1663-34 Art Deco/Preservation 00009785
SUN DEC 13 1987 ED: FINAL
SECTION: HOME & DESIGN PAGE: 13H LENGTH: 54 . 99" LONG
ILLUST: photo: SENATOR HOTEL, EMPIRE STATE BUILDING
SOURCE: DAVID M. MAXFIELD Smithsonian News Service
DATELINE:
MEMO:
RETAINING A PIECE
OF THE PAST HELD
VITAL FOR FUTURE
SAVING A PIECE
OF THE PAST SEEN
VITAL FOR FUTURE
OLD BUILDINGS AND GOODS
ARE DECO-ERA TREASURES
Winning historic landmark status for a streamlined Greyhound bus
station or collecting a 1937 Electrolux vacuum cleaner might seem curious
indeed to preservationists who years ago saved the fine old homes and
furnishings once owned by George Washington and Thomas Jefferson.
But the rush now to protect a dwindling stock of architecturally
significant early 20th Century buildings and to collect and exhibit scarce
consumer goods from the 1920s and ' 30s is considered an equally compelling
task by a number of Americans.
As one architect recently said of the Greyhound station in Washington,
D.C. , "There aren't many buildings from this period left, partly because there
wasn' t much construction being done as the country was coming out of the
Depression. If we save it now, 25 or 50 years from now we will be glad we
did. "
Miami Beach' s collection of Moderne seaside hotels, painted in tropical
pastels and sporting symbols of the sea and shore, struck a note of optimism
in the Depression years of the 1930s.
The South Beach area, now a national historic district, drew Americans
"who didn' t know where they were headed, " recalled Leicester Hemingway,
Ernest ' s brother and a Miami resident.
"But they wanted something modern . . . so they smoothed everything
until you got the feeling that life was smooth. The buildings made you happy
to be here. "
Today, a variety of items from the Deco decades, things like chromium
cocktail shakers and jazzy Bakelite jewelry, have taken on popular roles of
"kitsch" or "camp. "
However, the aggregate outpouring from the nation' s factories in the
earlier era was anything but superficial. The new goods changed -- and
enlivened -- the face of American life, making their preservation especially
meaningful.
Fueling that change was the machine. In the years between the world
wars, "America' s artists, designers and public struggled to acknowledge,
understand, accept and finally control the machine-driven world, " Brooklyn
Museum Director Robert T. Buck noted during the museum' s recent exhibit, The
Machine Age.
"These goals, " he said, "prepared the way for America' s political,
economic and artistic leadership in the 1940s and 1950s. "
The machine presence was felt everywhere after World War I -- from the
jangle of the bedside alarm to the late night sign- off on the new console
radio. In some circles, houses were thought of as "machines for living, " and
humans themselves were viewed as mechanisms with the dawn of "time-motion"
studies that clocked worker efficiency.
Busby Berkeley choreographed his showgirls in forms resembling aircraft
engines. Carl Sandburg wrote Smoke and Steel. Vogue magazine in 1934 dictated
that to be fashionable a woman' s "profile will have the windswept fleet lines
of a speedboat or aeroplane. "
Machinery, of course, had been heavily relied upon since the early
decades of the 19th Century, but Americans tended to keep their distance,
trusting in rural values, in historical and biblical traditions. "The machine
was just seen as a way of getting something done, " historian Richard Guy
Wilson, a contributor to the Brooklyn show, told a Smithsonian Resident
Associates class on Art Deco.
According to Wilson, that perception changed with World War I, because
the victory of the Allies was in a sense a machine victory, the force that
tipped the balance this way. Despite the war' s destruction, "people were
impressed by the new machine, and it brought a consciousness that we were in a
new age, " Wilson said.
Soon after the war, the machine felt right at home for the first time,
moving into the kitchen, the laundry and the bath, but leaving, for the
moment, the rest of the house "traditional. "
The reputation of these engines of change was refined even more by
artists who saw in them a glow of romance. The photographer Margaret Bourke-
White, for one, made many look twice when she saw that "dynamos were more
beautiful than pearls. "
Yet the overreaching question in the ' 20s was whether it was possible to
make a genuine culture out of industrialization. Could there be, as one
designer wrote, "a new style as right and satisfying and as true to our time
as Gothic was to the Middle Ages?"
The answer was Art Deco, the name given the jazzy, angular, flamboyant
designs of the ' 20s as well as the smoother, rounded, organic style of the
' 30s, sometimes also referred to as "Streamline Moderne. "
Though the names vary with historians, Art Deco "became pervasively
popular in the United States, redefining and even revolutionizing every area
of the fine and decorative arts, " said Alastair Duncan, who consulted on a
display of Deco objects at the Smithsonian' s Renwick Gallery in Washington.
The modern look worked its way into every corner of the country,
conveyed by new networks of bus and air terminals, roadside diners, radio
station chains and eventually by federal buildings. Designs that originated in
Paris, then traveled to New York, turned up on factories in San Diego, stores
in Seattle, churches in Tulsa.
Paris in 1925, already aswirl with the talk of modern art, staged the
huge "Exposition Internationale des Arts Decoratifs et Industriels Modernes, "
from which came the terms Deco and Moderne and design trends for years to
come.
For nations exhibiting in the City of Light, however, there was a strict
guideline: "Works admitted to the Exposition must show new inspiration and
real originality. . . . Reproductions, imitations and counterfeits of ancient
styles will be strictly prohibited. "
Secretary of Commerce Herbert Hoover felt that the United States could
not meet the requirements, but not to miss out entirely, he sent 108 observers
from the art and construction professions.
What they saw along the Champs-Elysees looked familiar to some -- Coney
Island' s gaudiness -- although one art critic put it charitably when she
compared the expo' s "cubistic shapes and futurist colors" to a Picasso
abstraction.
Back home, department stores such as Macy' s and Lord & Taylor as well as
major museums began to see possibilities in the new style. Macy' s, with its
own manifesto of 1928 -- "It is ridiculous to tolerate all these old styles. .
. . We must break the habit" -- engineered a show of 500 objects from six
nations, lasting just two weeks .
America was hooked. So were the nation' s designers. Teapots took on the
look of new skyscrapers; jewelry to be worn in snazzy new nightclubs shimmied
with jagged designs and feverish colors; furniture, textiles, book covers,
fast cars, luxury liners -- everything was freed from the look of the past.
Machine-based Deco designs that stick in mind alongside flappers and
bearskins represent more than handsome images. They mirror the spirit of the
postwar ' 20s, a time of transition, dislocation, hope and fear.
As Brooklyn Museum curator Dianne Pilgrim observed, "There was an
uneasiness in the air, a restlessness, but also an exuberance, expressed in
the art of the period with zig-zags, lightning bolts, cubist and geometric
designs, verticality and stepped contours. "
Plant, sun and cloud motifs wer among other nature symbols adapted to
Art Deco. At the Chrysler Building' s spire, tiers of triangular windows
pointed to the heavens like sun rays, while terraces, with the pragmatic
American in mind, recalled interlocking gears .
Elsewhere, Aztec or primitive American Indian symbols, chosen for their
machinelike repetitive patterns, co-existed with Buck Rogers sci-fi details,
references to the ancient past and the distant future during the uncertain
present.
Abstract symbols of bubbling fountains etched in new expanses of plate
glass and sumptuous modern metals suggested redemption in a world of broken
values that Hemingway and others addressed after World War I . But that bubble
was again about to burst.
It was 1929 . Along with the stock market, the set-back skyscraper, an
icon of the ' 20s, toppled in status; the newly completed Empire State
Building, much of its space unrented, was scorned as the Empty State Building.
Exotic Mayan motifs covering movie marquees and interiors, where
audiences munched on pure escape, crumbled, replaced by simpler, smoother,
streamlined shapes in the ' 30s, which seemed to soothe frayed nerves.
That reason alone could serve for saving other treasures from the Deco
decades.
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