Chapter Two: A Book
Thatcher Freund wrote an article that was published in the New York Times Magazine Section in 1994. His topic was a card table that had been made around 1750 in Philadelphia by a cabinet maker known as the Garvan carver (Garvan after a piece of furniture made by the Garvan carver and owned by a family of that name). Indeed, the cover of the Magazine Section was deep blue with a photo of the card table on the cover. It was stunning! The article impressed me so much that I managed to snag a second copy and laminated both of them because I thought I might be able to use it in the class room (unfortuantely that didn't work for a number of reasons). Freund told the history of the table using the few facts available about the table itself, its owner, and the possible craftsman who made it. Some of the article was speculation based on historical research for the earlier years but then it followed the "life" of the table up to its sale at a Sotheby auction in 1991 for $950,000.
I still have one copy of that article. The second one I gave to the man whose family donated the Severin Roesen paintings to the Metropolitan Museum. I thought he would appreciate the story of the card table and the family that owned it. As I glanced through the laminated copy, I was struck once again by the writing. Thatcher Freund has an easily style; he could be sitting at a dining room table telling his story much as our host told me the story of those paintings. The next step was to find the book from which the NYT article was adapted and to read it. His book is Objects of Desire (Freund, Thatcher. Objects
of Desire. New York: Pantheon, 1993), and it is available by request through our library system.
In it Freund tells the story of three specific and truly outstanding American antiques in such a way that you understand how some people fall under the spells those pieces weave. In Freund's book, it isn't about coveting something no one else has because that will make the owner special and powerful (he gives that a brief nod and one owner may suffer a little from that), but rather it's the beauty of the pieces and their histories that evoke visceral responses which fascinates the author.
But it's the Willing card table (commissioned by Thomas Willing) that drew me to the book, and then the Garvan carver about whom I'd love to know more. I don't want to dwell on those things because it was something else I found in the book that caught me and that I want to share. But first, I've found some photographs of pieces attributed to the Garvan carver on Google Images that you must see. The first is a Chippendale clock, and you can see immediately why people find his work amazing.
The second is the card table. Imagine having this pass down through your family! That story is amazing. The card table was discovered wrapped up within a sealed storage crate in the basement of a bank. The family name was on the crate as well as an address and some other specifics that I don't remember right now. The man who found the crate wasn't looking for it because he didn't even know it existed. He just happened to be a direct descendent of Thomas Willing. Now did he find the card table or . . .
Did the card table find him?
If you need any more clues, here's the part that relates this chapter to the one I posted yesterday, Towards the end of the book (p 287), Freund has this to say:
"Things possess the
possibility of immortality. They are
pieces of human industry frozen in time.
They connect their makers to everyone who ever owns them and everyone
who ever touches them and even to those who only stop to look at them. When a mother hands down her silver service,
she is connecting her child to a past full of rich texture and meaning to her. She is connecting the child to her past, but
she is also connecting herself to her child’s future. She is passing a piece of herself to the
hands of her great-grandchild. She wants
to survive.
Even those things
people don’t inherit – things that hold no ancestors inside – can affect their
owners through their histories. The
objects tell stories. They hold the
dents from room handles and the oils from a thousand hands and the unconscious
thoughts of everyone who has dusted them."
Think about this. What's your reaction to Freund's statement?
I do believe that Freud has something there. When I cross stitch a piece or make a quilt, it's my little way of gaining immortality. As I give my "art" away, it's my way of having an effect on someone's life. And, of course, hoping that they remember me long after I'm gone. For that reason, I'll probably never give away the embroidery that my mom has done - because it's a way I can feel her presence.
ReplyDeleteNoel, you are a true renaissance woman! I found myself moved by your interest and pursuit of information on these gorgeous objects. Freunds comments on the legacy of our valued possessions resonates with me. When we went to Scotland, we visited the home of William Gorrie (your great-great grandfather). The tea caddy we have came through Elizabeth, his daughter, who married Lauren McIntyre, the parents of Daisy, your grandmother. We think the original holder of the tea caddy was Margaret Neill Hall the wife of William Gorrie. Margaret Neal Hall got it from her mother, Neill Burn,, or Neill's mother, Elizabeth Landles, born in 1768. Dave believes that this is the line because all of the physical objects in our possession come through the Gorrie-Hall line. Seeing the house in Scotland where the tea caddy once resided before the Gorrie's moved to Canada, just heightened the sense of the remarkable treasure now in our care.
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