13 Most Beautiful...

On Saturday evening I went with the usual suspects to Mass MoCA, where Dean & Britta (formerly of Luna) performed their “13 Most Beautiful… songs for Andy Warhol’s Screen Tests.” The show was pretty packed, and looking at their website now I realize we were actually kind of lucky because it looks like they aren't really performing this again until June (unless it's taking place at other museums and isn't posted on their site). Warhol's screen tests and D&B's music were good together; they would each have been less interesting on their own. The screen tests were pretty heavy, very intimate, and were a little depressing in light of the fact that a number of these people died from drug-related accidents or took their own lives. As far as assessing Dean & Britta, I felt that Dean was in charge, and I preferred Britta or the two of them singing together. The music sounded pretty much like what I know by Luna. It was cool, but I was not sad when it was time to leave and get a drink.

Now I Have Two "Priceless" Possessions

Last night I brought home my pot. My stoneware pot. I saw it through the window of an antique shop on the property of Mass MoCA Saturday evening, and the next morning I was able to get my hands on it! It was produced by Horace Goodwin and Mack Webster of Hartford, CT. They were working from around 1810 to 1840, and in 1824 (so says an advertisement in the Hartford Times and Advertiser), they were selling their wares from Front Street, "40 rods south of State Street." The museum has a similar example. The shop also had a few Norton vessels, with a bit more decoration, but I love the plain, utilitarian versions. Instead of buying a new dress for our big opening in May, I now own the pot.

Exhibition Openings

I recently attended two openings - Harbor & Home at Winterthur, and MoMA's Into the Sunset: Photography's Image of the American West. They were very different shows, venues, etc., but both led me to this conclusion: one does not go to a museum exhibition opening to see the show. Okay, so you see a little, but mostly you either gawk at strangers (MoMA) or chat it up with old friends (Winterthur). And you always have a drink.

Adventures in the Berkshires await me this weekend, hopefully something worth writing about as well!

Memories of a Death March

This image comes from Daniel Cohen's The Female Marine and Related Works: Narratives of Cross-Dressing and Urban Vice in America's Early Republic. Observe the Wests' reaction to the venerable Plymouth Rock. This heartily reminded me of another reaction to the very same rock, documented during one of the infamous Winterthur class trips. Observe Amanda. She loves the ye olde (she's a curator of historic interiors at CW!). But we were tired... and well, it's a rock. It wasn't oozing with history as we had anticipated. Frankly, we were slightly more excited about this rock.

Pssssst. Cooooach. Coach. Chanel. Coach.

Do you know me? You know how I think everything is funny? Okay, well, add this to the list. I'm not sure how new this tactic is, but the guys downtown are hiding their knockoff bags in big hobo bundles. A sick part of me wishes that they would go all the way and dress as hobos, really acting the part (that is just so wrong, especially in these times). Come on, at least take off your fake Louis Vuitton hat, dude. These guys are walking around with their sheet-wrapped merch, stuffed in big cardboard boxes on dolleys, whispering at all the tourists in Battery Park. But hey - they are bringing "design" to the people, right? (gag)

You know what the worst bit of my observation was? My query: "I wonder how far back in history this phenomenon goes?" Can't you just imagine 18th-century hawkers and their imitation goods?

I heart lower Manhattan

Hop on the green line - I took the 5 train. Go until you have to get off. I mean Bowling Green. I had only been down here once or twice - I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge once, in the dark - but I really had no idea what this part of town felt like. This area, with its monument-filled water, park (Battery), churches (tolling bells included), and remaining bits of cobbled streets, felt OLD. About as European as I've felt in this city, though I honestly think the fog and lack of sunshine today added to the effect. Even before we hit the amazing stationer (see recent posts), I was skipping along with glee down here. Granted, we were also surrounded by tourists (look at me being so helpful to one! heh...) and a lot of what we saw was not pretty, but I liked it anyway.

I was particularly impressed with Trinity Church. It was founded in 1697, making it the oldest Anglican church in Manhattan - though the present Gothic-revival building dates to 1846. It's on the corner of Broadway and Wall Street. It has an amazing churchyard, with 18th-century winged death's head stones and classical-revival 19th-century examples. I felt a little guilty tromping over sacred ground like it was my playground, but not enough to stop. Aside from my interest in dark and dusty things, I think I connect with grave markers because I associate them with the beginning of my foray into material culture. The first time I even heard the term was in an American history class, my senior year of college, via Jim Deetz. I'm sure a lot of you are familiar with good ol' In Small Things Forgotten: The Archaeology of Early American Life. Deetz was pretty cutting edge in 1977. Here I go getting all nostalgic again. *Sigh*

Bowne & Co. Stationers

My dear friend Alison told me about Bowne & Co. shortly after her first visit there. These images are from her trip around Valentine's Day. To her description, I probably replied with something articulate (as I'm known to do) like, "sounds cool..."

Yesterday we visited, and the place put me in a tizzy. It is so lame how excited I was. I think I was so excited that I had no idea what I was saying - the words just spilled out, good ones, bad ones (not that kind of bad). Sometimes I think my midwestern "charm" comes across as lunacy.

Okay. So. This place is a recreation of a nineteenth-century stationer's shop. The staff was really friendly and they make all sorts of neat stuff - a variety of notecards, little journals, etc. There was also a ton of work by other artists. Robert Warner is head of awesomeness (I mean master printer) there, and during our visit he was working on some ideas as to how he might use old bank papers in his creations (sorry I can't be more specific, I was too excited). He obviously knows a lot about printing and ephemera, and the contemporary art inspired by or related to its history. Robert also tracks down vintage wallpaper - I bought a piece with little country house scenes floating amongst a foliate design. I also bought a notecard with a print of a printing press on it! And a charming piece made using elements from different antique (reproduced, not original, I think) prints! The stuff is affordable, and so cool. If you are into paper products, prints and ephemera, and anything remotely ye olde, go there.

lost!

I just realized that I left my wonderful little notebook at an ephemera symposium yesterday. I set it down on the chair next to me, and left it there! What distresses me more than the fact that I don't have it anymore is the idea of someone reading it and thinking (or knowing) that I'm nuts... I'm pretty sure I put my e-mail address in the inside cover too, but I haven't heard from anyone, and I'm hoping it was discarded.

Victoriana, take 2

Here is yet another topic of interest and potential project that I'll probably never get to, but hey - who knows. A while ago I read Alan Rosenberg's article on the Victorian revival during the 1930s. I feel like I've mentioned it here, but can't figure out where. I was a little bit amazed by the discovery of this particular revival, and Rosenberg gives a good introduction to the phenomenon as it manifested itself in the interior design field (he discusses examples in France and America). What he does not mention, however, is any role played by museums. I'm interested in when American museums first began collection and exhibiting Victorian design. During the 1930s, places like the Philadelphia Museum, the Newark Museum, the Metropolitan, and probably others were putting together little shows on the decorative arts of the period. Unfortunately, they weren't doing the extensive exhibition catalogues like we have now, but there were at least write-ups in newspapers (one snippet shown above from the Times). I'm sure there are other resources. This could end up being dissertation material though - and as the over-achiever Winterthur created, sometimes I'm not good at knowing when to stop.

it really is...

a small world.

Yesterday I went to part of an Ephemera symposium at CUNY. I'll spare you those details. Today, Alison, Katie, and I stopped by Bowne & Company Stationers, which is part of the South Street Seaport Museum (more on the shop later). While there, I saw a guy who was also at the symposium yesterday - he was working, maybe setting type? Printing? Not sure. I think his name was Doug.

Soooo, then I come home, and google Bowne's, which brings me to this cool blog by Angela. Then I go, gee let's check out the posts tagged "ephemera." I'm scrolling through, la di da, and there is a post on the Wellcome Collection (medical museum, folks), in which she mentions fellow designer Joanna Ebenstein, who I know through my father (medical historian). To top it off, I was checking out her profile, and clicked over to her other blog, which links to her etsy page (getting tired yet?), which tells me she makes things with a guy named Doug. It has to be the guy I saw today (and yesterday).

Whew! I thought New York was supposed to be big. I guess it's small when you have specific interests.

Will he make it?

"Josiah Tell," for Suggested Donation, is bravely working on visiting every room in the Metropolitan. I'm hoping a stop in the American Wing isn't far off, perhaps the Tiffany gallery? Looking forward to more...



p.s. I don't think the whigs were known for their mustaches.

It's Not Red, But...

Our department does a grab-bag sort of exchange at the holiday party: you buy something for under $10, put it in the box, then pick out something in exchange. I opened this stapler... turned red... I blame the box and my ignorance. I didn't get it at first, but now I have a special relationship with my stapler. Turns out it was put in by one of our technicians, who really loves staplers. A lot. Evidence: blog.

P.E. Guerin Revisited (literally)

We have a set of doors that need a reproduction handle, so I ran around town checking out some options. To cover the bases, I browsed at some hardware places, spoke to a few people: I was looking for something pre-made... but what we need is just not what's being made, so over to P.E. Guerin it was. I first visited during graduate school, and boy was it awesome. (btw, I never found a concrete connection regarding my thesis).

If all goes well, I will post about the finished product. I'm sure it will be awesome, but one 3-figure door handle makes a little intern nervous! I will be very relieved when it is all finished... paid for... installed. In the mean time, check out one of the best things about the shop: the friendly cat!

museum portrait

If I could Whistle...

Check out Alison's post on our amateur photo fun. Because I had my backstage pass, I was allowed to see all 57 images, and I think she's selling us short. Anyway, more can be seen when submitted to the "It's Time We Met" contest.