Jean-Michel Frank, Hermès and New York

"OHMYGAWD!", I hit a high note. "What now?" my grumpy husband complained.

"I have goose bumps. Furniture items by the legendary designer Jean Michel-Frank are being reissued here in the United States."

My husband shoots me an incredulous look momentarily pulling his head away from a basketball game on tv. clickety-clack went the heels of my little shoes across the stained Brazilian wood plank floors. I leaned my head against the window and stared out into the empty street.

Frank's harmonious forms, simple lines, exotic veneers and soft palette embody great design. His works have been widely copied but rarely matched. Each item he created is understated, but resonates immense power and depth.

In 1924 Frank collaborated with Hermès on a collection of furniture. His restrained club chairs and sofas have been endlessly copied since that time -- they are stark, exquisitely proportioned forms wrapped in the most luxurious finishes.

The short, slight, nervous, and intense, self-taught designer who walked on the balls of his feet spouting bits of poetry, and known to dress in drag to formal occasions was THE designer and decorator of the Parisian haute-monde of the 1930s and 40s.

In spite of his immense talent and success, his life was tragic and full of heart break. He died at the young age of 46; what other miracles would we have had from him had he lived longer?


On March 8, 1941 Frank’s body was found lifeless on the sidewalk at Third Avenue and 63rd Street. A cousin had to identify him. The New York Times found fit to only run a 100-word obituary about the greatest furniture designer of his generation. His name from then on was consigned to oblivion.

The design cognoscenti in the 1970s quietly appreciated "le style Frank" and thankfully, many of us will too. Those distinctive cubic designs with leather and wood veneers have been re-issued and will soon again be available in the New York Hermès store in April.

Vivre Jean-Michel Frank!

(top image from T Magazine, photo of JMF scanned from Pierre-Emmanuel Martin-Vivier's Jean-Michel Frank: The Strange and Subtle Luxury of the Parisian Haute-Monde in the Art Deco Period, and remaining two images from Luxist.)

Esther Howland, Valentine's Day and the Birth of the Card

I’m not a big fan of Valentine’s Day. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it as a kid. Eagerly awaiting the holiday, my classmates and I would each spend the weekend before the magical day carefully crafting and decorating shoe boxes as a receptacle to hold all of our cards. My mom would cut a slit in the top of the lid and then help me wrap the box in thick colored paper. I would cut out paper hearts in red and pink and affix them on top of white paper doilies I had carefully attached to the box with my glue stick. Sometimes I would further decorate by making a heart-shaped stamp out of a starchy Idaho potato dipping the form over and over in thick, messy paint. Then I set out to do my favorite part: make individual cards for all of my friends, and the teacher too.

As time passed on, the meaning of the holiday changed. The target of my affections went from friends and family to boys. So I stopped making cards and never made one again. Even today, I miss the process of creating a hand-made card.

In 1847 a teenager named Esther Howland became memorized when she received her first V-day card from England. It had an elaborate border of lace and decorated with ornate flowers that had been cut-out of paper, colored and pasted on. In the center was a small, pale green envelope containing Valentine's Day sentiments. She showed it to all of her friends and asked her father who owned a book and stationary store in Worcester, Massachusetts to import and sell ones like it in his store.

Then Esther tried making one. She liked it and made more creating nearly a dozen different designs. She sent these prototypes with her brother who a salesman for their father’s company. He made his rounds and returned with over $5000 orders.

From England and New York she ordered colored pictures, lace, silk, satin and ribbon. Then she set up her business in her parents’ home hiring several of her friends. Two years later, Esther Howland was firmly launched in the valentine business. By 1879, The New England Valentine Company was established and eventually grossed $100,000 annually.

Esther never married. Joan P. Kerr wrote in her book The Amorous Art of Esther Howland, that she was remembered as a “woman with high color and glossy chestnut hair”. She drove “high-stepping horses and looked like an aristocrat.” She was good looking and “dressed in fashion and had facials,” Esther understood the importance of sending a Valentine’s Day card to friends so she published a book of verse for her customers who could select one and include it in their card. One example: “May friendship’s constant kiss be thine/From this sweet day of valentine.”

She retired in 1881 to take care off her father and sold the business to George C. Whitney Company who turned the designs out by machines. With the machine age came a decline of quality. By the early 20th century, most valentines were just a folded sheet. And with that, the intricate handmade designs of Esther Howland became a thing of the past.

Images from Worcester Historical Museum.

Designer of the Day: Ferdinand Alexander Porsche (b. 1935)

Porsche, yes as in the car, is the grandson of the founder and the first son of the sports car founder Ferry Porsche. Known to his family as “Butzi” as a kid, FA Porsche never considered himself and artist, but rather a craftsman. He studied engineering before he became head of the design division at the car company. He was involved in creating many of the body designs we know so well: 904 Carrera (1963) and of course, Porsche 911 (1964).

“Design must be functional and functionality must be translated into visual aesthetics, without any reliance on gimmicks that have to be explained,” FA Porsche said.

In 1972 he established the Porsche Design Studio, where he designed numerous products including quite stylish men’s accessories (such as watches, sunglasses, and writing implements), utilitarian wares and household appliances. He designed bathrooms and kitchens and the items that go into these rooms. And, apparently, even furniture::

Love this lounge chair’s restrained line which is technically perfected. It is classical and functional, and evokes a similar feeling of tension as Carlo Mollino's chairs (but not quite… ).

Love, love, love.

This chair, Model: IP 84 S, is in a white lacquered metal and upholstered in white leather. Produced by Interprofil.

(images from Porsche.com and for sale at Room of Art.)

Some Things Never Change: HR3 and the History of Art

I would love to write posts about butterflies and tulips, I really would, especially during these bitterly freezing temperatures. But good god, I cannot remain silent on this one.

Many of you have heard about the proposed HR3 bill.

The GOP wants to limit federal funding for abortions. The bill provides an exemption from the abortion ban "if the pregnancy occurred because the pregnant female was the subject of an act of forcible rape".

This post is not about abortion. Nor is it questioning where you want or do not want your tax dollars to go. I am simply wondering: who the hell gets to sit and judge what rape is?

'No', apparently, does not mean 'No'. I guess this bill is to say congress doesn’t think we know what rape is. Drugged, underage or mentally challenged women are not included. Inebriated women or those who wore a skirt 2” above their knees, were at their own peril. There were no busies on her face. A gun wasn't used. He didn't really hold her shoulders down; a nail in the floorboard must have caught the back of her sweater. Slipped a roofy? She wasn't awake for it anyway.

Really? Have we not come very far? Let's take a very brief trip through history:

During the middle ages, it was believed a woman could only get pregnant if she had an orgasm. In the case of rape, if she did conceive, then she must have enjoyed it.

The history of art has shown us that rapists were heroic, their female victims eroticized.

Jacopo Tintoretto’s Rape of Helen (1578/79), at the Prado, Madrid.

Helen is knocked over like a candlestick in the midst of chaos, yet she gratuitously gives us a booby shot.

Giovanni da Bologna's Rape of a Sabine (1581/83) in the Loggia dei Lanzi on Florence's Piazza della Signoria. Theatrical, as if we are watching dancers on stage dressed in our finest.

Peter Paul Rubens's Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus (1615 to 1618) Alte Pinakothek, Munich

Very dramatic, twisting contorted naked women, you can almost hear the opera music turned up full blast in the background.

And... I can go on and on, really I can, but I am running late for work... my favorite: Susanna and the Elders.

Few artistic themes have offered such an opportunity to blur the lines of rape. Much like this bill. While Susanna is bathing, two old judges spy on her. They approach her with blackmail and when she declines accuse her of adultery.

Some artists put their own spin on the subject. Tintoretto (good lord, examples of this subject matter he depicted are endless) perhaps seems to blame Susanna (1555/56) with her vanity? After all, she was naked and admiring her own beauty in the mirror?

again by Tintoretto (1552?) Madrid, Museo Nacional del Prado

Susanna gives the old man a break and leans in.

Alessandro Allori (1535–1607) version at the Musée Magnin

Note the affectionate touch Susanna gives to the man above and the freak-leech below whose hand disappears between her legs. We, the viewer, shouldn't worry, her little toy dog isn't too concerned.

Even Rembrandt's Susanna (1647) looks to us to keep quiet as she makes sure the coast is clear. Staatliche Museum in Berlin.