Midmod Musings

New Acquisitions 2009: Part 3

The Red Wing Thing

Certainly, Paul's enthusiasm for Red Wing has driven my collecting more and more toward the "home-grown" pottery. But it's also a fact that I've pretty much collected what I can afford in the realms of Russel Wright and Eva Zeisel. The pieces I desire by those two designers bear price tags up to 4 digits (like a Bauer Manta Ray bowl), whereas the gamut of Red Wing available to me is wide open in all price ranges. And with the Pottery's long production history and nearly infinite glaze variations, there's no limit to how and why you can collect -- for shape, for color, for designer, etc.

 This large Belle Kogan double vase really pleases me. The yellow-and-green combination -- apparently quite popular in its day -- has been dubbed "the John Deere Memorial Glaze" by Paul. On its own, I'm not wild about it, but I have several pieces now in this combination, and in groupings, they make an impressive statement. Last year at this time, I wrote about a couple of the double vases I had acquired in 2008, but I think this one might be my favorite form. It's highly sculptural - you can go around it 360 degrees and it looks different at every point. This is Kogan at her sleekest - there's nothing fussy or twee about this design. And it looks spectacular with flowers in it.

At the convention in July, I happened upon a tiny Garden Club planter in the fleck yellow glaze. It's not even three inches tall. The dealers sold it to me for $6 (other examples at the show were priced at $35+). It's not a piece I would have sought out -- I didn't even know it existed before the convention! -- but it appealed to me instantly. It now sits in my living room, with an itty-bitty succulent plant from IKEA in it. It pretty much makes me want to say the Minnesota three-syllable "cute" -- "CAH-yoo-uht!" -- every time I walk by it.  

Of course, the big news for Red Wing collectors this year was the Luther Auction for a massive collection of stoneware and art pottery that had been confiscated by the feds. Unfortunately, the FBI didn't quite know what they had, and apparently had never heard of bubble wrap. Many of the exquisite rarities -- which somehow had been used to launder money, I don't quite understand -- had been damaged, making competition for the pristine items somewhat ferocious. I still lament some of the items I couldn't bid up -- a tall pumpkin cookie jar, a hand-decorated tripod bowl, and many examples of rare dinnerware. But I did, at least, walk out with the large Kermis salad bowl. Now all I need from this line is the large sandwich platter...sounds like I've got a holy grail ready and waiting for 2010, eh?

Catch and Release

Sometimes, as a collector, you encounter items that you don't really collect but are priced so well that you just have to get them anyway. You figure you can always sell them at a higher price later. Yeah. Right. As an antique dealer ("Cattle Dog Antiques"), I have been spectacularly unsuccessful -- more often losing money in an effort to thin out the collection than turn a profit on good purchases. That is, until this year.  A large set of Pepe dinnerware, purchased at auction, remains the gift that keeps on giving as I sell off pieces. I originally bought the set because I really, really wanted the Charles Murphy teapot that came with it. Here's a picture:  

I also thought the graphics on the mint-in-box place setting were pretty groovy:

But as Paul and I got serious about moving in together, the last thing I needed was ANOTHER dinnerware set. So I learned how to let go.

Then, there were a couple of items Paul and I encountered on our various road trips this summer. I couldn't let them sit on the dusty shelves in South Dakota or Wisconsin. They needed a caring foster home, until someone adopted them permanently. I am happy to report that both the pink Willow Wind pitcher and the scarce Vintage teapot have been placed in loving families.  

Oops!

As Big Bird once advised young children on Sesame Street, everyone makes mistakes. I haven't had a collecting mishap for a while now, not since I bought those white lug-handled soup bowls that tricked me into thinking they were American Modern. (Getting them home, and holding them next to the real thing, I couldn't believe my error! Not even close.)

Recently, on eBay, I was seduced by the Wild Horses pattern of this Eva Zeisel Monmouth beverage server. I also thought the lid was cool - not unlike the lid of the Snowflower teapot I discussed two posts ago. I didn't think Eva made lids like that. So I bid up and won the auction. When I arrived, it was apparent that although the lid fit, it wasn't a match. The glaze was slightly different. I tried to find a picture of this pitcher with this lid in my reference books, but couldn't. They all had a knob-handled lid. I was puzzled. A few days later, the same seller then put up a bird-shaped Monmouth teapot for auction, with a knob lid. It didn't look right at all in the picture, and it dawned on me: she switched the lids! My lid would form the "wings" of the bird. I wrote her about it, and she said she had wondered about it, too, but matched the lids with the pots based on this vintage magazine article. Well, I consulted with my Eva Zeisel collector friends, and we all agree: the 1954 article got it wrong! So here I am, with a mismatched pot and lid. I guess I'll just have to spend 2010 looking for their mates!

Blue Mood

My figural fixation continued in 2010, despite near unanimous mocking of the Pan figurine and King of Tarts cookie jar last year. This year's acquisitions are equally questionable, all in the Como blue glaze: a mermaid figurine, a lamb planter, and a dachshund planter. The mermaid, I stand behind. She's beautiful, and a nice mythological companion to the Pan statue. The lamb? Well, it's rare. But pretty scary, for a soft and cuddly creature. The dachshund is cute, but I can't imagine a plant small enough to fit inside him.

Form & Function

As a proud collector of mid-century pottery and dinnerware, pretty much every inch in my 1,023 square foot loft that can display an item does. In the bedroom, on the computer desk, above the kitchen cabinets... pretty much the only pottery-free zone is the bathtub.

I have no trouble using my dinnerware -- save for a few extremely rare or fragile pieces -- as intended (you know, to serve food on). My primary china set is Russel Wright Casual China by Iroquois in the early powder blue color, but I use it all: the Eva Zeisel Town & Country in dusk blue for a funky party or "Eva - Wedding Ring" when my mom (who likes a more traditional place setting) visits; Charles Murphy's Smart Set when I want to impress my guests; and a variety of other Wright designs, from Snowflower to Highlight (yes, with snowglass!) to Home Decorator melmac in the "Gay Time" pattern (no surprise there). I reward myself by using rare items, like a Casual China mug in turquoise or Silhouette cocktail glasses, to make special occasions even more so.

For some reason, though, I have trouble making that leap of "production for use" to vases. Perhaps it's because many of the vases I have amassed are ones I admire for their sculptural forms, and I like just looking at them empty. Others, like my Russel Wright Bauer pieces are so rare I worry about putting water in them. I remember going to visit supercollector Carmen Brady in Santa Monica years ago. I brought her some flowers, which she promptly put in an oval Bauer vase. "They were made to have flowers in them," she said, noting my surprise as she filled the vase from the tap. "They're not complete without flowers." And indeed, the design became that much more spectacular and alive once the vase was full.

With the plethora of gorgeous blooms available at the St. Paul Farmer's Market these days, I've made an effort to use Red Wing vases for color and accent in my loft. The image above is a Belle Kogan double vase from the 1950s, which I have in my entryway. I was unsure how flowers would look with the two distinct vase forms - would they look like two separate bouquets? I suppose they could, if desired, but I was pleased to see my arrangement come together into one burst of color. Here's what it looks like empty (the cell phone is for scale):

Below are some Prismatique pieces which happened to coordinate nicely with a Russel Wright Simtex tablecloth. The yellow blossoms tied the whole tablescape together for me.

Cool Deals, part three

Let's be up front about this. Trying to blog when you've got two opening nights, four grant deadlines, an historic inauguration, and a new season of Lost is nigh impossible. Yes, I really just typed "nigh." Deal with it.

It is unfortunate, too, that my camera battery died in Eden Valley, because I really would have preferred to document a more fruitful antiquing stop. The ad for Eden Valley Antiques in The Old Times said, "Worth the drive!" All four of us left the store imagining how pissed someone would be if they actually drove to Eden Valley for the sole purpose of visiting this shop. Our hearts sank when we saw the hand-painted signs out front. Any antique shop that promotes flowers, gifts, country, and religious items is not likely to have that special mid-mod item you've been dreaming about. Like a Kermis sandwich platter, for instance. To their credit, though, they did have a few (highly overpriced) Red Wing items. But those scary yard Saviors... I really don't think Jesus ever intended his image to be reproduced in cheap plastic to watch over your tomato plants. I think Jesus might have better things to do.

Onward to Paynesville. Pre-Paul, Matt, Todd and I had driven the 90-mile route to Paynesville before with our friend Gary. It had been spring then. In winter, many of the antique shops - including First National Antiques (in an old bank building) - were shuttered for the season. Unfortunate, because First National had some exquisite Red Wing before. But the main shop on the edge of town had plenty of goodies.

Lately, I've been obsessed with Charles Murphy's tripod bowls and accessories. Some are from a line called Garden Club Pottery (numbers in the 5000s), others are numbered in the 1400s and 1500s. In Paynesville I found a pair of Fleck Zephyr Pink candle holders. Pink fleck might be my least favorite Red Wing glaze (aside from the shade that Paul refers to as "baby poop brown"), but on pieces this small, the color did not bother me. (Aren't they cute?  They are numbered 1505.) At least the glaze is highly evocative of the 1950s. It really couldn't have been created in any other decade. Even though Russel Wright's American Modern Coral from 1939 is similar, it doesn't have the kitschy quality of Red Wings treatment.

At this stop, Matt purchased the blue Greek key planter pictured in my previous post. The glaze on that piece is simply called "Blue," though it has flecks. It is a richer turquoise than Fleck Nile Blue, and the flecks are less, well, flecky. It's a gorgeous color. I sometimes spend way too much time trying to figure out why Blue appeals to me on a gut level, and Fleck Nile Blue does almost nothing for me.

We stopped in the one other shop in town that was open, but the less said about that, the better. But please tell Norman Bates we found his mother. She's selling crap on the main drag in Paynesville.

Litchfield had some terrific shops, including ones with names that are like garlic to gay antiquing vampires. Names like "Rita's China Closet" and "Very Vintage" and "Kennalili's." At the latter, Matt found the pale blue Fondoso footed custard cup from the picture in my last post. Rather, I found it and said, "Hey, Matt, don't you collect Fondoso?" He seemed quite delighted to discover a footed custard cup, particularly in a shop filled with country crafts and muslin angels. Very Vintage actually had some nice pieces too -- some Monarch planters, a Pompeii bread tray -- but their pricing was borderline absurd. We didn't drive 110 miles into the country to pay city prices!

Our last stop of the day was Hutchinson. I don't remember much about Hutchinson except that everything I was interested in disappointed me. The Persian Blue Prismatique vase? Chipped. The giant set of rare Golden Viking dinnerware for only $125? More than half of the pieces were chipped. (I puzzled over how the plates could show no utensil wear, but still have multiple chips on the rims.) Matt and Todd found a delightful set of 50s glasses in a carrier, though, that match their Glidden plates. (The set is missing a glass - I'm sure they'd love to complete it if you know where to find one more!)  

It had been a long day antiquing, and somehow the ride home as the sky darkened seemed especially long. We played Sheena Easton's Greatest Hits to pass the time. "Strut" remains a classic. "Long Distance Love Affair," though, has not aged well. 

The next day, Paul was still up for antiquing. (I feel responsible for that. It's like how some people try cocaine once and they're addicts. I worry that I'm his enabler.) We hit the antiquing destination that is downtown Hopkins. Long story short... Paul found me a groovy tripod -- bowl? I'm not sure exactly what it is. It's kind of triangular. But it's super cool, in Fleck Yellow (which I like more than other flecks). He got it for me for our anniversary. (Thanks, Hon.) It's one of those midcentury objects that makes me supremely, inexplicably happy.

At our final stop of the weekend, Antiques at Shady Oak, Paul and I found Red Wing everywhere. One Prismatique planter that we both coveted turned out to be chipped. So Paul focused his attention on a booth chock full of Red Wing and McCoy vases. The chatty dealer was there in the store and happily pulled out vase after vase for inspection. Paul ultimately settled on two - a Murphy piece from the 50s and a Belle Kogan piece from the 40s. I had never seen the Kogan shape before, with a relief design of tulips.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the store, I found my treasure. A Red Wing figurine of Pan, playing his pipes, in crackle blue. (I believe it to be a Murphy design from the same period as the Gentleman Caller, but I am unsure.) I love this little guy. I've seen him, damaged, in other shops for more than $300. This example was perfect, and less than that, but still pricey. I had the clerk call the dealer so I could make an offer. Surprisingly, the dealer offered me an even lower price -- if I paid by cash or check. I couldn't pass up the opportunity.  

It's funny. Paul has figured out my "tell" when we're antiquing. If something is rare and priced low, I become very quiet, take the object immediately to the seller, and pay without asking for a deal. Similarly, I have figured out Paul's "tell" for when he's not as enthusiastic about a piece as I am. He doesn't really look at me and he lamely praises the object. "Yeah, that's nice." I immediately sensed that he didn't love Pan like I did. "You think he's ugly?" I asked.

"No," hesitated Paul. "I think he looks evil. Like a little devil."

The clerk joined in. "It does! It looks like the devil!"

I insisted it was Pan. "He's playing panpipes," I said. "Satan doesn't play an instrument." I don't think I convinced either Paul or the lady behind the counter, but I am very pleased with my little Pan. He looks so happy on the shelf next to the King of Tarts and the Chinese Empress. I'm pretty sure they all come to life at night, but I worry less about that with the Empress around. She's pretty stern. She'll keep them from getting into mischief. I hope.

Cool Deals, part two

From Rogers, we intrepid antiquers made our way northwest, past the Outlet Mall of Albertville, past the miserable antique shops of Monticello, to the little roadside antique mall in Maple Lake. Across the highway, on what I presumed to be the eponymous Maple Lake, the folly of Minnesota outdoorsmen was on display. 4x4 trucks and SUVs were parked next to ice fishing houses in the middle of the frozen lake. I don't care how cold it had been for how long -- there is no way I would ever drive a vehicle onto a body of water. It's asking for trouble, and I had enough to contend with coping with my three rivals traveling companions.

The mall in Maple Lake was nicely laid out and clean. Not too much potpourri, no muslin bunnies. The bearded, ponytailed proprietor chatted continuously, as if Dennis Hopper had threatened to blow up the shop if it ever became completely silent.

Paul kept noticing Floraline vases. He had seen them in Rogers, and here they were again. They are interesting - modern in form, with appealing matte glazes. (Does anyone know anything about them? Please send me a comment.) But Paul didn't like them enough to purchase one. Matt became The Spotter at this stop -- he pointed out all the good items and waited to see if Todd or I succumbed to temptation. I toyed with a bright yellow Franciscan coffee pot -- a charming form in a happy glaze -- but set it down. Setting an object down after inspection is a universal signal that you are uninterested in it. Todd took my cue and swept in behind me, scooping it up. It was a good deal at only $14, but I could only think to myself, "Where would I put it?" I can barely find a place to put my Patio plates, and they're virtually two-dimensional. What would I do with an object that had actual volume and mass?

Matt got what I think was a steal - a Chase Chrome "Gaiety" cocktail shaker in terrific condition with the strainer intact. At just $30, he could easily resell it at a profit, or he could mix up a batch of Manhattans and feel the sleek cylinder of chrome become cold in his hands, hear the shake-shake-shake of ice like a magic maraca promising the sweet, sweet succor of bourbon. Um, excuse me, folks. I think I need to go put my Gaiety shaker to use. And I challenge you NOT to find innuendo in that.

[Photo at right: Franciscan coffee pot and Chase shaker in the back. Far right, the Irish egg coddler referred to in my last post. For details about the other two items, watch for my next entry...]

Cool Deals, part one

In Minnesota, you have to find something to do in the winter or else you go mad. Some athletic types ski. Others, with equal parts grace and ferocity, play hockey. Those with an infinite capacity for boredom and Schlitz ice fish. None of these really describe me. So I invited Paul and our fellow Red Wing collectors Matt and Todd to "go west" on an antiquing trip. The day was bright and sunny, but the temperature was 11. (Little did we know then that just two days later, 11 would be a full 31 degrees warmer than the air temperatures across the state.)

We began our adventure at the Gateway Antique Mall in Rogers, MN. I hadn't been there for years, but often had found good deals in the past. Within seconds of entering the shop, I discovered why antiquing with three rabid collectors, including two over whom you have no spousal authority, was a bad idea. Todd (the evil one in the yellow jacket in this photo) knocked the three of us to the ground just inside the door. He swooped in and snatched up a treasure in his taloned grip, like a barn owl seizing an unsuspecting field mouse. (At least that's how I remember it - it's all a blur.) It was a three-part divided relish in Red Wing's elusive Desert pattern. To add insult to injury, this dish was marked at only $22.50 (it's easily worth $75) and was on sale for 25% off that. As Paul, Matt and I arose and dusted ourselves off, the lady behind the counter asked us if we were looking for anything in particular. Bastard Todd (as I call him in my darker hours) cackled with glee. "I just found it," he said. 

    That's right, Todd. You gloat. But, game on. From that point forward, the day became as competetive as any January broom ball game, only more violent. We raced through the rest of the mall on high alert, knowing that there could be gold in them thar hills. And while nothing compared to Bastard Todd's find, I was pleased to obtain a pair of Red Wing patio sets in quartette chartreuse for $20 each. (These typically go for $40 or so.) Because these sets use the cup design from Eva Zeisel's Town & Country line, and because the plate is comma-shaped like Town & Country bowls and platters, people often mistake these sets for a Zeisel design. They are not, but they are a fun "go-with" - if you happen to have Town & Country in the rare quartette chartreuse color. (I do not. But still.) I look forward to using them... if not on a patio, well, at least on the couch when watching "Top Chef." 

Our next stop was the Antique Mall of Rogers about a mile away. It's a good mall for finding Red Wing, and I am pleased to report that it allowed me an opportunity for redemption. You see, a few weeks prior, I had gone to Stillwater to buy Paul an anniversary present. The piece I had intended to buy was gone, but I found him a terrific Prismatique planter instead. I knew he'd love it. Before I was even out of the store, however, I dropped it. No reason. I just dropped it. It fell all of two feet to the carpeted floor and broke. (A few small children who were shopping with their parents will need therapy in their later years after hearing the stream of foul language pour out of my mouth. They'll wonder why antiques make them scared and a little nauseous.) But there, at the Antique Mall of Rogers, was the same planter, except in a better color. Paul's adorable smiling face as he examined it for flaws told me all I needed to know. "Happy anniversary," I said, and took it up to the counter.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the store, Matt found an Irish stoneware egg coddler. If I had known he was the sort to coddle eggs, I'm not sure I would have invited him in my car. I'm liberal, but there are limits.

New Acquisitions, Part Deux - Naughty or Nice?

I have to admit it. Sometimes, as a collector, we like things we can't explain to others. It's the whole Red Wing conundrum. Art pottery and dinnerware collectors look at the crock people like they're escapees from Bedlam; crock people look at the art pottery and dinnerware collectors like they just got off a TIE fighter from Aldeberan. Here are my favorite questionable acquisitions of 2008.

King of Tarts

 

Red Wing cookie jars are a new thing for me. I am not particularly attracted to their most popular cookie jars -- Charles Murphy's trio of Katrina the Dutch Girl, Friar Tuck, and Chef Pierre. I like instead the rarer ones, like Murphy's "Jack Frost" cookie jars, Belle Kogan's fruit-shaped jars (who can resist pulling a cookie out of a pineapple?), and this: the King of Tarts. Probably the only rarer cookie jar is the Drum or "Drummer Boy" cookie jar (which I also covet).

The King's black crown serves as the lid. (If you can't tell from the picture, it's shaped like a pie.) The hand-painted details here on the Fleck Nile Blue glaze include his goatee (which is not always painted in). There are versions of this jar that are brightly polychromed, and they are even more beautiful/scary than this one. Paul worries that the King of Tarts is sort of like that Kachina doll in Karen Black's Trilogy of Terror, that he probably comes to life at night and clubs things to death with his little wand or beans them on the noggin with his sack of cookies. I suspect that might be true. Angus gets up frequently at night ever since I got the King. But I like him anyway. I purchased him off of eBay from a nice older couple in Wisconsin who were getting rid of their cookie jar collection. We met in the parking lot of a KFC in Inver Grove Heights to complete the transaction, adding to the weirdness of the King's aura.

Birch Bark

 

Followers of my blog know that I got the canoe at the Red Wing auction in July, and I totally overpaid for it. I had debilitating buyer's remorse, because, well, good lord, LOOK AT IT. To compensate for the shame, I decided to try and acquire all six items in the Birch Bark line, to make it look more intentional. I got a great deal on the Birch Bark vase from a seller on eBay. I actually really love the vase, but it didn't help me get over the canoe. I'm still embarrassed. The fact that blind old Angus keeps walking into it on its low shelf only adds salt to the wound. But you have to admit: the glazing effect looks remarkably like birch bark. Oh, shut up and humor me, dammit.

Prismatique

 

2008 will be remembered as the year I succumbed to Prismatique. For more than a decade, I've had this attraction/repulsion response to the line. Belle Kogan designed these shapes in the 1960s, and they were among Red Wing's best sellers. The glazes and the geometry of their forms are certainly interesting (and I don't mean that in a Minnesota, passive-aggressive way). But some of the shapes and some of the glazes make me a little queasy, particularly in combination. Nevertheless, something happened this year. The repulsion factor faded; I saw only the swank in these designs. Now my quest is to find examples of each form, inexpensively, in perfect condition. (They are very hard to find without chips or bizarre manufacturing flaws -- the edges must have been tricky to remove from the molds.) Paul has also taken a shine to this line. It makes our antiquing trips just a little bit competetive.

New Acquisitions - Best of 2008, Part 1

At the risk of objectification, my best new acquisition of 2008 was Paul. Like my favorite pottery, he has an appealing form, he inspires pleasant conversation among dinner guests, and he doesn't seem to mind me staring at him with a goofy, adoring smile. Because he is also a collector -- primarily of Red Wing Pottery -- 2008 has been a year of rather extravagant additions to the collection. We have goaded and impelled each other to dizzying spurts of antiquing. The phrase "you need that" has lost all meaning. But among all the purchases this year, a few deserve special mention. Over the next few days, I will highlight them, in addition to other reflections on the year that was.

Belle Kogan's Gypsies

For years, my collection almost exclusively comprised functional items - dinnerware, vessels, vases. Things you could use. Things that had a purpose. This year, I ventured into figural pottery for the first time. This is a slippery slope. Once you've bought a Red Wing figurine, a Precious Moment seems less remote from your tastes. Lladro and Hummels and Snowbabies plead to you from antique cases, like puppies in a pound, with baleful eyes. There's a sucker born every minute.

I maintain, however, that my handpainted gypsy couple, designed by Belle Kogan, is a step up. For years I have seen Red Wing figurines in shops and at antique shows. Often, they are monochrome. Only rarely do you come upon the handpainted ones. And among handpainted ones, this pair is extraordinary. The accordion player has pink pants and a polychrome instrument. The dancer has highlights in the folds of her dress. The factory worker who painted this couple clearly took pride in her work. As for the design itself, Kogan created two independent sculptures that complement each other beautifully. Look how the accordionist arches his back, balancing the more dramatic sweep of the dancer's body. The pieces combine into an expressive whole. 

Restaurant Exotica

One of my beloved sub-collections is a line of restaurant china that Russel Wright designed for the Shun Lee Dynasty restaurant in Manhattan. I have examples of most of the pieces, including the coffeepot, teapot, fish platter, and rice bowl. They are not Wright's most elegant designs, but they were created to mesh with his interior design for the restaurant. One form that had eluded me until 2008 was the sake bottle (left, above). It's supposed to have a lid, and one complete bottle sold for almost $400 on eBay earlier this year. I was hopelessly outbid. Fortunately, the winner of that auction wanted a lidded bottle, and decided to sell his unlidded one -- which I happily snapped up on eBay a week later. (It wasn't cheap, but it wasn't $400.) The form -- particularly in plain white -- is elegant and modern. While it goes along with the other pieces in the line, it is more sleek and minimal. I love it, and I am thrilled to have it.

The piece on the left is a Red Wing specialty item, created for the Trader Vic's chain of restaurants in the mid-1960s, and purchased in Cannon Falls in November. It's a mug, shaped like, well, what one at the time would inelegantly have called a "native" head. As a mug, it's crap. The handle is formed by a single braid of hair in the back. It's ungainly to hold, and the proportions are all wrong for satisfactory sipping. As a snapshot of "Tiki" culture in the 60s? As a sculptural form? As a rare piece of Red Wing? The mug rules. It has prompted me to hunt down other Trader Vic's items -- a whole new sub-collection awaits in 2009. 

U-Tubes

The double-vase. I think the form might be indigenous to Red Wing. It's an unusual concept for displaying flowers, but Red Wing issued several variations on the theme between 1940 and 1967. These two examples I picked up primarily because the price was right, but they have grown on me, earning prominent display space in my loft. The one on the left -- in the Fleck Nile Blue glaze (not my favorite, but less offensive on this vase) -- is by Charles Murphy. The chartreuse one on the right is by Belle Kogan. Both exhibit a modernist, organic, sculptural simplicity. Truth be told, I haven't yet displayed flowers in them -- I like them both simply as forms. Flowers would only muck them up. (So much for my preference for functional objects!)

It IS Wright (and it's OK)

It must be over a year ago that the midcentury dinnerware researcher, enthusiast and author Michael Pratt discovered proof -- documented, irrefutable proof -- that the long-debated Iroquois China pattern Interplay was in fact designed by Russel Wright. A New York Times article identified Wright as the designer, and (if memory serves) touted the innovative blend of solid colors (charcoal and golden melon) with patterns (including Arabesque and Fleur-de-lis) on a white china ground.

Prior to Pratt's archival find, people liked to theorize about the designer of this interesting and underappreciated line. It gave dish geeks something to talk about after two Manhattans at a cocktail party: Was it Ben Seibel (because, like his other designs for Iroquois, the pattern name began with an "I," as in "Impromptu," "Informal," "Inheritance," and "Intaglio")? Was it Wright, because elements of the line resembled elements of his other lines, and the charcoal glaze matched the charcoal of Wright's Casual China for Iroquois?

Personally, I rejoiced in Mike's discovery. I had several pieces of Interplay that I had stumbled across in dusty antique shops in Illinois and Texas for pennies on the dollar, and I felt certain that this sudden awareness of a "new" line by Russel Wright would generate a veritable stampede of collector interest. I spent a few blissful days pondering whether I'd rather retire in Paris or on the Amalfi Coast. I imagined my soup tureen financing a new wardrobe; the gravy boat and underplate, one of those expensive watches that makes me wonder if rich people can really tell time more accurately with their $20,000 timepieces than I can with my free-with-service-contract cell phone.

But alas, crickets chirped and tumbleweeds rolled by. This genuinely extraordinary discovery raised fewer eyebrows than a Botox party. Oh, a few people scoffed at the idea, asking why Wright didn't have his name attached to it. No one but Mike and I, however, seemed excited by the news.

So disregarding for a moment the flat I had picked out in the Marais, let's consider again the story here, people. Interplay was designed by Russel Wright. There's an entire undiscovered country in which we can stake our flags. It's a line that features truly interesting shapes (the footed sherbet bowls? unlike any other Wright design), a conceptual hook (patterns + solids), and one or two genuinely great serving pieces. The beverage server pictured above, for example, is an elegant expression of the form, with a lid that locks into place in much the same way that the lid on the early Casual covered pitcher does, and a handle whose shape nicely counterbalances the weight of the full pitcher. The oblong covered tureen, too, looks graceful, at once modern and formal.

But maybe a little too much like a funerary urn. And really, the "grips" on the lids in this line are vexing. It's like they were made for leprechauns. Visually, the grip continues the arc of the handle across the lid, but practically, well, my long fingers just can't grip the slender ridges.

And perhaps that's why Wright didn't want his name attached, and why collectors aren't salivating. It's an okay design. Maybe even a very good design. But it's not a great design. I imagine Russel being under some secret contract with Iroquois to follow up on his success with Casual China, but he had moved on to other interests (like his infamous struggles over Highlight for Paden City Pottery). So he fulfilled his obligation, but not with his full attention and inspiration. Being Russel Wright, however, some of his genius naturally showed through. Or at least that's my theory.

Okay though it is, I think Interplay deserves our attention as a diamond-in-the-rough, a design that shows Wright playing with ideas, and offering the American homemaker another option for her table.

And for the collector, I'll just say this: imagine celebrating Halloween with a table setting of golden melon and charcoal! Imagine it hard. Want it. Crave it. Because that pied-a-terre in Paris ain't going to be available forever. Daddy needs to sell now.

RWCS Convention 08: Paul deflowered, Antay mad for Murphy

There are times in one's life when one likes to feel less crazy than he suspects himself of being. Rather than spending hours on a therapist's couch, there is a quicker solution: go someplace where everyone is crazier than you are. For me, that someplace is anywhere fellow collectors gather en masse. My mania for midcentury pottery can baffle loved ones and acquaintances. Frankly, I worry sometimes myself that I love my dishes and pots too much. I fear that maybe some people don't caress their vintage dinnerware before putting it back in the cupboard, or greet their art pottery each day with a hearty "Good morning." (And if that's so, I feel pretty sorry for some people's ceramics.) The only way to feel "normal" is to be in a room full of people willing to spend more, haggle more, and wrestle more than I am to buy a piece of pottery.

On Thursday, Paul and I disregarded severe weather alerts to visit Red Wing for the annual Red Wing Collectors' Society Convention Auction. While I've been to several past conventions, I had never attended the auction. Paul was an RWCS virgin - a new member making his first pilgrimage to Red Wing High School, where crockery crackpots, dinnerware dingbats, and the pottery impassioned turn collecting into a contact sport.

Paul has only recently - I fear, through me - become a Red Wing enthusiast. Up until this weekend, he only had four pieces of Red Wing art pottery. He arrived at the auction (as I did) with fantasies of rare and beautiful objects to tempt him. What we found was basically a ratio of 10 stoneware lots to each art pottery lot, and of the few pieces present, several were damaged. The only items that intrigued me were some Belle Kogan figurines (including a gorgeous handpainted cowboy and cowgirl), a Charles Murphy birch bark canoe planter, and a few dinnerware test plates - including one signed by Murphy. Paul was drawn only to a few vases and a mint-in-box Grand Slam ashtray set (four ashtrays in the shape of a heart, a spade, a diamond and a club). This is how he looked after our review and inspection of the auction:

Not a happy man. Nor was I after sitting through an hour of crockery lots to be outclassed on the Kogan figurines before I could even lift my paddle. They went for $400, and in retrospect, I wish I had bid $425 - they were perfect, unique and wonderful. Maybe that sadness prompted my unexpected bidding on the Murphy canoe. Certainly, it's not the object itself. Designed in 1960, it was part of a 6-piece "Birch Bark" line of planters. This one, in mint condition, was the largest of three canoe shapes - 17" long. It is not modernist or sleek. If not exactly kitsch itself, its children certainly go to school in the same district. It doesn't really go with anything else I have. Yet, I know these canoes to be desirable, particularly here in the Midwest. So at a lull in the bidding, my arm raised almost of its own free will, and I won the canoe. I didn't spend as much as I would have had to to get the figurines, but I spent quite a bit. I felt a little silly cradling a 17" birch bark canoe on my way to the cashier, while farm wives toted their 20-gallon salt glaze crocks. But an older fellow pulled me aside and asked to look at the canoe. I would have pegged him for a crock jock, but he said he had all the pieces in the birch bark line, and my canoe was better than his canoe. I'm still not sure what to make of that. Paul, meanwhile, was waiting to bid on the ashtrays. He did bid, but was outdone at $125. I encouraged him to go a little higher, but he didn't feel it. With my own ambivalence over my victory, I didn't press him. Besides, I think he was still in some kind of shock after watching people spend $7,000 on a damaged crock, or $1,700 on a single stoneware mug, or $750 for that Murphy test plate. (I was looking saner and saner in comparison as each auction went by.)

Cut to two days later. It was our semi-anniversary -- six months to the day after our first date. We got up at the crack of dawn to get to Red Wing by 8:15 am so we could get in line for the show and sale, which opened to registered members at 9. On the drive down, I explained to Paul how it would be. We'd get in line with our friends Matt and Todd and Todd and Ivy. We'd talk pottery talk. We'd reveal our want lists and feel the energy build as people lined up behind us. Then, when the doors opened, we'd be let loose in a gymnasium full of Red Wing. It would feel like a joyful stampede. I cautioned him: "If you see something you like, pick it up. Some other collector can't steal it out from under you as long as you have it in your hands. And don't set it down again until you're sure you can live without it." I still had some bitter memories of an old biddy who got several Town & Country pieces last year by reaching past me and snatching up items in her clutches before I could pick them up myself. I also said to Paul, "I know this is our semi-anniversary and all, but once those doors open, it's every man for himself." I couldn't have some newbie dragging me down, no matter how cute he was.

All of us tore off into the frenzy of the sale. I made a beeline to the sellers I knew. In the first five minutes I had rejected a Murphy viking vase, passed on a small Decorator Line piece, snapped up a dusk blue Town & Country mug for $18, and pounced upon a Kermis nut bowl -- the only one I've ever seen. I had in fact seen it for several years in a row with the same dealer, who refused to break up his partial set of Kermis. But after three years and no takers, he decided to sell each item separately. I got the one nut bowl. It turns out Todd bought the beverage server. In fact, by the end of the day, I think the dealer had sold everything but the plates!

After a couple of passes through the sale, I began to look for Paul. I was worried that maybe he wasn't having fun, and felt guilty for leaving him in the dust. Then I found him:

The astute viewer will note the difference from two days earlier. First of all, Paul is smiling as if invisible gremlins were tickling his feet. Second, he is laden with pottery. There is a causal relationship between these two facts. If one could bottle the adrenaline rush of the RWCS convention, liquor companies would lose market share. I mean look at this man. He's bubbling over with joy. And by joy I mean a Belle Kogan "Muse" planter and two tall vases. And this was before he discovered Sgraffito and bought three pieces of that line.

We continued through the sale for another hour and a half. I agonized over a couple of rare and beautiful objects, including a Decorator Line compote bowl in a stunning crystalline blue glaze. But at $490, it was too rich for my blood. I ended up climbing into my canoe and paddling down the river of kitsch wholeheartedly, buying a Giraffe planter and a Murphy figurine that different dealers called "Gay 90s Gentleman," "Englishman," or "Gentleman Caller." I opted for an ivory glazed version of the mustachioed man holding a bouquet behind his back.

My haul looked something like this:

A nice assemblage of Murphy designs, to be sure, but it was hardly a match for Paul's end-of-day tally:

 

 
He went into that convention a newbie, but he came out a collector. As we headed to the car, he said, "I'm already looking forward to next year's convention."

Me, too, Sweetie. But I get dibs on the next Muse.

The Conversion of Sylvia

After my thrilling trip to Bloomingdale's on Tuesday, I mulled over what I could afford and called Sylvia in Housewares yesterday to set aside my One O One items. I drove down to the Mall over lunch today to pick them up.

Sylvia seemed delighted to see me (even with the sale prices, her commission will probably finance a child's college education; why shouldn't she be happy?). She had all my One O One boxed and bubble wrapped. She and a coworker seemed almost euphoric.

"We had such fun wrapping it up this morning!" said Sylvia.

"We ran our fingers all over the shapes," enthused her coworker. "They are so beautiful."

"I even bought a few pieces myself," whispered Sylvia, holding back a giggle.

"I'm going to get some, too!" said the coworker, a little too loudly, as she handed me three Big Brown Bags of china.

As I left, I turned back and the two of them were beaming and waving. "I'll call you if we have another sale," shouted Sylvia. "In case you want to get the other pieces, too."

I feel a certain pride for having brought two new Zeisel fans into the world!