Posted by Chris under Furniture Commentary on June 23, 2011
They say the Devil is in the details. I tend to disagree. In pieces like this, the details announce impeccable craftsmanship, fine mimesis of the natural world, and symbolic meaning:
This is what we've lost with the decline of the furniture industry.
At one time, craftsmen and their clients participated in a certain tradition of meaningful artistic expression, a cultural consciousness that demanded aesthetic significance even from everyday objects. Yes, on the one hand, Victorian bookcases of this quality would have been limited to a privileged few, but on the other hand, we can say that even today's fine contemporary furniture bears the irreducible mark of stylized, mass reproducibility. We have passed from imitating "nature" to imitating the industrial process itself—with all the sterile angles and slight curves that postmodern furniture allows.
Wouldn't it be nice to have a bookcase like this, and to know that it is par for the course and not some exceptional rarity crafted over a century ago? I would like to see a return to this kind of masterful craftsmanship, to the art of rendering space in unique and emotionally significant ways—and trust me, I'm not just nerding out about this furniture (although that's part of it). Look at this drawer front, for example:
On it you can clearly see wheat paired with grapes (carved quite beautifully, at that). As a student of English poetry, I instantly recognize at least some of the meanings, here: wheat, the traditional symbol of death, but also (paradoxically) life and fertility. This is the kind of sly irony that you can expect from Victorian poetry, and here we see it in Victorian furniture, as well. And of course the grapes themselves bring their own, contrasting meaning: the fruit of wine, drink of the gods (especially Bacchus/Dionysus, who has always been linked to poetry and creativity). The meanings are numerous: death paired with life (a famous Victorian cliché), but also the notion of the harvest and thus of agrarian life, a culture that was already giving way toward modern industrialization even before the Victorian period, when the land-based nobility became the capitalist class, when the old ways gave way to the new, etc. Likewise, shortly thereafter England's long tradition of fine, hand-crafted furniture bottlenecked into the handful of dedicated hold-outs that we see today.
I don't pretend to hold some kind of scholarly knowledge about furniture, although I've learned my fair share here at English Classics. However, it is obvious that this bookcase at least exemplifies the aesthetic mentality of the day, providing some answers to the questions: what is art? and what is beauty? and how will we adapt these notions to the spaces that we live in? In my view, these are the questions that we should ask of our furniture.
But we have seen today an increasing focus on cheap utility—regardless of socioeconomic context—and although this approach has its merits (namely affordability), it often suffers from a brand of minimalism that is aimed less at the efficient use of space and more at the least amount of effort. The same could be said of a great deal of postmodern architecture, which offers its own can of worms. So, antiques aren't just about nostalgia. They bring a certain level of history and humanity to the spaces that they occupy. They remind us that we are not alone on this long historical trajectory, and that at one point furniture was valued for its art as much as for its function. So, we can hope that this level of dedicated appreciation might return again—and in a lot of ways, it has, e.g. our line of reproduction furniture. However, there is still work to be done in the culture at large, and I guess that's why we're here.
Tags: victorian, bookcase, history
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Posted by Chris under Furniture Commentary on June 24, 2010
Recently I wrote about our May furniture container, and one of the items I featured in that post was a carved Victorian sideboard. This is really such a beautiful piece that I wanted to share some of the detailed photos that we have of it. Enjoy!
The black areas in the backsplash are mirrors.
Take a look at the lion in the center. He looks absolutely shocked. Somewhere, a lion died of old age and woke up in Victorian England as a carving in somebody's sideboard. Not the afterlife he was expecting. Surprise!—you're furniture.
When I first saw this guy, I thought he was a pregnant woman until I saw the beard. For a moment I considered Victorian carnies and bearded ladies, but after banishing that thought, I realized that the representation here is in a classical style, where depictions of men and women are often androgynous.
Here is the little man's female opposite. They are both holding a cylindrical object, the man with his left hand, the woman with her right, but I haven't been able to figure out what it is supposed to represent. I'm sure it was a common and recognizable motif to Victorians.
The surprising thing about these cherubs is the remarkable level of detail shown in their faces. They sure are cute little pudgy things. (In case you're wondering why I don't call them puttos, see my post, "Putto or Cherub?".)
I believe that these pulls are original to the sideboard, which is fairly uncommon for a piece of this age. Incredibly, the pulls show almost as much precise detail as the wood itself.
Tags: sideboard, showcase, victorian
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Posted by Chris under Furniture Commentary on September 12, 2009
This isn't the type of question I ask very often, but a post about a Thomas Brooks Dresser over at Rare Victorian peaked my interest. John Werry raised the issue of whether the winged male child, shown at the top of this dresser as well as in countless other works of furniture and art, ought to be referred to as a "putti" (singular for "putto") or as a "cherub."
According to Wikipedia's version of the story, "cherub" cannot refer to the artistic representation of toddler angels, a claim for which Wikipedia provides no support in that article but does in another on putto. I use the term "support" loosely, since the reference does not appear to be academic or peer-reviewed; in any case, a forum poster known as Juan Carlos Martinez argues that "cherub" refers exclusively to the Christian theological figures, and that putto are only secularized versions of Cupid—and thus obviously not Christian (see the rest of his argument). Not wanting to leave the question unanswered, I did what I always do in any contest of English diction: I consulted the Oxford English Dictionary (which unfortunately requires a subscription to access).
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Tags: putto, cherub, oed, thomas brooks, rare victorian
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Posted by Chris under Furniture Commentary on August 06, 2009
Anybody who knows antiques and the reproductions that follow them knows that familiarizing yourself with various furniture periods can be a big help. That's why we decided to offer our readers a few useful summaries of the major furniture periods of England, starting with one of the first. This post is the 6th in a series of 7, continued from a discussion of Regency furniture.
The same period that produced both an infamous Puritanical moralism as well as On the Origin of Species, the Victorian period is often seen as a time of contradictions, which any look at literature and art from the period can discern. The same can be said of Victorian furniture, where the stately propriety of the day clashed with a clamor of human passions to produce some of the finest, well-crafted furniture pieces of all time. Today, Victorian furniture is often considered the epitomized combination of orderliness and rich ornamentation. Indeed, furniture-makers at the time were so successful that succeeding styles took inspiration from the Victorian period, and even today many of the finest furniture styles (including our own collection) owe their design and construction techniques to the master craftsmen of Victorian period furniture.
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Tags: furniture, history, victorian
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