How the craftsmanship of two cultures met in Gorham’s “Japanese Work” silver
If you’re traveling along Connecticut Route 16, just south of Main Street in Colchester, you’re probably driving right over the location of the first school in the state founded specifically for African-American children.
The McFerrin Collection—housed in the Houston Museum of Natural Science and built over the past sixteen years by Dorothy and Artie McFerrin—features the largest private holdings in the United States of objects by the Russian jewelry firm Fabergé.
As part of the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum’s continuing celebration of the sixtieth anniversary of its founding, a new showcase of some fifty pieces from the museum’s permanent collection has been mounted for a long-term exhibition titled America’s Folk Art.
Last month saw the opening of Mythologies: Eugene Von Bruenchenhein at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, part of The Road Less Traveled exhibition series marking the fiftieth anniversary of the center’s founding.
Rain, snow, high winds, and vertiginous mountain peaks—these were not a problem for the prolific landscape artist Abby Williams Hill (1861–1943), one of the most intrepid plein-air painters America has ever produced.
When modernism dominated art in the United States, from the interwar period onward, Morris Davidson was a prominent and widely exhibited painter—as well as a teacher, a critic, and a leader of arts organizations. And yet, since his death in 1979, his work has fallen into obscurity.
The itinerant artist is a staple figure in the cultural history of nineteenth-century America, but no one roamed more widely—in terms of both miles and artistic development—than the landscape and nature painter Martin Johnson Heade (1819–1904), who went from a farmland boyhood to become a favorite of princes and tycoons.
A feminist with a penchant for wit, whimsy, and social satire, the artist and Jazz Age saloniste Florine Stettheimer (1871–1944) has often, and unfairly, been misconstrued by critics: her playfulness misread as frivolity, her style and subject matter cast as lacking gravitas.
Ten years ago, a show at the New-York Historical Society revealed a remarkable discovery made by a team of decorative arts scholars: the story of Clara Driscoll (1861–1944), the turn-of-the-century artist who, with her team of “Tiffany Girls,” designed some of the studio’s most iconic leaded glass lamps.