I intend to research a Heywood Wakefield drop leaf table that I inherited from my grandparents. The table currently resides in my parents’ living room in Ann Arbor, MI, but I hope it will be joining me soon in St. Louis.
My grandparents most likely purchased the table in the early 1950’s, probably around the time that they moved into the house in Oak Park, IL. Prior to 1977, I think that it lived in my grandparent’s bedroom on the second story of the house, against the wall with the windows between their desks. My uncles seem to remember it being covered with papers from my grandfather’s work as a psychotherapist and my grandmother’s administration of the Plum Grove Nursing Home. The way we determined the location was by a process of elimination from my uncle’s memories.
After 1977, the table was moved to my grandmother’s office further down the hall toward the back of the house. Several factors precipitated this move—the purchase of a new television preempting all the other furniture, and the exodus of my youngest uncle from the house, opening up more bedrooms for two studies, a meditation room, a fitness and family room, an accountant’s office and a guest bedroom.
It is unclear if the table remained here for the rest of it’s tenure at 417, but based on the damage it had sustained by the time I got it, I assume it must have spent some time in a wet or corrosive environment such as the attic or basement.
In 1997, when my grandparents moved to Ann Arbor, the table was one of the furniture items that were moved to Michigan. This is particularly curious because most of the furniture that was “salvaged” from their home was fine pieces of antiques, sentimental objects or extremely practical pieces. Although the table is extremely practical, it must have already been damaged at the time of the move, yet it was packed up and then promptly relegated to the dank basement storage room for use as the present wrapping table (a function it is perfectly suited for) until 2002 when the contents of the house were distributed and I claimed the table, assuming I could refinish it myself.
It sat in storage for three years, until 2005 when my parents too me to The Future Antiques on South Grand. I noticed a strikingly similar table in a corner with a $5oo price tag attached. I was surprised, and asked the owner. I learned a lot more about the Heywood Wakefield brand. Since Hey Wake items require special refinishing, I was especially glad I had not attempted to do this myself. As it turned out, one of the major refinishers was located in Michigan, so I had my table taken out and refinished at Springdale Modern furnishings. In its new, gleaming state, it now stands under the window in my parents living room, covered with lace doilies and art books, both leaves dropped.
My table is a Hey Wake wheat-toned maple table. Although I don’t know its production year or specific history, I have found most of the information about the Hey Wake line in a collector’s guide to the line. The particular table I own is one of the least fancy of all their dining room tables, and was meant to be paired with their dining sets including modern chairs and sideboards. My grandparents, using it in offices rather than dining rooms, had it in an alien, although completely functional situation. It would have hardly sufficed in the Kramer dining room, with 6 kids!
This table, like most Hey Wake pieces, is now collectible items, highly coveted by retro-modern furniture enthusiasts, like myself. Many stores, including TFA and Springdale, specialize in these types of pieces, selling to a crowd of adoring fans.
The table is very beautifully designed with the smooth wood shapes and delicate finish. Each leg glides out smoothly to support the leaf, stopping and resting on the wood nubbins that mark the spot for perfect support. I’m interested in observing the function and form of the Hey Wake pieces in generally, and in particular how the design of this table is functional in the purposes it serves. I am also hoping to explore my family’s relationship to objects, and the culture of fanatic collectors surrounding Hey Wake furniture.
I have already consulted with my family, our family photos and our other documentary evidence, primarily to no avail. I have also consulted a collectors gu9de to Hey Wake furniture, and plan on looking at other texts on retro-modern furniture. I also plan on visiting the TFA store and show room, and speaking with the owners about their experiences with Hey Wake, and this table. I am also considering calling Springdale, since they are a Hey Wake specialty store.
The end results I would like to get out of this are a narrative about the table from two perspectives—that of the collector, and that of my family. I’d also like to produce some drawings, especially of other similar Hey Wake items and comparable retro-modern pieces, and using these studies to compare directly to my table.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Object Relationships in Spoils
Identify a passage in the Spoils of Poynton in which some subject-object relationship is being described with respect to a major character. Do a close reading of this passage in which you look at what is revealed about the character. What does the depiction of the object -- its qualities, the encounter with or perception of it, the rituals associated with it -- tell us about the character and/or their cultural perspectives?
The smutty maid came in with tea-things, and Fleda, moving several objects, eagerly accepted the diversion of arranging a place for them on one of the tables. […] In spite of ordering tea she had not invited him to sit down; she herself made a point of standing. He hovered by the window that looked into Raphael Road; she kept at the other side of the room; the stunted slavey, gazing wide-eyed at the beautiful gentleman and either stupidly or cunningly bringing but one thing at a time, came and went between the tea-tray and the open door.
[…]
She busied herself with the tea and, to extend the occupation, cleared the table still more, spreading out the coarse cups and saucers and the vulgar little plates. She was aware she produced more confusion than symmetry, but she was also aware she was violently nervous. Owen tried to help her with something: this made indeed for disorder.
In chapter 14, Owen approaches Fleda at her father’s home in the city. Fleda is nervous about his presence in her territory and especially about her being alone with him. When the maid brings in the tea, Fleda moves the objects for the sake of distraction. She continued to make herself busy during the entirety of their conversation, until much closer to Owen’s confession of love. The maid also interacts with the objects, bringing them in one at a time for tea from the kitchen.
The objects she plays with in this scene, part of her father’s tea set, are sexualized by their adjectives—they are originally brought forth by the “smutty maid” and are described as coarse and vulgar. They act as a stand in for the physical interaction which Fleda restrains herself from with Owen. As anyone would when very nervous, Fleda fidgets with the objects. The difference here is that the objects take on a greater meaning as stand-ins for telling Owen the truth as he demands.
A particularly sexualized description of these objects appears in the second portion of the passage: “…spreading out the coarse cups and saucers and the vulgar little plates.” When read aloud, this passage carries the rhythm of an erotica text, but is about dining implements. The tension in this scene between Fleda and Owen is expounded by the interaction with these objects, particularly the word choice of “spread”, “coarse” and “vulgar.”
The fact that the maid is bringing these objects out one at a time is also prolonging the interaction between Fleda and the objects, and giving Owen more of an opportunity to become involved. The “smutty maid” becomes a catalyst for their interaction on a different level, as they both move the objects around to set them.
Owen’s attempt to help Fleda with setting up the objects in a less than symmetrical tea pattern is also representative of their relationship. As Owen bumbles around to help out, he just manages to muss things up to a greater extend for Fleda, increasing her level of nervousness. This happens between them when Owen intends to help things by confessing his love, but instead he manages to make everything messier when he cannot stand up for himself against Mona.
The conservative, traditional ritual associated with tea in Britain also helps to mirror the all-but prude attitude of Fleda when it comes to Owen and marriage. She refuses to buck decency tradition and cross any appropriate boundaries, which Mrs. Gereth is furious about and eventually costs Fleda dearly—Owen. The objects being haphazard and not symmetrical could possibly represent how Fleda feels about the method she’s pursuing with Owen now—contrary to tradition, and haphazard.
The smutty maid came in with tea-things, and Fleda, moving several objects, eagerly accepted the diversion of arranging a place for them on one of the tables. […] In spite of ordering tea she had not invited him to sit down; she herself made a point of standing. He hovered by the window that looked into Raphael Road; she kept at the other side of the room; the stunted slavey, gazing wide-eyed at the beautiful gentleman and either stupidly or cunningly bringing but one thing at a time, came and went between the tea-tray and the open door.
[…]
She busied herself with the tea and, to extend the occupation, cleared the table still more, spreading out the coarse cups and saucers and the vulgar little plates. She was aware she produced more confusion than symmetry, but she was also aware she was violently nervous. Owen tried to help her with something: this made indeed for disorder.
In chapter 14, Owen approaches Fleda at her father’s home in the city. Fleda is nervous about his presence in her territory and especially about her being alone with him. When the maid brings in the tea, Fleda moves the objects for the sake of distraction. She continued to make herself busy during the entirety of their conversation, until much closer to Owen’s confession of love. The maid also interacts with the objects, bringing them in one at a time for tea from the kitchen.
The objects she plays with in this scene, part of her father’s tea set, are sexualized by their adjectives—they are originally brought forth by the “smutty maid” and are described as coarse and vulgar. They act as a stand in for the physical interaction which Fleda restrains herself from with Owen. As anyone would when very nervous, Fleda fidgets with the objects. The difference here is that the objects take on a greater meaning as stand-ins for telling Owen the truth as he demands.
A particularly sexualized description of these objects appears in the second portion of the passage: “…spreading out the coarse cups and saucers and the vulgar little plates.” When read aloud, this passage carries the rhythm of an erotica text, but is about dining implements. The tension in this scene between Fleda and Owen is expounded by the interaction with these objects, particularly the word choice of “spread”, “coarse” and “vulgar.”
The fact that the maid is bringing these objects out one at a time is also prolonging the interaction between Fleda and the objects, and giving Owen more of an opportunity to become involved. The “smutty maid” becomes a catalyst for their interaction on a different level, as they both move the objects around to set them.
Owen’s attempt to help Fleda with setting up the objects in a less than symmetrical tea pattern is also representative of their relationship. As Owen bumbles around to help out, he just manages to muss things up to a greater extend for Fleda, increasing her level of nervousness. This happens between them when Owen intends to help things by confessing his love, but instead he manages to make everything messier when he cannot stand up for himself against Mona.
The conservative, traditional ritual associated with tea in Britain also helps to mirror the all-but prude attitude of Fleda when it comes to Owen and marriage. She refuses to buck decency tradition and cross any appropriate boundaries, which Mrs. Gereth is furious about and eventually costs Fleda dearly—Owen. The objects being haphazard and not symmetrical could possibly represent how Fleda feels about the method she’s pursuing with Owen now—contrary to tradition, and haphazard.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Mini-Cultural Biography of The Campbell Sideboard
Despite being relegated to the side of the room by the virtue of its name alone, the Campbell sideboard is really one of the focal points of the dining room. It’s impressive size and carvings are opulent and detailed beyond any of the other furniture in the room (although it all shares similar characteristics of renaissance revival furniture with curves and carvings). The 1885 photos of the room show it set up for two very different events—a formal dinner and for what seems to be a regular afternoon, with no settings on the table. In both photos, the sideboard is a huge presence, regardless of if it is nearly smothered by the objects cluttering it’s marble top or if it is delicately graced by only a handful of practical implements.
The sideboard, which was wildly popular in Europe in the mid-1800’s following the Great Exhibition of 1851, experienced an explosion of popularity as a result of the display of the Parisian Henri Fourdinois’s lavishly carved wood sideboard. A veritable sideboard mania swept Britain, and came across the ocean and influenced Mrs. Campbell to purchase a sideboard, most likely in Philadelphia, before her move to St. Louis. She likely purchased the furniture in the late summer of 1855 with the rest of the dining room furniture, although it varies slightly in wood and detailing than the furniture in the rest of the room. Like most other sideboards of this time, it was likely made by a French or German immigrant. It bears striking resemblance to a sideboard made by Alexander Roux on display at the Met in New York, which is a derivation of a sideboard that he had on display at the Crystal Palace during the 1851 Exposition. The detail carvings of land and water game on the cabinet doors are nearly identical.
It is an impressive furniture object, filling the space in the east end of the current dining room in the Campbell House Museum against the windows, covering the shutters overlooking the side yard. It is made from a variety of woods, including oak, maple, poplar, and tulip, and other woods, with a marble top and a mirror in the back. As was fashionable in the Victorian era, the carvings depict game and fruit, surrounded by detailing of curves and swirls.
Standing nearly 10 feet high at the peak of the deer’s antlers, the sideboard is two pieces—a lower cabinet consisting of a marble counter sitting atop four cabinet shelves and four drawers, of which the two on either side are curved and open to the side. Each door is on a pin hinge, and each cabinet contains two shelves. The doors are several pieces of wood, although it is notable that the curved portion of the outside doors is a single piece of wood. A carved detail of land game is affixed on the center left cabinet door, and of water game on the center right door. There are no handles for these cabinets, although each is equipped for the installation of a lock. The drawers have a carving detail at each of the locks, and a rounded shape in wood around each of the areas. The furthest left door has a permanent key in the lock, and the other drawers are equipped for the locks, although they don’t seem to have functional ones installed. This whole unit sits directly on the floor, without any legs or space underneath.
Above the drawers and cabinets is the marble top, which is a light gray color and shaped to match the cabinets below. It has a beveled edge, sloping downward. The thickness of the marble is about one inch. Above the marble extends the mirror backboard, which appears to be attached to the back of the cabinet section by a long board. The large mirror sits directly in the middle of the unit, with curving, carved wood up either side, accented by small shelves about one-third of the way up the unit. These shelves are mostly circular, and sit on a carved curl of leaves and berries. The details in the carving include fruit, nuts, figs, grapes and leaves. At the very top and center is the bust of a deer, including antlers. There are also curls in the corner of the mirror.
The sideboard is situated immediately to the left as one enters the dining room from the front of the house. Today, it’s flanked by two of the forty-eight chairs on the first floor. In the historical pictures, it is either flanked by chairs (in the casual picture) or by two small serving tables (in the formal photo), which back up to the windows on either side. The sideboard blocks the shutters of the southern windows, preventing them from being opened. It is about a foot too wide on either side to allow access. It sits directly across from the dining room table and from the large mirror above the fireplace. It’s also in the path of access from the butler’s pantry to the dining room table. The deer bust is directly aligned with the painting on the ceiling—the details match up on the portion of the room where the sideboard resides, but are slightly out of line closer to the dining room table (although the sideboard center lines up with the gasolier center, which looks to be approximately the center of the room).
There are not really any other places in the room for the sideboard to be located—limited by its size and the architecture of the space, there was no option but to block these windows and set it slightly off in the alcove. On both the North and the South walls, doors cover most of the space. On the West wall, a fireplace fills most of the area. If the sideboard were placed next to the fireplace, it may provide more open space in the alcove portion of the room, but unfortunately it would not allow for easy access to the serving implements for the servants. This location also gives the sideboard a greater power than anywhere else in the room—having it’s own alcove makes it very important in relation to the rest of the furniture.
The access to the sideboard was most likely crucial during dining extravaganzas in the dining room. In the picture of the formal dining setting, there are 15 pouring vessels located on the sideboard, which I have sketched. These vessels likely contained wine, coffee, water, liquors, sauces, gravies and other additions to the meal. In the casual photo of the room, there are not nearly as many pouring vessels, but at least three are still visible on the sideboard. Unlike our modern dining experience, the servants would have had to come in and pour all of these things for the dinner guests, so they would have needed easy access to them throughout the meal.
Although this is how the use of the sideboard is illustrated in the Campbell’s history, other sideboards were used for serving game, meats, or wines. The cabinets below were likely used for storage of china or serving accessories, and would not have been accessed during the meal, and probably not opened in the presence of the family. The precedent for sideboards was less function than display of the intricate carvings and details, although this particular sideboard is a toned down, functional version which was most likely more suiting to the practical frontier of St. Louis.
The detailed carving of game and fruit was popular for sideboards and dining furniture of the Victorian era, serving as a connection and a reminder of the natural elements of food. The sideboard is a very masculine piece of furniture, representing the hunt and the connections to nature. This is fittingly appropriate for Robert Campbell with his associations to the Wild West through his work and travels. The Campbell’s probably didn’t think about the direct references to hunting and death in their everyday use of this object, since it was such a popular motif for dining rooms during this era. They likely just considered it to be another decorative piece in their set. I reacted negatively to the images of dead animals; especially if they are directly next to my dinner table, but this exhibit of sensual violence and hunt was so common and even popular, it probably didn’t faze them.
Sideboards were literal altars of abundance, representing the fruit and fowl of God to the Victorians, who reveled in the splendor of their resources. Like altars of churches, the symmetry, details and opulence of sideboards is a center of worship in the elaborate, ceremonial meals that took place in the Campbell house, some of which lasted for over three hours.
The sideboard embodies many traditions and cultural influences of the Victorian era, from the importance of dining to the masculine basis for the hunt. It serves an important function as a serving piece of furniture, but is also less functional than it is representative of the power and influence in the Campbell House. The sideboard still maintains its importance in the Campbell House museum as a relic of the renaissance revival and the Victorian age.
The sideboard, which was wildly popular in Europe in the mid-1800’s following the Great Exhibition of 1851, experienced an explosion of popularity as a result of the display of the Parisian Henri Fourdinois’s lavishly carved wood sideboard. A veritable sideboard mania swept Britain, and came across the ocean and influenced Mrs. Campbell to purchase a sideboard, most likely in Philadelphia, before her move to St. Louis. She likely purchased the furniture in the late summer of 1855 with the rest of the dining room furniture, although it varies slightly in wood and detailing than the furniture in the rest of the room. Like most other sideboards of this time, it was likely made by a French or German immigrant. It bears striking resemblance to a sideboard made by Alexander Roux on display at the Met in New York, which is a derivation of a sideboard that he had on display at the Crystal Palace during the 1851 Exposition. The detail carvings of land and water game on the cabinet doors are nearly identical.
It is an impressive furniture object, filling the space in the east end of the current dining room in the Campbell House Museum against the windows, covering the shutters overlooking the side yard. It is made from a variety of woods, including oak, maple, poplar, and tulip, and other woods, with a marble top and a mirror in the back. As was fashionable in the Victorian era, the carvings depict game and fruit, surrounded by detailing of curves and swirls.
Standing nearly 10 feet high at the peak of the deer’s antlers, the sideboard is two pieces—a lower cabinet consisting of a marble counter sitting atop four cabinet shelves and four drawers, of which the two on either side are curved and open to the side. Each door is on a pin hinge, and each cabinet contains two shelves. The doors are several pieces of wood, although it is notable that the curved portion of the outside doors is a single piece of wood. A carved detail of land game is affixed on the center left cabinet door, and of water game on the center right door. There are no handles for these cabinets, although each is equipped for the installation of a lock. The drawers have a carving detail at each of the locks, and a rounded shape in wood around each of the areas. The furthest left door has a permanent key in the lock, and the other drawers are equipped for the locks, although they don’t seem to have functional ones installed. This whole unit sits directly on the floor, without any legs or space underneath.
Above the drawers and cabinets is the marble top, which is a light gray color and shaped to match the cabinets below. It has a beveled edge, sloping downward. The thickness of the marble is about one inch. Above the marble extends the mirror backboard, which appears to be attached to the back of the cabinet section by a long board. The large mirror sits directly in the middle of the unit, with curving, carved wood up either side, accented by small shelves about one-third of the way up the unit. These shelves are mostly circular, and sit on a carved curl of leaves and berries. The details in the carving include fruit, nuts, figs, grapes and leaves. At the very top and center is the bust of a deer, including antlers. There are also curls in the corner of the mirror.
The sideboard is situated immediately to the left as one enters the dining room from the front of the house. Today, it’s flanked by two of the forty-eight chairs on the first floor. In the historical pictures, it is either flanked by chairs (in the casual picture) or by two small serving tables (in the formal photo), which back up to the windows on either side. The sideboard blocks the shutters of the southern windows, preventing them from being opened. It is about a foot too wide on either side to allow access. It sits directly across from the dining room table and from the large mirror above the fireplace. It’s also in the path of access from the butler’s pantry to the dining room table. The deer bust is directly aligned with the painting on the ceiling—the details match up on the portion of the room where the sideboard resides, but are slightly out of line closer to the dining room table (although the sideboard center lines up with the gasolier center, which looks to be approximately the center of the room).
There are not really any other places in the room for the sideboard to be located—limited by its size and the architecture of the space, there was no option but to block these windows and set it slightly off in the alcove. On both the North and the South walls, doors cover most of the space. On the West wall, a fireplace fills most of the area. If the sideboard were placed next to the fireplace, it may provide more open space in the alcove portion of the room, but unfortunately it would not allow for easy access to the serving implements for the servants. This location also gives the sideboard a greater power than anywhere else in the room—having it’s own alcove makes it very important in relation to the rest of the furniture.
The access to the sideboard was most likely crucial during dining extravaganzas in the dining room. In the picture of the formal dining setting, there are 15 pouring vessels located on the sideboard, which I have sketched. These vessels likely contained wine, coffee, water, liquors, sauces, gravies and other additions to the meal. In the casual photo of the room, there are not nearly as many pouring vessels, but at least three are still visible on the sideboard. Unlike our modern dining experience, the servants would have had to come in and pour all of these things for the dinner guests, so they would have needed easy access to them throughout the meal.
Although this is how the use of the sideboard is illustrated in the Campbell’s history, other sideboards were used for serving game, meats, or wines. The cabinets below were likely used for storage of china or serving accessories, and would not have been accessed during the meal, and probably not opened in the presence of the family. The precedent for sideboards was less function than display of the intricate carvings and details, although this particular sideboard is a toned down, functional version which was most likely more suiting to the practical frontier of St. Louis.
The detailed carving of game and fruit was popular for sideboards and dining furniture of the Victorian era, serving as a connection and a reminder of the natural elements of food. The sideboard is a very masculine piece of furniture, representing the hunt and the connections to nature. This is fittingly appropriate for Robert Campbell with his associations to the Wild West through his work and travels. The Campbell’s probably didn’t think about the direct references to hunting and death in their everyday use of this object, since it was such a popular motif for dining rooms during this era. They likely just considered it to be another decorative piece in their set. I reacted negatively to the images of dead animals; especially if they are directly next to my dinner table, but this exhibit of sensual violence and hunt was so common and even popular, it probably didn’t faze them.
Sideboards were literal altars of abundance, representing the fruit and fowl of God to the Victorians, who reveled in the splendor of their resources. Like altars of churches, the symmetry, details and opulence of sideboards is a center of worship in the elaborate, ceremonial meals that took place in the Campbell house, some of which lasted for over three hours.
The sideboard embodies many traditions and cultural influences of the Victorian era, from the importance of dining to the masculine basis for the hunt. It serves an important function as a serving piece of furniture, but is also less functional than it is representative of the power and influence in the Campbell House. The sideboard still maintains its importance in the Campbell House museum as a relic of the renaissance revival and the Victorian age.
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Irony of the Spoils of Poynton
After finishing the Spoils of Poynton, I was disappointed in the simple ironic twist that James put on the ending of the book. Although I was pleased that he followed through with an unhappy ending that illustrated Owen’s simplistic character and followed through on the expectations I had for Owen, it was frustrating that Felda would be so crushed in such a ridiculously ironic way—that Poynton would burn just as she was arriving there to claim her prize (which I assume was the Maltese Cross, since that seemed to be her favorite object). Perhaps it served as a further symbol for the end of her relationship with Owen, but it seemed to be boiled down further than I expected.
I was also confused about Mrs. Gereth’s logic in sending all the objects back so quickly. As I thought before, for a woman so observant she certainly missed the simplicity of her son in expecting that things would go correctly. She did assume that Felda would have taken care of everything, and this seemed to be a misjudgment on her part as well, as miss judging Felda as someone who makes timely and slightly aggressive decisions, which she certainly does not. It makes Owen’s betrayal even more of a betrayal of the objects, however, as it seems totally apparent that he should have known the objects were intended for Felda and not for Mona.
Considering the character that Owen seems to display towards Felda in their last tryst, I find it totally unlikely that he would never contact her again—especially after the objects are returned…obviously he does eventually, but it takes only a shred of decency to inform her that he is going to marry Mona (or perhaps already has). The whole thing was very confusing.
In terms of the objects, their being returned freed Mrs. G from their power, letting her free to go travel and live a very different life without being attached to them. But for Felda, she wasn’t free until they burned to the ground with Poynton. In the text, she was practically chomping at the bit to get her hands on her one prize object that she could select. This greatest irony was just one more sad story in Felda’s relatively depressing life, unfortunately.
I was also confused about Mrs. Gereth’s logic in sending all the objects back so quickly. As I thought before, for a woman so observant she certainly missed the simplicity of her son in expecting that things would go correctly. She did assume that Felda would have taken care of everything, and this seemed to be a misjudgment on her part as well, as miss judging Felda as someone who makes timely and slightly aggressive decisions, which she certainly does not. It makes Owen’s betrayal even more of a betrayal of the objects, however, as it seems totally apparent that he should have known the objects were intended for Felda and not for Mona.
Considering the character that Owen seems to display towards Felda in their last tryst, I find it totally unlikely that he would never contact her again—especially after the objects are returned…obviously he does eventually, but it takes only a shred of decency to inform her that he is going to marry Mona (or perhaps already has). The whole thing was very confusing.
In terms of the objects, their being returned freed Mrs. G from their power, letting her free to go travel and live a very different life without being attached to them. But for Felda, she wasn’t free until they burned to the ground with Poynton. In the text, she was practically chomping at the bit to get her hands on her one prize object that she could select. This greatest irony was just one more sad story in Felda’s relatively depressing life, unfortunately.
Campbell House Visit
I was pretty excited about the field trip to the Campbell House—the week before, I had walked by it and peered into the garden, and I had spent some time this summer talking to someone I know who had volunteered for them doing research and historical preservation. She was pretty excited about, so between that and my excessive compulsions about St. Louis history, I was pretty enthusiastic, and the visit paid off. The Campbells owned an impressive collection of things—things that weren’t all necessarily to my taste, but were a fascinating reflection on their social standing and the importance of certain styles and objects to the family.
One of the most striking elements of the house was the huge contrast between different rooms—for example, the opulent, overdone style of the parlor was a huge contrast to the dark and subdued (yet also overdone) style of the morning room. The stylistic elements that tie the whole house together seemed kind of haphazard, and this made me wonder if this was a symptom of preservation or if the Campbell’s style was actually kind of haphazard.
An object category that also perplexed me was the massive number of self-portraits, paintings and even mirrors throughout the house. Although the mirrors served a practical purpose of extending the amount of light in a room and making rooms seem bigger, there is an element of self-indulgence in having that many reflective surfaces on every wall. The Campbells must have spent a considerable amount of time looking at themselves, either in the form of portraits or mirrors. It especially weirded me out that Mrs. C had a huge portrait of herself in the parlor as the central focus—I wonder what it would be like to sit in a room with a giant picture of yourself all the time and entertain guests. I think it would freak me out.
The difference between the servants quarters and objects and the Campbell’s portion of the house was also fascinating—especially that almost none of those objects were preserved since they weren’t considered useful. Although the servants made up the majority of the household, and contributed a great deal to the history of the house, their objects are nearly entirely anonymous. Since there were so many objects missing, it also seemed like that portion of the museum was much more structured in a false way than the rooms that were precisely preserved as shown in the photographs. I was curious about how these objects would have been when the servants were actually using them—certainly not so neat and put on shelves! I imagine there must have been stacks of dirty dishes and a variety of objects strewn around the kitchen without any concern for their placement. I wonder if the butler’s pantry was also as neat as it was when we saw it—it seemed like a difficult arrangement for using those objects, but a good one for displaying them (especially the chariot napkin ring).
The photographs as the basis for the museums renovation was also interesting since it was so unclear what the purpose of the photographs was—were they taken for documentation, for fun, or for something else? Were the rooms especially arranged for those photographs, and if so, why? The way that the colors were determined from the photographs and the paint sampling was very interesting as well—science plays such a big part in historical restoration.
My favorite pieces in the house were actually pieces that did not belong to the Campbells at all, but rather the furniture in Mrs. Kyle’s room. The dark wood and simple lines were very appealing to me, especially over the ornate decoration and coloring of the rest of the Campbell’s house. I also particularly liked the banister in the front stair, which was in a similar, also older style. I imagine that Mrs. Kyle’s room must have been really dark and oppressive when she lived in it, if the wallpaper was darker than it is currently. It must have been horrible in there with the shades shut!
I enjoyed the Campbell house museum because it provided such a cohesive glimpse into the lives of these objects. Unlike our visit to SLAM, the objects were more or less close to in situ (or as close as their going to get), and I had a much better idea of how they were used and appreciated. At SLAM, there were several pieces that I remember remarking seemed rather modern in relation to the year that they were made. Some similar pieces appeared in the Campbell’s house—shapes, forms and patterns that reflect a more modern taste, such as the ceiling detail in the parlor or some of the small detail pieces upstairs. Kate remarked on this too, and this reminded me that in reality everything old just becomes new again, and that very few new styles or forms are invented, they’re just recombined in new ways to create more fitting forms and functions.
One of the most striking elements of the house was the huge contrast between different rooms—for example, the opulent, overdone style of the parlor was a huge contrast to the dark and subdued (yet also overdone) style of the morning room. The stylistic elements that tie the whole house together seemed kind of haphazard, and this made me wonder if this was a symptom of preservation or if the Campbell’s style was actually kind of haphazard.
An object category that also perplexed me was the massive number of self-portraits, paintings and even mirrors throughout the house. Although the mirrors served a practical purpose of extending the amount of light in a room and making rooms seem bigger, there is an element of self-indulgence in having that many reflective surfaces on every wall. The Campbells must have spent a considerable amount of time looking at themselves, either in the form of portraits or mirrors. It especially weirded me out that Mrs. C had a huge portrait of herself in the parlor as the central focus—I wonder what it would be like to sit in a room with a giant picture of yourself all the time and entertain guests. I think it would freak me out.
The difference between the servants quarters and objects and the Campbell’s portion of the house was also fascinating—especially that almost none of those objects were preserved since they weren’t considered useful. Although the servants made up the majority of the household, and contributed a great deal to the history of the house, their objects are nearly entirely anonymous. Since there were so many objects missing, it also seemed like that portion of the museum was much more structured in a false way than the rooms that were precisely preserved as shown in the photographs. I was curious about how these objects would have been when the servants were actually using them—certainly not so neat and put on shelves! I imagine there must have been stacks of dirty dishes and a variety of objects strewn around the kitchen without any concern for their placement. I wonder if the butler’s pantry was also as neat as it was when we saw it—it seemed like a difficult arrangement for using those objects, but a good one for displaying them (especially the chariot napkin ring).
The photographs as the basis for the museums renovation was also interesting since it was so unclear what the purpose of the photographs was—were they taken for documentation, for fun, or for something else? Were the rooms especially arranged for those photographs, and if so, why? The way that the colors were determined from the photographs and the paint sampling was very interesting as well—science plays such a big part in historical restoration.
My favorite pieces in the house were actually pieces that did not belong to the Campbells at all, but rather the furniture in Mrs. Kyle’s room. The dark wood and simple lines were very appealing to me, especially over the ornate decoration and coloring of the rest of the Campbell’s house. I also particularly liked the banister in the front stair, which was in a similar, also older style. I imagine that Mrs. Kyle’s room must have been really dark and oppressive when she lived in it, if the wallpaper was darker than it is currently. It must have been horrible in there with the shades shut!
I enjoyed the Campbell house museum because it provided such a cohesive glimpse into the lives of these objects. Unlike our visit to SLAM, the objects were more or less close to in situ (or as close as their going to get), and I had a much better idea of how they were used and appreciated. At SLAM, there were several pieces that I remember remarking seemed rather modern in relation to the year that they were made. Some similar pieces appeared in the Campbell’s house—shapes, forms and patterns that reflect a more modern taste, such as the ceiling detail in the parlor or some of the small detail pieces upstairs. Kate remarked on this too, and this reminded me that in reality everything old just becomes new again, and that very few new styles or forms are invented, they’re just recombined in new ways to create more fitting forms and functions.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
The Spoils of Poynton
James’ Spoils of Poynton offers strange descriptions of the objects that Mrs. Gereth lusts for. The narrator, mostly following Felda’s perspective, narrates the objects in such a loving and lustful way that it’s hard to determine where the line is drawn between people and objects. For example, when describing the transition of the objects from Poynton to Ricks, Felda saw: “She knew them each by every inch of their surface and every charm of their character—knew them by the personal name their distinctive sign or story had given them; and a second time she felt how, against her intention, this uttered knowledge struck her hostess as so much free approval.” Felda’s thoughts on the objects reminds me of the thoughts on someone one loves—knowing every inch and charm, having pet names for them, and knowing all of their stories. Throughout the book, Felda and Mrs. Gereth seem to both represent this distinctive attachment to their objects.
To me, the collecting mania that Mrs. Gereth has developed is excessive. Although Owen is dull and boring, Mrs. Gereth has replaced her love for her child with her love for objects. This is understandable, seeing how Owen has chosen Mona (who seems very beastly) over his mother and her objects, but the level of devotion that Mrs. Gereth shows over the objects (rescuing them, caring for them, protecting them) over what she does to protect her son from what seems to be the most terrible fate of Mona. Her son, on the other hand, sees the objects in a more realistic sense, as a barrier between himself and his mother. It is easy to sympathize with Owen because he seems more rational about the fate of the objects: rather than taking them as the end of the world, he seems to appreciate them for their form, but doesn't accept that they are everything in life.
Felda's relationship with the objects is even more complex than the other characters. Despite appreciating them for their form, beauty and material as Mrs. Gereth does, she is not so attached to them that she approves of Mrs. Gereth's taking all the objects. She sees the balance in the human interaction between the objects. What is confusing is that Mrs. Gereth takes a certain pride in identifying Felda's particular appreciation for the collection, and yet Felda does not seem to believe that Mrs. Gereth should leave the collection intact and rather that she should have selected specific objects to save. This misjudgment on Mrs. Gereth's part is a fatal flaw, and what eventually seems to cost her the betrayal of Felda's intentions and support of her. It is hard to imagine a character that is so attentive to Felda's emotions and devotions would miss the fact that Felda has other loyalties greater than the collection.
On the other hand, it is difficult to interpret from the text how much Felda is disgusted by Owen and only attracted to his possession of the objects rather than he himself. Maybe the real point here is that she is internally attracted to him based on his possession of the treasures she values so highly, even if she does not realize it herself.
I can't seem to think of myself in a similar situation, where I wanted a collection of objects badly enough to forsake family relationships and to essentially steal them away to my own home for personal safe keeping. Mrs. Gereth is certainly an extreme case of collector’s mania. Her being alone and not having anyone to share with other than Felda has driven her to this state where she feels possessed to possess all the objects...really, quite terrifying since they serve no purpose for her except contentment in owning them, as she can't even appreciate all of them herself anyway.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)