Clinton Howell Antiques

John Fiske is a dealer in Ipswich, MA who, with his wife, Lisa Freeman, sells early oak. John has had other careers and one of them shows in his writing. It is superb. Every month, he expresses his opinion in The New England Antiques Journal and it is worth the price of admission. This month, he has written on what it is we are all searching for which is a small topic for John. One of these days he will take on a man sized topic like, what is the meaning of life? Oops, I think that is what he means be searching for the essence of things.

The Renaissance must have been an interesting time to be alive. I wouldn't want the average sanitary arrangements they had, but I would like to see the world in a state where the belief in God answered all questions. The vast number of questions that faith can't answer doesn't reassure me that God exists, but would I have felt that way in the mid-16th century? I probably would not have--it is easier to believe in an unclear, faith based explanation than in no explanation at all. We always need answers no matter how ridiculous they might seem to be. It qualified, at that time, as essence.

Essence, however, is ultimately the distinction of what man is, his raison d'etre. This is why Midas was such a fool thinking that gold was the answer to his questions. That story could be updated, but perhaps it has been in the updated Gordon Gekko whose materialism is, ultimately, boring. One of my great pleasures in life has been in seeing what people have collected in life. Their collections reveal who they are. If you want to know what core values someone has, see what they esteem most in their life. Power, influence, money and even faith are tools, they are not essence.

John felt compressed for space in the two pages allotted to him in the NEAJ. I know what he means. Our greatest gift on this planet is the chance we have to ask the question why, to really get to the core of a question. Antique furniture, particularly furniture made before 1850, is extremely revealing of a culture, a time period, one that is so different from today that it is hard to imagine. The values of that era, the dedication to quality and the focus on function, almost seem extravagant. Why did they lavish so much attention to what was just a seat or a table? These are good questions and the answers might be as relevant today as they were two hundred years ago.

The signers of the Declaration of Independence were certainly men of principle.Their action clearly defines them as such. From George III's point of view, however, these men were contravening natural law in defying their king. In essence, he was correct for at least 100 years as the British Empire expanded around the globe and the monarch became the leader of vast quantities of land and people. But from the point of view of the 20th and 21st centuries, George III's concept is not only anachronistic, it is flat out wrong. The relevance of kings in the scheme of human affairs today is nil and our allegiance to such could almost be seen as servile.

Given this, it almost seems as if principle is mutable depending on the world situation. How does one know what principle, the right and moral way, is correct? That question resounds and can best be answered by saying that principle is not transitory, it comes from the head and the heart. It is the thing that separates the good banker, the good antique dealer, the good doctor, etc., from those that are unprincipled or who are acting only on impulse. Indeed, a principled person is leaving his principle for future generations--it is among the only things of value that we, as human beings, can leave to posterity. If our judgment is wrong as was George III's, we will be judged harshly, if it is deemed correct, that principle will be held in high regard as it is with the signers of the Delcaration.

The problem is, of course, is that no one is pure. We all make mistakes and we compromise ourselves. Winston Churchill, Britain's great war time PM, is almost remembered as much for his intransigence on the emancipation of Britain's colonies as he is for his valor in the face of the enemy. Is that fair? Probably not, but Churchill's emotional attachment to the Empire did not allow him to make the right judgment. Indeed, it is our emotional attachments that often lead us down a slippery slope that lead away from principled action. Remember that our White House was burned down nearly two hundred years ago and that has not prevented us from partnering with Britain in just causes since that date. It has always been the principle that matters, nothing else.

I wonder about myself at times. I think I have the perspicacity to divine a good book, but every once in a while, I fail miserably in my choices. "The Mysteries of Pittsburgh" by Michael Chabon, is a bad story written by a capable writer who has annoying habits like using nouns as modifiers. Before that, it was Kazuo Ishiguro's, "Never Let Me Go" a thought provoking story so turgidly written that I found myself sighing whenever the author said, "I will tell you more about that later." The book was short listed for the Booker Prize, a renowned honor, so I was more than a bit surprised.

One of England's under rated novelists, also one of her first, was Fanny Burney (1752-1840), whose first novel, "Evelina" was published in 1778. (She wrote three more, as well as several plays and diaries.) Among the people she hung out with were Samuel Johnson of dictionary fame, Edmund Burke the philosopher economist, David Garrick the actor and Hester Thrale a wealthy widow who often hosted literary salons. I read "Evelina" years ago and have largely forgotten it, but I also read her biography which is extraordinary. One of Burney's more memorable moments was being operated on by seven male physicians for breast cancer without anaesthetic. The operation lasted all day. Somehow she lived into her eighties. 

I have also been lucky in my reading. The two Kafka books, "The Castle" and "The Trial",are brilliant. They get into your brain, your nervous system, your stomach, they wrap you up and don't really let you go. Hans Fallada, "Every Man Dies Alone" isn't a literary masterpiece, but the story is breathtaking and was a good segue between the Kafka books. Pascal Mercier's, "Night Train to Lisbon", is a very good story that could use either a little editing or a better translator, but it is still worth the read. I can see why the publishing industry has problems, however. Good writing is very hard to come by. 

Listening to "On Point", an NPR radio program that comes out of Boston, on immigration was extremely interesting. The discussion was on the new Arizona law. Essentially, there were two debaters and an observer. What interested me most was how the old chestnut of, "we are a nation of immigrants" never arose, even with the callers. That is a pro immigration chestnut that is designed to move the hearts of every true American, because it is true. I guess, in an economic downturn, the economy short circuits all the old standards.

Immigration to England in the last quarter of the 17th century resulted in making London the cabinetmaking powerhouse of Europe. No other country came close to exporting as much as England although they exported almost no furniture to France. Had France not expelled all the Protestant cabinetmakers, the English trade would have not nearly have been so robust. The net gain for England was huge although there was an initial bias against the foreigners, a sensibility that the British have never wholly abandoned. (Adam Bowett's book "Early Georgian Furniture, 1715-1740" has some very illuminating information on the cabinetmaking trade in the early 18th cnetury in London.)

What is obvious about the immigration issue is that it is grounded in money. Take the profit out of immigration and illegal immigration will grind to a halt. It is happening with marijuana and gambling after all, why can't it happen with human beings? The problem, of course, is that human beings are a long term solution, education for example within the Central American countries that provide most of the illegals, might be one place to start. Do we have the patience for this? When it is clear that laws and walls don't work, will we use common sense to deal with the problem, or will we grand stand about the 14th amendment? How easy is it to hate Congress these days?

Hans Fallada was a German writer who somehow survived WWII in Germany, only a small part of his life experience much of which is far more novelistic than most novels. "Every Man Dies Alone", his last novel was based on a true story and was written just after the war and is set in war time Berlin where paranoia and human brutality is the norm. Nothing can be relied on, least of all humanity, and I find myself flashing back to Kafka and realizing just how prescient he was.

The cabinetmaking trade in late 18th century London was roiled by the burgeoning middle class which needed furniture. New markets created a struggle among the guilds, the trade unions and cabinet shop owners, part of which upset the traditional apprentice system. Entrepreneurs sensed this opportunity and small shops set up to take advantage of the market. These shops were called the "dishonorable trade" by the established West End makers. Some of these shops used shoddy materials and short cuts in production. If any antique furniture should be considered fraudulent, it is the product of these shops, much of which is not worth restoring even to this day.

Pernicious is the best word for the society Fallada writes about. When I use the word society, however, I think of an interdependent group. Fallada's cast, apart from a few idealists, is hardly interdependent. It is not a society, it is a fraud, a place where lies, greed and bullies win the day, a system that the Nazi party only encourages. You could almost say that these traits reflect capitalism run amok--think BP or Chinese cat food. Or, perhaps, some members of the London cabinetmaking trade at the end of the 18th century?

Reading Franz Kafka's, "The Castle", is a little bit like letting HAL run your spacecraft. He just keeps taking you out and out and out and ultimately, he wants to be alone. Fortunately, you can put the book down. Clearly, Kafka understood totalitarianism and how it self perpetuates through misguided belief in the "system".

Totalitarianism appears to be a human condition. At any given time, there are at least two or three such regimes in the world. When you think on it, a totalitarian leader believes only in himself and ultimately the system is built on greed. It is unclear to me whether today's technology abets the totalitarian or vice-versa. Maybe a little bit of both.

Totalitarianism succeeds because truth does not announce itself. It has to be looked for and then understood. Kafka makes it very clear that truth is not self-evident and that is one of the things that is so scary about his writing. He makes untruth so very plausible. Other writers have done it since, but Kafka does it eerily. His writing gives me the chills. 

I am losing my wonderful assistant, Kristen, to motherhood soon. This will be the third to motherhood and while they have all been great, Kristen has been that plus some. She has an easygoing manner, a great smile and she works hard. I will miss her and so will more than a few of my clients.

I know I have referred to Queen Anne's (1702-1714) nineteen pregnancies before. One was an hysterical pregnancy, many were miscarriages and one infant made the age of one. Talk about taking a hit for God and country. Protestantism doesn't have martyrs, but Anne deserves a mention.

My own mother said that the summer of 1949 was very hot. She claimed that she sat on the beach feeling like a whale, but with three other children, 10, 7 and 2, and no help I doubt that was the case. It was all in a day's work, I guess. I can't thank her enough.

I loved visiting Portugal. Warm hearted people with a beautiful coast line, Roman ruins, cathedrals, walled cities and one of the oldest universities in Europe at Coimbra. I picked up "Night Train to Lisbon" by Pascal Mercier, partly because of these memories and because the first paragraph seemed interesting. And it is, and it is also a short course in philosophy as well as being an allegorical tale with lots of levels of meaning.

I don't think of Oxford and Cambridge when I visit England whereas I do think of Coimbra when I think of Portugal. I have visited Oxford many times, but the visit I remember best was when my friend Guy Durham was in digs one summer where I visited him for an afternoon and evening. Guy was an Anglophile of the first order and he wanted to experience Oxford, albeit as a mature student, the way an undergraduate might. We went to Evensong and a well known pub as well as taking numerous short cuts around the town. He knew his Oxford, that is for sure.

I was told by my mother that the Lisbon Botanical Garden was one of the great European botanical gardens because the Lisbon climate could sustain both tropical and temperate plants. The garden, when I saw it in 1999, was in some state of neglect, but the bones were there and hopefully it has been brought back to its former splendor. Mercier's book uncovers the darkness of the Salazar years through the writings of an aristocratic physician which were published posthumously by his sister. The interlocutor is a professor of classical languages from Switzerland. The bones Mercier uncovers are like the bones of the Botanical Garden--all there and waiting to be re-discovered.

I was listening to Brian Lehrer on WNYC this morning and he had a guest on talking about the ten ugliest buildings in NYC. To begin with, one has to take the concept of ugly with a grain of salt. When you come right down to it, there is no such thing as ugly. Ugly is a subjective sense of revulsion, it is not a condition. Furthermore, when you apply the word ugly to a building, you are inevitably basing your judgment on the environment a building is in. No matter how you put it, the environment cannot be taken out of the building.

Not all antique furniture from the 17th, 18th and early 19th centuries is beautiful although it is generally well made with good materials. Design, on the other hand, allows the connoisseur to insert his opinion. Some late 18th and early 19th century furniture, the Yorkshire makers, Wright and Elwick's pieces come to mind, qualifies as unusual and very different from London made furniture--it is not to everyones taste. Connoisseurs can and do get wrapped up in assessing such pieces and I believe they are worth listening to. But sooner or later, one has to decide for oneself as to what does or does not work. That, of course, is the rub.

I was interested to hear Lehrer's guest refer to the Whitney Museum as the ninth ugliest building in NYC. I walk by it every day and I can't say that I believe it fits in the neighborhood. It is a modernist icon, I know, but it is, in my view a lump. Ugly--that is not my call. Does it engage the neighborhood and vice-versa? I don't think that it does. That the Upper East Side of New York allowed such a building to be created is what is so bizarre. Now that it is here, it gets to be itself, however. That is what New York City is really about. 

It sounds from what I wrote yesterday that I don't like the direction that the antiques business is taking as exemplified by Masterpiece and the auction houses. That is not true. Prices are getting dearer and both Masterpiece and the auction houses have recognized that you have to make the selling of high priced items an event. They have succeeded and they deserve credit for their success.

My fear is that the upward trajectory of prices necessarily turns off clientele, even people well enough off to afford great furniture. Not everyone wants a champagne preview and not every rich person interested in antiques wants to show off his wealth by being the highest bidder on an already expensive piece of furniture. Pastimes are for pleasure and a lot of the fooforaw around "events" is not to every person's preference.

Without doubt, the organizers of Masterpiece deserve kudos for their efforts. They have successfully resurrected/created a new event that will draw collectors from around the world and that is no mean feat. Their success is offset, unfortunately, by LIFAF or what used to be the Olympia Fair, which appears to be headed downwards. Olympia is/was an important event in the antique furniture world and will, I hope, continue. As iffy as LIFAF seems, Masterpiece appears an assured and vibrant event. Long may it prosper. 

The Grosvenor House Art and Antiques Fair ended last year and the mantel of that fair has been picked up by the Masterpiece Fair which ran this year from June 23-30. Masterpiece was a success from almost every point of view. It garnered support from the trade and the buying customers. What more can you ask for?

Why do I feel hesitant in my praise? It was a beautiful fair, but it lacked soul and felt like it was about money. It was as if antique dealing had gone corporate while no one was looking. Is this the reality of the antiques business?

I think the model has been set by the auction houses who have endeavored to make their product, whatever it might be, more posh. They massage the clients and the clients spend with them. Their product becomes more about the pitch than the product. Has this always been the case?

I am not criticizing any of this. Masterpiece was masterminded by the English trade and they have made a posh event--it is quite extraordinary. The English trade works hard at being elegant and creating an aura of something the American dealers don't seem to be able to muster. I would rejoin that the business is about antiques. From my perspective, that is what really counts.

There is very little one can say when one's children call to wish a happy father's day. What did I do to deserve them? Frankly, their mother was far more important to them and a far better parent, particularly on a day to day basis. I was in the position to enjoy them, something that seems a lot harder for mothers who feel the weight of responsibility for these lives they have created.

Parenting, at least in the way that we know it in 2010, is a long way from what it was in the 18th or 19th centuries. Children in those days were little people, expected to behave like adults. They were dressed like adults and treated as such and in countries where primogeniture was the rule, the oldest son was expected to recognize and pursue his responsibilities. How many tales have been written about children that could not achieve that sense of responsibility?

There is also a certain hypocrisy to "special" days that seem designed to get one to spend money. The cynicism is life long and I don't remember celebrating either mother's or father's days. Fortunately, I (and my siblings) enjoyed my parents and told them so. Friends they were and still are, their corporeal finesse notwithstanding. He or she is truly lucky to have a parent as a friend. I am doubly so.

The fair that used to be known as Olympia has been transformed and now is known as LIFAF. As a brand, LIFAF means very little, but I suspect it is trying to relate itself to TEFAF which is also known as Maastricht, a successful dealer run fair held annually in the Netherlands. LIFAF has been taken over by David Lester whose success as an antique fair promoter is limited at best to Palm Beach. The fairs he started in Dallas, Los Angeles, the touring boat and the fair that never was at Pace in Westchester, NY, were all bombs.

David Lester is a hard worker and a man with vision. His vision relies, however, on dealers who can pay the freight to be in his shows, none of which has been cheap and all of which have been long on promises. LIFAF was beautiful, but there wasn't enough to see. The most important thing about a fair is the product on display--that is what makes a fair successful. He needed more of the top crowd to exhibit with him but they refrained themselves in order to go with either the Haughtons or the Masterpiece Fair. 

It is clear that David Lester thought that he would be able to wrest the mantle of the now defunct Grosvenor House Fair to LIFAF. That has not been the case this year, but the drama is doubtless ready to continue, although the area that Olympia is in is slated for massive re-development. It isn't easy being a show promoter, that is for certain. For David Lester, it has always seemed to be about what could be. LIFAF still could be a good show, but the odds are against it. 

Reading "Under the Volcano" by Malcolm Lowry is an experience akin to to reading William Gaddis' "Recognitions", or David Foster Wallace's, "Infinite Jest". The language of these men is stunning, the way they string their words together is dazzling. Lowry takes us into a house and refers to the mirador, the bartizan and the machiolations, architectural terms relating to battlements.

The language used to describe furniture is largely been lifted from architecture. We talk about, architraves, fascias, cornices, pediments and stiles. Naturally, a great deal of furniture decoration is lifted from architecture so it makes sense. Unfortunately, a lot of architects, good ones, have also felt that they could design furniture. Sometimes they could and other times, they didn't.

Of course, "Under the Volcano" is a battle, a battle the protagonist, Geoffrey Firmin, the former British Consul, wages to save his life. His despair is blunted by his drinking and his drinking disallows him to make any progress to undo the despair. Sisyphus had it easier. When Lowry has Firmin refer to the cloacan darkness, I got the point. After I looked up the meaning of cloacan. 

Having viewed the Patricia Kluge sale being held by Sotheby's on site in Charlottesville, I have to say that it was mildly depressing. The furniture, some of it quite good, seems to have been cleaned to the extent of having lost its patina. I recognized a walnut stool that I sold to Stair and Co. that was for sale and it almost looked naked, no dirt, no nothing, just a monchromatic brown tone. This is the brown that gives the brown in brown furniture its bad name.

The key to great furniture is condition. As important as style, craftsmanship and materials are, condition is what makes you want to own a great piece. It is a function of patina and patina is everything. A replaced leg on a chair with great patina is forgivable, whereas on a chair with no patina, the missing leg becomes a bigger issue. Patina will frame desire in other words. 

For many years, I have been trying to convince my clients that a "dry stripped" gilded frame is preferable to a regilded frame. Dry stripping is the cleaning off of successive repairs to old frames to return to what one hopes is the original gilding. The old gesso and clay have a distinctive look, but one thing is for certain, the frame hardly looks gilded when it is dry stripped. Most buyers of gilded furniture want to see gold, however. One of those regilded frames is hanging over the fire place in the Kluge drawing room--the base is beautifully carved. The mirror practically gleams.