Beyond the Blue: Frederick Maxfield Parrish (1870-1966)

November 20, 2013 in Fine Art by hdavis

An oil on board [landscape painting], The Blue Fountain (Study for Reveries), by Maxfield Parrish, American (1870 to 1966), executed circa 1925Frederick Maxfield Parrish was born July 25, 1870 in Philadelphia to Stephen Parrish, an American artist famous for his landscapes, illustrations and engravings and his wife Elizabeth Bancroft Parrish.  It’s not surprising that, finding himself surrounded by the tools of his father’s trade, that Frederick (he would begin to use Maxfield as his name later in life) would begin to draw to amuse himself.  Around 1881, the Parrish family traveled to Europe, and during the trip, Frederick contracted typhoid.  It was during his recuperation that he turned his attention to art in earnest under his father’s tutelage.

Maxfield studied widely as a young man, abroad in England and France, and at home at Haverford College, the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts and at the Drexel Institute, where he had the opportunity to work with Howard Pyle, one of the greatest illustrators in American history.  While at the Drexel Institute, he also met Lydia Austin, a young instructor, who he would marry in 1895.  Parrish himself found work as an illustrator, working in Philadelphia until 1898, by which time his various magazine illustrations for publications and his burgeoning career as the illustrator, especially of children’s books (for authors such as L. Frank Baum and Kenneth Grahame), allowed the young couple to purchase a home, The Oaks, near his parents in New Hampshire.

It was around this time that Parrish developed tuberculosis, and coupled with the damages done to his health by the typhoid he suffered as a youth, Maxfield and Lydia found it necessary to seek out other climates,  spending time in the Adirondacks, Arizona, and Italy.  (The dry, vibrant landscape of Arizona has often been said to be a key influence for Parrish’s distinctive style and vibrant hues.)  Eventually, though, they found themselves resettled in New Hampshire, where their lives would take a very different turn, after they hired a 16-year old girl named Susan Lewin.

Susan was initially hired to assist Lydia Parrish with the care of the Parrish children.  (Perhaps due to Maxfield’s health concerns, the Parrishes waited until relatively late in life, for the time, to have children, with Lydia being almost 40 when their youngest child was born.)  Susan quickly became Maxfield’s model and assistant, and eventually, they began an affair.  Estranged from Lydia, who continued to live in the main house on the property, Maxfield ultimately moved into his studio where he lived with Susan.

Susan certainly must have served as a muse, because Parrish’s popularity skyrocketed in the years between 1905 and 1920.  His art was in demand by publishers (he did dozens of covers for Collier’s) and advertisers from Colgate to Oneida, and he also had murals commissioned by wealthy patrons like Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney.  Another mural, created in the Tiffany studio, incorporated 100,000 pieces of Tiffany glass, and drew the attention of Cyrus Curtis, the owner of the Saturday Evening Post, who commissioned a mural for the Post’s Philadelphia headquarters.  (Many of Parrish’s murals still decorated the public spaces they were designed for, and visitors can see them in places as varied as the Curtis Building in Philadelphia and the St. Regis’s bar in New York.)

Success allowed him to shift his focus away from advertising by the mid-1920s.  (He was so well-known that by 1925, it was estimated that 25% of the homes in America owned a Parrish print and the deep lapis lazuli blue he favored had become known as “Parrish blue,” hints of which are visible in the image above.)  Parrish chose to move toward painting works of art that reflected, in some ways, his first job as an illustrator, and in many ways, this is the era of work for which Parrish is best remembered, androgynous, mystical figures in fantasy landscapes.  By 1931, he announced that he was changing directions yet again, concentrating this time on landscapes.

In 1953, Lydia, who had for the most part left Maxfield in 1911, died, and he was left alone with Susan.  Susan, perhaps frustrated by Maxfield’s lack of interest in marrying her after so many years together, left to marry someone else in 1960, and it was at that point that Maxfield Parrish stopped painting at the age of 90.  He remained at The Oaks in Plainfield, New Hampshire until his death at 95 on March 30, 1966.

Word of the Week: Baleen

November 18, 2013 in Word of the Week by hdavis

Baleen basket by Sheldon Bogenrife (Inuit, 20th-21st century), finely woven basket topped with a delicately carved [ivory] seal finialBaleen comes from a suborder of whales, Mysticeti, which includes, among others, humpback whales, gray whales, right whales and blue whales.  What sets these whales apart is baleen.  These whales do not have teeth, but have upper jaws filled with two rows of baleen plates fringed with fine baleen hair.  These plates are so closely aligned that they act like a comb or a sieve; whales pull water across them, catching the small plankton they feed on in the baleen ‘hairs’.  Baleen varies widely in size, as the sizes of the whales it comes from vary.  The individual plates can be as small as 2 feet, but as large as 12 feet long!  A single plate can weigh 200 pounds.  Baleen is often called whalebone, which is a bit of a misnomer.  Baleen is not bone, but rather keratin, the same protein that forms hair and fingernails in humans as well as horns and claws in animals.

Archaeology suggests that hunting whales was crucial to the Inuit way of life as early as 1000 A.D.  In a landscape that offers so few materials, every part of a whale was used, including baleen.  Because of the lack of wood for fires for boiling water, baleen was softened by soaking it in urine.  Baleen had another property that made it valuable in the Arctic environment: it doesn’t not frost.  As a result, it was deemed useful for all sorts of utilitarian purposes, such as fishing lines and sled runners.

Europe was slower to realize all the potential uses of baleen, but as early as the 15th century, baleen, not whale oil, was driving the whaling industry.  Baleen was scraped to remove the fine hairs, and then boiled to soften it.  It could be softened to the point that it could be bent, molded and even stretched.  In this soft state, it was also possible to add dyes, most commonly black.  Baleen created items like riding crops and umbrella ribs and smaller bits of it were used to form cane heads and ladle handles.  (Baleen doesn’t conduct heat like metal either, so it made great handles and grips for objects that heated up.)  It was even used to bind violin bows and sword hilts.  Virtually every part of the whale was used, even the smallest fringe hairs on the baleen, which were used to stuff upholstery.

Baleen’s price was closely linked to the fashion trends of England and Europe, being used for busks, pieces of a rigid material slipped into pockets in the front of a corset to keep it straight and upright.  As small decorative objects that could be carved and were placed in a hidden place near the heart, busks were common sweetheart gifts, often beautifully decorated with delicate carvings.  Baleen’s flexibility and durability also made it perfect for forming the hoops in hoop skirts.  Baleen’s price was roughly at its highest when hoop skirts were at their widest.

As the whaling industry declined and better, cheaper plastics were developed, the use of baleen faded.  After the last quarter of the 19th century, most baleen appears in small souvenir objects from the Inuit and Yupik cultures of the Arctic.  As tourism in the region open up, handcrafts helped support the people who lived in these harsh regions.  Carving had long been a tradition, and baleen objects occasionally appear, but more often, baleen was used to inlay ivory carvings.  Basket weaving was also introduced, using small strips of baleen, and many finely woven baskets with carved ivory finials survive today.

John Bradford Moore and the Crystal Trading Post

November 13, 2013 in Native American by hdavis

A Navajo Crystal weaving, two shades of brown and cream, with two large diamonds at center, surrounded by four large diamonds and a sawtooth border.In 1896, Texas-born John Bradford Moore, the former mayor of Sheridan, Wyoming, purchased the seasonal trading post at Narbona Pass in New Mexico. He erected a permanent log building and established the Crystal Trading Post.

By the turn of the twentieth century, Moore’s post was flourishing, particularly in the sale of Navajo weavings. Like other trading post operators, Moore saw the value in adapting his product to meet the needs and desires of his eastern customers. Thus, rather than producing Navajo blankets meant to be worn, Moore’s weavers wove rugs meant to be used on the floor. He thus used quality wool and employed only highly skilled native weavers (though he apparently paid them little).

Beyond changing the function of the weavings he sold, Moore further modified them by blending traditional Navajo design motifs with those already known to non-native customers, most importantly, designs inspired by oriental rugs, which were booming in popularity. His weavers incorporated borders and central medallions into their weavings, giving way to popular patterns such as Crystal, Storm, and Two Grey Hills.

The Crystal Trading Post acted as an important mediary between east and southwest, not only from a design perspective, but also from a sales and marketing perspective. In 1903, Moore published his first mail-order catalog, thus allowing easterners to purchase his Navajo weavings without the necessity of traveling to the reservation. His second catalog, published in 1911, was larger, and included far more weavings that blended Navajo and oriental rug designs.

Shortly after publishing his second catalog, Moore left Crystal, and sold the post to his manager Jesse Molohon, and the Crystal Trading Post continued to market oriental rug-inspired Navajo rugs into the 1930s.

Word of the Week: Linsey-Woolsey

November 11, 2013 in Textiles/Clothing/Accessories, Word of the Week by hdavis

A circa 1805 needlework sampler, "Nabby Fowler," reportedly Salem, Essex County, MassachusettsLinsey-woolsey is a fabric that is exactly what it sounds like: a combination of linen and wool woven together to create a coarse, durable fabric, sometimes woven plain or as a twill (for twill, think the diagonal weave pattern often seen on denim). “Lin” is an old term for flax, the plant whose fibers are used for linen. Occasionally, it’s referred to as “woolsey-linsey” or by the blending of the two terms, “wincey.”

Linsey-woolsey as a term has been in use since the 15th century, although the fabric itself was used much earlier (even making an appearance in the Old Testament where its blended nature made it forbidden) and it gained popularity in the American colonies in the early years when wool was not as common as it was throughout Europe. Its rough nature made it popular as a utilitarian fabric, as it was cheap, wore well and was heavy enough to be warm, but for these very reasons, it also had an association with poverty and lower classes. It appears to have been used primarily for clothing, blankets and as a foundation for needlework (like the one pictured above).

The term has become somewhat diluted as it is often applied to a form (coverlets), to other coarse blended fabrics, including those of wool and cotton, or simply to the rougher “homespun” goods of the 18th and 19th centuries.

All in the Family: Norton Stoneware Pottery

November 6, 2013 in Pottery & Porcelain by hdavis

J. and E. Norton, Bennington, Vermont stoneware [salt-glazed pottery] jug with double pheasantsOne of the most iconic objects from 18th- and 19th-century is stoneware, particularly pieces with cobalt decoration, and few people did cobalt-decorated salt-glazed stoneware pottery better than the Norton family of Vermont.

The Norton pottery dynasty actually predates Vermont’s statehood, founded as it was by Captain John Norton in 1785, although stoneware was not what was initially manufactured. Unmarked redware pieces were the earliest offerings and salt-glazed stoneware soon followed, with utilitarian wares being offered throughout the region. The stoneware pieces from this period were marked “Bennington Factory,” and while the occasional piece seems to have had some simple incised or cobalt decoration, most pieces were just “decorated” with a cobalt script number, if at all.

By 1812, Luman Norton, Captain Norton’s oldest son, joined the business and in 1823, Captain Norton had left the company in the hands of Luman and his brother John. Pieces with “L. Norton & Co.” date from the brothers’ era, an era that was short-lived as Luman was in business by himself by 1828, when he marked pieces simply, “L. Norton.”

Julius Norton, Luman’s son, would join his father in business in 1833, a fact reflected in the mark, “L. Norton & Son,” which was used until Luman’s retirement in 1841, at which point Julius managed the pottery solo under “Julius Norton.”

Four years later, in 1845, Julius Norton took a partner, his brother-in-law, Christopher Fenton, but again, the partnership of “Norton & Fenton” was short-lived, lasting only two years until 1847, when Fenton left and Julius again operated as “Julius Norton” until the end of the decade.

The 1850s ushered in a new partnership and what would be the pottery’s golden age. Edward Norton, a cousin, began to work with Julius in the management of the firm, now marking wares as “J. & E. Norton.” It was during this period that the detailed cobalt decorations Norton became known for, the ones often seen as most desirable among collectors today, were produced, particularly pieces with deer, elaborate birds of various kinds, and scenes with buildings like schoolhouses. (Like the impressive example pictured above.)

The firm changed structure – and marks – again in 1859, when Julius’s son Luman Preston Norton came on board, an era in which the pieces produced were marked “J. Norton & Co.,” but in 1861, Julius died and Luman Preston Norton and Edward Norton continued working as “E. & L.P. Norton,” in a partnership that would prove to be one of the most stable in Norton history.

By 1881, twenty years later, however, perhaps Luman realized that stoneware’s role in the marketplace was dwindling, but whatever the reason, he left the pottery and Edward Norton continued work as “E. Norton & Co.” for another two years before selling half of the business to C.W. Thatcher of Bennington, the first “non-family” owner the business had had in nearly a century. Edward Norton died two years after this in 1885, at which point his son Edward Lincoln Norton took over his portion of the business. From 1883 on, pieces were manufactured by “The Edw’d Norton Co.,” but the company continued to decline. Efforts were made to diversify and for a time, the firm sold glass and other forms of pottery wholesale, but the heart of the business, the stoneware manufacturing, continued to decline steadily. By the time of Edward Lincoln Norton’s death in 1894, stoneware production had ceased and while C.W. Thatcher would carry on selling similar wares into the 20th century, the Norton family dynasty had ended.

Norton pottery pieces remain popular with stoneware collectors today, and unlike some potteries where price is driven by the rarity or unusual nature of the form, since the majority of Norton wares were traditional utilitarian objects, value is predicated on the quality and subject matter of the decoration. Pieces with elaborate, intricate decoration command strong prices, and the strongest Norton prices are reserved for pieces with atypical subject matter: houses, horses, and less frequently seen birds like peacocks, pheasants, and hawks.

Norton Pottery Marks:

L. Norton (1828-1833)
L. Norton & Son (1833-1841)
Julius Norton (1841-1850)
Norton & Fenton (1845-1847)
J. & E. Norton (1850-1859)
J. Norton & Co. (1859-1861)
E. & L.P. Norton (1861-1881)
E. Norton & Co. (1881-1885)
The EDW’D Norton Co. (1885-1894)

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