John Stiff American Coverlet Object #: 2019.005.16
Carly Neil, Mathis Art Gallery Graduate Student Intern Fall 2023
This coverlet was accessioned into the Mathis Gallery collection in 2019. It was woven in 1843 by John Stiff in Milford, Pennsylvania. It is a great example of an early American Jacquard woven coverlet, known as “Fancy Jacquard.” Like many other early American coverlets, this example is made of undyed cotton and indigo dyed wool and constructed by piecing two panels together.
John Stiff produced this coverlet design in three different locations between 1835 and 1844. It features the LIBERTY Eagles border, a very common design element at the time with differences between various weavers. The body of the coverlet is composed of round floral motifs in 4 x 4 grid and the signature box in the lower left and lower right corner reads: FANNY FISHER, MILFORD, PA 1843, J. STIFF WEAVER.
The American coverlet tradition is rich and unique. There is evidence of American coverlet weaving with overshot patterns as early as 1707. This art form became popular because it was both utilitarian and decorative. Coverlets are a definitively American weaving tradition, thought to have German origins. Many German immigrants and weavers settled in Pennsylvania, and likely brought their own weaving traditions to the US and influenced non-German weavers.
The Jacquard process is an important technological advancement for weaving. Jacquard loom technology was created by Joseph-Marie Jacquard in the early 19th century in France. In essence, Jacquard weaving is the first iteration of binary code, the earliest computer. The process operated on a series of hits and misses. Early Jacquard devices were fitted to existing looms. American looms were first fitted with Jacquard attachments in the mid 1820s. Eventually, dedicated Jacquard looms were developed for production weaving.
In its simplest form, weaving is a series of over and under. The “warp” is the vertical set of threads and the “weft” is the horizontal set of threads. Various weaving patterns are determined by the order in which warps raise and lower, revealing either a warp or weft thread on top.
This coverlet is a double woven Jacquard, sometimes known as “Fancy Jacquard.” It is composed of blocks of plain weave (over one, under one), with two layers woven at the same time. The “top” and “bottom” layer of the fabric switch sides to reveal different colors for pattern blocks. This type of weaving allows for more ornate patterns, but retains the integrity of the fabric (no floats to risk snagging).
When weaving this coverlet on the loom, each weft (also known as a pick or line) is represented by one punch card. First, the weaver would draw out the pattern on graph paper, then create punch cards based on the pattern draft. This draft would look similar to pixel art. The weaver puts the punch cards in sequence in the Jacquard device and as they move across the device the cards tell the loom which individual warps to raise. Then the weaver puts the weft thread through the opening, called the “shed” to weave. The Jacquard device reads the next card and the process goes on until the coverlet is complete.
The demographics of American weavers is interesting to consider. Weaving is often thought of as women’s work in many times and locations across the globe. In the US, domestic weaving was often done by women, but the large majority of production weavers in America in the 1800s were men. There are almost 800 documented Jacquard weavers between 1835 and 1875, the majority of whom were from and/or worked in Pennsylvania. This is unsurprising considering the likely-German origins of American coverlet weaving and Pennsylvania’s concentration of German immigrants.
What we know about this coverlet’s weaver, John Stiff, is primarily based on census information and local registration records. He was born in New Jersey in 1803. He was likely an apprentice for a weaver before his first documented coverlet, which was woven in Stillwater, New Jersey in 1835. Based on extant coverlets, he continued to work in Stillwater until 1837. He then worked in Montague, New Jersey between 1838 and 1840 before moving production to Milford, Pennsylvania, where he worked between 1841 and 1844. There are no extant examples of his work beyond 1844. Stiff relocated to Independence, Michigan in 1852 and died in Fenton Township, Michigan in 1877.
Part of the lack of background on John Stiff is tied to the perceived value of textiles. Unfortunately, like Stiff, we don’t know a lot about most coverlet weavers. Woven goods are typically seen as utilitarian more than fine art. Because they are perceived as a common item, their history is seldom well recorded. However, what’s unique about American woven Fancy Jacquard coverlets is their signatures. Like this coverlet, the large majority of coverlets in this style feature two signature boxes, one in each lower corner.
This is a unique and important practice to Jacquard coverlet weaving. The signature box allowed for makers to sign their work, and by extension offers us a window into the industry. Historians can track various weavers, recipients, and patterns across dates and locations. This practice would not have been possible without the weaving advancements of Jacquard. Next time you encounter a handwoven textile, look closely, see if you can find a maker’s mark, and contemplate the time and attention that went into the piece.
Sources:
Anderson, Clarita S. Weaving a Legacy: The Don and Jean Stuck Coverlet Collection. New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1995.
Heisey, John W. A Checklist of American Coverlet Weavers. Williamsburg: Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 1978.
Walter, Ron. “John Stiff Coverlet Weaver.” The Newsletter of the Colonial Coverlet Guild of America, (First Quarter 2014): 1-3.
Insignificant Things in the Archives of Atlantic Slavery
Friends of Art History Lecture
What forms of visual evidence can, and should, one use to materialize and memorialize the history of Atlantic slavery? In this talk, Matthew Rarey argues that this question, far from being a contemporary ethical challenge, was of critical importance to Africans and Indigenous people swept up in the Atlantic traffic of ideas and lives in the early eighteenth century. Critically analyzing a series of surreptitious and visually benign objects contained or referenced in colonial archives in Brazil and Portugal, Rarey suggests that mapping the visual culture of Atlantic slavery ethically requires engaging objects produced as challenges to, and archives of, their makers’ experiences of displacement and diaspora.
Matthew Rarey
Associate Professor of African and Black Atlantic Art History
Chair of Art History
Oberlin College and Conservatory
Matthew Rarey researches and teaches the art history of the Black Atlantic, with a focus on connections between West Africa, Brazil, and Portugal from the seventeenth through twenty-first centuries. His research looks to visual and material culture to centralize Africans’ contributions to histories of slavery, racial formation, religion, and commodity exchange.
Thursday, March 28, 2024
Mitchell Hall 195
4:30-6pm
Co-sponsors:
African and African Diaspora Studies, Anthropology, C21 and History
“Unveiling Black Milwaukee: Perspectives on Music, Art, and Sports” panel
Please join the Department of African and African Diaspora Studies for “Unveiling Black Milwaukee: Perspectives on Music, Art, and Sports” on February 21st, 6:30-7:45pm in the Lubar Entrepreneurship Center. Panelists include Dr. Kidiocus King Carroll, Assistant Professor in AADS; Jamila Benson, Program Director for the Wisconsin Black Historical Society; and Dr. Robert “Biko” Baker, Visiting Assistant Professor in AADS and Affiliate Faculty at the Institute for Systems Change and Peace Building. The panel will be followed by a Q&A. Free and open to the public–we hope to see you there
Robo-Buddhism: Kokoro, Technology, and Spirituality in Japan Today
Public lecture by Dr. Jennifer Robertston, Professor emerita, Departments of Anthropology and Art History, Michigan State University
Kokoro (心) is widely and innovatively used in everyday parlance and figures in many Japanese idioms. Kokoro connotes intellectual, emotional, and spiritual states and attributes. Kokoro is also a key lexeme in Japan’s two main religions: the animistic native Shintō and Buddhism. In August 2017, SoftBank’s humanoid robot Pepper role-played as a Buddhist priest at a funeral services expo under the supervision of a human priest who assessed whether the robot was able perform “with kokoro.” When theorizing human-robot interactions, roboticists also include kokoro as a crucial quality and effect of social engagement. Kokoro figures centrally in the titles of several Japanese books on robots and AI. Several cognitive roboticists are working to “imagineer” (imagine + engineer) robot kokoro through innovative software algorithms and creative interpretations of AI. Pepper was conceived as a humanoid robot “with kokoro.” Technology and robots have been developed and applied for both secular and religious purposes, although the appropriation of robotic technologies and AI for religious purposes is perhaps less recognized than their secular applications. This presentation explores how religious technologies and affective human-robot relations are conjointly imagineered theoretically and in practice.
Glass from the Past: An Ancient Roman Amphoriskos in the 51 Art Collection
Roman Amphoriskos in the 51 Art Collection
Katie Batagianis
In the ancient Roman world, glass was ubiquitous. It was used to create jewelry and other ornaments, to form the designs in floor mosaics, and to insulate the famed Roman baths.[1] It was also an extremely popular material for vessels of every conceivable shape and function: oil lamps, cosmetic and jewelry boxes, storage and transport containers, perfume bottles, ointment pots, and wine jugs and cups, among many others. Glass vessels were, in fact, such an integral part of daily life in the Roman empire that an estimated 100 million of them were produced every year.[2] Amazingly, considering the inherent fragility of the material, an impressive amount of these glasswares have survived to the present, and several major museums boast extensive collections (Figure 1).
Figure 1 – Greek and Roman glassworks in the J. Paul Getty Museum
With such a profusion of surviving examples, it might be easy to dismiss this amphoriskos in the 51 Art Collection. After all, there is nothing particularly spectacular about it. Measuring just 2.875 inches in height and 3.25 inches in width, it is quite small. Its decoration is minimal, and, though the vessel is intact, it exhibits significant areas of damage, as can be seen in the many flaky patches that mar the vessel’s surface. Even its most visually arresting components – the swirls of brilliant rainbow colors and the sparkling quality that makes it appear as though the vessel has been sprinkled with glitter – are not uncommon features in surviving glassworks from the ancient world. And yet, this amphoriskos is nevertheless a compelling object, both as a representative of a significant part of ancient Roman material culture and as an individual artifact with its own story to tell.
The first part of this vessel’s story concerns the manner of its creation. This amphoriskos – or “small amphora,” called thus because of its resemblance in miniature to the large, two-handled vessels used to store and transport olive oil and wine[3] – is an example of blown glass. This technique, developed on the Levantine coast in the first century BCE[4] and then brought to Rome by Syrian and Judean slaves in the first century CE,[5] completely transformed the ancient glass industry. Before glassblowing, the manufacture of glass was a slow and complicated process, and, consequently, glassware was a luxury item available only to the wealthy.[6] With the development of glassblowing, however, production became quicker and easier, costs went down, and a much broader swath of the population could afford to purchase glassworks.[7]
The process of glassblowing consists of placing a glob of molten glass on one end of a long metal tube known as a blowpipe and then blowing through the pipe to inflate the glass.[8] In the method of glassblowing known as mold-blowing, the molten glass is inflated inside a prepared mold, and the glass then takes on the form of that mold, as well as any decoration carved inside the mold.[9] In the alternative method of glassblowing, known as free-blowing, the shape, size, and decoration of the vessel are completely dependent upon the glassworker. After inflating the molten glass, the worker can manipulate the form in a number of ways: by rolling the glass on a smooth surface, by swinging the glass around on the blowpipe, or by using tools.[10]
Figure 2 – Mold-blown vessel with seam (highlighted) and relief decoration, Roman, c. 50-80 CE, Metropolitan Museum of Art
The 51 amphoriskos is an example of a free-blown vessel, as indicated by a few key features. For one, a mold-blown vessel will show the seams from the mold used to create it, and it will often have decoration rendered in relief (Figure 2).[11] The 51 amphoriskos has neither of these characteristics. It does, however, have what is known as a pontil scar, the telltale sign of a free-blown vessel.[12] Once a free-blown vessel has been formed, it must be broken off from the blowpipe and the mouth and neck reheated and reworked. To hold the vessel while this is being done, a second rod, known as a pontil, is attached to the bottom. When the vessel has taken its final shape, the pontil is removed, and a circular scar is left at the point of attachment.[13] As seen in Figure 3, the bottom of the 51 amphoriskos has just such a scar.
Figure 3 – Pontil scar on the bottom of the 51 amphoriskos
Though the glassblowing technique made glass vessels cheaper, it did not inherently make them all equal. Some glassworks continued to be considered luxury wares, particularly works displaying the extremely intricate carving of cameo decoration (Figure 4). Other luxury wares included those with mosaic decoration and those that incorporated gold leaf between layers of glass.[14] It seems likely that the 51 amphoriskos was on the lowest end of the luxury spectrum. There is very little decoration, and certainly nothing elaborate. It consists solely of a single band of protrusions that runs around the middle of the vessel’s globular body (Figure 5). These protrusions, known as fins, are created by pinching the glass at various intervals while the glass is still hot.[15]
Figure 4 – Cameo glass skyphos, Roman, 25 BCE-25 CE, J. Paul Getty Museum
Figure 5 – Detail of body showing protruding fins
Another indication that this amphoriskos was likely on the cheaper side relates to the handles. Added separately following the completion of the vessel itself, the handles appear to have been attached quite carelessly. The points of attachment on the body and mouth are sloppy and imprecise, and a view of the top of the amphoriskos reveals that the handles are not equidistant (Figure 6). This inattention to detail afflicts many Roman glass vessels with handles, as illustrated in the example in Figure 7. As one scholar lamented, “In almost every instance handles are heavy and awkward, joined to the vase in a crude fashion that bespeaks no architectonic sense. By the addition of handles many otherwise beautiful shapes are marred.”[16] However, as other vessels attest, at least some glassworkers possessed the necessary skills to deftly attach handles. This ewer at the Corning Museum of Glass (Figure 8), for example, boasts a handle that is beautifully crafted and connected. The subpar handiwork of handles like those of the 51 amphoriskos suggests a concern for speed of production rather than quality of appearance, further reinforcing the notion that it was a cheap purchase.
Figure 6 – View of the 51 amphoriskos from above
Color constitutes another part of the story of the 51 amphoriskos. Ancient Roman glassworkers were able to produce wares in an impressive array of hues. The creation of color in glass can be achieved in one of two ways during the glassmaking process: by adding metallic oxides to the glass mixture or by controlling the amount of oxygen in the furnace.[17] While the damage to the 51 amphoriskos obfuscates much of the vessel’s surface area, enough remains visible to discern that its original color was a sort of yellow-brown, perhaps something in the vein of a honey or amber tone. Figure 9 provides an example of an undamaged amphoriskos whose color may be similar to the 51 vessel’s initial hue. Such a color would have been created by either adding a mineral like lead or depriving the furnace of oxygen during the production process.[18]
Figure 7 – Amphoriskos, Roman, 1st century CE, Metropolitan Museum of Art
Why the artisan who made the 51 amphoriskos chose to make it yellow remains a mystery. The dictates of fashion certainly played a role in ancient Roman glass manufacture. We know, for example, that colorless glasswares were in vogue for a period during the first century CE.[19] Perhaps yellow was a popular color choice for amphoriskoi at the time (late third to early fifth century CE) and in the region (eastern Mediterranean) where the 51 vessel was created. It is also possible that the color of the amphoriskos was less about making a decorative decision and more about making use of what was at hand. Unlike ceramics, glass can be melted down and reused after it is broken,[20] so perhaps the amphoriskos artisan simply made a yellow vessel because they had shards of yellow glass available. The mismatched colors of the handles and bodies of some Roman glasswares (Figure 9) at least suggests that workers used whatever scraps were on hand, regardless of color coordination – though, of course, this might also have been a conscious decision to lend the vessel some visual interest.
Figure 8 – Ewer, Roman, 30-70 CE, Corning Museum of Glass
Another possible explanation for the color of the amphoriskos relates to its function. Amphoriskoi were used to hold perfume, and it has been theorized that bottle colors were directly linked to bottle contents.[21] For example, a floral fragrance might have been kept in an amphoriskos of one color, while a different color might have designated a spicy or fruity scent. It is also possible that a bottle’s color indicated the intended purpose of its contents. In the Roman world, perfume was used in a number of capacities: as a remedy for body odor, as a medicinal treatment, as part of the ritual of cleaning and anointing a dead body in preparation for burial, and so on.[22] Perhaps the purpose of the perfume played a part in the choice of bottle color, too.
Figure 9 – Amphoriskos, Roman, 1st century CE, Metropolitan Museum of Art
The story of the 51 amphoriskos would not be complete without a discussion of the stunning bursts of color that now decorate portions of its surface, particularly its mouth and handles (Figure 10) and the bottom half of its body (Figure 11). This quality is known as iridescence, and it is, unfortunately, an indication that the amphoriskos is in extremely poor condition. Iridescence is the result of weathering, a process that affects a number of ancient glass vessels due to their burial in the ground as part of Roman funerary ritual.[23] During the imperial period, Romans practiced both cremation and inhumation, and in cases of inhumation, a number of different types of goods were buried with the dead. These were items that it was believed the dead would need in the afterlife, that would make them comfortable there, including games, eating utensils, weapons, jewelry, and various toiletry items, such as perfume bottles.[24] If glass is exposed to moisture while underground, and if that exposure lasts for an extended period of time, then a chemical reaction occurs.[25] Iridescence is only one of several consequences that could result from this chemical reaction; the disintegration of the outer surface of the glass into a flaky coat that breaks off is another.[26] This, too, can be seen on the 51 amphoriskos. Sadly, there is nothing that can be done to either stop or reverse this process.[27] Nor is cleaning an option, as removal of the flaky coat, which is actually protecting the glass underneath, would cause the glass to disintegrate even further.[28]
When we think of the material culture of ancient Rome, glass is probably not something that immediately comes to mind. But perhaps it should, as glass – particularly glass vessels – was a fundamental part of everyday life in the Roman empire. And while the 51 amphoriskos, and other glasswares like it, is not a wall painting from Pompeii, a portrait sculpture of the emperor Augustus, or another renowned work of the ancient Roman world, it nonetheless deserves to be seen, to be studied, and to be appreciated in its own right.
[1]Rosemarie Trentinella, “Roman Glass,” The Metropolitan Museum of Art, accessed February 11, 2023, .
[2] Donald White et al., Guide to the Etruscan and Roman Worlds at the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, ed. Lee Horne (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, 2002), 66.
[3] “Amphoriskos (Container for Oil),” The Art Institute of Chicago, accessed February 16, 2023, .
[4] Stefano Carboni, “Introduction,” The Metropolitan Museum of Art Bulletin 59, no. 1 (Summer 2001): 6.
[11] Stuart J. Fleming, Roman Glass: Reflections on Cultural Change (Philadelphia: The University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, 1999), 37-38.
[13] Anastassios Antonaras, Fire and Sand: Ancient Glass in the Princeton University Art Museum (Princeton: Princeton University Art Museum, 2012), 24.
[14] Catherine Hess and Timothy Husband, European Glass in the J. Paul Getty Museum (Los Angeles: The J. Paul Getty Museum, 1997), 3.
[20] Ian C. Freestone, “The Recycling and Reuse of Roman Glass: Analytical Approaches,” Journal of Glass Studies 57 (2015): 29.
[21] “Largest Ever Exhibition of Mold-Blown Glass from Ancient Rome Organized by The Corning Museum of Glass,” Corning Museum of Glass, accessed May 6, 2023, .
[22] Erin Branham, “The Scent of Love: Ancient Perfumes,” The J. Paul Getty Museum, accessed May 10, 2023, .
[24] J. M. C. Toynbee, Death and Burial in the Roman World (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1971), 52-53.
[25] Astrid van Giffen, “Glass Corrosion: Weathering,” Corning Museum of Glass, accessed February 11, 2023, https://blog.cmog.org/2011/09/14/glass-corrosion-weathering/.
Article Features Art History Student Maggie Kennedy
Maggie Kennedy explores the Milwaukee Art Museum
51 student’s research explores the human mind,
Graduate Student Mirel Crumb Presents at SECAC 2023
Graduate student Mirel Crumb recently presented her ongoing thesis research at SECAC 2023. SECAC is an academic conference that brings together art historians, art educators, museum professionals, and artists. This year’s conference had the theme of Crossroads and was held in Richmond, Virginia, from October 11thto 14th. Mirel’s presentation, “Max Arthur Cohn and the Rise of Screen Printing as a Fine Art” was a part of the panel session “New Research on 20th Century Art.” She presented findings about the early history of silkscreen printing and the National Serigraph Society gathered during a research trip this past summer to the Smithsonian Archives of American Art and National Gallery of Art in D.C. and the NYPL Print Collection in New York City which was supported by a Jeffrey R. Hayes Graduate Research Award. Mirel Crumb is pursuing a coordinated MLIS/MA Art History degree and is working with the expansive collection of artworks by Max Arthur Cohn in the 51 Art Collection at the Emile H. Mathis Art Gallery. She is a 2023-2024 AOP Fellowship recipient and was able to fund her conference expenses through the AOP travel award.
Image:
Mirel Crumb visiting the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts in Richmond, VA, during SECAC 2023
Friends of Art History Meet and Greet
You are invited on Wednesday, November 15 from 11:30am to 12:30pm for an Art History meet and greet in Mitchell Hall 159!
Dear Friends of Art History and Auditors,
Join fellow art lovers and Art History faculty and staff members to learn more about the 51 Art Collection over snacks and coffee. Our Collection and Gallery Director David Pacifico and Academic Curator Leigh Mahlik will be sharing exciting news on recent gifts from our generous donors. We will also discuss plans for theFriends of Art History (FOAH)support group and ways to promote and sustain our programming, including the unveiling of our renewed “Adopt Art” program. If you’re an auditorbut not yetan official “Friend,” we would love for you to come and learn more!
Please RSVP by November 13 to arthistory@uwm.edu.
We look forward to seeing you!
Beauty’s Mirror
Emma Alburg
Beauty’s Mirror is an intriguing but simple piece. Created by Karen Fitzgerald, a Wisconsin born artist, in 1992, this tondo stands out amongst the many other pieces in the Emile H. Mathis Gallery collection. While working as an intern for the Mathis gallery I had the pleasure of working up close and personal with this work. I was tasked with accessioning this piece into the Mathis collection. It was previously in the Kohler Foundation Inc. collection. The Kohler Foundation, located in Kohler, Wisconsin, focuses on supporting the arts and education in Wisconsin. Their website states, “The work of the Kohler Foundation encompasses five major areas of concentration: art preservation, grants, scholarships, a performing arts series (the Distinguished Guest Series), and the management of the Waelderhaus, a historic home”. [1] After seeing this piece it quickly invaded my mind and was not something that I could forget. Not only is this piece interesting to view, but by highlighting this piece, other important aspects of the art world can be addressed. Bringing greater visibility to Karen Fitzgerald’s works will allow for a wider audience to engage with them, including women artists in Wisconsin. By shining a spotlight on a woman artist, the hope is that it inspires future female artists, while also fostering the art scene in Wisconsin. Women have faced and continue to struggle in the art world, so ensuring that we continue to discuss and showcase female artists is incredibly important.
Karen Fitzgerald was born and raised on her family’s dairy farm in the center of Wisconsin and spent her formative years in close contact with nature. She frequently worked in her family’s garden and spent days of her childhood in the woods. This contact with nature greatly impacted her work. She got her bachelor’s in fine arts at the University of Wisconsin – Milwaukee and graduated in 1979. She then went on to get a Master of Fine Arts from Hunter college and a Master of Education from Columbia. When she began her professional career, she worked in the rectangular format. She has won countless awards, including the Special Editions Grant from the Lower East Side Printshop in 1988, the Edwin Abbey Mural Workshop Fellowship from the National Academy Museum and School in 2006, and a paid fellowship with Hasalla Art World from South Korea in 2014. [2] In a 2023 interview, Fitzgerald states that in 1988 she abandoned that format after being given a scrap piece of tondo from a friend. It resolved a number of format problems she had been experiencing in a collection of 9 paintings. After changing forms, she never looked back and has been using the tondo form for 30 plus years. The tondo form is a circular painting, relief, carving, plaque, or mural design. It originally became popular in Italy during the 15th century. It was taken from the reliefs of Madonna and Child that could be found on the walls of tombs. By the mid-15th century these round reliefs were being created using glazed terra-cotta. [3] While Fitzgerald is an amazing artist, it wasn’t always on her mind. She toyed with the idea of being a poet but found that creating visuals art was a much more compelling medium for what she wanted to say. While her work to me feels quite emotional, when asked if things happening in her life affect the outcome of a piece, she stated that this question suggests a direct emotional correlation with her work, which would be a false assumption. Most inspiration for her pieces is spontaneous and begin with a broader idea that she articulates throughout the painting process. Most of her work is abstract. She has a set of watercolor works that have a more recognizable subject matter, but the majority of her other works are abstract and colorful. She is currently residing in New York where she continues to make pieces and works as a teaching artist. [4]
While things are slightly better for women now than they were in the 1990’s, there is a large emphasis on slightly, because as most people know, things have been a little tumultuous as of late. Being a woman artist was certainly a challenge that Karen was facing at the time of this piece, when I asked her if it was easier being a woman in the art world today versus the 90’s she said that it has gotten a little easier and that now there are many more opportunities for women artists. But unfortunately as it turns out, the reprehensible behaviors are still out there. We are sat at an inflection moment of our development: culturally, economically, politically. Bad behaviors will continue to be called out, and they should be. While things are better, it is still difficult to be a woman artist, she says, there is still a huge disparity in the way women artists are valued, and consequently treated, in the marketplace, museum world, and many professional settings. All her professional life she has worked against this discrimination. Early in her career there were some horrible experiences with (male) dealers that made plain to her what their proclivities were. [5] Men were certainly not being called out as they are today and it was something that not only made it uncomfortable, but also difficult for not only women artists at the time, but women in general.
Beauty’s Mirror was originally part of a set that was inspired by the story of “Beauty and the Beast,” and while a mirror wasn’t directly featured, this piece was meant to be an homage to the object. For this piece she said that she starts by preparing the surface, it can be as simple as cutting yupo paper. Yupo paper is a recyclable, waterproof, tree-free synthetic paper. [6] In 1992, when Beauty’s Mirror was made, she would stretch canvas and spend days applying gesso and sanding it to achieve a fast, smooth surface. Layers of oil were carefully built up – at that time she was working in thinned veils of tone. Lots of drying time was needed – she always worked on more than one painting at a time. Some artists do studies, but she never does. The translation process is too challenging – there are too many subtleties that are key, that get lost if one scales up, scales down, or even makes something the same size. [7] This piece uses a variety of greens and yellows. These deep almost black greens span across the edge of the tondo to provide contrast to the light greens and yellows in the center. With the almost cloud-like patch of green towards the center, one feels as though they are looking into a storm when viewing this piece. Her use of greens was a color palate that she was frequently working with at the time. She said that she wanted a sense of reflectivity – a reflected paint tone as opposed to reflected things, or people. Luminosity had come to the fore in the work – she was very interested in using a wide range of luminosity as a basic part of her visual vocabulary. [8] She wanted to deal with this phenomenon in a pure sense: light as itself. When asked if her intention was to stir up some emotion in the viewer, she explained that when you look in a mirror, you are often seeking specific information. Before mirrors were commonly available, people looked at themselves in still water, ponds, streams, buckets. This painting recalls a mirror experience without the specificity of our current mirrors. She was interested in developing the capacity of paint to evoke an experience in unexpected ways. Here it is energy and light that is reflected. She has a strong sense that her intentions matter little once a painting is complete. What matters is how a viewer experiences the work. There is no right or wrong in that regard. What’s lovely about living with artwork is that this experience evolves; changing with time, light circumstances, and repeated visits to the set of thoughts crossing one’s mind as you look at the piece. Sometimes the visual language reveals its content slowly. One must be patient in that regard.[9] So while this piece was part of a set with an idea and inspiration in mind, it holds no bearing on how the viewer may choose to interpret it or how the viewer feels when they look at it and she is certainly ok with that.
This piece is beautiful, but it also serves a higher purpose. The world will never stop needing art and people will never stop producing art. In a state that comes in last for funding for humanities, specifically art, it has never been more important to get people interested in art, both making and viewing, than now. By shining a light on Wisconsin artists as well as women artists, the hope is to get more people, residents of Wisconsin specifically, interested in art. Going and seeing art is made much more appealing when you find that you can relate to the artist or the piece. Growing up, I spent a fair amount of time at the Milwaukee Art Museum, and if I had seen more things that I knew were by Wisconsin artists, my interest would have been piqued even more. Clearly, I have a deep love of art and didn’t need much more fostering but think of all the people out there that need that fostering. People who are lost and need something new find not only art but an artist that they feel a deeper connection to. Children who don’t know much about art but want to learn more about artists that they can relate to, even if it’s in a simple way. Young girls who, while there are more women artists works being shown in museums today, want to see people like them creating. These reasons are why it is so incredibly important to highlight artists like Karen Fitzgerald, and to continue to showcase artists, female and male, from Wisconsin.
Through the highlighting of pieces like Beauty’s Mirror, women artists, like Karen Fitzgerald can continue to be acknowledge and given the recognition they deserve. If the art history community works together to bring more awareness to women artists and continue to do research on them, we can do so much. Not only will women be in the spotlight, but art history as a whole can continue to grow and gain new followers. Whether these followers be artists, historians or just patrons of the arts, they will certainly help to keep the arts alive, especially in places that need it so desperately, like Wisconsin.
Bibliography
“About Us,” Kohler Foundation, accessed May 8, 2023, https://www.kohlerfoundation.org/about -us/.
Karen Fitzgerald, interview by author, March 28, 2023.
“Resume,” FitzgeraldArt, May 8, 2023, https://fitzgeraldart.com/resume/.
“Tondo,” Britannica, May 8, 2023, https://www.britannica,com/art/tondo-art.
“What is YUPO,” Yupo, accessed May 8, 2023, https://yupousa.com/what-is-yupo/.
[1] “About Us,” Kohler Foundation, accessed May 8, 2023, https://www.kohlerfoundation.org/
about -us/.
[2]“Resume,” FitzgeraldArt, May 8, 2023, https://fitzgeraldart.com/resume/.
[3] “Tondo,” Britannica, May 8, 2023, https://www.britannica.com/art/tondo-art.
[4]Karen Fitzgerald, interview by author, March 28, 2023.
[5]Karen Fitzgerald, interview by author, March 28, 2023.
[6]“What is YUPO,” Yupo, accessed May 8, 2023, https://yupousa.com/what-is-yupo/.
[7]Karen Fitzgerald, interview by author, March 28, 2023.
[8]Karen Fitzgerald, interview by author, March 28, 2023.
[9]Karen Fitzgerald, interview by author, March 28, 2023.
Gorfinkel Lecture: Sleeping in the Movie Theater
Sleeping in the Movie Theater (After Wanda Goronski)
Navigating recent interest in nocturnal imaginaries and the valence of sleep for understanding cinematic spectatorship, this talk takes up the sleeping spectator as it figures in Barbara Loden’s landmark independent filmWanda(1970) to examine the function of night, weariness, precarity and itinerancy in the film, exploring some tensions that inhere in analyses of sleep as a domain of repose or abandon. Following an essayistic and meandering logic that mimes the perambulations of the titular Wanda Goronski herself, this talk enacts a series of experiments with forms of description, the unraveling of archival aporias drawn from the film’s shooting script and other historical anecdotes, and larger theorisations of cinema as medium of exhaustion. The talk emerges as one product of several years of archival research on Barbara Loden, sketching out a path from one research project (a monograph on Loden’s filmWanda) to another about Barbara Loden as a feminist film historicalsubject and site of thorny questions about authorship, biography, the unfinished, and feminist film writing.
Bio
Elena Gorfinkel is Reader in Film Studies at King’s College London. Prior to King’s she was Associate Professor of Art History & Film Studies at UW-Milwaukee. Her research interests concern independent,adult, & experimental cinemas and women’s film practices. She is the author ofLewd Looks: American Sexploitation Cinema in the 1960s(Minnesota, 2017), and co-editor ofTaking Place: Location & the Moving Image(Minnesota, 2011), andGlobal Cinema Networks(Rutgers, 2018). Forthcoming in 2024 are two books,Wanda(BFI Film Classics, Bloomsbury), andThe Prop, with John David Rhodes (Fordham/Cutaways series). She is at work on two projects, a book on “cinemas of exhaustion” which was awarded an Andy Warhol Foundation Arts Writers Grant, and a history of Barbara Loden’s creative life and feminist legacies.She is a member of the LondonFilm Critics Circle and her criticism appears inCriterion, Sight & Sound, Artforum, among other venues. More info at: