From there, it went into the Wunsch family collection, continued to receive accolades, and was illustrated in in Wendy Cooper's In Praise of America (1980). Albert Sack thought it worthy of inclusion in his 1993 The New Fine Points of Furniture and since the 1990s it has been referenced in a number of important sales catalogs from both Sotheby's and Christies. The Chipstone Foundation continued to deaccession objects to benefit acquisitions, and sold the Deshler Family Chair, which brought in $725,000.
The star of the show, in terms of performance vs. expectation, was surely the Octagonal sewing box, attributed to Thomas Seymour and painted by John Ritto Penniman. The modest estimate of $3-5,000 made even the lowliest of collectors think they might have a chance at this box (I'd buy it for that price). When the smoke cleared after bidding, and the final price of $125,000 was realized, it became clear that exceptional quality and rarity, even in a seemingly small item, continue to thrive in this market. If there was hiccup or two at Christie's (certainly the Wunsch chair that passed at its $200-300K comes to mind), the general tenor of the sale was strong, the quality of merchandise very good, and buyers seemed eager.
The Sotheby's sale started more quietly, and if the Audubon prints proved a dependable way to get things rolling, any assurances that the sale would go smoothly quickly evaporated with the frankly dismal performance of the export porcelain (lots 17-70). Then the silver portion of the sale (lots 72-166) struggled mightily. While many lots just reached their estimates (if premiums are included) a number of lots failed to generate sufficient interest to sell. In a particularly grim stretch of ten lots (90-99), only four sold. The high point was a piece of Southern silver, a Thomas You bowl made in Charleston, ca. 1765 which went for well beyond its $20-30K estimate and finally was bought for $53,125.
Furniture at the Sotheby's sale fared better, and here the efforts of Erik Gronning (another alum) and Leslie Keno deserve credit for getting salable property even in a tight market. As expected, the major northeastern producers (Philadelphia, New York, Boston, and Newport) continue to be strong in sales and fine examples, such as the Chippendale side chair, ca. 1765 from Philadelphia performed well for Sotheby's. The standout of the furniture was a classical work table, ca. 1815 from Boston, that went for more than twice the high estimate of $60K. It was somewhat curiously listed as "the property of various owners" suggesting perhaps that a number of dealers or investors had gone in on this and brought it to auction.
All of these figures, however, were dwarfed by lot 319, a decoy of an eider drake, carved about 1900 probably on Mohegan Island, by an unknown craftsman. Having never been offered publicly before, the decoy surpassed its high estimate of $500K and realized a whopping $767K. As the catalog noted, "This is arguably the most sophisticated of all eider decoys, with flowing lines and stylized abstract paint worthy of a Zen calligrapher." Whether or not that's true, it does provide a fitting transition to part 3 and allow me to wrap things up here. I leave you with the following thought: the folk art market is apparently alive and well, and amongst the strongest performers of Americana Week.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Americana Week 2014: Part 1
Yes, it's here, Americana week, and although it seems as though it occurs as regularly as my blog posts of late, my new year's resolution is to correct that. Let's hope it sticks.
The nexus of several important shows--the Winter Antiques Show, the New York Ceramics Fair, The Metro Show, and the Armory Antique Show--as well as major sales at Christie's and Sotheby's forms the backbone of Americana week. Sandwiched in between all of these events are the other events, the openings, the Wunsch Americana Foundation Awards, the lectures, the private gatherings, and the dinners. Even for the most excited of Americanists, this week can try one's stamina. Add to that temperatures in the single digits for much of the day and scurrying between events seems like a cross between Antiques Road Show and the Iditarod.
The New York Ceramics Fair is a real treat, and the opening on Tuesday night (Jan. 21st) might be a useful place to start Americana Week. For starters, the opening night tickets at $90 are a real bargain, and perhaps the best value in the city. Second, the show is extremely manageable in size; it thus rewards close looking, a second visit, and a chance to handle a variety of ceramics from Ancient through Contemporary. In fact, once you give in your ticket, they stamp your hand with some sort of spooky black light dye that allows you to visit again and again--for the whole run of show--without any additional admission. More shows might consider this as a way to reward visitors and increase the chance for sales by encouraging, not deterring, repeat visitors. Opening night was a who's who in ceramics (collectors, dealers, designers, editors, and museum people), with the likes of Ralph Harvard, Joe Gromacki, Robert Hunter, and Mary Mills all spotted on the floor. Virtually everything is available from classic stoneware and glass from the Stradlings, to early English Pottery from Garry Atkins, and ancient pottery from Anavian Gallery. Those favoring contemporary ceramics with a strong tradition of craft and exquisite technique were rewarded by the presence of Cliff Lee, who brought exquisite examples of his hand-carved porcelain to the show, and Michelle Erickson, whose ceramic forms span historical reference and post-modern, assemblage sensibilities. Though at first glance, their works seem to be in polar opposition, these ceramists in some ways define the best of the current field. United by a dedication to their craft and exquisite technical skills, the work of Erickson and Lee resists the crass decorative quality of much of contemporary work and firmly asserts the notion--seemingly lost in much of fine art and craft today--that the success of the object is more than an idea; artistry is the combination of thought and skillful execution, not just a novel idea. What's refreshing about both of these artists is their willingness to discuss the craft, the process of their work, and their willingness to patiently instruct you on the subtleties that you might over look. Instead of rejecting historicity and craft as something passé, both artists play with historical associations, reference history, and yet are able to bring these into contemporary voices that are strong, resonant, and talented.
Wednesday is in some ways a day to breathe, except if you are on the vetting committee of the Winter Antiques Show. So, yes, I vetted all morning, had a lovely lunch in the afternoon, and after a quick break to get some work done I headed over to Christie's for the Wunsch Americana Foundation awards. In some ways, it felt more like the Met than an auction house, as curators Morrie Heckscher and Peter Kenny gave remarks and introduced the evening's honorees: Linda Kauffman and Dick Jenrette, two individuals whose contributions to American Decorative Arts, scholarship, and bettering the public discourse of objects is difficult to overstate. The Kauffman gift to the National Gallery of Art is simply astounding, and the impact on the field--through enhanced public visibility, education, and familiarity with early American furniture--will be felt for years to come. If you haven't gone and seen it, you should. It's a beautiful blend of furniture that even includes southern examples, something all too rare in many museum collections outside of the South. Similarly, though perhaps more quietly, Dick Jenrette's Classical American Homes Preservation Trust has worked since 1994 to bring this important aspect of American history to the public. It's an amazing gift that both of these individuals have given, and one certainly worthy of honoring.
Thursday is another busy day: one must figure out what to cram in and see before the opening of the Winter Antiques Show that evening. I have always found opening night somewhat magical, especially in the transformation between the choreographed chaos that accompanies vetting day into the elegant splendor of the opening reception. Within 24 hours, the floor of the armory changes radically. Gone are the union workers, the lifts, the debris and detritus of the set-up; lights are in place, carpets laid, labels hung; works shine in the booths, people smile (rather than scowl) and the physical transformation of the space echoes the emotional transformation of all involved. It is simply a night to enjoy. Sales will be made, wine and hors d'oeuvres consumed, outfits worn and commented upon: it remains one of the most enjoyable nights of the year--a time to see old friends and acquaintances, to make new ones, and to glimpse at or examine the best of what the field has to offer in a given season. Selfishly, too, it is also a time to check up on my students, since they intern at the Winter Antiques Show each year. During the course of two weeks, they see an art fair intimately, and work all aspects of it. From the opening day's rush and loading in to the scurrying before the opening to the quiet pattern that emerges once the show is up and running, my students see it all, work it all, and get to experience a fair from the inside. This means they not only help with show set up, press inquiries, and mundane tasks like staffing events or handing out brochures, but they also work with dealers, with vetters, and with the public at large. I can think of no better way for them to learn about the business and am grateful for the support of Elle Shushan and Executive Director Catherine Sweeney Singer who make this happen each year.
That seems like enough for a post without pictures, more to follow.
The nexus of several important shows--the Winter Antiques Show, the New York Ceramics Fair, The Metro Show, and the Armory Antique Show--as well as major sales at Christie's and Sotheby's forms the backbone of Americana week. Sandwiched in between all of these events are the other events, the openings, the Wunsch Americana Foundation Awards, the lectures, the private gatherings, and the dinners. Even for the most excited of Americanists, this week can try one's stamina. Add to that temperatures in the single digits for much of the day and scurrying between events seems like a cross between Antiques Road Show and the Iditarod.
The New York Ceramics Fair is a real treat, and the opening on Tuesday night (Jan. 21st) might be a useful place to start Americana Week. For starters, the opening night tickets at $90 are a real bargain, and perhaps the best value in the city. Second, the show is extremely manageable in size; it thus rewards close looking, a second visit, and a chance to handle a variety of ceramics from Ancient through Contemporary. In fact, once you give in your ticket, they stamp your hand with some sort of spooky black light dye that allows you to visit again and again--for the whole run of show--without any additional admission. More shows might consider this as a way to reward visitors and increase the chance for sales by encouraging, not deterring, repeat visitors. Opening night was a who's who in ceramics (collectors, dealers, designers, editors, and museum people), with the likes of Ralph Harvard, Joe Gromacki, Robert Hunter, and Mary Mills all spotted on the floor. Virtually everything is available from classic stoneware and glass from the Stradlings, to early English Pottery from Garry Atkins, and ancient pottery from Anavian Gallery. Those favoring contemporary ceramics with a strong tradition of craft and exquisite technique were rewarded by the presence of Cliff Lee, who brought exquisite examples of his hand-carved porcelain to the show, and Michelle Erickson, whose ceramic forms span historical reference and post-modern, assemblage sensibilities. Though at first glance, their works seem to be in polar opposition, these ceramists in some ways define the best of the current field. United by a dedication to their craft and exquisite technical skills, the work of Erickson and Lee resists the crass decorative quality of much of contemporary work and firmly asserts the notion--seemingly lost in much of fine art and craft today--that the success of the object is more than an idea; artistry is the combination of thought and skillful execution, not just a novel idea. What's refreshing about both of these artists is their willingness to discuss the craft, the process of their work, and their willingness to patiently instruct you on the subtleties that you might over look. Instead of rejecting historicity and craft as something passé, both artists play with historical associations, reference history, and yet are able to bring these into contemporary voices that are strong, resonant, and talented.
Wednesday is in some ways a day to breathe, except if you are on the vetting committee of the Winter Antiques Show. So, yes, I vetted all morning, had a lovely lunch in the afternoon, and after a quick break to get some work done I headed over to Christie's for the Wunsch Americana Foundation awards. In some ways, it felt more like the Met than an auction house, as curators Morrie Heckscher and Peter Kenny gave remarks and introduced the evening's honorees: Linda Kauffman and Dick Jenrette, two individuals whose contributions to American Decorative Arts, scholarship, and bettering the public discourse of objects is difficult to overstate. The Kauffman gift to the National Gallery of Art is simply astounding, and the impact on the field--through enhanced public visibility, education, and familiarity with early American furniture--will be felt for years to come. If you haven't gone and seen it, you should. It's a beautiful blend of furniture that even includes southern examples, something all too rare in many museum collections outside of the South. Similarly, though perhaps more quietly, Dick Jenrette's Classical American Homes Preservation Trust has worked since 1994 to bring this important aspect of American history to the public. It's an amazing gift that both of these individuals have given, and one certainly worthy of honoring.
Thursday is another busy day: one must figure out what to cram in and see before the opening of the Winter Antiques Show that evening. I have always found opening night somewhat magical, especially in the transformation between the choreographed chaos that accompanies vetting day into the elegant splendor of the opening reception. Within 24 hours, the floor of the armory changes radically. Gone are the union workers, the lifts, the debris and detritus of the set-up; lights are in place, carpets laid, labels hung; works shine in the booths, people smile (rather than scowl) and the physical transformation of the space echoes the emotional transformation of all involved. It is simply a night to enjoy. Sales will be made, wine and hors d'oeuvres consumed, outfits worn and commented upon: it remains one of the most enjoyable nights of the year--a time to see old friends and acquaintances, to make new ones, and to glimpse at or examine the best of what the field has to offer in a given season. Selfishly, too, it is also a time to check up on my students, since they intern at the Winter Antiques Show each year. During the course of two weeks, they see an art fair intimately, and work all aspects of it. From the opening day's rush and loading in to the scurrying before the opening to the quiet pattern that emerges once the show is up and running, my students see it all, work it all, and get to experience a fair from the inside. This means they not only help with show set up, press inquiries, and mundane tasks like staffing events or handing out brochures, but they also work with dealers, with vetters, and with the public at large. I can think of no better way for them to learn about the business and am grateful for the support of Elle Shushan and Executive Director Catherine Sweeney Singer who make this happen each year.
That seems like enough for a post without pictures, more to follow.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Boston, Salem, and the Fall so Far (part 2)
The first longer trip we took this semester (we'll be traveling to Charleston, SC, then Philadelphia and Delaware later this semester) was to Boston and Salem. I should preface this by saying travel is a bit of an exaggeration, since we did an absurd amount of sitting in the train due to a system wide meltdown that affected all train traffic in Connecticut. We were supposed to leave Penn Station just before 7:00 and arrive in Back Bay Boston by noon. When we got to the hotel at 2:30, it was clear that students felt both annoyance and relief (are we there yet?), but we had lunch to eat, art to see, and we make the best of it.
Our first stop was the MFA Boston, and this is great museum. We're especially lucky to have Gerry Ward (Senior consulting curator, and recipient of the first Wendell Garrett prize) teaching the first semester of American Decorative Arts and grateful that he takes us around the museum when we come to Boston. Since he knows the collection so well, and since he teaches with many of the MFA's objects, the students get a chance to see them up close and personal, to ask questions about the objects that didn't occur to them during the lecture, and to physically confront objects.
Here's an example of the type of imagery from Sargent's murals that I don't find aesthetically compelling. Yes, in terms of technique, theme, and history one can make an argument for this, but truth be told, this is Sargent at his driest.
Our first stop was the MFA Boston, and this is great museum. We're especially lucky to have Gerry Ward (Senior consulting curator, and recipient of the first Wendell Garrett prize) teaching the first semester of American Decorative Arts and grateful that he takes us around the museum when we come to Boston. Since he knows the collection so well, and since he teaches with many of the MFA's objects, the students get a chance to see them up close and personal, to ask questions about the objects that didn't occur to them during the lecture, and to physically confront objects.
This allows Gerry to continue to make connections with the objects, to talk about the impact of display and the choices made by the curatorial team, and to keep reviewing material with students in a manner that deepens their understanding and improves their learning outcomes. We arrived at the MFA by about 3:30. Three hours later, we had made it through about two floors. He takes him time and we are always grateful for that.
Additionally, and quite unexpectedly, Nonie Gadsden joined us too. You may notice a strange, tricycle-like apparatus beneath her right leg. Injured, but back at work, she spent time with the students talking through individual pieces (here we are in a silver gallery of sorts, and she's speaking about the influence of English design forms on American Colonial production), but also about the aesthetics and messages conveyed by display. Those who haven't been to the MFA should go, because the aesthetic experience of the galleries (from the scale of the rooms, the mixture of paintings and decorative arts, the choices of wall color and even wallpaper) are a much different interpretation of museum context than the Metropolitan Museum of Art's. In some ways, this also seems to reflect the organization of the respective departments, which seems to reflect more deeply held core values: the Met has a strong sense of specialization and the separateness of objects, the relative paucity of integrations seems to reflect this. By contrast, the curatorial appointments at the MFA seem more broadly constructed, and the emphasis on integration of disparate media seems in line with a team of curators whose work extends broader ranges of media and time.
You may also have noticed by my annoying tendency to defocus things that in addition to traveling, I have taken a shine to instagram. But I digress, the experience is what is important to convey, not my photographic aspirations. Because of the train fiasco, we missed the Gardner museum on Wednesday, pushed it to Thursday, and all retired after twelve hours of art and travel. There was probably dinner, but days like this (getting up at 4:00 to meet students by 6:30) are exhausting.
The next day was a bit of a chronological whirlwind, but it is not always possible to match the trip to the specific moment they are studying (in truth, it is always possible, but doing so would mean that they do not see things they should experience). With that in mind, with some travel realted readings under their belt and additional resources, we made our way to the first stop: the Boston Public Library. In some ways, it's useful to see this before the Gardner, because next to Sargent's masterful work in El Jaleo, the murals are frankly a bit dry and underwhelming. While the controversy surrounding the installation of Church and Synagogue, and the backstory of the public reaction to these murals is interesting historically, there is a bit of gap between aesthetic and historical interest that is usually not present in Sargent's work. Nonetheless, the library is a real testament to civic spaces, and the additional work by MacMonnies, French, and Puvis de Chevannes tells a story about the public decoration of buildings that is not always easy to accommodate in narratives of art and history. To me, aside from the addition by Phillip Johnson, this is among the most successfully executed civic spaces of the period of the nineteenth century on. There is a real sense of harmony in the parts--as disparate as they are--and a sense (not always evident in the study of American art) of the international tastes of architects, and the exposure to international art by the general public.
There are flashes throughout the cycle of the technical brilliance he is known for, but--and perhaps the long duration of the commission contributed to this--there is no real sense of cohesion to it. Later artists realized that this was a problem, and thus Jacob Lawrence in completing the Great Migration cycle worked on numerous panels at the same time, so that there would not be a stylistic shift, even in a more compressed period.
The grand staircase, with murals by Puvis designed to echo the collections holdings, is simply a stunning space. From the BPL it was a quick jaunt across Copley Square, and soon we were treated to the best tour of Trinity Church I have ever received.
This is my attempt to make a contemporary view of Trinity Church resemble a period photograph, and again seems to exhibit my fascination with Instagram. [Those desiring to learn about the travel we do can search #maafda (this program) or #sothebysinstitute (the school in general)]. In any event, whereas all of the tours I have taken in the last four years have begun inside, and relied upon my knowledge of the project to explain the exterior before we began, Trinity gave us an amazing guide who started with the exterior and explained to the students what was Richardson's work, and what elements were later additions.
Here, we are standing between the old and new, looking at the space containing Richardson's initial exterior (behind the students, with the doors) and the later addition of this porch which provides a transitional space into the church's narthex. What's exceptional (to my mind) is the manner in which Richardson varied the capitols on the columns, choosing all native species as the basis, but giving the church a real sense of sweep and motion that is both breathtaking and likely unnoticed by most visitors. Here's an artful shot of some of the capitols.
The exterior of Trinity is stunning, and yet it no way prepares you for the interior by LaFarge and his assistants. It's quite honestly the type of space that makes me want to go to church. Blending paintings, stained glass, text (some of it not even real) and decoration, it simply is one of the most beautiful religious spaces in the United States. It's rare that in a slide, in a classroom, sitting in a standardized desk / chair, that students can ever get the feeling of a space. They can understand the decorative scheme, but fundamentally--at a very deep and almost instinctual and pre-cognitive level--architecture is about the relationship of self to space. If you want students to understand this, you need for them to experience it, to see how subtle shifts in natural light change dynamics of color and contrast, to be able to hear the difference in their footfalls in enclosed versus open spaces. I'm lucky in this regard because the program I run allows for this to happen through travel.
Photographs and images of interiors, to my mind, are useful to the degree that they allow you to recall the experience of spaces, or to the degree that they prepare you with knowledge to understand the spaces you will visit. They are not, however, a useful substitute for the experience of space, but remain instead a poor substitute for that. Trinity Church is simply overwhelming and rewards close looking, frequent return visits, and time.
We then went from the sacred to the secular (after lunch, of course, these students demand food), and took a short T ride to the Harrison Gray Otis House, a stunning achievement by in architecture designed by Charles Bullfinch. Unfortunately, the House does not allow photography inside. To me, this is a mistake and something that house museums across the country need to rethink. With the advent of social media and the interconnectedness of people across these platforms (facebook, instagram, and there are others I am sure) museums should be thinking less about their photography policies with a proprietary interest (if people take photos, they'll be less likely to buy the books of photographs we publish), and more of these an an effective means through which to market their properties to visitors otherwise impossible to reach. In effect, the promise of social media promotion is that it allows museums to reach out directly to a client base in a manner more effective, and far less expensive, than direct marketing. The benefit is that this marketing comes with a level of trust and recommendation that is impossible to secure through other means. If a friend posts an image from someplace I have never been, it allows me to see it through their eyes, and--as an association with that image--I also (immediately, and likely unconsciously) form an empathetic relationship with the place through the connection I have with the person. Now, to be sure, there is the potential for this to cut both ways (say, for instance, my friend Larry hates a place, I might be less enthusiastic to visit), but the point is, whether positive or not, the idea of visiting the site likely would not have occurred to me at that moment without the mention on social media. Museums, especially many smaller house museums and local historic societies, need to find a way to leverage the potential these emerging platforms have, and that requires finding the language to convince their boards, who often retain a strong sense of precedent (i.e., "we have never allowed photography") but have little understanding of how these policies are suppressing the potential for visitor outreach and engagement.
From the non-profit world, we dove back into the world of profits, paintings, and the process by which objects are brought to market (without which, I should note, we'd have little knowledge of them, and certainly few museums would have any indication what precisely to collect, because truth be told, the cultivation of collectors and donors relies upon the type of price discovery only available through a market). Back to Copley Square we went, then it was a short walk to Vose Galleries the oldest family owned art gallery in America. Quite simply, if you look back at Vose's history, the links between markets, museums, and American art as we know it, are made clear. Beth Vose and her staff were incredibly gracious hosts, and allowed the students to ask questions, examine works closely, and confront works directly. The highlight for me was an exceptional Gilbert Stuart portrait on panel, with an exquisite cradle on the back. It's great for students to be able to see objects from all angles, and in a proper frame, and something that slides will not ever quite convey.
Because it was only about 4:30, and because the students are young (i.e., they never tire or complain of all the walking) and because they need constant looking to foster constant thinking and critical engagement, and mostly because of the Amtrak fiasco, we departed Vose and headed to the Gardner Museum. The Gardner Museum is at once breathtaking, frustrating, overwhelming, and full of incredible things which are poorly lit, horrendously labeled, and quirkily placed. The Gardner is a bit like new love, an exquisite agony whose potential is glimpsed, frustrated, acknowledged, and unknown. It's sublime, in the truest sense of the word, somewhat terrifying, breathtaking, beautiful, and magical. Bound to the conditions that Mrs. Gardner laid out in the early 20th century, it also (to my mind) serves as a warning about donor conditions--we cannot know what the future will bring, and we should resist the hubris that causes us to believe that we can--and yet brilliantly resists the idea of the museum as a reified narrative. That said, I wish I could take pictures. I wish there was better lighting. I wish that I could stand with students in front of an object and discuss it without incurring the wrath of what can only be described as amongst the surliest gallery guards I have ever encountered (seriously, if I have a question, is it too much to ask that you do not preface your answer with a long sigh that conveys your annoyance with me?). Anyhow, it's a necessary experience for the students if they are to think broadly about installation, audiences, and objects. From there, and after a long day, the students scattered like sand in the wind, and made their ways to dinner.
As this seems a bit long already, I should address the trip to Salem in part three, which will follow shortly.
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Boston, Salem, and the Fall so Far (part 1)
Blogs require constant attention. I'm learning this slowly, and often reminded that between teaching, administrating, travel, and life, that I lack the constant diligence to be a blogger. It's also why I don't have houseplants, but I digress. This is a post about the fall thus far, not my ability to kill houseplants.
It's been my goal to get the students out and about so that they are seeing objects in person, and thinking about how context and presentation creates meaning and expectations for the audience. It's also pretty useful to be able to touch things, to understand the weight of mahogany versus cherry, to run your hand around the rim of a bowl and feel the slight shift in texture indicative of a restoration. And then there's the issue of scale: slides make everything seem about the same size. There's no better way (that I've found) to get students to understand the physical presence of an object than to place them directly in front of it and allow them to spend time with it.
One of the best things about learning and teaching in NYC is the auction previews. Looking back on my own experience at the Graduate Center, it seems like a missed opportunity that we didn't often leave the classroom. We went over to Christie's on September 23 to see the American Furniture sale items, and to spend some time with Andrew Holter (he's the Head of the American Furniture department, and an alumnus of the American Arts Program at Sotheby's), and to get the students to learn directly with objects. The great thing about an auction preview is that you get to pull out drawers, look at dovetail joints, and understand the object not as a two dimensional image, but really as an object--a dynamic, historical, and aesthetic "thing" whose history of use is inscribed upon its surfaces if you can decode the marks. I'm not precisely sure what I'm doing in the following picture but I know that we spent a bunch of time in front of this Philadelphia chest on chest, thinking through the object and examining the details.
There are simply too many things about a chest like this to convey with slides. Even if you tried to get every possible image of every detail, there's a certain luxury to be able to allow the students to self direct their own learning, to have a question about a detail, to walk around an object and get a sense of its presence. I have a hunch that what we are talking about here is the manner in which the carving was done on this central drawer, how the artist created the texturing and detail in the background, what is carved out of the wood and what is carved and applied. It also gives the students a chance to see the difference between original and later pulls, to see clearly the difference between primary and secondary woods, and to understand the subtle patterns of wear that are signs of original versus later additions to a piece. Perhaps most important is that they understand surface and finish, qualities of an object virtually impossible to accurately convey in slides.
I should make clear too that this is not a substitute for classroom time, this all happens in addition to their class schedule. Each week, excepting those when we travel, I make sure that Fridays are devoted to a site visit. Museums, auction houses, galleries, and professionals in the field are all fair game. Not only does it allow them to begin building a network, but it means that they need to be constantly engaging the material they are learning. My belief is that by reinforcing these lessons through direct engagement, the students absorb more, understand more, and have a better sense of the breadth of the field. It also creates a social aspect to their learning that I feel is important, because it dispels the notion that work, life, and learning are discrete aspects of a professional career.
So far this fall we've been to the Met as an introduction / overview, to the Christie's preview to handle objects and look closely, and this past Friday to Ralph Harvard, Inc. to talk with Ralph about his business, and look at some exquisite and early Virginia furniture (which, to be honest, is something virtually impossible to find anywhere else in NYC). Ralph's a gracious host, does incredible work, and has the ability to immediately set the students at ease.
Part two to follow...
It's been my goal to get the students out and about so that they are seeing objects in person, and thinking about how context and presentation creates meaning and expectations for the audience. It's also pretty useful to be able to touch things, to understand the weight of mahogany versus cherry, to run your hand around the rim of a bowl and feel the slight shift in texture indicative of a restoration. And then there's the issue of scale: slides make everything seem about the same size. There's no better way (that I've found) to get students to understand the physical presence of an object than to place them directly in front of it and allow them to spend time with it.
There are simply too many things about a chest like this to convey with slides. Even if you tried to get every possible image of every detail, there's a certain luxury to be able to allow the students to self direct their own learning, to have a question about a detail, to walk around an object and get a sense of its presence. I have a hunch that what we are talking about here is the manner in which the carving was done on this central drawer, how the artist created the texturing and detail in the background, what is carved out of the wood and what is carved and applied. It also gives the students a chance to see the difference between original and later pulls, to see clearly the difference between primary and secondary woods, and to understand the subtle patterns of wear that are signs of original versus later additions to a piece. Perhaps most important is that they understand surface and finish, qualities of an object virtually impossible to accurately convey in slides.
I should make clear too that this is not a substitute for classroom time, this all happens in addition to their class schedule. Each week, excepting those when we travel, I make sure that Fridays are devoted to a site visit. Museums, auction houses, galleries, and professionals in the field are all fair game. Not only does it allow them to begin building a network, but it means that they need to be constantly engaging the material they are learning. My belief is that by reinforcing these lessons through direct engagement, the students absorb more, understand more, and have a better sense of the breadth of the field. It also creates a social aspect to their learning that I feel is important, because it dispels the notion that work, life, and learning are discrete aspects of a professional career.
So far this fall we've been to the Met as an introduction / overview, to the Christie's preview to handle objects and look closely, and this past Friday to Ralph Harvard, Inc. to talk with Ralph about his business, and look at some exquisite and early Virginia furniture (which, to be honest, is something virtually impossible to find anywhere else in NYC). Ralph's a gracious host, does incredible work, and has the ability to immediately set the students at ease.
Here's the students looking at some furniture, prints, and assorted objects in Ralph's space. There are a number of great things here that students get to see up close, including Bermuda Queen Anne chairs, 18th century wall paper samples, and other assorted gems.
Here's Ralph with some of our students. Above them on the bookcase? A whale's skull. Not an obvious choice for most interior decoration, but one that fits beautifully into the room. He has the ability to make spaces seem personal and warm. While it stems from his knowledge of architecture and decorative arts, it allows students to see that in all aspects of the field (design, sales, curating, you name it), there are opportunities to be creative and to directly apply the knowledge you have gained.
Part two to follow...
A follow up to Prince v. Cariou
It's pretty clear that I dislike the verdict of the recent Prince v. Cariou decision, and so I reached out a while back to Patrick Cariou. For those of you unfamiliar with his work, look into it. He's an exceptionally gifted photographer whose creative work demands the full protection afforded by copyright law. We volleyed a few emails back and forth and it's worth reprinting (with his permission) a statement that followed the first decision, in which the court affirmed that Prince had violated Cariou's rights. As Cariou told me, "here is enclosed a text... written just after the first judgement, never really published, please use it if you want...[to] represent my state of mind."
Marcus Goffe, Kingston, JAMAICA The Ras Tafari community welcomes this Judgment. Mr. Prince’s ‘art’ distorted and misrepresented photographs of Rastafarians. The exhibit defamed the Ras Tafari brethren and sistren photographed, and by extension the entire Ras Tafari community. The exhibit also breached our religious, cultural, moral and intellectual property rights as a traditional minority community. Mr. Prince abused his freedom of expression at the expense of a vulnerable, peaceful, spiritual community and we are glad that his indiscretions have been halted by the Court. Non-Ras Tafari individuals and organisations that exploit and/or misrepresent Ras Tafari imagery, culture, words, symbols, music, art and craft without the prior informed consent of and appropriate benefit sharing with the Ras Tafari community, will be regarded as hostile to the community and treated accordingly. We will continue to vigorously monitor this and other infractions to preserve and maintain our cultural and religious integrity.
While the stakes for Gagosian and Prince are pretty clear and frankly kind of crass (can we sell this work and not be sued, what sort of profit is there in it?) the stakes for Cariou and the Ras Tafari community are much more nuanced. It seems to me that the law, that public opinion, and that Prince and Gagosian could learn a thing or two from this statement. The first is some sense of cultural understanding. The Ras Tafari community in Jamaica is an intensely devout and close knit religious community that understandably is sensitive to exploitation and feels clearly as though they are a persecuted and misunderstood minority. The access the Cariou had to them was clearly a sign of respect; Prince could not and would not have been able to achieve the sensitive, intimate look into this world because they would not have accepted him. Moreover, in stealing Cariou's work (without so much as a gesture of asking permission), Prince's art serves no public purpose. His art is going to end up on the walls of wealthy patrons, enrich himself and Gagosian, and never rise to the level of the type of public benefit (like the one scholarship shows) that the fair use law was designed to balance. I'm not, I should make clear, trying to state that Richard Prince has no right to buy these books and appropriate the images as he sees fit. He can and should do whatever he likes. But, when you use someone else's work as the basis for a commercial enterprise (art, when sold, is precisely that) then it seems to me as though the rules shift drastically and precedent / law needs to protect the intellectual rights of the creator, even with a monopoly right to distribute or license that work.
This seems to be in for another round of lawyering. Cariou has an intellectual and moral claim to the work, while Gagosian and Prince have a profit to protect. To my mind, the court should overturn the latest decision because it radically subverts the rights of authors and artists to control and license their work. The purpose of a copyright monopoly is promote creativity and artistry here by guaranteeing that artists and authors have control over their productions. This case should be heard by the Supreme Court, and the matter should be settled in Cariou's favor.
Marcus Goffe, Kingston, JAMAICA The Ras Tafari community welcomes this Judgment. Mr. Prince’s ‘art’ distorted and misrepresented photographs of Rastafarians. The exhibit defamed the Ras Tafari brethren and sistren photographed, and by extension the entire Ras Tafari community. The exhibit also breached our religious, cultural, moral and intellectual property rights as a traditional minority community. Mr. Prince abused his freedom of expression at the expense of a vulnerable, peaceful, spiritual community and we are glad that his indiscretions have been halted by the Court. Non-Ras Tafari individuals and organisations that exploit and/or misrepresent Ras Tafari imagery, culture, words, symbols, music, art and craft without the prior informed consent of and appropriate benefit sharing with the Ras Tafari community, will be regarded as hostile to the community and treated accordingly. We will continue to vigorously monitor this and other infractions to preserve and maintain our cultural and religious integrity.
While the stakes for Gagosian and Prince are pretty clear and frankly kind of crass (can we sell this work and not be sued, what sort of profit is there in it?) the stakes for Cariou and the Ras Tafari community are much more nuanced. It seems to me that the law, that public opinion, and that Prince and Gagosian could learn a thing or two from this statement. The first is some sense of cultural understanding. The Ras Tafari community in Jamaica is an intensely devout and close knit religious community that understandably is sensitive to exploitation and feels clearly as though they are a persecuted and misunderstood minority. The access the Cariou had to them was clearly a sign of respect; Prince could not and would not have been able to achieve the sensitive, intimate look into this world because they would not have accepted him. Moreover, in stealing Cariou's work (without so much as a gesture of asking permission), Prince's art serves no public purpose. His art is going to end up on the walls of wealthy patrons, enrich himself and Gagosian, and never rise to the level of the type of public benefit (like the one scholarship shows) that the fair use law was designed to balance. I'm not, I should make clear, trying to state that Richard Prince has no right to buy these books and appropriate the images as he sees fit. He can and should do whatever he likes. But, when you use someone else's work as the basis for a commercial enterprise (art, when sold, is precisely that) then it seems to me as though the rules shift drastically and precedent / law needs to protect the intellectual rights of the creator, even with a monopoly right to distribute or license that work.
This seems to be in for another round of lawyering. Cariou has an intellectual and moral claim to the work, while Gagosian and Prince have a profit to protect. To my mind, the court should overturn the latest decision because it radically subverts the rights of authors and artists to control and license their work. The purpose of a copyright monopoly is promote creativity and artistry here by guaranteeing that artists and authors have control over their productions. This case should be heard by the Supreme Court, and the matter should be settled in Cariou's favor.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Patrick Cariou v. Richard Prince, et al: Why the court's decision was wrong
This week's disappointing decision handed down by the Second Circuit Court is an affront to common sense and makes a mockery of the established intellectual property rights of artists. While many were relieved that the court found Richard Prince's work "transformative" enough to warrant his defense of the fair use doctrine, the real lesson from the decision is that the fundamental guarantees enshrined in the intent, purpose, and letter of the copyright law to protect artists (in this case Patrick Cariou) are being steadily eroded. This ruling serves Larry Gagosian and Richard Prince very well (and allows them to be exceedingly well compensated), but it flies in the face of the purpose of copyright and represents a fundamental misreading of the law.
Although the decision would have you believe differently, the law governing fair use is abundantly clear:
§ 107 . Limitations on exclusive rights: Fair use40Notwithstanding the provisions of sections 106 and 106A, the fair use of a copyrighted work, including such use by reproduction... for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching (including multiple copies for classroom use), scholarship, or research, is not an infringement of copyright. In determining whether the use made of a work in any particular case is a fair use the factors to be considered shall include—
(1) the purpose and character of the use, including whether such use is of a commercial nature or is for nonprofit educational purposes;
(2) the nature of the copyrighted work;
(3) the amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole; and
(4) the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the copyrighted work.
The fact that a work is unpublished shall not itself bar a finding of fair use if such finding is made upon consideration of all the above factors.
And here's the facts as we know them: Prince bought a copy of Cariou's book Yes Rasta in 2005 and by 2007 had created a work Canal Zone drawn directly from the book's images. The work is essentially of collages torn from the book and affixed to plywood. Prince then painted lozenges over the faces and didn't use all the works in their entirety. While the court finds this transformative, the fact remains that Prince's art would not exist in this instance without Carriou's work, photographs that were protected by copyright. Carriou's photographs were not simply a part of a greater whole that Prince created (as the court seemed to think could be quantified by measuring the square inches used), but was inextricably linked to the copyrighted work of Carriou. Indeed, as Prince's subsequent actions suggest, Patrick Carriou's Yes Rasta was the foundation upon which his work was built.
In June 2008 (after he had alreasy exhibited Canal Zone) Prince bought three additional copies of Yes Rasta and then created his Canal Zone series, twenty-nine of which incorporated Carriou's images. The court's reasoning, and bizarre decision to remand five of thirty back to the lower court to determine whether or not they comply with fair use, missed the forest for the trees. By focusing on whether individual works met a standard of fair use, they overlooked the fact that the genesis of Prince's work lay in Carriou's creative efforts. What Prince did, in effect, was to mine Cariou's work for his (Prince's) commercial gain. While the court maintained that commercial interests shouldn't matter, that seems counterintuitive particularly in this case, since Prince's Canal Zone Series is essentially a commercial undertaking. Fine Art crosses the threshold from creative endeavor to commercial undertaking at the point in which an artist moves from the personal needs of creative self-expression into gallery setting with exorbitant price points.
While the court has historically recognized the importance of critical commentary, parody, and research, it had a hard time making a case for any of these in this decision. As a result, the opinion focused on "transformation" and sets a standard by which anyone can paint a lozenge over a copyrighted work, put it on a painted background, and claim fair use. By asking the question "how much appropriation is tolerable in fair use?" they got this doctrine precisely backwards; a better question would be "how much of Prince's work is indebted to Cariou's Yes Rasta and should Cariou's rights to license the work (or choice not to) be deemed less compelling than Prince's desire to create works for sale?" That's a simpler answer and a much different result--Prince's series doesn't exist in it's present form without Cariou's work. It was not only inspirational, but the imagery formed the determining foundation of the work. The very reason that fair use exists is to mediate the competing interests inherent in the monopoly of artists' rights inherent in the law and the public benefit that would be served by a distribution of the work. In this case, it's hard to imagine that the remuneration of Larry Gagosian and Richard Prince serves any definition of a public benefit.
The nagging question that was never addressed by the court's decision was why didn't Richard Prince contact Patrick Cariou and attempt to get permissions? This is standard practice in the music industry and allows artists to foster in secondary markets for their work and decide what they would like to license and have sampled. It allows artists a degree of creative control while not excluding them from participating in the marketplace. More importantly, it seems like the decent thing to do--pay someone for their work when it is essential to the work you are creating.
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