Hannah Baldwin (Canterbury, Connecticut, active 18th century), Bed Rug, 1741. Wool. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Purchase.

Edward Dwight followed Partridge as curator of the Layton Art Collection and began turning the collecting focus from European paintings to American paintings. In 1962, Dwight left the Milwaukee Art Center (which at that point consisted of the Layton Art Collection and the Milwaukee Art Institute collection, and is now called the Milwaukee Art Museum) to become director of the Munson-Williams-Proctor Art Institute.

Tracy Atkinson joined the staff, and Frederick Vogel became a Layton Trustee in 1965. Both Atkinson and Vogel continued collecting American art for the Layton Art Collection, focusing particularly on the decorative arts. This third section of the exhibition displays decorative arts masterworks from the Layton Art Collection. Instead of writing wall labels for the different pieces, Chipstone decided that it would be more interesting for visitors to hear the voice of the collector himself. We recorded Fred Vogel’s recollections about certain acquisitions, and afree audio guide with his “collector’s tour” is available inside the gallery.

Vogel provides art historical details for the objects, but also tells stories that give us, the visitors, insight into how those in charge of a collection go about acquiring objects. For example, Vogel and Atkinson originally concentrated on early decorative arts for the Layton Art Collection: “When available,” Vogel says, “the best thing to buy when you have nothing else [are] the rarest pieces you can find, because they don’t wait around and they’re not coming back.”

Hannah Baldwin (Canterbury, Connecticut, active 18th century), Bed Rug, 1741. Wool. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Purchase.

One of those early pieces is a 1741 bed rug, above. A bed rug is an elaborately woven object that was used in colonial America on a bed instead of a floor. The one on display is one of the earliest surviving bed rugs. Vogel remembers first seeing the bed rug at an exhibition in the mid 1970s at the Wadsworth Athenaeum. He was so enthralled by the object that he found out who owned it and kept in contact in hopes it would one day be up for sale. When the bed rug finally appeared at Christie’s auction house, Vogel acquired it for the Layton Art Collection. Vogel was attracted by the date the bed rug was created, the originality of its woven composition, its condition, and its known maker (Hannah Baldwin).

Nathan Lombard (Sutton, Massachusetts, 1777–1847), Desk and Bookcase, 1800–05. Cherry and pine with inlay of mahogany and unidentified woods with original brass hardware. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Purchase, Virginia Booth Vogel Acquisition Fund. Photo credit Gavin Ashworth

Another object on display with an interesting story is an exquisite inlaid desk and bookcase. The maker was not known when it was acquired for the Layton Art Collection, so it was bought as a beautiful example of a Federal desk and bookcase. Its creator, Nathan Lombard, was discovered less than six months after it was acquired, and suddenly a whole body of similarly decorated material was attributed to Lombard’s shop. Soon thereafter, a Nathan Lombard tripod candle stand went up for auction and brought in three times as much money as the Layton Art Collection had paid for their desk and bookcase. Needless to say, this desk was a very good deal!

I hope that you will come visit the Milwaukee Art Museum’s lower level and explore this last gallery in The Layton Art Collection: 1888-2013. Be sure to pick up the audio guide and listen to Vogel’s stories about the diverse objects. You may just begin thinking differently about why objects are important and about the kinds of objects you’ve acquired over time.

Claudia Mooney works for Chipstone, the Milwaukee-based foundation dedicated to promoting American decorative arts scholarship. She researches objects and creates relevant programming for Chipstone’s exhibitions at the Milwaukee Art Museum and in the community.

Chipstone Foundation house in Fox Point, WI. Photo by Chelsea Kelly

In late March, this semester’s group of Satellite teens took a field trip to the Chipstone Foundation in Fox Point, WI.

You probably knew that Chipstone has a great decorative arts collection and produces progressive exhibitions in the Lower Level of the Milwaukee Art Museum. What you might not know is that they also have a site in Fox Point, where they host college-level age groups.

Chipstone has visited our teen programs before, but we had never visited Chipstone. They generously offered to have the Satellite teens visit this spring, so on one of the first warm (well, warm-ish) days of the year, we took a scenic bus ride north up Lake Drive to visit Chipstone director Jon Prown and curators Sarah Carter and Claudia Mooney.

Upon our arrival, we got a quick overview of Chipstone and then quickly split into three groups. Each group worked closely with either Jon, Sarah, or Claudia in one of the Chipstone rooms, and then we all came back together for each group to present their conclusions.

Jon Prown talks about a replica of a chair on the Patio. Photo by Chelsea Kelly

Jon talked about (and touched!) an old colonial chair and showed us a contemporary artist’s replica of the object. We discussed issues of use: how do you use your eyes, hands, and logic to figure out what kind of chair it was, who would use it, and how it was made?

The Dining Room Group compared two objects. Photo by Chelsea Kelly

In the dining room, the group compared two objects and used the exercise to discover each piece’s purpose.

Chipstone Curator Sarah Carter talks about art history careers in the Green Room.

And finally, in the “green room,” teens talked about the materials artists use to create objects. The green room features pieces made by living artists out of recyclable materials. The teens were able to touch many of these objects, interacting with and getting to know the variety of reused materials, for example, chairs made of bicycle tires or felt.

We finished by hearing about Jon, Sarah, and Claudia’s career paths to Chipstone–a staple topic of the teen programs around here!

The day was illuminating and opened the group’s eyes to objects–some very different–from those they see in the Museum. We were able to step into the shoes of curators to unearth details and meaning from decorative arts objects, guided by Jon, Sarah and Claudia’s critical, discerning eyes.

And happily, Chipstone liked having us there too: as Claudia said, “I enjoyed the students’ visit. They were engaged the whole time, suggesting intelligent and creative interpretations of the Chipstone objects.”

The 2013 Spring Satellite Students in the entry foyer of Chipstone. Photo by Chelsea Kelly

The teens had a great time on their trip and we definitely hope to visit Chipstone again in future programs.

Many thanks to Jon, Sarah, and Claudia for hosting us!

Chelsea Emelie Kelly is the Museum’s Manager of Digital Learning. In addition to working on educational technology initiatives like the Kohl’s Art Generation Lab or this very blog, she oversees and teaches teen programs and creates Collection resources for educators. Say hello on Twitter @MAM_Chelsea.

Installing S. M. S. (Shit Must Stop) Number 4, 1968; note Roy Lichtenstein’s Folded Hat, vinyl hat construction, Purchase, with funds from Kit S. Basquin, George and Angela Jacobi with matching funds from Johnson Controls, and Jacques and Barbara Hussussian. M1995.290. Photo credit Nate Pyper.

William Copley (1919-1996) was an American art entrepreneur who was involved in every facet of the art world at one time or another during his career.

Copley worked as a painter, writer, gallery owner, collector, patron and publisher. He began painting in the early 1920s and identified with the Surrealists.

Surrealism was an art and culture movement that began in the early 1920s and persevered through the 1960s. It had a major influence on abstract expressionism, postmodernism and popular culture. It was founded in Paris by a small group of writers and artists who found that the conscious mind repressed the power of imagination, creating taboos in our culture and guilt in our actions.

S.M.S.¹ was an experimental magazine created by Copley during the turbulent year of 1968.

Installing S. M. S. (Shit Must Stop) Number 4, 1968; note Roy Lichtenstein’s Folded Hat, vinyl hat construction, Purchase, with funds from Kit S. Basquin, George and Angela Jacobi with matching funds from Johnson Controls, and Jacques and Barbara Hussussian. M1995.290. Photo credit Nate Pyper.

Copley published S.M.S. under The Letter Edged in Black Press, which he orchestrated from a rented loft on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. The space became celebrated for its utopian morale and welcoming working conditions, which included “a buffet perpetually replenished by nearby Zabar’s Delicatessen, an open bar, and a pay phone with a cigar box filled with dimes.”²

The Letter Edged in Black Press produced six issues of the periodical and it was made available only by subscription, as a way to bypass the gallery system and provide its collectors with an “instant art collection.” Each issue was designed as a portfolio with an index of works, but lacked any other edifying materials, thus avoiding any predetermined editorial or social commentary for its readers.

The artwork in each issue ranged from Dada to Pop, and took many forms of expression, including photography, audio pieces, drawings, poetry and performance. Beginning in February of 1968, a new issue was published bimonthly and sent out to all subscribers. The periodical only lasted one year.

The goal of this subscription-based art collection was inspired by the Fluxus Movement (1959-1978), which encouraged diverse artists, both famous and unknown, to come together in publication and performance. Fluxus artists did not agree with the authority of museums to determine the value of art, nor did they believe that one must be educated to view and understand a piece of art. Fluxus artists not only wanted art to be available to the masses, they also wanted everyone to produce art all the time.

S.M.S. did just that, bringing disparate artists together without the established boundaries of the art world onto an equal playing field. Regardless of reputation or medium, each contributor received $100 for their inclusion. Among the many artists and composers represented are Christo, Marcel Duchamp, Roy Lichtenstein, Man Ray, Richard Hamilton, Claes Oldenberg, John Cage, H. C. Westermann, and Yoko Ono.

Now, the question of course remains… how would these Dadaists and Fluxus artists feel about these periodicals being housed and displayed in museum collections–especially when their main tenets were to dismiss and mock the world of “high art” and the norms of bourgeois culture often associated with galleries and museums, and of course the authority that these institutions have on determining the value of art? Personally, I would like to think that their other ideology, of wanting art to be available to the masses, would be connected by our mission to collect and preserve art, presenting it to the community as a vital source of inspiration and education–though I may be viewing things through rose-colored glasses!

The following are additional photographs from the installation of issues 1 and 2. Enjoy!

Assistant Curator of Earlier European Art, Catherine Sawinski begins to layout Issue #1 in the case. Photo credit Nate Pyper

Exhibition Designer, David Russick is on hand to give the display that little something extra! Photo credit Nate Pyper

The cover design of S. M. S. Number 2 was designed by Marcel Duchamp; it is a removable record that can actually be played.

The final display.

The Herzfeld Print, Drawing and Photography Study Center is located on the Mezzanine Level of the Milwaukee Art Museum. Functioning as both a research space for classes and individuals, the Study Center houses the majority of the works on paper collection at the museum. The Mezzanine rotates through prints, drawings and photographs in our collection generally on a quarterly basis on our feature wall just outside the Study Center. We also feature cased works, such as artist books and other works, like the S.M.S. periodical. The museum has all six issues in our collection, and currently issues 3 and 4 are on view; to be followed by issues 5 and 6. We invite all visitors to view these works, and despite their un-abbreviated name, they really are suitable for all ages!

The Study Center is open by appointment for researchers 18 and up. Please feel free to contact: studycenter@mam.org or 414.224.3817 to schedule an appointment for your own private viewing and research. Requests should be as specific as possible and be scheduled at least two weeks in advance.

¹ S.M.S. stands for “Shit Must Stop”.
² Carter Ratcliff, “SMS: Art in Real Time,” from SMS: A Collection of Multiples. Exhibition Catalog. Published by Reinhold-Brown Gallery, NY. Oct. 1988.

–Tina Schinabeck, Collections Manager of Works on Paper

Color Rush Advertisement

In selecting a typeface for the logo, we were mindful of the vast histories represented in the show and knew we had a number of historical options to reference. However, it was the curatorial approach (the modern lens used by Lisa Hostetler and Katherine Bussard) that most informed our decision. We were searching for a typeface that could relate to the experience of a contemporary viewer looking back on the pivotal moments in the history of photography that brought us to where we are today.

We eventually decided on Gotham, a typeface created by Hoefler & Frere Jones in 2000 and inspired by architectural signage in the Big Apple. While oft-used and a go-to typeface for many designers (it’s so ubiquitous it’s practically a household name), it seemed an appropriate choice for the subject matter we were tackling. We wanted something that felt familiar but also jarring, punchy, and, ultimately, American. It also helps that it was the typeface of choice in President Obama’s “Hope” campaign of 2008.

Gotham Font Family and Obama Campaign

In creating a logo-type for an exhibition, it’s important to come up with a solution that is simple and supplementary to the show as a whole while managing to give a viewer key clues about what the show is about when used on its own. Knowing that the title already covers two of the shows most prominent ideas (“color” and “rush”), we were careful not to overemphasize these characteristics, especially since these words are so evocative on their own. In the words of Massimo Vignelli, “I can write the word ‘dog’ with any type face and it doesn’t have to look like a dog, but there are people that think when you write the word ‘dog’—it should bark.” We hoped to offer a unique read or new insight into the themes of the show, and used this opportunity to highlight its alternative attributes.

Knowing that the logo would most often be seen alongside promotional images for the show, we aimed for a solution that shifted emphasis onto the vibrancy of the works in the exhibition and that allowed the photographs to speak for themselves. As a result, the end product is devoid of any color at all. This choice also acts as a playful nod to color photography’s black-and-white roots. Visual tension and boxed-in type reference the inherent tensions present in the show, an array of conflicting ideologies, motivations, and viewpoints.

Reviewing image options down in the design studio

A lot of time was spent narrowing down potential image pairings and juxtaposing varying genres, colors, eras, and themes. We worked hard to create the most unique and thought-provoking image combinations.

A few preliminary pairings

After a thorough revision process, three official pairings were chosen for use throughout various promotional media.

The final image pairings and logo lockup used in advertising and promotions

Next stop – outdoor signage!

Outdoor signage

As opening day approached, we began meeting with the Museum’s exhibition designer David Russick to start designing the graphic elements in the show.

Mock-ups for text panels and artwork labels

Everything from text panels to labels to directional signage is considered and designed with care, keeping the overall identity of Color Rush in mind.

Curator Katherine Bussard (left) and Lead Designer Leslie Boll (right) discuss placement on the intro panels

One of the biggest challenges for each show is designing the title wall, the first thing visitors see when entering an exhibition, and which typically exists on or behind the large glass wall that separates Windover Hall from the Baker/Rowland Galleries (our main exhibition space). Color Rush in particular posed some interesting limitations. First – because many of the works in the show are sensitive to light, it was recommended that we cover up most, if not all, of the glass wall with black vinyl to protect the photographs inside. Second – we were installing a large-scale photo reproduction of an Ansel Adams photograph in between the hall and the galleries that would obstruct the view of almost half of the glass wall.

The large-scale reproduction of an Ansel Adams piece being installed in Windover Hall

It was crucial to ensure that our final solution didn’t compete with the Adams installation, yet would still be noticeable and legible enough to be recognized as the exhibition entrance. Since visitors coming to see Color Rush had likely already come in contact with some sort of advertisement or promotional material, we also knew how important it was to carry the brand over through familiar typeface, color, and layout choices.

One of the characteristics from the brand we hoped to carry over into the title wall was the visual tension present in the logo. Our solution was to make the title big – really big. This choice also helped relate the Adams installation with the title wall through a common size relationship.

An all-white title, as it exists in the logo, threatened to overpower the impact of the Adams piece, so we started experimenting with other color solutions. At some point in the process, someone threw out an idea from left field – what if the title were black text set on a black backdrop? Would it be legible? Would it stand out? Would it be memorable? If executed well, we knew the end result could be a visual treat. Not to mention, what could be more of a “color rush” than black? (When printed, black is the exhaustive combination of all color.) We contacted our sign vendor to see what our options were. Once we were confident in moving forward, we began installing the title wall.

Sign-a-Rama installing the vinyl onto our glass wall

The final solution combined gloss and matte vinyl for a subtle yet legible black-on-black effect. We opted to leave the subtitle in white, a visual rhyme of the logos present on the introductory text panels beneath the Adams installation.

Full view of entrance

The end result is a unique time- and space-based experience. Upon entering Windover Hall, visitors are first met with the enormous back-lit Adams installation. As they near the gallery entrance, the title wall is slowly revealed, until finally the exhibition’s full name is visible: Color Rush: 75 Years of Color Photography in America.

Title wall

Exhibition View. Photo by Front Room Photography

Exhibition View. Photo by Front Room Photography

–Nate Pyper, Junior Graphic Designer

All photos by the author unless otherwise noted.

Edward William Cooke (English, 1811–1880). The Pilot Boat (Trouville Fishing Boat in a Fresh Breeze), ca. 1839. Oil on canvas. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Frederick Layton. Photo credit John R. Glembin

There is nothing truly avant-garde here.  No Courbet, no Manet, no Monet, no Gauguin.  Most of this artwork stands firmly in the tradition of art as it was understood for centuries.  In fact, Homer and His Guide may even have been a direct rebuttal to the type of artwork shown at the First Impressionist Exhibition of 1874.  Bougereau’s powerful painting reflects the survival of the classical, in both poetry and art, while facing adversity.

Although most of the beautiful objects from the early history of the Layton Art Collection are not ground-breaking, they are important to the time.  And many of them still show the influence of the artists leading the attack on the art establishment.

So let’s take a look at some of the paintings that have come “out of the vault!”

The Water Mill by Anton Mauve (Dutch, 1838-1888)

Anton Mauve (Dutch, 1838–1888). The Water Mill, ca. 1880. Oil on canvas. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Rev. David Keene. Photo credit John R. Glembin

One of the small paintings on the east wall, right above The Woodgatherer, probably escapes your notice. This vertical landscape, which shows a water mill in a field, was painted around 1880 by the Dutch artist Anton Mauve.  Never heard of him?  Not surprising.  Although popular in America during the third quarter of the 19th century, he is certainly not a household name today.

Mauve was one of the best Hague School painters, which was a group of 19th century Netherlandish artists who drew their subjects from 17th century Dutch masters, but their style from French Barbizon painters.  This jewel of a painting takes a modest subject and makes it come alive with active brushwork and a warm depth of color.

But what if I told you that it was Mauve taught Vinent van Gogh (Dutch, 1853-1890) to paint?  After various other careers, Van Gogh decided to become an artist and taught himself to draw.  But he wanted to paint, too, and his cousin’s husband was an artist: that artist was Anton Mauve.  For three weeks in the winter of 1881-82, Van Gogh worked in Mauve’s studio.

Although there was a break between the painters later in 1882–possibly because straight-laced Mauve found out Van Gogh was living with a woman to whom he wasn’t married–Van Gogh never forgot his first teacher’s influence.  In 1888, he dedicated a painting to his now-deceased mentor, writing in a letter to his brother Theo:

“I have been working on a size 20 canvas in the open air in an orchard… Probably the best landscape I have done.  I had just brought it home when I received our sister a Dutch notice in memory of Mauve… Something–I don’t know what–took hold of me and brought a lump to my throat, and I wrote on my picture ‘Souvenir de Mauve, Vincent Theo’ and if you agree we two will send it, such as it is, to Mrs. Mauve… it seemed to me that everything in memory of Mauve must be at once tender and very gay, and not a study in any graver key.”

Thomas Faed (Scottish, 1826–1900). The Forester’s Family, 1880. Oil on canvas. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Frederick Layton. Photo credit John R. Glembin

On the same wall, in the lower right corner, is a lovely painting called The Forester’s Family by Thomas Faed.  Faed was a star in the 19th century art scene–it has been said that he did for Scottish art what Robert Burns did for Scottish song.  Faed shot to fame in 1855 when his painting The Mitherless Bairn was shown at the Royal Academy in London.  A critical and popular success, this painting was praised for its meaningful narrative, artfully composed with touching details of the cottage interior and expressive faces drawn from Faed’s own childhood.

In the Museum’s painting, a girl dressed in country attire leans against a tree in a dense forest.  Presumably, the forester referenced in the title is her father, who would have been in charge of maintaining the trees (from planting to felling) for a landowner, who would sell the wood as a source of income–an important industry in Scotland.  Clearly, this is a nationalistic subject that Faed would have wanted to promote.  An additional sentimental touch is the two devoted dogs that stand to either side of the girl, as well as the puppy she holds in her arms.  The British loved their dogs, and in the 19th century it was common to show them with human-like personalities or record them with portraits of their own, such as our Portrait of a Terrier by Edwin Landseer.  It is obvious that the title The Forester’s Family doesn’t just refer to the human in the painting!

The Pilot Boat (Trouville Fishing Boat in a Fresh Breeze) by Edward William Cooke (English, 1811-1880)

Edward William Cooke (English, 1811–1880). The Pilot Boat (Trouville Fishing Boat in a Fresh Breeze), ca. 1839. Oil on canvas. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Frederick Layton. Photo credit John R. Glembin

The Layton Collection has three fantastic paintings by Edward William Cooke, which are all on view on the east wall: Venice, Bonchurch, and The Pilot Boat, above.  A maritime painter who looked to the 17th century Dutch artist Willem van de Velde for inspiration and traveled widely to look for subjects, Cooke was very popular in England and in America.

The Pilot Boat is the largest of these three paintings and the most dramatic. The pilot is the person at the seaport who assists the ship in navigating the shallow waters between sea and shore, and a pilot boat is a small boat that was used to transport that pilot from port to ship. You can see here the crew battling the wind and waves to get out to sea.

Edward William Cooke, Trouville fishing boat on larboard tack in rough sea, 1839. Watercolor Private Collection. Photo courtesy of the Martyn Gregory Gallery, London.

“Given to W. Baring Wall when staying at his country house.  Diary notes, October 30, ‘Made drawing of French fishing board (same as large picture)’.  The large picture then in progress has the same title in the ledger but was show at the British Institution in 1840 as Trouville fishing board in a fresh breeze.”

Dr. Munday then lists the entry for this painting, and that the location is unknown.  But… the painting has the exact dimensions of our painting.  So, the missing painting is ours!

Convoy of Wounded (Franco-Prussian War 1870) by Edouard Castres (Swiss, 1838-1902)

Edouard Castres (Swiss, 1838–1902). Convoy of Wounded (Franco-Prussian War 1870), 1870/71. Oil on canvas. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Frederick Layton. Photo credit John R. Glembin

In previous blog posts, I’ve been able to illustrate how having a museum’s collection on the web is so important to research.  I had always thought of Convoy of the Wounded as a beautiful painting, but about a year ago I found out more information about it that makes it really special.  It’s now on view on the south wall of Gallery 10, at the upper right corner of the doorway.

Last year, we were contacted by an art dealer in Switzerland who was selling an oil sketch of a painting that Castres had shown at the Salon of 1872, and which won a silver medal.  By searching on the internet, he found the painting in our collection database and contacted us.

What is really fascinating about our painting is that it is the first representation of a Red Cross ambulance in history.  The Red Cross was formed in 1863 in Geneva, Switzlerand, and was still developing its role when the Franco-Prussian War began.  Castres, a trained artist, signed up with the Red Cross and continued to sketch during his service. He created many heartbreaking scenes of what he saw.

Castres, who witnessed the war first hand as part of the aid through the Red Cross, was asked in 1880 to construct a panorama to document the devastation.  The panorama was on display in Geneva, Switzerland, until 1889, when it moved to the city of Lucerne and is still on view (although the top and bottom have been cropped).  Here is a complete view of the panorama. You can read more about this time here.

Castres even seems to have included himself in the painting, as the bearded man at the far left.

Heinrich von Angeli (Austrian, 1840–1925). Portrait of Mrs. Christian Wahl, 1873. Oil on canvas. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Mrs. Lucius Nieman. Photo credit John R. Glembin

On the east wall, just to the left of Homer and His Guide, is a striking portrait of Mrs. Christian Wahl.  Antonia Wahl and her husband, Milwaukee businessman Christian Wahl, were German immigrants.  His most important civic role was as the first president of the Milwaukee Park Commission, where he was instrumental in not only getting Frederick Law Olmstead to design Lake Park, but also ensured that Milwaukee would have many more parks throughout the city.  Wahl Avenue, which runs along Lake Park, as well as Wahl Park, are named for him.

Not much in known about Antonia.  She was born in 1835, the daughter of Dr. Johann George Guenther, a member of the Reichstag who was exiled after the Revolution in 1848.  The Wahls had three daughters, one of whom married the editor of the Milwaukee Journal. Wisconsin: Its Story and Biography, 1848-1913 quotes from the newspaper at the time of Mrs. Wahl’s death:

“Mrs. Antonie Wahl, widow of Christian Wahl, died at her home in this city December 3, 1909, and her death is mourned by a large circle of friends.  It is given to few persons to have so sweet a character as that of Mrs. Wahl. Gentle, considerate, and patient under all circumstances, she won the affection of all who came within the compass of her gracious influence.  Her charity was widespread, and she was tireless in her efforts to make life pleasant for others.”

The artist who painted Mrs. Wahl as a pleasant and fashionably-dressed lady of Milwaukee was Heinrich von Angeli.  An Austrian who specialized in portraits, Angeli was sought after by the courts of Europe.  His patrons ranged from Queen Victoria to Kaiser Franz Joseph to Grand Duchess Alexandra of Russia.

A Darwinian Prehistoric Social Party (The Un-Evolved Club Man of the Period) by Paul Friedrich Meyerheim (German, 1842-1915)

Paul Friedrich Meyerheim (German, 1842–1915), A Darwinian Prehistoric Social Party (The Un-Evolved Club Man of the Period), 1865. Oil on canvas. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Purchase. Photo credit P. Richard Eells

This work is probably one of the most unusual paintings on view in the gallery is on the north wall!  In a masterful composition, the German artist Paul Friedrich Meyerheim shows eight monkeys at a banquet.  The monkeys wear fancy trappings—coats, cuffs, and hats with plumes—and sit at a majestic table set with wine on an expensive marble floor, reminiscent of paintings such as Frans Hals’s Officers of the St. George Civic Guard of Haarlem.  It is clear, however, that the party has degenerated into a free-for-all.  It doesn’t take much analysis to realize that Meyerheim has used monkeys to lampoon the actions of humans.

For centuries before this, monkeys and apes were symbols in art.  Christian iconography saw them as evil and ugly, reminding humans to avoid appetite for material pleasures and sin.  By the 17th and 18th centuries, monkeys had taken on a more playful, mischevious role.  Many artists used them as a way to poke fun at people by putting them in human roles: Jan Breughel the Younger satirized the mania for tulips; Antonie Watteau depicted a “Monkey Sculptor”; and Jean-Siméon Chardin portrayed a “Monkey Painter”. Combine this with the elegant and exotic Chinoiserie style popular at the time, and you end up with a masterpiece such as Christophe Huet’s two rooms at the Château de Chantilly.  This type of decorative painting was called singerie, derived from singe, which in French means “monkey.”

The title of Meyerheim’s painting, however, shows that there is more to the interpretation. In 1859, Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of the Species was published.  The painting is dated just six years later.  The flurry of discussion on evolution–and the extrapolation that humans developed from apes, which Darwin wrote about in 1871’s The Decent of Man–led to various visual interpretations of the theory.  Many of them were satirical cartoons, particularly of Darwin himself.

But other artists took the use of monkey in art one step further and make comments on the human actions of the day.  In this painting, Meyerheim pokes fun at the gatherings of the 19th century, when things were not done until they were overdone.  A “Club Man” refers to social clubs, where a man would go to socialize with other men with similar interests.  These well-off men are obviously not the upstanding citizens they pretend to be!

I only had room here to talk about six of the paintings freshly out on view for Mr. Layton’s Gallery, but I think that you can see that there are many interesting stories to be told.

Catherine Sawinski is the Assistant Curator of Earlier European Art. When not handling the day-to-day running of the European art department and the Museum’s Fine Arts Society, she researches the collection of Ancient and European artwork before 1900.

Dale Chihuly (American, b. 1941), Isola di San Giacomo in Palude Chandelier II, 2000. Blown glass; 183 x 86 x 96 in. Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift of Suzy B. Ettinger in memory of Sanford J. Ettinger. Photo John R. Glembin.© 2013, Dale Chihuly

One cannot walk through the doors of the Milwaukee Art Museum without taking in a colorful burst of Dale Chihuly’s glass artwork. The Museum’s Isola di San Giacomo in Palude Chandelier II (at left) is one of the most popular works in the Museum, located at the entry of the Quadracci Pavilion. Milwaukee’s Suzy B. Ettinger, who was recently featured in a great Milwaukee Journal Sentinel Style article, donated the artwork in 2001 to brighten the Museum’s new white Santiago Calatava-designed addition.

Museum visitors have been posing for photos with it ever since (it even appears snaking behind my own mother in her Facebook profile picture). Chihuly’s universal popularity encourages many museums to place his glass artwork front and center as a cheerful greeting.

In fact, in the almost 50 years since he lived and studied in Wisconsin, no other artist can claim to have brought as much popular attention to American art glass as Dale Chihuly.

This weekend, Wisconsin is celebrating Chihuly’s achievements.

Dale Chihuly and the studio glass movement have a long history in Wisconsin. The University of Wisconsin-Madison will honor this tradition in 2013 by awarding Chihuly an honorary degree. The Doctorate of Fine Arts will be bestowed on the artist at the spring commencement ceremony on May 17 at the Kohl Center, which includes the colorful “Mendota Wall” of Chihuly glass.

Dale Chihuly, Blanket Cylinder #20, 1976. Blown glass
11 1/4 x 4 3/4 in. Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift of the Sheldon M. Barnett Family. Photo credit P. Richard Eells
© 2013, Dale Chihuly.

A native of Washington state, Dale Chihuly came to the University of Wisconsin in 1965 to study in the nation’s innovative first collegiate program in glass, which had been founded in 1963 by artist Harvey Littleton.

Littleton and Dominick Labino (a glass research scientist at the Johns-Manville plant near Toledo, Ohio) are credited with founding the “American Studio Glass Movement.” The men ran two 1962 glassblowing workshops at The Toledo Museum of Art, during which they aimed to bring glass work out of large production factories to become a creative material for contemporary art. Littleton and Labino developed a small furnace, which allowed individual artists to engage with hot glass techniques, such as glass-blowing, mold-blowing, and glass sculpting. Such techniques had previously required factory facilities and teamwork, so they had been out of reach for individuals.

Taking these innovations back to Wisconsin in 1963, Littleton introduced the first university program for glass in the United States. Dale Chihuly arrived to study there in 1965.

A good way to sum up what was so different and special about this moment is that Littleton’s academic approach to glass changed artists’ focus from vessels or decoration to a primary concern with the execution of artistic ideas. Littleton’s students, who included Chihuly, Marvin Lipofsky, and Fritz Dreisbach, subverted the traditional associations between glass and functionality by creatively exploring sculptural forms. This online essay by the Corning Museum of Art explains their intentions in more depth.

Littleton’s glass program was immediately popular. Art students immediately took to the medium, and the school produced many acclaimed glass artists as a result, further spreading its influence as years went on. An astute teacher, Littleton encouraged his graduating students to find academic employment and start more glass programs.

Dale Chihuly was one of the students who took Littleton’s teachings to heart. After graduating, he pushed forward the “glass as art” idea by founding educational programs himself, and by developing a signature style so popular that his work adorns both museums and casinos. After graduating with a master of science degree from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, he had his first public exhibition at the Madison Art Center in 1967. Then, he moved east to study at the Rhode Island School of Design, where he later established the glass program at that august arts institution.

Dale Chihuly, Lavender Pink Macchia Set with Black Lip Wraps, 1986. Blown glass; 14 x 24 x 24 in.
Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift of the Sheldon M. Barnett Family, Marilyn and Orren Bradley, Janey and Doug MacNeil, Audrey and Robert Mann, and Jill and Frank Pelisek. Photo by Dedra Wells. (c) 2013, Dale Chihuly.

In 1968, Chihuly was awarded a Fulbright Fellowship to work at the Venini glass factory in Venice, Italy. There he observed the team approach to blowing glass, rather than the individual method he learned in Wisconsin with Littleton.  In 1971, Chihuly co-founded Washington’s Pilchuck Glass School, now an international glass center and leader of the avant-garde in the development of glass as a fine art.

Chihuly’s work is included in more than 200 hundred museum collections worldwide, including, of course, the Milwaukee Art Museum. Chihuly has been the recipient of many awards, including eleven honorary doctorates and two fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts.

If you’d like to learn more about the artist as his work changes and his influence grows, the Chihuly Studio keeps an active online presence through a website,  Facebook page, and Twitter account.

We in Wisconsin are proud of our state’s contribution to the international field of glass as art. As the University of Wisconsin grants Dale Chihuly an honorary degree on May 17, 2013, they honor not only one of the school’s most well-known artists, but they pay tribute to a influential art movement that had its roots in our fine academic institutions and our thriving arts community.

Mel Buchanan is the Assistant Curator of 20th-century Design. Mel’s curatorial responsibility includes interpreting, displaying, and building the Museum’s collection of craft, design, and decorative objects.

Charlotte Partridge and Miriam Frink. Filed February 17, 1954. Journal Sentinel Archives

The second section, which is my favorite part in the exhibit, starts with Charlotte Partridge.

Charlotte Partridge, born in Minneapolis in 1881, was an incredibly progressive woman. She attended Dana Hall in Massachusetts and then the Northern Illinois Teacher’s College in DeKalb, Illinois. After traveling through Europe, Partridge enrolled at the Church School of Art in Chicago, where she also taught after graduating. In 1914, she began teaching at the Milwaukee-Downer College, but by 1920 she was dissatisfied with the school. By this point Miss Church (of the Church School of Art) had closed her art school and offered all of her furniture and supplies to Partridge. Partridge thus decided to open an art school in the basement of the Layton Art Gallery.

From its inception in 1920, the Layton School of Art, administered by Partridge and her life partner Miriam Frink, was different from other art schools in the area. Its primary aim was to train young men and women to earn their living as artists. In order to achieve this goal, students were required to take a variety of classes including psychology, drama, music, and poetry, all of which Partridge and Frink believed encouraged students to better understand art. In addition, students attended co-educational life study classes held with live models. This practice, although common in today’s art schools, was considered revolutionary in the early 20th century.

Meanwhile, George Raab, a well-known Milwaukee artist, was curator of the Layton Art Gallery. Raab was only the second curator at the gallery and accompanied Frederick Layton on many art buying trips. Although he was personally interested in local art and had advocated for a re-hanging of the collection, Raab continued Layton’s legacy by maintaining the gallery’s Victorian aesthetic. Because of this, attendance at the gallery had stagnated under Raab’s leadership. It was thus no surprise (except to Raab) when in June 17, 1922, while Raab was on vacation, Milwaukee newspapers announced that the Layton trustees had asked for Raab’s resignation. Charlotte Partridge, seen as the key to modernizing the Layton Art Gallery, was promoted to curator.

Partridge immediately did away with the dark maroon wall color, painting them a light tan instead. She hung artworks at eye-level, instead of salon-style. Partridge also dispersed most of the Victorian paintings in the collection, lending them to institutions around town, and filled the gallery space entirely with local contemporary artists. She even installed electric lighting. The Layton Art Gallery became a vibrant place full of activity.

One of Partridge’s most significant contributions was the inclusion of Wisconsin artists in the Layton Art Collection. As you can see when you visit the exhibition, Partridge collected work by several Layton School of Art teachers and alumni, including Emily Groom, Helen Hoppin, Karl Priebe, Gerrit Sinclair, and Dudley Crafts Watson. As Miriam Frank put it, quoted in Layton’s Legacy by John Eastberg and Eric Vogel: “Charlotte was the first person to give real understanding and support to the painters of Wisconsin and give them a gallery where they could exhibit.”

During her tenure, in 1930, Patridge invited Frank Lloyd Wright to exhibit at the gallery. He accepted, even though many in the Milwaukee community were resistant to the idea. Wright arrived in November with models and drawings of his designs from 1890 through 1930. As he was installing, a reporter arrived to interview him and asked his opinion on Milwaukee’s new courthouse. Wright responded, “It will take Milwaukee fully a century to recover from the influence of these buildings.”

This comment certainly did not help public opinion as citizens defended Milwaukee’s honor. Despite that, the exhibition opened and drew twelve hundred visitors in just three days. The drama wasn’t over, though. Wright was arrested the day that he was scheduled to lecture over an issue concerning his deceased wife’s estate. He was released just in time to have dinner with Partridge, Frink, and some supporters before giving his lecture. The next day Wright asked Partridge to pay him immediately; she did, and a few minutes later, the police showed up at Partridge’s door to withhold Wright’s wages. She gleefully responded that she didn’t owe Wright any money.

Richard H. Jansen (American, 1910–1988), East Side Street in Winter, n.d. Gouache on paper. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Layton Art League.

As evidenced in this short story and in the founding of the Layton School of Art, Partridge was a strong-willed, forward thinking modernist. She was also socially progressive. Partridge was the director of the Federal Arts Project in Wisconsin, the visual arts arm of the Works Progress Administration (WPA). Gerritt Sinclair, the first professor hired at the Layton School of Art, and Richard Jansen were both WPA success stories. Jansen’s East Side Street in Winter, above, created as part of the Federal Arts Project, is part of the Layton Art Collection and is currently on view in the Lower Level.

Charlotte Partridge made a major impact in Milwaukee through both the Layton School of Art and the Layton Art Gallery, as well as involvement in building the War Memorial. She remained a Layton Trustee until 1973. Partridge seems like an amazing person, one that I wish I had had the opportunity to meet.

Stay tuned for the Layton Art Collection: 1888-2013, Part 3!

Claudia Mooney works for Chipstone, the Milwaukee-based foundation dedicated to promoting American decorative arts scholarship. She researches objects and creates relevant programming for Chipstone’s exhibitions at the Milwaukee Art Museum and in the community.

Milwaukee County War Memorial Building, Eero Saarinen, 1957. Milwaukee Art Museum, Institutional Archives.

If you’ve visited the Museum recently, you know that we take our 125th anniversary seriously. There was cake for “Barbara Brown Lee Day” on May 2, there are three celebratory exhibitions, including a glamorous salon-style rehang of Gallery 10, and an upcoming publication about the roots of the Milwaukee Art Museum in Layton’s Legacy: An Historic American Art Collection.

An anniversary is an excuse to celebrate and an opportunity to engage the community. It is also a chance for us to dig into our history and learn more about our past.

Research is never done!

For my part, when I was in New England this winter, I made a research diversion to Yale University to delve into their Eero Saarinen Archives to find information we could use about the design, inspiration, and creation of the Milwaukee County War Memorial Center.

In working with Museum Archivist/Librarian Heather Winters on the 125 Years of the Milwaukee Art Museum (Baumgartner Galleria) exhibition and online timeline, I learned that we have a wealth of documentation about the design and planning stages of the Museum’s 2001 Santiago Calatrava building. But the Museum Archives have relatively less about the equally-important Modernist Eero Saarinen War Memorial Building (1957).

Saarinen’s office, fortunately for us, kept thorough records of the project, and those materials were donated to Yale University, where they are available on site to any visiting researcher and (in part) online in Yale’s Manuscripts and Archives Digital Images Database.  In 1971, Eero Saarinen’s wife, Aline, donated personal records (letters, journals) to the Yale Archives. In 2002 Saarinen’s successor architecture firm, Roche Dinkeloo and Associates, followed suit to donate their own holdings of the architect’s project files, drawings, photographs, and scrapbooks. Eero Saarinen was a graduate of Yale in 1934 and contributed two significant structures to the University campus: Ezra Stiles and Morse residential colleges and the Ingalls Hockey Rink. Cranbrook Academy and the Smithsonian Archives of American Art also have Saarinen archives.

To share a bit of what I learned about our Milwaukee treasure while spending three glorious days in Yale’s Gothic-style reading room, reviewing box after box, here are four specific items that speak to the importance of exploring the wide variety of materials available in a rich Archive.

Author’s snapshot of Saarinen’s War Memorial model photographed and taped on a Milwaukee aerial photo. Taken in Eero Saarinen collection, Manuscripts & Archives, Yale University.

First, there was a series of black-and-white photographs of a small architectural model of Saarinen’s site plan for the lakefront War Memorial Center and performing arts center. (The physical model itself was not in the Archive.) This small wood and paper model was photographed against a yard of grass in full sun, for accurate shadows, and then the printed image was cut and pasted over an aerial view of Milwaukee.

I appreciated that this composite image, with its yellowing tape, gave me not only a sense of the soaring concrete building design and Milwaukee’s landscape in the mid-1950s, but also a sense of how an architect prepared and presented information in the pre-Photoshop era. This is very different than the tools that were available to Santiago Calatrava for rendering the Quadracci Pavilion in the 1990s.

Author’s snapshot of Saarinen’s design material samples for the Milwaukee Co. War Memorial Building. Taken in Eero Saarinen collection, Manuscripts & Archives, Yale University.

Second, my design loving heart pitter-pattered when I opened the Archival box containing Saarinen’s fabric samples for our building! Yale’s Archive included six boards pasted up with interior finishing materials for the War Memorial Center. This particular board (shown above) had fabric samples for the office furniture intended for the Art Center’s second floor.

As many Museum staff do, I keep one of the building’s original Saarinen Executive Armchairs (the version with tubular steel legs) in my office, but they have since been reupholstered with pink or orange wool fabric.

The other five boards (not pictured) showed details of the building’s vinyl floor treatment, the wood baseboard trim, the creamy linen covering the the gallery walls, and the white paint of the ceiling. This information is vital for us in Milwaukee should we ever wish to return part of Saarinen’s masterpiece building to its original appearance. We would have evidence for every little detail.

Author’s snapshot of Stephen Rosera’s 1959 sketch of Saarinen’s War Memorial Building. Taken in Eero Saarinen collection, Manuscripts & Archives, Yale University.

For the third item, I think we can credit the influence of Eero’s wife Aline Saarinen, an accomplished architecture critic who turned to children’s art education after her marriage.

Included in the Archive are letters between Aline and Mrs. Wyeth Jones, Director of Milwaukee’s CAP (Children’s Arts Program).  In 1959, Jones shared children’s drawings of the building, citing them as direct evidence of the inspiration that Saarinen’s masterpiece had on the children that regularly occupy it. I was charmed looking at these drawings, carefully preserved for decades in the office of a great architect. I imagined how magnificent Saarinen’s dramatic concrete building must have seemed to 13-year-old Stephen Rosera when he made the above drawing.

Author’s snapshot of Saarinen designs for signage, Milwaukee Co. War Memorial Building. Taken in Eero Saarinen collection, Manuscripts & Archives, Yale University.

Fourth, I was amazed to find Saarinen’s plans for the scale, location, font, and layout of all the way-finding signage in the building. This reiterated to me what a comprehensive work of art the Milwaukee County War Memorial Building was, and is. The architecture, of course, was represented in the Archive, through hundreds of plans and drawings and photographs, but here there is also evidence of Saarinen’s attention to detail, such as the font of the Men’s Restroom sign and the upholstery on the office sofas. Each one reminded me that, in this building, we have a spectacular example of work by one of the 20th-century’s greatest design minds.

With sensitivity and the reminder that this historic documentation is preserved at Yale for our use in Milwaukee, we can be prepared to stay true to Saarinen’s design vision in the future.

Mel Buchanan is the Assistant Curator of 20th-century Design. Mel’s curatorial responsibility includes interpreting, displaying, and building the Museum’s collection of craft, design, and decorative objects.

Exhibition Title Wall. Photo by Claudia Mooney

As you may know from reading Chelsea Kelly’s last blog post, the Milwaukee Art Museum is celebrating its 125th anniversary–-commemorating the big year with three exhibitions. The Layton Art Collection: 1888-2013 is the Chipstone Foundation’s contribution to this great celebration.

The exhibition, open through the end of the year, is located in the Museum’s lower level. It tells the story of the Layton Art Collection, and is divided into three parts: Frederick Layton and the Layton Art Gallery, Charlotte Partridge and Modernism, and American Paintings and Decorative Arts. Each of the sections represents a distinct period in the Layton Art Collection. I will devote one blog post to each period, since each is rich with objects and interesting stories.

Before I begin, I would like to thank John Eastberg, senior historian at the Pabst Mansion. His research on Frederick Layton, Charlotte Partridge, and the Layton Art Collection as a whole was invaluable to the Chipstone team in curating the exhibition. Eastberg, in conjunction with Layton Trustee Eric Vogel, is publishing a book that will be out this summer, titled Layton’s Legacy: An Historic American Art Collection, 1888-2013.

Eastman Johnson (American, 1824–1906), Portrait of Frederick Layton, 1893. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Marshall and Ilsley Bank. Photo credit Dedra Walls

Now, let’s return to the Layton Art Collection. You might be wondering, what is the Layton Art Collection and what does it have to do with the Milwaukee Art Museum?

The Layton Art Collection is a collection of objects that are housed and exhibited at the Milwaukee Art Museum. You’ve probably seen many of the paintings, sculptures and decorative arts during your previous visits. The Collection was started by illustrious Milwaukee meatpacker Frederick Layton–without whom, I imagine, the Milwaukee Art Museum in its present form would have not existed.

Layton (1827-1919) was an Englishman who immigrated to the United States as a young man. He settled in Milwaukee in 1845 where he made his fortune. Milwaukee at the time was not very big (in 1843–the year the Laytons arrived in Wisconsin–it had less than 4,000 inhabitants), yet there was already a strong interest in the arts. Martha Mitchell (wife of banker Alexander Mitchell), William Metcalf, and Edward P. Allis (Allis Chalmers Company) were some of Milwaukee’s big art collectors in the mid to late 19th century.

On June 18, 1883, a group of businessmen gathered at the new Milwaukee Club for a farewell dinner for Alexander Mitchell and Frederick Layton, both of whom were leaving on trips abroad. What followed has become legend. After a toast in his honor, Layton is said to have remarked that something had to be done in order to create a public art gallery worthy of the city of Milwaukee.

Word spread quickly. The next morning, the Milwaukee Sentinel published a story recounting that Layton had offered to build an art gallery as a gift to the city. True to his word, Frederick Layton built Milwaukee’s first single patron public art gallery in 1888 at the corner of Jefferson Street and Mason Street, where the multilevel parking lot and the Blackthorn Pub currently stand.

He traveled to Europe often both for business and to acquire art–in fact, he crossed the Atlantic 99 times during his lifetime. In 1883, while sailing from New York City to Liverpool aboard the S.S. Gallia, Layton met the architect William Audsley. Five years later, the Audsley-designed Layton Art Gallery opened in Milwaukee to much public excitement.

George Ashdown Audsley (Scottish–American, 1838–1925). Picture Gallery, Layton Gallery, South Elevation, ca. 1885. Pen and ink with watercolor. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Jack Waldheim. Photo credit John R. Glembin

When it was founded, Layton did not have a large art collection to donate to this enterprise. In fact, the Layton Art Gallery and the Layton Art Collection were conceived entirely as a civic project. He explained that the gallery would “be of benefit to our working people, as well as the more wealthy, since all may come and find pleasure and recreation in paying a visit to the gallery.”

Hovsep Pushman (American, b. Armenia, 1877–1966). The Incense Burner, before 1921. Oil on wood panel. Milwaukee Art Museum, Layton Art Collection, Gift of Messers, J.K. Ilsley, Charles F. Dickens, Charles Ray, G. Miller, Fred Vogel, Howard Greene, L.J. Petit as memorial to Frederick Layton. Photo credit John R. Glembin

Layton set out to create a good representative contemporary art collection (contemporary in the late 19th century meant Victorian art), which he hung salon-style in his gallery against red walls. Some examples of the work that Layton collected for the gallery, as well as images and elevations of the gallery, can be seen in the Layton Art Collection exhibition.

In 1919, Frederick Layton passed away at the age of ninety-two. The Layton trustees decided to donate Armenian-American artist Hovsep Pushman’s The Incense Burner to the collection his honor.

The painting, on view down in the decorative arts gallery, illustrates a young North African girl dressed in fuchsia. The fluid and visible brushstrokes, the bright colors, as well as the subject matter, are a stark contrast to the genre scenes and landscapes collected by Layton. The Incense Burner made a strong statement that the Layton Art Gallery would continue to evolve, even after its founder’s death.

Stay tuned to find out how the Layton Art Gallery evolved in the 20th century.

Claudia Mooney works for Chipstone, the Milwaukee-based foundation dedicated to promoting American decorative arts scholarship. She researches objects and creates relevant programming for Chipstone’s exhibitions at the Milwaukee Art Museum and in the community.

View of Gallery 10. Photo by Chelsea Kelly

The gallery has been reinstalled as part of the celebrations of the 125th anniversary of the founding of the Layton Art Gallery, which laid the foundation for what would become the Milwaukee Art Museum.  We’ve decided to call it Mr. Layton’s Gallery, after Milwaukee philanthropist Frederick Layton, who started it all.

You’ll find some paintings that are familiar (and part of the original gift from Frederick Layton): Old Stagecoach by Eastman Johnson, Hark! The Lark! by Winslow Homer, and Homer and His Guide by William Bouguereau. Other visitor favorites are part of this installation, such as The Last of the Spartans by Gaetano Trentanove and Le Père Jacques (Woodgatherer) by Jules Bastien-Lepage.

But what might be a surprise that you have probably never seen many of the paintings because they are usually stored in our paintings vault.  The result is a luscious gallery with 52 paintings and two sculptures. In this post, we’ll look at the history behind salon hangs, and show how we decided to use it for Gallery 10.

View of Gallery 10. Photo by Chelsea Kelly

The dramatic, floor-to-ceiling installation, mixing European and American paintings, is set against a dramatically colored wall and has no individual labels.  This is often called a salon-style hang and evokes the experience of attending an exhibition at the Layton Art Gallery’s original home near Cathedral Square between 1888 (when the gallery opened) and 1919 (the year that Frederick Layton died).  Clearly, artwork was displayed very differently than it is today.

Henry Hamilton Bennett (American, 1843-1908), Exterior, Layton Art Gallery, Milwaukee, 1880s/90s, printed ca. 1980s. Gelatin silver print; Milwaukee Art Museum, Gift of H. H. Bennett Studio Foundation, Inc. Photo credit John R. Glembin.

A Salon-style Hang
Why is this called salon-style?  The term derives from the regular exhibition of the French Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture, which began in 1667 in Paris.  It showed the artwork of students of the Academy, so in order to fit everything in, the paintings were hung as close as possible from floor to ceiling.  In 1725, the exhibition moved to the Salon Carré (Square Salon) of the royal palace known as the Louvre, and from that point on was known as simply the Salon.

If an artist was shown in the Salon, they essentially were given official approval by the French Royal Academy–thus, the Academy had the power to make or break artists.  By the mid-19>th century, the Academy’s role in defining what art should be was challenged by French artists, most famously the Impressionists, who put together their own exhibitions in direct protest.

Despite the Salon‘s negative connotation in the progress of modern art, the regular exhibition was a critical step in the development of public museums.  Previously, it had been difficult for ordinary citizens to see artwork because it was owned by private collectors.  But because the Academy’s exhibitions were free, anyone could see the Salon, regardless of class, wealth, profession, or gender.

View of Gallery 10. Photo by Chelsea Kelly

After the French Revolution (1787-1799), the collections of the French Royal Academy were installed in the Louvre, which became a public museum.  It was considered a symbol of the triumph of culture and liberty.

Meanwhile, in London the Royal Academy of Arts was founded in 1768 in order to raise the status of the artist in England.  Just as the French Academy offered annual exhibitions of their members, so did the Royal Academy.  The hangs for these exhibitions were just as crowded as their French counterparts.  In fact, in 1780 although the exhibition moved to specially built rooms at Somerset House, the same salon display persisted.

For these exhibitions, the smaller works were hung lower on the wall with larger paintings above.  Many artists were displeased with the placement of their paintings, and many protested to being “skied,” or hung high on the wall, where they could not be seen well.   After all, these exhibitions were vital in an artist’s career because they needed publicity to get patrons. The painter Thomas Gainsborough (English, 1727–1788) was so angry at the placement of his paintings at one Royal Academy exhibition that he refused to show his paintings there after 1784.

View of Gallery 10. Photo by Chelsea Kelly

Because the salon-style hang was what people were used to seeing, it was used by public art museums in Europe and America during the 19th century and into the 20th century. A great example is the National Gallery of Art in London, which first opened in 1824.  But this wasn’t a museum as we would think of it today.  The paintings on display were given to the nation by the banker John Julius Angerstein, and the Gallery was in his townhouse in Pall Mall—with a salon hang used in home decorating.

The Gallery moved to its permanent, purpose-built home in Trafalgar Square in 1838.  Here’s a painting of the National Gallery of Art in London from 1886 that shows the stacked paintings in one of the galleries.

You may notice, however, that the wall is not fully covered from floor to ceiling with art.  This reflects a new approach to art display proposed by Charles Eastlake (British, 1836-1906).  Eastlake is famous for the interior decoration style named for him (derived from his book Hints on Household Taste, which has become synonymous with “Victorian”), but he was also the first director of the National Gallery, serving from 1855 to 1865.  He felt that paintings should be hung at eye level to allow for contemplation by the viewer.

The Layton Art Gallery
This individual interaction with art went hand-in-hand with the belief of gallery founders that exposure to art was crucial for making responsible citizens—a goal that Frederick Layton saw was essential in Milwaukee, which in the 1880’s was bursting with new immigrants and those who moved to the city to work in industry.

We have photographs of the Layton Art Gallery that show this type of installation.  The European trends in art installation would not have been lost on Frederick Layton; not only was he raised in England, but he returned to Europe 99 times!

Installation at the Layton Art Gallery, ca. 1910, Milwaukee Art Museum, Institutional Archives

The modified salon-hang opened a new question for art installation—now that you can see more of the wall, what color do you paint it?

The earlier preference was for a neutral color, such as grayish-green.  By the mid-19th century, the preference was turning to reddish colors, because they tended to set-off the paintings better.  Red tones were an attractive foil to the elaborate gold frames, which is obvious in Gallery 10.  In fact, the frames almost become the focal point because of their bright color and sculptural presence.

Installation at the Layton Art Gallery, ca. 1910, Milwaukee Art Museum, Institutional Archives

But this kind of art installation is still very different from the way most museums install art today.   After visiting Gallery 10, the rest of the European Galleries almost seem empty!  Why did this happen?

The most dramatic shift in art installations occurred after World War I.  A key part of this change can be traced to the Museum of Modern Art’s first exhibition in 1929, Cezanne, Gauguin, Seurat, van Gogh.  Alfred Barr, the founding director, decided to use a new technique he had seen in exhibitions in Germany: generously spaced paintings (as we are used to seeing now) and display on light neutral walls (which look practically white, the most common color used for contemporary art installations to this day).  By the time of MoMA’s 1935 exhibition on Vincent Van Gogh, Barr decided to hang his paintings with juxtapositions that were meant to educate the viewer in art historical concepts—and included explanatory labels.  Clearly a departure from the installation of art as interior decoration!

This type of installation allows the visitor to appreciate each painting on its own, a manifestation of the concept that each one is a “masterpiece” with something to impart to the viewer.  The painting has breathing room, which encourages the viewer to spend time in front of it and reflect upon its meaning.

Neutral walls were considered a modern way to cleanse the palette for the eye.  At the turn of the 20th century, the interiors of dark woodwork and walls were being replaced with lighter tones, and white was commonly used in bathrooms and kitchens as a way to encourage hygiene and fight dirt.  Even the Layton Art Gallery adopted this installation style, as you can see in this photo from the 1950′s.

Installation at the Layton Art Gallery, ca. 1955, Milwaukee Art Museum, Institutional Archives

This was quite convenient as the 20th century progressed, because art became more diverse in style and size.  In the 19th century, most artists, even those of the avant garde, painted within a familiar art tradition, so paintings set side-by-side would be fairly easy to fit together.  This isn’t quite as simple with contemporary paintings and photographs (although modern museums do experiment with salon-style installations with modern art, such as in this exhibition at the Walker Art Center).

And the Milwaukee Art Museum isn’t the only one using this historical installation method.  Many Museums have experimented with the salon-hang: the Renwick Gallery at the National Museum of American Art; the Corcoran Gallery of Art; the Frye Museum of Art; the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston; and the Rhode Island School of Design Museum of Art, to name a few!

An unusual installation of modern art in salon style can be found at the Barnes Foundation—the collector, Albert C. Barnes, was a self-made millionaire who had a particular vision in how best to educate people about art.

So take some time to immerse yourself in Gallery 10.  It is a great opportunity to appreciate Milwaukee’s past, look forward to its future—and just enjoy something beautiful.

View of Gallery 10. Photo by Chelsea Kelly

Next month, I’ll highlight some of the paintings that have come “out of the vault” for this installation.

Catherine Sawinski is the Assistant Curator of Earlier European Art. When not handling the day-to-day running of the European art department and the Museum’s Fine Arts Society, she researches the collection of Ancient and European artwork before 1900.