Archives of American Art Blog

Architecture, Interior Design, and “The Cubist Room” at the International Exhibition of Modern Art

FIGURE 1: Installation shot of the Cubist room, 1913 Armory Show, published in the New York Tribune, February 17, 1913 (p. 7) from the Walt Kuhn scrapbook documenting the Armory Show, 1913. Walt Kuhn, Kuhn family papers, and Armory Show records, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

The newly rediscovered Hagelstein Brothers photograph of “The Cubist Room” at the Armory Show (figure 1) provides clues as to what inspired the final floor plan of galleries at the 69^th Regiment Armory, as well as evidence of Walter Pach’s hand in designing the installation.

In the fall of 1912, Arthur B. Davies sent Walt Kuhn a letter that contained a drawing of a preliminary floor plan for the New York venue of the show (figure 2) that was composed of traditional rectangular or square rooms.

How then did the installation become the honeycomb–shaped design of polygonal galleries, shown in a blueprint (figure 3) and in the catalogue of the New York venue (figure 4)?

FIGURE 2: Armory Show floor plan, 1912 Oct. Walt Kuhn, Kuhn family papers, and Armory Show records, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

FIGURE 3: Blueprint of Armory Show floorplan, between 1912 and 1913. Walt Kuhn, Kuhn family papers, and Armory Show records, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

FIGURE 4: Catalogue of the International Exhibition of Modern Art in New York, 1913. Walt Kuhn, Kuhn family papers, and Armory Show records, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

In the fall of 1912, the Cubist group of artists that included Raymond Duchamp–Villon, Jacques Villon, Marcel Duchamp, Albert Gleizes, Alexander Archipenko, and others held an exhibition called La Salon de “La Section d’Or” at the Galerie de la Boëtie in Paris (figure 5). Several works from this exhibition were chosen by Pach for the Armory Show including Duchamp’s Nude Descending a Staircase No. 2 (figure 1).

FIGURE 5: Exhibit catalog for Salon de "La Section d'Or", 1912. Walter Pach papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

FIGURE 6: Photo of Raymond Duchamp–Villon’s sculpture La Maison Cubiste, circa 1913 / unidentified photographer. Photographic print : 1 item ; 13 x 18 cm. Walter Pach papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

Simultaneous to La Section d’Or was the 1912 Salon d’Automne in which La Maison Cubiste was displayed. The architectural façade was designed in a Cubist style by Duchamp–Villon. Visitors walked through the façade into rooms designed by André Mare. These rooms included Cubist paintings. Also Gleizes’s Man on a Balcony and Archipenko’s Family Life, which can be seen in “The Cubist Room” at the Armory Show (see figure 1).

Enter Walter Pach—he saw both Parisian exhibitions, knew all the artists involved, and selected all of the works seen in figure 1, including a plaster maquette of the façade of La Maison Cubiste by Duchamp–Villon (figure 6), as well as the paintings and sculptures that were shown at La Section d’Or and the 1912 Salon d’Automne. 

I believe that “The Cubist Room” at the Armory Show was a deliberate conflation of these Parisian exhibitions put together by Pach; no one else could have designed this installation.

Pach also wrote a pamphlet for the Armory Show, “A Sculptor’s Architecture” in which he discussed Raymond Duchamp–Villon’s La Maison Cubiste as exemplary of a new architectural style for the modern era.

I would suggest that change in the floor plan from traditional rectilinear rooms as proposed by Davies to the polygonal galleries was Pach’s idea and reflects his understanding of Duchamp–Villon’s vision of Cubist architecture.

Furthermore, I believe that the refracted shapes of the polygonal spaces could be read as a modernist floor plan and installation design that, together with the architectural façade, paintings, and sculptures in “The Cubist Room” in particular (figure 1), formed an ensemble showing how Cubist architecture, interior design, and art could be replicated in anyone’s home.

Guest blogger Laurette E. McCarthy is an independent scholar and curator. She is an authority on Walter Pach and a leading Armory Show scholar.

Explore more:

• 1913 Armory Show: the Story in Primary Sources, digital timeline
• The Story of the Armory Show, online exhibition on the Archives of American Art's website
• Walter Pach papers, 1957–1980
• Walt Kuhn, Kuhn family papers, and Armory Show records, 1859-1978, bulk 1900-1949
• A Century After Their Initial Publication, Rediscovered Installation Shots of the 1913 Armory Show Come to Light by Laurette E. McCarthy
• The New Spirit: American Art in the Armory Show, 1913, February 17, 2013 – June 16, 2013 at the Montclair Art Museum
• The Armory Show at 100, October 11, 2013 – February 23, 2014 at the New York Historical Society

Back to School

Alfred and Walter Pach as young boys, ca. 1889 / Pach Brothers, photographer. Walter Pach papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

Selected pages from letter from Maximilian P.E. Groszmann to Gotthelf Pach, 1895 Jan. 15. Walter Pach papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

Magnus Gross letter to Gotthelf Pach, 1898 Jan. 7. Walter Pach papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

Packing my two boys off to school in September, after a lazy (for them at least) 10 week summer break, has left me feeling rather like I’ve been shot from a cannon. Predictably each morning finds me frantically exhorting my 9 year old son to put down his Calvin and Hobbes book, or the latest Lego micro–spaceship he’s designed, or whatever piece of plastic junk has caught his attention this week, and put on his shoes so we can get to school already! Once again I’m fretting about how to help him stay focused and engaged as the ever more pressing weight of school work competes in his 4^th grade brain with more appealing childhood distractions. Not that I’m worried about him. He’s a curious, happy and empathetic kid, and I don’t have a problem getting him to read or play on his own—I just have a problem getting him to do anything else. So when I came across these school letters in the Walter Pach papers, describing the 12 year old Pach, I recognized a familiar scenario.

Walter Pach, influential artist, critic, writer, and art consultant who helped bring the avant–garde to America in the landmark Armory show of 1913, was attending the private Workingman’s School in New York City in 1895. Soon to be renamed the Ethical Culture School, it was renowned for a commitment to social justice, racial equality and intellectual freedom. In 1895 Pach would have been in 7^th grade and, by all accounts, he was struggling. Following a meeting with his father, Pach’s teachers had been asked to report on the child’s progress and weigh in on the possibility of his suspension and transfer to the public school system. Walter, one said, suffered from “an excess of vitality.” The young Pach questioned why he should be made to do mechanical drawing when he hated it, took “little interest in music,” and was “one of the poorest of his grade in drawing, designing and modeling.” He lacked “greatly” the qualities of “order and neatness” and had a “sense of the ludicrous” so “unduly developed” that it constituted “a danger for his moral development.”

Despite a rocky beginning in 7^th grade, Pach’s teachers nevertheless noted his “very good intellectual ability” and had discerned some improvement as the year progressed. They saw a boy who was “facile with thought and pen and unusually intelligent,” despite being “slovenly in action and attitude,” and most felt that he would benefit from remaining at the school and receiving the special attention he needed to overcome his “faults.” There was a general consensus that the harsh disciplinary measures likely to be meted out in public school would be counter–productive for the feisty Pach, who was prone to “stubborn resistance” when disciplined. “The moment I censure him,” remarked one teacher, “he gets all excited and he is not the master of himself.” Now that sounds familiar.

Nevertheless, Pach was transferred to Public School 6 on the Upper West Side at some point during the next few years. In 1898, arithmetic teacher Magnus Gross lamented in a letter to Pach’s father that he had “so frequently to caution him to put away books, papers and playthings with which he allows his attention to be absorbed,” that he recommended “that all reading (except upon subjects connected with his studies) be forbidden him....and that all distractions of any nature (except a due amount of physical exercise) be removed from him.” Poor Walter.

Not that I’m comparing the potential of my offspring to that of a renowned art–world figure, but it’s reassuring to know that a dearth of interest in arithmetic and a penchant for (gasp!) books and playthings during childhood does not necessarily doom a boy to failure. The young Pach clearly had a mind of his own, and while he appears to have struggled, at least for a time, to apply it effectively within the constraints of a grade school education, his intellect was eager and quick and hinted at a fascinating life to come: Pach befriended and corresponded with some of the major European, American and Mexican artists and art–world figures of the first half of the twentieth century. He helped to form the legendary collections of Walter Arensberg and John Quinn. Fluent in French, German and Spanish he was able to effectively translate avant–garde ideas emerging from Europe for an American audience, and he wrote extensively on art, artists, and museums. On top of all that he was an artist in his own right. Not bad for the poorest in his grade.

Stephanie Ashley is a processing archivist at the Archives American Art.

Blogs across the Smithsonian will give an inside look at the Institution’s archival collections and practices during a month long blogathon in celebration of October’s American Archives Month. See additional posts from our other participating blogs, as well as related events and resources, on the Smithsonian’s Archives Month website.

Art History 101

I learned about the history of art in a dark class room, straining to hear the professor’s voice over the hum of slide projectors. I’ll admit that given the circumstances, I occasionally nodded off. But I can’t complain, because the great thing about art is that it’s relatively easy on the eyes, especially during the holiday season. Art is a respite from the visual bombardment of your neighbor’s attempt to outdo Clark Griswold’s light display, the onslaught of wacky holiday sweaters in department stores, and even the sting of mace in your eyes from a less than festive shopper.

Strolling through a museum is always a welcome activity, but I find it even more exciting to stumble upon a handmade holiday card while conducting research at the Archives of American Art. Within hundreds of collections are imaginative holiday cards that express the artistic idioms of their creators. Many artists found inspiration from the history of art for their annual holiday cards. With these cards as my evidence, I present a history of art that you won’t find in stuffy classrooms: *

Early Christian

Don Baum Christmas card to Kathleen Blackshear, 19-- . Kathleen Blackshear and Ethel Spears papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

During the Romanesque and Byzantine periods, depictions of the Virgin and Child were hardly flattering. Don Baum, a key figure of the Chicago Imagist movement, was especially drawn to these inimitable Christian icons.  For his holiday collage to fellow Chicago artists, Kathleen Blackshear and Ethel Spears, he enlivened a clipping of the dour looking duo by sketching them in a cozy nest. At least Baum’s composition explains why the Baby Jesus appears to be hanging onto his mother for dear life.

Northern Renaissance

Heidi Everhart Christmas card to David Ireland, 1993 Dec. 9 . David Ireland papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

The Archangel Michael was the Leonardo DiCaprio of the Renaissance period because angels flocked to him. The only difference is that today’s angels are of the Victoria’s Secret variety. In a holiday card to installation artist David Ireland, Heidi Everhart digitally plucked angels from Renaissance paintings to create her own composition. At the center of the card is Jan van Eyck’s inimitable portrayal of the Archangel Michael in his magnum opus, The Ghent Altarpiece .

Italian Renaissance

Julia Thecla holiday card to Kathleen Blackshear and Ethel Spears, 19-- . Kathleen Blackshear and Ethel Spears papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

During the Renaissance period, cherub models unionized for better working conditions. As a result, painters like Raphael had to provide breaks for the winged models of his masterpiece, Sistine Madonna. While on break, the cherubs let loose by smoking cigarettes and drinking wine. Chicago artist Julia Thecla painted these off–duty cherubs on her holiday card to Kathleen Blackshear and Ethel Spears.

Impressionism

Ralph Fabri Christmas card with Santa Claus as “The Thinker”, 1939 . Dale Pontius papers relating to Ralph Fabri, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

During the Impressionist period, sculptor Auguste Rodin earned acclaim for his work, The Thinker. According to the history books, this work depicts a philosopher deep in thought. But as artist Ralph Fabri reveals in his holiday etching, Rodin really based his work on a ponderous Santa Claus.

Expressionism

Arturo Rodríguez to Helen L. Kohen, circa 1980-1999 . Helen L. Kohen papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

Van Gogh’s vivid painting of his bedroom at Arles is one of the finest examples of Expressionism. Indeed, the room was so disconcerting to its contemporary audience that when Santa Claus entered in 1888 to deliver Van Gogh’s gift—a pair of ear muffs—he temporarily lost his balance and had to sit down. Cuban American painter Arturo Rodriguez portrayed this little told story on his holiday postcard to Miami journalist Helen Kohen.

Cubism

Louise Nevelson Christmas card to Elise Asher and Stanley Kunitz, 1960 Dec. 20 . Elise Asher papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

Primarily known for his provocative Cubist paintings, Picasso also earned critical acclaim for his Blue and Rose Periods. Art historians have recently discovered paintings from Picasso’s less known Prude Period in which he censored many of his prior masterpieces. For the holidays of 1960, sculptor Louise Nevelson sent poets Elise Asher and Stanley Kunitz her own interpretation of Picasso’s Prude Period.

How might artists illustrate art of the twenty–first century? Time will tell. Let’s just hope Damien Hirst stays away from Rudolph. Happy holidays from the Archives of American Art!

* because most of it is untrue.

Explore more:

• Winter Wonderland: Holiday Cards from the Kathleen Blackshear and Ethel Spears papers
• Season’s Greetings from Werner Drewes

Mary Savig is an Archives Specialist in the curatorial department. Her book, Season’s Greetings: Handmade Holiday Cards by 20^th Century Artists will be published by Smithsonian Books in 2012.

An Open Letter to Ellen Hulda Johnson

Sketch demonstrating the placement of the Giant three-way plug sculpture by Claes Oldenburg at the Allen Memorial Art Museum in Oberlin, Ohio, ca. 1975. Ellen Hulda Johnson papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

Roy Fox Lichtenstein letter to Ellen H. Johnson, 1963 Apr. 5. Ellen Hulda Johnson papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

William Wegman letter to Ellen H. Johnson, 1974 Apr. 19. Ellen Hulda Johnson papers, Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institution.

Dear Ellen Johnson,

I think you are the bee’s knees. We’ve never met, but you taught art history at my alma mater, Oberlin College, for almost 40 years. I became an art history major there after you retired and it seemed like every corner I turned, I ran into something you had contributed to the institution. Hanging in the college’s art museum was your portrait painted by Alice Neel (I hope you liked it—there’s something about it that makes you look like a real mensch).

I used to walk past Claes Oldenburg’s Giant Three-Way Plug, the sculpture you commissioned, on my way to the art library, and I visited the Frank Lloyd Wright house you restored and donated to the college. But most importantly, I have to thank you for founding the Art Rental program. As a grubby college student it meant so much that you’d trust me and my fellow undergrads to keep original works by Picasso, Chagall, Warhol, and many other hugely significant artists in our dorm rooms, and charge us no more than $5 a piece to do it.

So, after all this, when I started working at the Archives of American Art, I naturally felt a little starstruck when I realized that we have your papers! Looking through them has been fascinating. I knew you were active in the art world, but I didn’t realize how close you were with so many different artists. I think it’s so neat that Roy Lichtenstein sent you the original source materials for two of his paintings. And what’s this about you giving a hippopotamus figurine to William Wegman? I’d love to know the inside joke behind that one!

Anyway, I heard that it would have been your 101^st birthday this Friday, so I just wanted to say: happy birthday and thank you again for being so great.

Wishing you all the best,

Bettina Smith

Bettina Smith is the librarian for digital projects at the Archives and a long–time fan of Ellen Johnson.