Before Art Deco There Was The Ornamentation And Decoration Of Gustav Klimt

For over fifty years I have enjoyed a quiet obsession with something called the Wiener Werkstatte. It was a community of artists in Vienna that grew out of the Vienna Secession, itself a larger expression of the Arts and Crafts movement beginning in the late 19th century. My fascination with this theme began during a semester of cultural history in grad school focusing on organic form and function in urban planning and design. Little did I know that the interest would reemerge twenty years later with my involvement in the planning and design of parks, visitor centers, museum, exhibits, publications, and other facets of resource interpretation in the National Park Service. The organization itself has sustained elements of the Arts and Crafts theme in its branding, architecture, interior design, and graphic identity since its founding in 1916. It is appropriately called National Park Service rustic or, more informally, Parkitecture.

One of the most interesting members to emerge from the Arts and Crafts movement and the Vienna Secession was Gustav Klimt, born in Vienna on this day in 1862. He is described as a symbolist painter, one who focuses on mysticism and imagination. Like many artists his early work was described as academic. At 28 he found his muse in Emilie Louise Floge, a fashion designer and entrepreneur who greatly influenced his work during their life-long relationship. . Many art historians claim this 1907 painting, The Kiss, is the finest expression of their loving relationship:

This painting, Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer (1907), is also from what is called Klimt's "Gold Period" and is an equally familiar work:

It has an amazing history involving Nazi looting, museum purchase, decades of litigation, a $135,000,000 purchase price, art world disgust, one book, and five films, including the popular 2015 release, Woman in Gold.

As an artist active in the eras of Arts and Crafts, Art Nouveau, through Modernism's progression toward Art Deco, a style that emerged in the mid 1920s, there is much more to Klimt than the golden paintings. If you look at the body of his work you find he is a niche artist. At the same time you find the work compelling and complex to the point where it's easy to recognize his influence on material culture and imagination a century after his death.

Avenue in Schloss Kammer Park, 1912

Sources

Illustrations:
The Kiss, Osterreichische Galerie Bevedere, Vienna
Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer, The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei. DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202
Avenue in Schloss Kammer Park, Osterreichische Galerie Belvedere, Vienna

Text:
Gustav Klimt, Wikipedia.com
klimt.com
"Klimt Painted Much More Than 'The Woman In Gold'", Colton Valentine, Huffington Post, July 14, 2015

East German Design

Here is a fascinating article about product design that evolved during the communist regime in East Germany, 1945-1989. Out of curiosity, I checked out the reference to the original source, Der Spiegel's award-winning history site called einestages.de. It was enough to make me want to learn German as I really don't like those on-line translators. If you have any interest in history and the arts - and your German is passable - this is a site you should know better. Thanks to LGF for the link.

The Hawk And The Streamliner

Earlier this month, General Motors informed more than 1000 of its dealers that their services would no longer be needed as the company tries to stay alive in the 21st century. I've written before about owning some of GM's best products many years ago. I've not owned a GM product for more than forty years; it's been all Toyota for a long time, except for a few flings with Volkswagens.

My love affair with cars - there's a male gene for it - began when I was about ten. The object of my affection was a Studebaker. After studying photographs, I determined it was most likely a burgundy and white Silver Hawk from 1957 or 1958. The production runs for both vehicles were quite small, numbering in the low thousands. Studebaker would survive only a few more years before leaving the car business in the early 1960s.

Studebaker always sought to be advanced in design and performance. The stunning design for this vehicle came from the imagination of Raymond Loewy, long associated with the company, and perhaps the leading industrial designer in 20th century America. Softened edges and sweeping streamlining were Loewy's hallmarks. Most everything he toughed had about it the feeling of movement. The Silver Hawk was no exception. It never looked at rest; it was made to run. Indeed, when it was in motion, it could fly off the line as fast as a Corvette. When I rode in the Hawk, I was usually stuffed in the rear seat between two adults. Being up front was a thrill because the aerodynamic look and feel surrounded the driver and passenger. You weren't in the front seat, you were in the cockpit. Small-town boys from Appalachia remember such experiences and eventually tell their sons.

The man who owned the Hawk was ambitious, successful, and hard-working. He owned an auto parts store in the small town my family left in 1956. He loved doing anything mechanical. His appreciation of innovation and performance made him a Studebaker owner long before the Hawk entered his life. Eventually, he too would move his family from Appalachia in search of better opportunities. I saw the car less and less, and after a few years it was replaced with something other than a Studebaker. To this day, I can picture the Hawk sitting on the grass, glittering in the sun as if it were posing for a photo session.

Perhaps I had been primed to appreciate the Hawk through an unusual coincidence. As an only child and one of the youngest cousins of my generation, I tended to inherit the hand-me-downs, the clothes, the books, and occasionally the toys. The electric trains, two Lionel "O" gauge sets and a complete layout, captured me instantly. One of the steam locomotives was a beauty: gray, bullet-shaped, with sweeping lines and ornamentation. It was the Pennsylvania Railroad's S1, also known as the Streamliner. Many years later, I was to find that the locomotive that captured my attention and became a treasured possession was designed by Raymond Loewy.

I no longer have the train sets or the S1. Years ago, the aunt who gave them to me asked if they could be returned so that her family could enjoy them once more. It saddened me to see them go, but at the same time, I was happy to think that they could be enjoyed by a third generation. Quality is like that. It persists. A century from now I can imagine the Hawk and the Streamliner catching a boys attention, influencing a career, and leading to a new future of design and innovation. I expect Loewy's ideals will be very much alive in that century. Sadly, I cannot say the same for General Motors.