Plate to illustrate "The Decoration of Houses" by Edith Wharton and Ogden Codman, 1898

With fingers numb from I.M. correspondence ["Pamela" and I are in development hell over a project involving  "a cruel countess and her insatiable drug-addled adventures with a rock star" -- don't ask] nevertheless, Dear Reader, I wanted to get back to something more serious:

Art.  History.  Love.  Not necessarily in that order.

Hence the need to revisit the life of Elsie -- or Lady Mendl, as she would come to be known.  She was just getting started in 1904, but what a career she would have.  There are even those who say that Interior Decorating began with Elsie, although I suspect Edith Wharton would have something to say about that.  Of course whenever I think of Edith I think of Henry James and Henry brings us back to "The Golden Bowl" (1904), the ultimate novel about Love and "objets d'art."

 

My own love of beautiful things was nurtured when I was a young boy, working part-time in our little town for a pair of antique dealers.  I did odd jobs for Harry and Pete, like dusting and tidying up and mowing the grass, in exchange for the occasional cold beer and the kind of personal attention to which a sensitive youth such as I was so eagerly responds.  Good times, as they happily welcomed me into their ever-widening circle which came to include the drivers on Route 90 they would contact by CB radio, inviting them to join us.  Who knew there were so many long-distance truckers with a love of art pottery and carnival glass?  Later, once I'd gained a grasp of the commercial aspects of the 'art world' I would ride my bike up to the truck stop on the ridge outside of town, thus eliminating the middle man.

As a friend in Display so often used to remark, "Presentation is Everything."  How true that is!  Though usually in regards to a particularly dramatic entrance or the fit of a Speedo, "presentation" now seems to me to be taking precedence over any other factor, certainly over Truth.  Any "artist" who's ever talked a museum into exhibiting, oh say, a pickled cow or a piece of car wreckage has clearly figured that out.  Andy Warhol knew it.  So too, in her fashion, did Elsie.  

And to be fair -- shirtless and sweaty and covered with grass clippings -- so did I.

The question is, were we trying to tell you something or trying to show you someting beautiful? (to paraphrase a very wise man). There's a difference. Or to ask another question or put it another way, when you cover a Fauteuil a la Reine with a smart leopard print, is it Art?  

To be continued.  In the meantime, I urge you to read something truly insightful and smart: http://www.portifex.com/LArts/ArtCriticism.htm