groovy roots

For a project about nineteenth century letterpress I'm working on, I was looking into the pendulum swings of criticism about "Victorian" design. I put air quotes on the term because anyone with the slightest knowledge of nineteenth century styles– decorative arts, fashion, whatever– can see that Victorian is cruelly broad brush stroke. It's a term that has been tainted by 20th century prejudices. By the 1920s "Victorian" was the zinger, the punchline, the descriptor flung like a dead fish. It's amazing how critics of the 20th century –through the 1960s at very least–were coolly dismissive of all things with a 19th century aesthetic. And that was when they were being kind. I cant think of another period so freely reviled and ridiculed.

All this by way of saying that by the 1950s and 60s a few avant garde* souls like Push Pin Studios (Milton Glaser and Seymour Chwast et al.) were thumbing their noses at The Man or his stand-in, Swiss Modernism. Rediscovering the cast off visual detritus of the 19th century they made use of posters, engravings, old wood and metal type that were surely lying around in junk stores.

Designers in alternative genres, especially, created a cult look combining vintage display type, Art Nouveau patterning and kaleidoscopic drug- induced positive/negative visual vibrations. I had never stopped to think about how much of Psychedelia had its roots in nineteenth century visual reference, beyond the Victor Moscoso/Alphonse Mucha connection. With the Hippie epicenter in San Francisco, the old Victorian rooming houses and cheap apartments must have had something to do with it as well. And of course, the concept of a Decadent, Symbolist, absinthe-soaked, opium-toking nineteenth century must have seemed very appealing (and familiar) indeed.

Addendum: At bottom right is an 1840s watercolor of quasi-military protesters, which put me in mind of Yellow Submarine immediately....

*(The very avant garde, I suppose, had been Dadaists like Ernst, in the 20s-30s, who incorporated 19th century engravings and type into collage.)

Artwork from OldHandbills.com :
Rick Griffin 1967; William Henry 1968

William Henry, 1968
Bob Schnepf, 1968
Victor Moscoso,1967
Alton Kelley and Stanley Mouse, 1967

covers of efficiency, personality and mentality

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I've discussed my feelings before about the sorry state of American magazine covers (specifically Vogue). Whether today's newsstand staples are matched against the magnificent images created in the heyday of cover art illustration or the dynamism of later photography, they are spiritless pack animals merely conveying cover taglines. So, here again with a selection of the lost art of the magazine cover.

By chance I discovered several sites out there that present selections of vintage magazine covers. The particular site I landed on featured a range of titles—including American Photoengraver, Successful Farming, Everyday Engineering, and the spicy Artist and Model. In other words, not comprehensive but worth some time...

This 1904 issue of Physical Culture ("the magazine of efficiency, personality and mentality") caught my eye with its hand drawn type and ornament. The spare and theatrically retouched photograph of the lady diver (or is she demonstrating good form in a calisthenics position?) seems pretty daring to me. In later years the magazine tackled such topics as "Milk Diet Cures Opium Habit" and "How I Stopped Coughing."

The Electrical Experimenter from 1915 appears presciently "futuristic"–like the sci-fi that would dominate 1930s pulp magazines, rather than the 19th century conception of the future as populated with flying omnibuses. That "interstellar" ship is quite a bit like the Death Star, no?

Gangland Stories strikes me as rather merry. I think it must be the "syncopated" Jazz Age title type.

When I stumbled across Everybody's Magazine, I thought the name was pretty silly. Evidently, though, it had been quite high-profile and important title for investigative journalism in the early 20th century. Features included pieces by Booker T. Washington, Eugene Debs, and Upton Sinclair ("The Condemned Meat Industry" May, 1906). Wow. Early on, the magazine published an article (by progressive writer-journalist Frank Norris) exposing corrupt business dealings in agriculture. Another article soon followed on the treatment of miners. By then Everybody's was established as a Muckraking rag sheet of record–— in line with McClure's and Cosmopolitan. Theodore Roosevelt (who coined the term "muckraking" I think) wrote a pro-war/US involvement article for Everybody's in 1915 (remember, we didnt get involved in WWI until 1917). But alas, Everybody's gave up the good fight in March, 1929.

Everybody's covers: the somewhat off-putting orange "Frenzied Finance" issue from 1905 is interesting to me because it is modeled in clay and then photographed, or at least I think it is, in the manner of claymation images of decades later. At bottom is an amazing and devastating cover from 1911, despite the fact that the very important title, "The Passing of the Idle Rich," is difficult to read.

Addendum: I just now noticed that the 4 Everybody's covers shown here have slightly different artwork for each masthead.
Magazines in the first half of the 20th century would often change their masthead/title logo—sometimes with every issue. Vogue was genius with that– the name could be conjured from the smoke from an ingenue's cigarette, or formed from clouds, or it might be lights on a marquee. In this case, Everybody's merely looks like someone can't leave well enough alone...

Pancras envy

I read with some envy and wistfulness about the reopening of St. Pancras Station in London (images second row) as the new 'home' of the Eurostar.
Why would I care about a train station in London?
Well, first I am inordinately fond of the city, despite the weather and the fact they charge you for matches, and I haven't been since Fall 2005. Mostly though its because London manages to renovate and repurpose old buildings with flair. I seem to recall coming upon various old piles that had been meaningfully and usefully integrated into modern life (Borough Market, Tate Modern come to mind first). Usually with nice signage, too.

There's something so vigorous and ...heartening... about a sleek, well-planned new transportation station. Somehow it makes you think there are people in government who see the bigger picture. Something like, 'Ah, the city is working. Somebody's manning the deck. good. progress.'

I never feel that in New York.

Work was begun on St. Pancras station in the eponymous parish section of London in the early 1860’s. A working class slum, Agar town, and the churchyard of old St. Pancras were demolished for the construction. Dickens described it in Dombey and Son (as quoted in the Guardian)

Houses were knocked down; streets broken through and stopped; deep pits and trenches dug in the ground; enormous heaps of earth and clay thrown up; buildings that were undermined and shaking, propped by great beams of wood ..."

It must have been a ghastly affair. I believe they had to submerge or divert a river (the Fleet). Also, a full 8,000 graves had to be removed from the construction site. Supervisor for the exhumations was a 26-year old architect's assistant from Dorset named Thomas Hardy. Yes, that one.

St. Pancras train station opened in 1868. William Barlow's single-span train shed of iron and glass spans 240 feet and is more than 100 feet high at its apex, and was the largest enclosed space in the world when it was completed.

Adjoining the magnificent station —and acting as its public face—was an imposing and sprawling brick edifice. Designed by George Gilbert Scott in a lavish High Victorian Gothic revival style it opened on May 5th, 1873, as the Midland Grand Hotel. Turreted, balconied, arabesqued and decoratively voussoired to within an inch of its life, the Midland Grand operated until 1935. Thereafter it wheezed through much of the 20th century as the office headquarters of British Transport Hotels. After suffering many indignities of a 1950s vintage, including lowered ceilings, it sat vacant since the 1980s.

I think it was about 2000/01 that I wangled my way into a private but abbreviated walk-through of the place, that was, by that point, called St. Pancras Chambers (see my pre-digital photos 4th row down). Scott (the architect) had designed everything down to the drawer pulls. Embellished and illuminated, it was magnificent in its ponderousness and even more evocative in its ruined deshabille.

The Jefferson Market Library, nee Courthouse, in Greenwich Village, at bottom, is a smaller sibling I would say. I had always thought of it as the only representative of Lean Bacon Revival style in NYC. (photo by steve spak.)

Now St. Pancras Chambers will be a hotel again, and, as is the wont of the capitalist market, "luxury lofts." The firm managing the overhaul, oddly named the Manhattan Loft Company, has created a rather nice and detailed animated timeline of the building in the Ken Burnsian manner.

I'm liking what I see as the logo for the residential project (top). Anyone have info?

It seems now is the renaissance for all things Victorian, no? Refreshing I think.
British architectural historian Sir John Summerson once described the Midland as “nauseating”. And certainly for a good deal of the 20th century "Victorian" was an epithet not given in kindness. An interesting take (on Vulpes Libris ) on why Victorian architecture became so reviled by mid century-- at least in the UK:

At its finest Victorian architecture is bullish, ebullient and self-confident … and perhaps that was the problem. It reminded us of our lost past. Simon Bradley probably puts his finger on it fairly accurately when he says:

“The great buildings of Victorian Britain, so confident and optimistic, had become poignant reminders of former glories, like swaggering family portraits squeezed into the commonplace house of a penurious descendant.”

.....

Now I've rashly gone and ordered Simon Bradley's book.
....
Evidently some live art event was staged there (part of a series held in derelict buildings of London).

ermine and trouser dresses

It looks as though I'm on a vintage fashion tear!
From about the start of World War I to the early Twenties (before the Flapper Age) is, I think, my favorite era of fashion. While there are some horrors-- every period has some-- the silhouette, proportion, detail, and sheer inventiveness in construction of these years are unbeatable. (Well maybe the New Look of the late 1940 to early 50s might be better for construction).

There are menswear and uniform references mixed with Orientalist tidbits, Russian fantasies and just plain ol' craziness. For example, I'm not sure I'd pair an ermine trimmed jacket (at top) and dark fur muff with a draped and gauzy spring-like skirt but more power to this charming gal from 1913. The ladies third image down are wonderful; shorten those suits by about 4 inches and perhaps leave off the dead fox and I'd wear that today. I have a particular fetish for the shape, point, and finish of shoes from this time and wish I could get away with wearing spats with a straight face.

This little group of images is from a random find at the Library of Congress. The George Grantham Bain (1865-1944) collection has news photos as varied as "Portraits of boxers," and "Disasters in Canada" to Triangle Factory fire images.

"Intolerance" and fashion 1915

Recently, for a work project, I watched parts of Intolerance: Love's Struggle Through the Ages, DW Griffith's silent colossal spectacle of 1916. I'm not too clear on the whole hoo-hah surrounding the film but suffice to say it was conceived as four intertwined stories set in Babylon, Judea, French Renaissance, modern America; it cost close to $2M to make; it had 3000 extras, and it bankrupted his company.

I'd been familiar only with the fantastically extravagant and justifiably celebrated scenes of Babylon. But as astounding as that was to watch, I became fascinated with the Modern story. "Modern" is, of course, relative to the film and that would make it 1915. Therein lay my fascination.

Our story takes us from the top-tier social stratum, to the milieu of confidence men and women of questionable repute, to the working class slums. It is like watching living social history. The women attending a fancy dress ball are a parade of historical fashion plates in motion. The slum scenes are a Lewis Hine portfolio come to life. Are there cultural historians out there studying (very) old films for the details they reveal?

• The working class girls (at top) going into a dance with their loose skirts and slight slouch reflect the latest changes in silhouette. You can see the transformation happening and the 1920s look beginning to blossom.

• The matrons in the next three scenes are "Reformers." Harsh-looking and corseted, they're treated somewhat like caricatures in the film and their uniform-like suits are backward-looking hold-overs from another era.

• The poor girl in her tenement room wears an ill-fitting second hand jacket of very outdated mutton sleeve style.

• Dresses at the ball are exquisite. The many tunics and draped designs appear to be influenced by Leon Bakst's and Paul Poiret's languid, uncorseted vision–the Young Ingenue especially.

• Best of all is the Girl of Questionable Reputation in her (Poiret-inspired) scandalously fashion-forward harem pants with lace skirt overlay– a total Orientalist fantasy.

I was just so utterly and completely taken with this actress, Miriam Cooper, that I am including some of her classic silent "remorse" as well.

Orientalism

"Orientalism... is a complex idea, made up of history and scenery, suffused with imagination... We frame to ourselves a deep azure sky, and a languid alluring atmosphere; associate luxurious ease with the coffee-rooms and flower gardens..." Thus an anonymous author in The Knickerbocker, June 1853, attempted to set out a definition of the term, with further visions of fountains and minarets dancing in his head.

Orientalism: A fascination with the East (more Near than Far*) by the West as manifested in the arts. That is how I define the term, anyway. I associate it squarely with the 19th century and the Victorian Imperial vision of a dreamy Romanticized land of caravansaries and hookahs. Think of all those "harem" and "Turkish Bath" paintings that gave artists the chance to depict pretty ladies in dishabille or the exotic photographic landscapes of Frith or Du Camp. Orientalism, which got a big boost in the 20th century from the discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb in 1924, connects the dots between Lawrence of Arabia (the person), and The Mummy (the movie) and Camel cigarettes.

The New York Historical Society is presenting a small but worthy show of choice Orientalist tidbits: Allure of the East-- Orientalism in New York, 1850-1930. Included are a Gerome painting, Tiffany lamp, a Zoave costume, posters and tobacco advertisements among other items. The N-YHS exhibitions department has rather effectively transformed the space into a vest pocket Moorish arcade and all is accompanied by a graphic identity of unabashed pastiche by yours truly.

*The preoccupation with things Japanese that flourished after Japan opened trade with the West in 1853, seems, to me, a thing apart. The West wanted Japanese lacquer, vases, metalwork– but no one seemed to have the desire to be Asian. Japonisme mimicked and adapted Japanese asymmetry and spareness to Western decorative arts, Europeans liked the "alien" approach to line and space, but no one dreamed of inhabiting Asian landscapes or fantasized acting out tales from Japanese history. The Orientalists, meanwhile, engaged in a fair bit of projecting and playacting. From creating Hajji Baba Clubs to themed fancy dress balls the West seemed to envelope itself in dreams of Pashas and swordplay. I would think this distinction of coveting a style at arm's length vs appropriating an interpretive cultural identity has something to do with the imperial/colonial contact with and subjugation of the Near East. Not having read Edward Said's book on the subject I cannot say whether I have just discovered the color of Napoleon's white horse.

Bottom photo: Mrs. Arthur Henry Paget (1853-1919), dressed as Cleopatra for the 1875 Delmonico Ball.

Museum day

Recently I went up the the CooperHewitt to see the Rococo show. What I like about that museum is their usually adventurous curatorial take on whatever subject they tackle. In this case it is establishing the Rococo style in its own time period and then interpreting and teasing out Rococo "revivals" and influence in decorative fashion up to the present. While I was interested in Rococo more than, say, Baroque, I was not prepared to be so completely enamored by this stupendous silver Meissonnier covered tureen (top) from about 1735. It may strike you as a a blob of molten swirls in this photograph but I tell you it is one of the most heart-stoppingly peculiar and wonderful things to behold in person. A fantastical whirl of meticulously rendered mushrooms, carrots, shells and leaves, with a lobster peeking over the top and a dead pheasant or quail laid on for good measure. Second row above shows a couple other 18th century favorites including the delicate, almost icy Chinese-style Rococo mirror at right. English-made, in 1755, the mirror is one of several later international interpretations of the original French court style. It's interesting to see the variations. In the English version you can see the Chinese fancies thrown in, and the spindly spidery characterisitics sometimes incorporate Gothic as well.

Often dismissed as highly sophisticated nonsense, the style's whimsies, linear and intricate, are more suited for "mere" decoration rather than transformation into things more substantive like architecture. But at its best, rococo throws together astonishing realism and unsettling surrealism. The representation of nature-- shells, leaves, water–is startlingly realistic, but the manner in which items are swept up together, as if in tumult, puts everything in flux. It's a beautiful representation of disturbance. The style becomes, at times, unhinged from any semblance of underlying framework and all is swirl, asymmetry, accretion, and encrustation.

A surprising notion I took away from the show: some of the characteristically "Victorian" bombast of mid-19th century interior design, like the hilarious Belter settee shown (third row), could be considered Rococo Revival. Hmmm. I'd never heard that one. But its an interesting insight into "what were they thinking."

Fourth row down is the exquisite Belgian "Heatwave" radiator that I've been eyeing from afar since its unveiling in 2003. Below that is a poster by illustrator/designer Marian Bantjes.

Two other small Cooper Hewitt exhibits are not to be missed are the Campagna Brothers curator's choice selections off the main hall (whence the wonderful and spidery chairs) and Multiple Choice, a display of samples and sample books, on the lower level (two delicious porcelain color samples-- if they do not produce a set of these plates, as is, it is criminal) .

Lollipop modernism and other things

I was surprised by the impassioned-- dare I say a wee bit hysterical-- tone of the Ourousoff piece in the Times earlier last week. It was on the proposed demolition of several buildings belonging to St. Vincent's Hospital in Greenwich Village, including the singularly unmistakable "O'Toole Building," at top. I gradually realized the actual thrust of the article is rather alarming: permission from Landmarks and the City to raze a group of buildings within a historic district.

The piece should have set up the danger of that precedent much more clearly– that real message was seriously hampered by the O'Toole building focus. Most readers, including this one I admit, thought "it looks like suburban mall parking. And the problem is...?" Essentially, we all got waylaid razzing that truly unlovable white elephant on Seventh Avenue and missed the point: historic districts are created to preserve an urban fabric, a collection of buildings that might not include any individual landmarks but taken collectively, mean something. Ourousoff rightly says,

The designation ...was intended to protect humble structures like these...the city’s character is rooted in the small grain of everyday life.

The O'Toole building is part of a series of 14 (!) structures Albert C. Ledner created for the National Maritime Union. His other notable Maritime work in NYC is what is now the Maritime Hotel on Ninth Ave. The late and lamented (by some) 2 Columbus Circle, third pic down, is NOT by Ledner, but it could be!

I am no fan of Ledner's (btw. an article on the house he designed for himself, in New Orleans, here and some other images of Ledner's work in Regional Modernism's Flickr pages) but I do have a soft spot for the Maritime. I was interested that the article refers to these buildings as "expressive modernism." That was a new term to me. If pressed I would have said the swooping, evocative structural form of the TWA terminal= expressive modernism; the decorative portholes-aplenty of these three= Lollipop modernism. I look at these buildings and see Courreges and white gogo boots...possibly some Islamic decorative notes too, especially on 2 Columbus.

The problem in this particular Landmarks case is no one cares a whit about any of these structures-- a motley group that includes a wan 1920s nursing facility and a bleak 1980s hulk. Take a look at the Municipal Art Society's Flickr set of all of 'em. I realize this is a dangerous incursion on Landmarks.... but one could argue the St Vincent's set doesn't add a thing to the Greenwich Village Historic District. I'm not sure how much they embody the "city's character" the first place...

Ironic that I'm so unconcerned about the St. Vincent's group since I really felt the tragedy of what is now a blighted stretch of 6th Avenue in Chelsea. When, after the earlier unlandmarking of an officially landmarked building the entire character of the streetscape was wiped away.... more on that next post.

images of 2 columbus from Tom Fletcher's NY Architecture

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Was it The Art of Memory Matt who left me this wonderful link, the Masterpiece Next Door? I envy the focus, diligence and clarity of purpose of this guy: he is documenting and photographing each building on the New York Landmarks list...

Speaking of clarity of purpose-- I thought I'd be returning to blogging with some, but alas I don't think so. So much for the notions of rebranding and repositioning.