Clinton Howell Antiques

A number of years ago, a new book was published by Dr. Adam Bowett entitled, "English Furniture; 1660-1714, From Charles II to Queen Anne". I was familiar with Dr. Bowett's work from articles he had written for The Furniture History Society and his efforts to debunk some of the shibboleths of earlier historians and of the antiques trade. Dr. Bowett's approach is to look for commercial reasons as to why things happened in the trade such as the move, for example, from walnut to mahogany, a move predicated by the high import duties placed on walnut by the English government and for no other reason. His method is to examine trade records, census records and physical evidence from saw cuts to wood dyes. To me, it is pragmatic and practical and leaving very little to hypotheses based on "educated' guesses.

I was lucky enough to hear Dr. Bowett speak last Monday at the Royal Oak. He mentioned a number of statistics that I thought quite startling. For example, the population of London in 1720 was approximately 500,000 and one in every twenty people was involved in some aspect of the furniture making or dsipersing business. Another startling statistic is that the English exported furniture to virtually every country in Europe, save for France, at a rate of five pieces to every one they imported. England, as it turns out, was the cabinetmaker for Europe and explains why so much furniture in the English style is still found throughout Europe.

I have taught classes over the years and have always emphasized the fact that the interior decoration industry, which of course includes furniture production, was the US Steel or GM for the British as those two companies were for America in the 1950's. It was a gigantic industry, capable of stylistic and practical adaptation virtually overnight. Dr. Bowett makes this clear and I can only hope that those people who enjoy this kind of social history will see fit to purchase his first book and the second one coming out in November that covers the years 1714-1740.

William Gaddis' book, "The Recognitions" is to reading as driving to Buffalo in a snowstorm from New York City is to motoring. It is a long and difficult ride, but it is quite extraordinary and the gist of it is about what is or more likely, what is not original. It is a subject that has to concern every kind of artist as the source for inspiration doesn't reside solely in the creative side of our cerebellum. We have all been imprinted with a way of seeing and doing that has bearing on what has gone on before. Hence, is anything truly original?

The furniture world, particularly today, is very far from being original in my opinion. It might well be creative and, at times pleasingly unusual, but never original. Eileen Gray's chair that sold at the Yves St. Laurent-Pierre Berge sale for twenty-eight million dollars was not original. It was different and extremely striking and I would have loved to have owned it, but that is all I can say about it. I think the predicament for all furniture designers is to design in a way that emphasizes one aspect of a piece over another, but that has been going on since furniture design began. In other words, the gradual development of furniture makes Ms. Gray's chair just another layer to the rather vast cake of chair design not unlike the way trees add layers year in and year out and grow bigger and seemingly more complex.

I think the word creative is far more important to understand than the word original, at least when it comes to design. Original denotes to me a transcendant uniqueness and that, in my opinion, belies the modus operandi of all design. Of course, I am linking in with the Theory of Evolution here, not on purpose but through logic. If there is a God, he had to have had the sense to try and fail, try and fail and then try and succeed. Design is a gradual process that even a supreme being would have had to use to create what has been created in this world and hence His designs, like the ones in the furniture world, evolved. It has hard to call anything original when you realize all that has gone before. Mitigate that with the joy of being creative, different and unusual and the thrill in design is still to be had.

The rash of incivility that has burst upon the American public like fetid pustules in various venues across the nation leaves one gasping at the lack of acuity on the part of those people who feel that their angst, anger or other emotion is worth our notice. Furthermore, why do they feel that the people and organizations they represent such as the House of Representatives or the United States Tennis Association deserve their bad behavior? Take everything else away and it is nothing but bad behavior.

John Cobb, the famed cabinetmaker who was partnered with William Vile, was said to have been haughty. In the mid eighteenth century in England, you had to be extremely good to get away with such behavior or you would get no further work. Given that cabinetmakers waited almost as long to be paid as tailors, you can possibly forgive a certain froideur. But incivility remains incivility and that is bad manners.

Perhaps it is a fear of the future that makes people behave badly. If ever there was a moment when the future seems uncertain, it is now and that may be the source of all these tantrums. I regret to say that bad manners are unforgivable regardless of the moment. I hope that I have always behaved but fear that I have not. In that case, I apologize one more time for any past intemperance on my part.  

I well remember the day I walked around the Victoria and Albert Museum in London back in 1972 and found to my surprise that I could identify the date of most of the furniture without reading the labels on the cards. It was a little bit like having the key to something you never thought you would be able to unlock. There is a sense of exhilaration in realizing that you have knowledge, albeit as limited as I knew it to be at that point in my career.

Among the most interesting furniture made in eighteenth century England was "transitional" furniture, furniture that bridged the style interregnum from one stylistic era to the next as, for example, from the rococo to the neoclassical. This furniture is not coveted when it is awkward or aesthetically challenged but those pieces are rare, because eighteenth century cabinetmakers were just that good in leaping from one style to the next.

It is almost always transitional furniture that stumps the neophyte enthusiast. Style books and museums prefer to feature examples of stylistic finesse, not the rare, hard-to-find transitional pieces. If there was ever a need for going to see furniture in shops, particularly high end antique establishments, it is for filling in this knowledge gap. It is far more intriguing to look at both the debasement of one style and the genesis of another all in one piece as it forces us to think. Isn't that a good thing? 

William Gaddis' book, "The Recognitions", is not a book with a great plot, but the writing is sublime and I am assuming that the plot will catch up. There are certainly some hilarious passages. And there are some wonderful and rather perspicacious sentences several of which I quote below;

"Most people are clever because they don't know how to be honest."

"Thus, therefore, are those also who do not know what is true yet hold some appearance of knowledge, and do many evil things as if they were good, and hasten to destruction as if it were salvation."

The second quote is particularly poignant vis-a-vis the screamers at the town hall meetings who wish to drown out any discussion on health care.

The great thing about antique furniture, and it is definitely one of the reasons that became a dealer of furniture, is that all objects have a sense of honesty, even the ones that have been altered or which some people like to call fakes. After all, the objects only speak for themselves.  

The protagonist in William Caddis' novel, " The Recognitions", Wyatt Gwyon, is a faker of old master paintings. As the novel was published in the 1950's, old master paintings were considered the ne plus ultra of art investments. That is no longer the case, but what is so interesting is not the fakery but the artist. Unlike Ayn Rand's noble architect, Howard Roark, in "The Fountainhead" whose originality is unquestioned, Gwyon is made to appear as if he channels old master artists. His character is both an aesthete and a misanthrope, a life dedicated to art and little else. And the enigma is that the one painting he can't complete is the portrait of his mother.

In the early 1970's when I was a student at the London College of Furniture, I came to know a great many restorers from outside the college. Almost all of them had stories about the 1930's and trying to get things into great collections past the gamut of experts that would determine authenticity. One fellow carried around a story about a tea caddy that he had made and which was bought by Percival Griffiths, the noted walnut collector. As far as these men were concerned, they might just be craftsmen, but they knew enough to outsmart the experts. Such is the role of every expert, to ultimately be outsmarted.

Gaddis' character seems more disconnected than anything else, but that is the Gaddis style. At one point, however, he gets a little technical and talks about the glair from eggs used to help create craqueleur in a painting. It reminds me just a bit of Robertson Davies in the Cornish Trilogy, Bred in the Bone is one that I remember, or of Lovejoy, the antique "divvy" created by Jonathan Gash. Faking is really not so complicated. It is like magic. Just get all the heads turned in one direction and go in the opposite direction. The problem is that sooner or later, someone will catch on. They always do.  

William Gaddis' book, "The Recognitions" , is a dense novel filled with abstruse references, a few of which I can grasp and some which flow right by me. The vocabulary is equally dense and his prose borders on poetry from time to time. At one point, his protagonist, Wyatt Gwyon, utters a terrific and memorable line, "every work of art is a perfect necessity". The statement redounds with meaning and speaks of the nature of art and its sense of originality and uniqueness.

English antique furniture from the 18th century is not original in the sense that its source is a continuum of design that spread through Europe in the early to mid 18th century. However, in the sense that every craftsmen becomes a designer in the making of a piece of furniture, every piece is unique. It is this which makes 18th century English furniture so compelling. As compelling as later design is in the 19th and 20th centuries, and some of it most certainly is for its original use of materials and clean design, it is the 18th century that works so well for me.

Contemporary art, as far as I can see, is driven by investment value. There are names who have made the grade and most that have not. I don't think it is because of the intrinsic value of their work in either case, it is more about who can make the best case for being a cause celebre. Money counts in this world of art and it will be interesting if future generations agree or believe that this world of the early twenty-first century was crazy. As far as I can see, perfect necessity seems the last thing on peoples minds these days.  

The political, social and economic scene towards the end of the 17th century in England made for an interesting society. The English, and more importantly many of the oligarchs, were Protestant. Both Charles II and James II were Catholic and as monarchs were charged to defend the Protestant faith. Ultimately, James II's Catholicism roused the oligarchs and William of Orange to usurp the British throne in the "Glorious" or "Bloodless" Revolution of 1688 after which William, along with his wife Mary Stuart became William III and Queen Mary II of England.

In short, religion was the deciding factor of many politicial decisions. It was thicker than both water and blood as Protestant Mary was deemed appropriate to rule with her Dutch husband while her Catholic father skedaddled to the protection of a Catholic France. That William of Orange was made king despite the fact that the English and Dutch had been to war twice in the previous thirty years is astounding. Clearly, the animosities between the countries was less viral nationalism and more based on religion, family squabbles and trade advantages.

While the political turn of events was being forced towards Protestantism in England, France outlawed Protestantism within its borders. The upshot was that many craftsmen and designers, among the most famous are Daniel Marot and Pelletier brothers, decamped from France and went to England. Furthermore, other Dutch craftsmen went to England for reasons unknown such as Gerrit Jensen and Grinling Gibbons, both famed for their craft, Jensen for superior inlay work and Gibons for his wood carving. Clearly, there were many more Dutchmen who took a similar path.

The stylistic differences between a lot of high end Dutch and English furniture between 1670 and 1720 are not easily separated one from the other. Some pieces are unidentifiable nationally despite a knowledge of style, craftsmanship or even the name of the craftsman. The permutations and combinations render such distinctions moot, at least as far as knowing where or when a piece might have been made. Anglo-Dutch as country of origin is as good as it gets for many pieces of this era.

I was talking to a wood carver the other day who told me that he had found a book delineating the rules and regulations applied to workers in the furniture trade in the late 19th century. Carvers could, apparently, take breaks when they wanted and even had flexible hours, an unheard of liberty in such a strict trade. Carvers in the trade have always been different as far as I can see. The good ones, such as Grinling Gibbons, Thomas Johnston and Luke Lightfoot were given free reign to create and they did.

This brought to mind an 18th century gilded rococo looking glass frame that I sold about fifteen years ago. The frame might have been all of one and half inches in thickness, the antithesis of what we think of as great, deep rococo carving. The carver, as incapable as he was to be sculptural, had a wonderful sense of line and the frame worked wonderfully. Given that the surface was dry stripped and really very beautiful and that the plate glass was original, it was an interesting and, in the end, a beautiful mirror.

Quirky is a word that is used to describe, at least in aesthetics, something that breaks the rules and yet which may be successful nonetheless. I enjoy some quirky things although they are often an uphill struggle to sell. English cabinetmakers were not bound in the same fashion as their continental counterparts and so quirky definitely has a place in English antique furniture. It is all the better for it.  

The death of the third oldest man on record, Harry Patch aged 111, is noteworthy for several reasons. The first is that he fought in the trenches in the First World War, also known as the Great War and was the last British survivor of that conflict. The second is for his opinion that wars should not be fought but that there should be negotiation and compromise instead. I think that if you were in those trenches, that is the only way you could feel as young men, boys really, were slaughtered for no apparent reason.

Wars in the eighteenth century were certainly lethal, but doctors probably killed off more survivors than they saved. There were also surrenders where men were sworn not to take up arms again and released. Although wounds were far more deadly in that day, a surprisingly large number of people survived war time conflict. Horatio Nelson, the famed British admiral, lost an eye and an arm before dying in the Battle of Trafalgar in the arms of his first mate.

When I lived in London in the 1970's I frequented a pub where an old man told me about how the British used to have victorious British soldiers dropped off in Westminster near the Houses of Parliament to cheering crowds. However, when the soldiers were not victorious, they were dropped off in Limehouse in East London where I met this man. He remembered the troops who returned from Khartoum after the failed relief of Gordon in the 1880's when he was a young boy. Life is never kind to the losers. Harry Patch understood that much.

When I said that arranged marriages were largely a tribal affair, I was referring to the society of today. Of course, there are certain eurocentric societies that believe in arranged marriages as well, including the tribe of the European monarchies. Some of them are allowing greater latitude of choice by the heir apparent types, but that latitude seems based less on enlightenment and more on necessity. Their numbers are dwindling.

Lady Mary Wortley Montagu led an interesting life. She variolated (an early form of inoculation used by Turkish doctors) her children against small pox and was severely criticized for so doing. She was the first western woman to enter a seraglio (to view and write about the harem) and she is also thought to have composed a number of Alexander Pope's heroic couplets. Further, on rejecting Pope's amorous advances, he became an arch enemy, pillorying and slandering her in his poetic works. She did, however, elope with her husband against her parents wishes. By the age of 40, however, she separated from him never to see him again.  

A delightful formere assistant of mine was married this last weekend in Virginia. I attended and greatly enjoyed seeing her and her husband's glow. She told me that the week prior had been pretty stressful but it did not show and she looked relaxed and very happy and very beautiful.  The groom also looked very happy and relaxed and the entire event was an enormous success.

The marriages I have read about from the 18th century were all matches designed by a parent for some political purpose. The saddest was that of Caroline of Brunswick who married the Prince Regent, later George IV, who was whiny, egotistical and selfish. Georgianna, Duchess of Devonshire, had a tough time because it was ten years before she had her first child. She clearly did not love the Duke and she did everything she could to not spend time with him. All of them, however, had great furniture to sit on.

Arranged marriages, which are "de rigeur" in many tribal cultures, are not so much a bad thing if a person can see his or her self as a political thing. If they can't, then it is life without love in most circumstances. Of the three weddings I have been to in the last year, the radiance of the couples has been quite special, a look I would never associate with an arranged marriage. I may be wrong about this but I think a great marriage is more important than great furniture. The two together, of course, is the "beau ideal".

 

"The Brothers Karamazov" has the perfect murder. Furthermore, the murderer is a proxy for someone who could never have murdered but feels guilty all the same. And the person for whom the proxy acts is so wracked with guilt, he might as well have committed the crime. There is a phenomenal scene where that person talks to the devil who he realizes is a figment of his imagination, but who is so real that even the reader believes he is real.

Dostoevsky mentions furniture just once. He refers to a house as being furnished in an "old fashioned" style. I can't imagine what that would be, but I would love to know what was considered old fashioned in 1880 and what would have been considered a la mode.

Russian literature which I have read very little of--two novels by Tolstoy, two by Dostoevsky and one by Mikhail Bulgakov--is extremely compelling. They are so rich over the last two to three hundred pages that you don't want to stop reading and yet you hope they won't end. The understanding of human nature in all of these books has been profound. I think about what Thomas Cahill said in "Sailing the Wine Dark Sea" about how the ancient Greeks were into the essence of things and Romans were into the form. The Russians and the Greeks must be related.  

No matter how good and right a revelation seems, it can be wrong. Perhaps that is why most people think of revelations as being spiritual in nature, because a spiritual revelation requires no proof. I, however, like to try and figure things out and when I think I have, I revel in revelation. If I get it wrong, then I start again.

In any case, I am wrong about the decoration on the front of my wine cooler (the strigliation or wavy flutes). It was used at least until 1805. After that date, I have no clear indication of whether it continued to be used. What is clear is that strigliation was introduced post 1760 and that is about all that we can be clear about.

My error was to rely on style as a dating device. Will someone who comes across a pair of Tom Wolfe's spats in one hundred years think they date from 1929 or 2009? Stylistically, they would be deemed to be out of fashion in 2009 and such a dating would be incorrect. And yet 2009 is the correct date.

It would be and always is better to judge by the factual evidence such as the leather, the aglets, the machine work or even the label. These are the clues that can render a relatively accurate date. Even so, I will never rescind the revelation of dental floss. It feels too good.

It isn't often that I have a revelation about antique furniture, but it happened this week. I have a wine cooler on my site with a strigliated front (wavy flutes) and a carved stylized patera top with lion paw handles and feet in brass. On researching the piece, I found that the date put on these coolers ranges from mid-18th century to Regency. The confusion is based, I believe, on the lions which are Regency, but the strigliation is taken directly from Roman sarcophagi. By the late 18th century, Roman influenced design is not only on the wane, it has been completely phased out. In other words, the wine cooler has to date concurrent with the influence of Roman influenced designers such as Robert Adam, James "Athenian Stuart or William Chambers making the date for the coolers circa 1770.

Revelations come in all sizes and this one is not major. I am quite certain that other experts have made this realization before me, but I sense that the confusion is just another shibboleth that riddles the antique furniture world. I would like to think that there is actual evidence of these coolers being made in the 19th century, and it may exist, but I sincerely doubt that such evidence will be found. One should never say never, however.

I have been thinking about revelations because of reading "The Brothers Karamazov". Dostoevsky does revelations very well (Raskalnikov in "Crime and Punishment", Zosima and Alyosha in "The Brothers Karamazov") but his revelations are more Leonard Cohen and less St. Augustine, less dogma and more Delphic Oracle. I know that one of my own personal revelations, minor in the scheme of things but important to me, was dental floss. Seemingly prosaic, but not really.