Gardens: The Universal Language

By Taylor Elyea

In January 1937, one hundred forty-seven members of The Garden Club of America ventured on a nineteen-day trip to numerous sites in Mexico. Extensive documentation of that journey, now part of The Garden Club of America Collection at the Archives of American Gardens, makes it clear that the members covered a vast array of Mexican landscapes, gardens, and sites. The group trekked to landscapes in Guaymas, Mazatlán, the Barrancas, Guadalajara, Uruapan, Pátzcuaro, Morelia, Mexico City, Taxco, Cuernavaca, and many other cities. One of the sites visited by the group was the former home of Zelia Nuttall (1857-1933), an aficionado of Mexican gardens and botany and notable American archaeologist.

Zelia Nuttall (1857-1933)

Born in San Francisco to a Mexican-American mother and Irish father, Zelia Nuttall’s love for the Mexican landscape ultimately culminated in her purchase of Casa Alvarado, a 16th-century mansion in Mexico City. Here she explored her newfound interest in Mexican gardens and botany by studying garden and landscape art as well as medicinal herbs. She authored the monograph, The Gardens of Ancient Mexico, which was reprinted in the Smithsonian’s Annual Report for 1923, and shared her love for Mexican landscapes by hosting many visitors in the gardens at her home.

GCA members at lunch in the gardens at Casa Alvarado, former home of scholar Zelia Nuttall. 

It was in these gardens that members of The Garden Club of America enjoyed a luncheon as guests of William Richardson, manager of the National City Bank’s Mexican branch. A copy of Nuttall’s article was provided to each GCA member, courtesy of the Garden Club of Mexico. 

Walled garden, the Churubusco Monastery. Both sites in Mexico City were just two of many visited by the GCA in January, 1937.

During their 1937 trip, GCA members met with their counterparts from a number of different garden clubs throughout Mexico.  A few lines from a detailed travelogue of the trip published in the March, 1937 Bulletin of The Garden Club of America sums up the universal tie that a shared love of gardens brings: “…we have left them with our hearts and our gratitude, eternally…we said goodbye to them with real affection and regret.”

Taylor Elyea
2021 Virtual Summer Intern 
Archives of American Gardens 

Holiday Imagery, Scanned and Unscanned

By David Haberstich

Curator of Photography

Archives Center, National Museum of American History

19th-century Christmas card, Warshaw Collection of Business Americana, Christmas series,
Archives Center, National Museum of American History.

Holidays are always a logical, popular theme for Collections Search Center bloggers, and Smithsonian archival collections contain thousands of holiday-related images. This December I hoped to highlight several Archives Center collections that are rich with Christmas and New Year’s materials. The first one that sprang to mind was the Christina Patoski Holiday Photoprints, especially because I knew the collection contained an image related to Hanukkah (Chanukah) that I wanted to include. These colorful photographs of gaudy front-lawn and front-porch decorations, printed on Cibachrome (a favorite photographic paper during the “chemical photography” era due to its characteristic deep, brilliant color rendering), were exhibited in the National Museum of American History in 1993-1994, then acquired as a gift from the photographer. My plan was thwarted when I discovered that none of these photographs had been scanned! Given pandemic restrictions and my telework situation, scanning them in order to include an example in this post was problematic. Nevertheless, I’ve included a “work-around” to highlight this collection.

Photographs by Stuart Cohen, created as a visual homage to his hometown, “Marblehead at the Millennium” (1999), include a view of children opening gifts on Christmas morning, as well as another of Santa Claus arriving in Marblehead, Massachusetts in a lobster boat, prior to his annual Christmas walk through the town. Beautiful black-and-white prints! You’ll have to take my word for that, as I was chagrined to discover that they had not been scanned either. Mea culpa!

Nevertheless, much of the Archives Center’s extensive holdings of holiday imagery has been digitized and can be found online. For example, the huge Warshaw Collection of Business Americana, with its hundreds of subject categories, is particularly rich in holiday imagery, including greeting cards, commercial advertising incorporating holiday themes, and gift wrap designs. 

The Norcross Greeting Card collection is known for its “antique” greeting cards.  Above is a card from Series 3, the Rust Craft Card Company Records, about 1920.

And a humorous (slightly naughty) card from 1929, below:

And two of Santa’s reindeer out for a drive, 1953:

The Bernard Levine Sample Book Collection contains colorful gift wrap designs. Below, however, is a bold black-and-white concept.

As a substitute for an Archives Center photograph of holiday displays by Christina Patoski, I offer one of her related images, featured on a web site from her exhibition at Track 16 Gallery, Los Angeles, 2004: Put this in your browser:

http://www.archive.track16.com/exhibitions/xmas_04/02.html.

You can bet that one of my personal goals for the year is to scan the Patoski and Cohen photographic collections. Watch for examples in next year’s December holiday blog—as well as in SOVA before that.

I’m closing with an administrative note. As new Collections Search Center blog manager, I viewed 28 other Smithsonian blogs, and found that most provide author’s names and affiliations at the top, whereas the custom for this particular blog has long been to place them at the end of each post. With the blessing of the previous blog manager, I’ve made an executive decision to cite authorship at the top from now on. The fact that this change is being implemented with a post written by myself is sheer coincidence, and has nothing to do with my relentless search for personal fame and glory. Season’s greetings to all!

Safer Than Water

Despite some of the more inebriating effects, for thousands of years people considered beer a healthier alternative to water. But prior to the 19th century, they did not understand why beer was safer. Many just held the belief that beer was not dangerous and water was harmful and could not be trusted, unaware that they were routinely polluting their own fresh water sources. Despite beer's "healthier" reputation, it could still go bad through bacterial contamination and/or poor sanitation and fermentation.

For many Early American and European brewers, beer went bad quite often. In a letter dated 1623, George Sandy of the Virginia colony wrote, "It would well please the country to hear he had taken revenge of Dupper for his Stinking [sic] beer, which hath been the death of 200." Like most food or beverage products, beer is not immune to bacterial growth or becoming rank from improper brewing practices. But through increased discoveries and understanding of the scientific study of microorganisms and biochemistry during the 19th century, brewing consistent quality beer became the norm by the 1880s.    

While Louis Pasteur is most famous for his discoveries in the causes and prevention of diseases, his lesser known research in fermentation was a giant leap forward for the brewing world. Pasteur began that work in 1857, examining distilling problems and eventually turning his attention to beer yeasts and their fermentation.   

Anheuser Busch advertisement, Warshaw Collection of Business Americana, ca. 1724-1977, Beer Series. Archives Center, National Museum of American History.  NMAH-AC0060-0002897-02.

After two decades, in 1876 Pasteur published his findings, "Études sur la Bière." He found that beer became foul not from "spontaneous generation," but when harmful bacteria were introduced at some point in the fermentation process, thus rendering the beer contaminated. Applying his discovery of bacterial effects on fermentation to his pasteurization process, he was able to produce bacteria-free brewer's yeast samples. But this was not the final step in improving the quality of beer or research in brewer's yeasts.         

Besides problems with bacterial infection, the accidental introduction of undesirable yeast strains also spoiled beer. Prior to the late 19th century, breweries struggled to control the type of yeast strains in the brewing process. Most batches of beer commonly contained more than one strain of yeast, each imparting its own characteristics. Multiple strains affected the fermentation, as well as the taste and smell of the beer; for many brewers, producing a consistent flavor and quality proved difficult at best.  Even modern brewing giant Carlsberg Brewery was no different than many other brewers in their struggle to produce beer of consistent quality.   

Soon after Pasteur published his research, Jacob Christian Jacobsen, founder of Carlsberg Brewery, read it. Motivated by the findings and his desire to brew high-quality beer, Jacobsen built a laboratory within his brewery.  But despite his financial ability to build a state-of-the-art lab, he needed a scientist to head the laboratory. Upon the recommendation of a friend, Jacobsen hired botanist Emil Christian Hansen for the position in 1877.   

Phillip Best Brewing advertisement, Warshaw Collection of Business Americana, ca. 1724-1977,
Beer Series, Archives Center, National Museum of American History. NMAH-AC0060-0002759-01.

Hansen's primary task was to investigate various issues that caused inconsistency. Through his research, Hansen had found that the yeast sample Carlsberg used had become contaminated with a second and different strain.  What he found was that not all yeast strains produced a positive effect in the fermentation process; some yeast strains were harmful to beer and fermentation.    

Utilizing Pasteur's research, Hansen developed a method to isolate and create individual-pure yeast strains.  By November 1883, Carlsberg brewed its first batch utilizing the pure strain, which Hansen named Saccharomyces Carlsbergensis.  The following year, all beer brewed by Carlsberg Brewery used this strain. But what do Pasteur's and Hansen's discoveries have to do with American beer?  

The same year Pasteur published his "Études sur la Bière," Anheuser-Busch's founder, Adolphus Busch, read the work and became the first American brewer to institute a pasteurization process in bottling his beer.  This insured Anheuser-Busch produced a bacteria-free product, resulting in a fresher tasting and better preserved beverage.  Pasteurization allowed Busch to ship his beer long distances, thus transforming Anheuser-Busch from a mostly local brewery to a national and even international prominence almost overnight. 

While Pasteur's discoveries in pasteurization caught immediate American attention, Hansen's contributions to brewing were not far behind.  The same year Carlsberg began using its pure strain, William Uihlein, owner of Schlitz Brewery in Milwaukee, reportedly bought a sample of Saccharomyces Carlsbergensis for his beer. Within a few years, additional American breweries, Pabst, Wahl-Henius, and Dewes, instituted the use of pure yeast strains, as well as employing chemists.   

Schlitz Brewing advertisement, Warshaw Collection of Business Americana, ca. 1724-1977,
Beer Series, Archives Center, National Museum of American History, NMAH-AC0060-0002775-01.

By the end of the 19th century, Pasteur's and Hansen's work played a significant role in transforming local American breweries into giants of American industry. The discoveries of these two European scientists brought new understanding to the roles of yeast and bacteria in brewing. And people finally knew why beer was safer than water to drink. 

Joe Hursey, Reference Archivist, Archives Center, National Museum of American History

Cultures in Motion: The Huichol Film Project 1973-1975 Part II

For Part I of this blog post please click here.

 

Image from copy at University of California Libraries.
Accessed via Internet Archive

Kalman Müller was not to the first outsider to experience the Hikuri Neixa (a ceremony which marks the end of the Huichol year and the time prepare the soil for planting and to call upon the rain), but he was likely the first to film it. Other foreign researchers, mostly ethnographers, had visited San Andres Cohamiata during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The eminent Norwegian explorer and ethnographer Carl Lumholtz (1851 – 1922) had been the most prolific researcher to visit the place to date. On a grant from the American Museum of Natural History, Lumholtz visited most of the indigenous communities in Sierra Madre from 1895 to 1898. Following this experience, in 1900 and in 1902, Lumholtz would author Symbolism of the Huichol Indians and Unknown Mexico, which remain important works on the Huichol. 

Like Lumholtz, Müller also extensively documented Huichol lifeways, but he stuck to the camera. After filming the Hikuri Neixa ceremony in 1973, Müller produced and helped produce four more film projects totaling 43,590 feet of film (approximately 20 hours).[i] The Huichol ceremonies of Las Pachitas, the Peyote Pilgrimage, and the

Cambio de Varas are among other important ceremonies that Müller documented. Aspects of daily life of Huichols, with a particular emphasis on child rearing and development also figure prominently in the films.

Notes for camera roll 28, 

helping to identify film after processing and printing.

HSFA 1989.3.3 (ephemera)

This interest did not come from Müller himself, but came from of a group of researchers at the National Institute of Health, the patrons who had financed Müller’s expedition into the Sierra Madre.[ii]

Indeed, one key difference between the film project Müller led in Mexico and the film projects he had led in Europe or the South Pacific, was that the former was conceived and produced as a scientific project. The project was itself part of a broader research agenda to use film as a research method.



According to E. Richard Sorenson, Müller’s supervisor for this project and one of the proponents of the film research agenda:

because the light sensitive emulsion of film produces an objective chemical facsimile of the pattern of light falling on it, it preserves a phenomenological record of the pattern of light received. The data does not have to be screened by the cognitive organization of a human observer before it can be preserved. Because of this, film preserves information not just of what has been “seen” and “selected” by the culturally programmed mind of the filmer but also what he has not.[iii]

Film, in other words, would be inevitably more objective a method of describing reality than the pen of even the most experienced researcher. Unlike humans, the argument went, cameras could capture a fuller representation of the present, which would enable future researchers to see aspects which would have otherwise escaped the eye of the field researcher. Sorenson’s perspective was heavily influenced by his mentor Margaret Mead, who also believed in the objectivity and emancipatory nature of film. It was this faith in film that motivated Mead to help found the National Anthropological Film Center in 1975, the predecessor to today’s Human Studies Film Archives.

Huichol social interaction at the Fiesta de las Pachitas, Summer 1974 [iv]
Frame grab from HSFA 1989.3.1-3A

Applied to the Huichol people of San Andres, the research film method would generate increased understanding on questions such as: How do children in isolated societies become “enculturated”? How do psychedelic plants influence indigenous social organization? And, perhaps more importantly, what can the U.S. learn from people like the Huichol to address their own sociocultural ailments?[v]  

In practice, however, the research film method as Müller applied translated into long and mostly static takes without an explicit narrative arc or angle, and indeed most of the 46 film rolls that make up this collection were made this way. The other, and perhaps more important component of the Huichol project as a scientific enterprise, was the annotations to the films themselves. Dozens of synchronized and non-synchronized, Spanish and English annotations accompany the films Müller made. These annotations, drafted in collaboration with Eliseo Castro Villa (Müller’s main indigenous informant/collaborator in San Andres) and Rocio Echaverría (a government nurse who had worked in San Andres for many years prior to Müller’s arrival and who would marry him in 1973), added a rich layer of detail on the specific names and processes for the people, ceremonies, plants and other things filmed. 

Kalman Müller narrating the first time a child in San Andres Cohamiata consumes peyote during the Hikuri Neixa ceremony, Winter 1975. HSFA 1989.3.3-9A 16mm workprint (Workprint is a temporary copy of film footage used for editing. It can have unstable color dyes causing the film to fade to a reddish hue.)

This added layer greatly amplifies the amount of contextual information about the moving images that appear on the films. But it would be after longs hours of conversation—while annotating these films behind a flat bed editing table—when Müller, Castro, and Echaverría would reveal even more telling pieces of information regarding Huichol culture and behavior. For it was at these times, when the commentators would reveal in jest, irritation, or silence, how their visions and concerns about the Huichol people differed. 

It is through Echaverría’s silence, punctuated with occasional outbursts of detailed information during one of these sessions, that one learns about the ways the Huichol people were coping with the debt and poverty the U.S.-backed Green Revolution was bringing to Huichol communities in the early ‘70s. [vi] It is through Müller’s repetitive dismissal of her comments that we may infer why she keeps mostly silent through the annotation process. It is also through Castro’s mocking of Müller as a friend of the Huichols who does not know their names that we learn about his possible irritation with the project.[vii]  A frustration which other Huichols may or may not have shared with Castro but that nonetheless makes one wonder: what was the story on the other side of the lens?

Photo by Kalman Müller, 1975

As master storytellers who were historically weary of the power of narratives in shaping their cultures, landscapes, and societies, who knows how the Huichol of San Andres Cohamiata may have bent their own reality for Müller’s camera?  We may never know, but what is certain is that to understand how cultures negotiate power in film, we must look at what lay behind the camera as well as in front of it.  

Enabling viewers to do so—to see through both sides of the lens—is indeed what makes the Huichol Film Project most remarkable. Influenced by the scientific film method, the extensive annotations and structured approach to filmmaking of this collection offer not only a more nuanced image of the Huichol people as film subjects, but also a more detailed glimpse into the culture and perspective of its filmmakers. As a clear and multifaceted window into the past, this collection represents a valuable resource for scholars interested in the history of film and of the Huichol people. For its incredible detail on the social and cultural practices of their ancestors, the Huichol Film Project should be of most interest and value to the Huichol people of San Andres Cohamiata. 

José Carlos Pons Ballesteros

Graduate Fellow

NMNH-Department of Anthropology

Original film footage of the Huichol Film Project, along with sound recordings and associated documentation, form part of the collections of the Human Studies Film Archives.  You can find more information about this film collection here.

---

[i] According to catalogue records the Huichol Film Project is made of 50 camera rolls, according to the Processing Proposal for the collection, the Huichol Film Project is made of 46 rolls.  Muller’s footage was used to produce the edited film Huichols: People of the Peyote around 1976. Thomas Perry produced this film in collaboration with Steven Dreben, who edited and directed it.

[ii] There is dark back story to the main proponents of this research film method, visual anthropologist E. Richard Sorenson (1939 – 2015) and his mentor medical researcher Carleton Gajdusek (1923 – 2008), interest in childhood development, which I will not address here as it is complex and not the focus of this essay.  Suffice it to say that Gajdusek was charged with child molestation in April 1996. For more information about this watch the excellent documentary The Genius and the Boys by Bosse Lindquist (2009) or read: Spark, Ceridwen. 2009. “Carleton’s Kids: The Papua New Guinean Children of D. Carleton Gajdusek.” The Journal of Pacific History 44 (1): 1–19. 

[iii] Quote drawn from The Huichol Film Project, Unfinished Draft of the Huichol Enculturation: a Preliminary Report. Human Studies Film Archives, Smithsonian NMNH.

 [iv] The Huichols celebrate the Fiesta de las Pachitas around the time of Ash Wednesday. This ceremony mixes Mesoamerican, Mexican, and Catholic symbolism and rituals to commemorate the early attempts by Catholic missionaries to convert the Huichol people into Christianity. For this festival the Huichol participants are divided into two main bands, the Jews and the Toros, while the rest of the community watches, as the film roll 89.3.1-3A suggests, often in jest. The Jews represent the Huichol ancestors. The Huichol represent the Jews by painting their faces black, some men dressing as women, all of whom try to escape the Toros. Huichols representing the Toros carry red flags and bull horns with which they run after the Jews. One interesting historical relationship this festival, and in particular the depiction of Christian missionaries as Toros, may speak to is the connection between the arrival of Christianity and the development of cattle agriculture in northwest Mexico. For more information on this complex ceremony read:  Jáuregui, Jesús. "Las Pachitas en la Mesa del Nayar (Yaujque’e)." Dimensión antropológica 34 (2009). 

[v] The Huichol Film Project, Grant Application. Human Studies Film Archives, Smithsonian NMNH. The question as to what Western society can learn from indigenous peoples is not unique to the Huichol film project, in fact it has served as the inspiration for much of the ethnographical research that has been conducted for the last half-century. For a short but interesting comment on this matter see the Introduction by Kathleen Berrin in her edited book Art of the Huichol Indians, 1979.

[vi] Huichol FIlm Project, 1975, sound roll 1989.3.3-1, annotation track in Spanish. This tape describes the First Use of  a Corn Thresher

[vii] Huichol FIlm Project, 1975, round roll 1989.3.1-14, annotation track in Spanish. This tape describes the yearly Huichol Tree Planting Ceremony

The Interplay of Art, Music, and Portraiture

American portraiture captures rich conversations between artists, musicians, and singers. On the occasion of the Smithsonian’s Year of Music, this essay explores the interplay of art, music, and portraiture in the United States, from the Early Republic to today.

During the eighteenth century, artists were often inspired to portray individuals and groups in the act of playing instruments or singing. A popular theme was the informal family concert, which exemplified the harmony and personal values shared by the represented members. An example is the painting Family of Dr. Joseph Montégut (c. 1797-1800), which has been attributed to José Francisco Xavier de Salazar y Mendoza. It depicts a French surgeon who has settled in New Orleans. He is surrounded by his wife, great aunt, and children, who are about to play for their parents. Two hold flutes, while a daughter’s hands are poised on the pianoforte keys. This composition of a French Creole family in Spanish-governed New Orleans presents a vision of musical and domestic harmony, which had precedents in European art tradition.  https://www.crt.state.la.us/louisiana-state-museum/collections/visual-art/artists/jos-francisco-xavier-de-salazar-y-mendoza

From the 1790s through the 1830s, theater and concert performances proliferated and by the mid-nineteenth century, music had become a public commodity. A leading European virtuoso, the Swedish singer Jenny Lind, toured the United States from 1850-1852, in part with the sponsorship of P.T. Barnum. Many American artists portrayed the popular “Swedish Nightingale,” including Francis Bicknell Carpenter, whose 1852 oil painting depicts Jenny Lind in costume, holding a musical score book.

Jenny Lind by Francis Bicknell Carpenter, oil on canvas, 1852. National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of Eleanor Morein Foster in Honor of First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton (NPG.94.123)

From 1892 to 1895, the Czech composer Antonín Dvořák was director of the National Conservatory of Music in America. His famous symphony From the New World (1893) reflected his interest in African American and Native American music. He promoted the idea that American classical music should follow its own models instead of imitating European composers. Dvořák helped inspire our composers to create a distinctly American style of classical music. By the twentieth century, many American composers, such as Leonard Bernstein, Aaron Copland, George Gershwin, and Charles Ives incorporated diverse musical genres into their compositions, including folk, jazz, and blues.

As a composer, pianist, and conductor, Leonard Bernstein made a profound impact on American music by collaborating with the performing arts. His interests ranged from classical music and ballet to jazz and musicals. In an oil portrait of 1960, René Robert Bouché portrayed Bernstein in a moment of reflection, with the papers of the musical score he is writing scattered across the desk in front of him.

Leonard Bernstein by René Robert Bouché, oil on canvas, 1960. National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of Springate Corporation. © Denise Bouche Fitch (NPG.92.3)

The composer George Gershwin and his brother, lyricist Ira Gershwin, were also highly versatile, having collaborated on popular musicals and a folk opera. Both brothers also painted interesting self-portraits, which can be viewed in the Gershwin collection in the Music Division of the Library of Congress. In a 1934 oil portrait in the collection of the National Portrait Gallery, George Gershwin represented himself in profile with a musical score and his hand alighting upon the piano keys.

Self-Portrait by George Gershwin, oil on canvas board, 1934. National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of Ira Gershwin. © Estate of George Gershwin (NPG.66.48)

The following year, the Gershwin brothers debuted Porgy and Bess, “an American folk opera,” which broke new ground in musical terms. Soprano Leontyne Price appeared in the 1952 revival touring production of Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess, which brought her first major success. Less than a decade later, in 1961, Price became the first leading African-American opera star when she made her debut at the Metropolitan Opera. Bradley Phillips created this formal oil painting of Leontyne Price within a stage setting in 1963. It is one of several portraits he made of the singer. The artist expressed the admiration he felt for her immense talent when seeing her perform onstage.

Leontyne Price by Bradley Phillips, oil on canvas, 1963. National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; gift of Ms. Sayre Sheldon (NPG.91.96)

Artists Thomas Eakins and George P.A. Healy also created portraits of singers and musicians. In the medium of painting, these artists were able to convey the intensity and precision of the musicians in their performances. Thomas Eakins asked his model Weda Cook to repeatedly sing a particular phrase from Felix Mendelssohn’s oratorio Elijah, so he could explore the position and movement of her mouth and vocal chords for his portrait Concert Singer (1890-1892). In this manner, he recreated the immediate sense of a formal concert with the contralto singing on the stage and the conductor’s hand and baton raised in the lower corner. https://www.philamuseum.org/collections/permanent/42499.html

George P.A. Healy visited virtuoso Franz Liszt in Rome and created this 1868-1869 oil portrait of him playing the piano in an inspired moment. Healy even convinced the composer to allow Ferdinand Barbedienne to cast his hands in bronze, an artifact Healy later kept in his studio. https://callisto.ggsrv.com/imgsrv/FastFetch/UBER1/ZI-9HFT-2014-JUN00-SPI-142-1 Both artists not only portrayed the physical characteristics of musicians and singers but also the inner passion and mental concentration they brought to their performances. As such, they recreated the emotional spirit of the music for viewers.

James McNeill Whistler thought about his paintings in terms of musical titles and themes. He created not only portraits of musicians but also discussed the subtle tonalities of his more abstract urban scenes and landscapes in musical terms. In 1878, Whistler defended the titles of his paintings: “Why should not I call my works ‘symphonies,’ ‘arrangements,’  ‘harmonies,’ and ‘nocturnes’?...As music is the poetry of sound, so is painting the poetry of sight, and the subject-matter has nothing to do with harmony of sound or of colour.” This analogy between music and painting was Whistler’s primary means for defending his paintings against criticism. Indeed, he published this defense in the journal The World during his libel lawsuit against critic John Ruskin, who referred to Whistler’s 1875 oil painting of fireworks in London, Nocturne in Black and Gold: The Falling Rocket, as “flinging a pot of paint in the public’s face.” https://www.dia.org/art/collection/object/nocturne-black-and-gold-falling-rocket-64931 Whistler’s use of music as a metaphor for painting was intended to build support for the concept that color, form, and painterly technique were the primary elements of an artwork. Whistler brought this correlation of painting and music to public attention with his artworks, which in turn influenced other artists and musicians.  

Regional painter Thomas Hart Benton praised “James McNeill Whistler[’s art]...tone, colors harmoniously arranged…Whether you can distinguish one object from another or not, whether the thing painted looks like a man, woman, or dog, mountain, house or tree, you have harmony and the grandest artistic aim, it is the truly artistic aim.” Benton was a self-taught and performing musician who invented a harmonica tablature notation system used in current music tutorials. He was also a cataloguer, collector, transcriber, and distributor of popular music. He had musical gatherings for family and friends at his home in Kansas City. These sessions were commemorated on a 1942 recording by Decca Records called Saturday Night at Tom Benton’s, which featured chamber and folk music. Benton’s friend, the popular actor and singer Burl Ives, shared his passion for American songs. During the Great Depression, Ives traveled the country gathering and playing folk songs, and Benton made sketches of folk musicians in different regions. In a 1950 lithograph titled the Hymn Singer or the Minstrel, Benton portrayed Ives playing the guitar. 

Burl Ives by Thomas Hart Benton, lithograph on paper, 1950. National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution. © T.H. Benton and R.P. Benton Testamentary Trusts/Licensed by VAGA, New York, NY (NPG.85.141)

In 1973, Benton was commissioned to paint his last mural, The Sources of Country Music, for the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum in Nashville, with support from the National Endowment for the Arts. He decided the mural “should show the roots of the music–the sources–before there were records and stars,” and he created a lively, flowing composition of country folk musicians, singers, and dancers.   https://www.arts.gov/about/40th-anniversary-highlights/thomas-hart-bentons-final-gift

Artist LeRoy Neiman featured Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Charlie Parker, Benny Goodman, and other famous jazz performers in his group portrait Big Band (2005), which is held at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History. It took Neiman ten years to complete this mural-size tribute to eighteen jazz masters, which the LeRoy Neiman Foundation presented to the Smithsonian after the artist’s death in 2012. Neiman frequented jazz clubs, where he befriended and sketched these performers. In 2015, the LeRoy Neiman Foundation donated funds to the Smithsonian towards the expansion of jazz programing during the annual celebration. See the following two part guide to this group portrait of jazz greats:  https://americanhistory.si.edu/blog/neiman-jazz and https://americanhistory.si.edu/blog/neiman-jazz-2

One can discover further portraits and biographies of notable composers, musicians, and singers in the Catalog of American Portraits (CAP). In 1966, the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery founded the CAP, a national portrait archive of historically significant subjects and artists from the colonial period to the present day. The public is welcome to access the online portrait search program of more than 100,000 records from the museum’s website: https://npg.si.edu/portraits/research/search

The Smithsonian is celebrating the Year of Music with a wide variety of collection highlights and programs. To learn more, please visit: https://music.si.edu/smithsonian-year-music

Patricia H. Svoboda, Research Coordinator

Catalog of American Portraits, National Portrait Gallery

Bibliography:

Cheek, Leslie Jr., Director. Souvenir of the Exhibition Entitled Healy’s Sitters. Richmond: Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, 1950.

Coleman, Patrick, ed. The Art of Music. San Diego, CA, and New Haven, CT: San Diego Museum of Art in association with Yale University Press, 2015.

Fargis, Paul, and Sheree Bykofsky, et al. New York Public Library Performing Arts Desk Reference. New York, NY: Stonesong Press, Inc., Macmillan Company, and New York Public Library, 1994.

Fortune, Brandon. Eye to I: Self-Portraits from the National Portrait Gallery. Washington, D.C: National Portrait Gallery, Smithsonian Institution; Munich: Hirmer Verlag, 2019.

Gontar, Cybèle, ed. Salazar: Portraits of Influence in Spanish New Orleans, 1785-1802. New Orleans, LA: Ogden Museum of Southern Art and University of New Orleans Press, 2018.

Henderson, Amy, and Dwight Blocker Bowers. Red, Hot and Blue: A Smithsonian Salute to the American Musical. Washington, D.C.: National Portrait Gallery and National Museum of American History, in association with the Smithsonian Institution Press, 1996.

Kerrigan, Steven J. “Thomas Eakins and the Sound of Painting.” Paper presented at the James F. Jakobsen Graduate Conference, University of Iowa, 2012. https://gss.grad.uiowa.edu/system/files/Thomas%20Eakins%20and%20the%20Sound%20of%20Painting.pdf

Mazow, Leo G. Thomas Hart Benton and the American Sound. University Park, PA: Penn State University Press, 2012: http://www.psupress.org/books/titles/978-0-271-05083-6.html .

Ostendorf, Ann. “Music in the Early American Republic.” The American Historian (February 2019): 1-8.

https://www.oah.org/tah/issues/2019/february/music-in-the-early-american-republic/  

Phillips, Tom. Music in Art: Through the Ages. Munich and New York, NY: Prestel-Verlag, 1997.

Struble, John Warthen. History of American Classical Music: MacDowell through Minimalism. New York, NY: Facts on File Publishers, 1995.

Walden, Joshua S. Musical Portraits: The Composition of Identity in Contemporary and Experimental Music. New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2018.

Wilmerding, John, ed. Thomas Eakins. Washington, D.C. and London: National Portrait Gallery and Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993.

    

Celebrating American Archives Month at the Archives of American Gardens

What does the Archives of American Gardens do? We’re glad you asked! Although October is traditionally American Archives Month, the Archives of American Gardens (AAG) celebrated a bit early by hosting an open house event this past summer. Smithsonian Gardens staff as well as interns from across the Smithsonian were invited to view some highlights from the Archives and ask questions about what exactly AAG staff do. Upon arriving at the open house, visitors were greeted by a life-sized carrot-man hybrid, replicated from a nineteenth century trade card advertisement previously featured in the 2017-2018 “Cultivating America’s Gardens” exhibition at the National Museum of American History. Curated by museum specialists Kelly Crawford and Joyce Connolly, the exhibit featured many items from the AAG collections.

Trade card, C. Ribsam & Sons, Trenton, New Jersey, 1880s. 

Smithsonian Gardens, Horticultural Artifacts Collection.

Home to over 40 collections and over 150,000 photographs, AAG collects, preserves, and provides access to unique resources that document historical and contemporary American gardens and landscapes. At the open house, various examples of AAG’s materials were on display—including correspondence and seed packets from the W. Atlee Burpee & Company records.

Sample of collection holdings at the Archives of American Gardens open house, July 2019. 

Haley Steinhilber, photographer. 

“I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was cool to see all of the stuff laid out—like the photograph signed by Jacqueline Kennedy,” said SG summer intern Abby Kruthoffer. The former First Lady gifted the picture to landscape architect Perry Wheeler following his help with the design of the White House rose garden. The photograph was donated to AAG along with Wheeler’s papers in the 1990s. Museum specialist Joyce Connolly was on hand to answer questions about the objects as well as current AAG projects. Since AAG is a relatively small program within Smithsonian Gardens, she was happy for the opportunity to share more about the role that the Archives play within the organization.

Photograph of The White House Rose Garden, signed by Jacqueline Kennedy.
Smithsonian Institution, Archives of American Gardens, Perry Wheeler Collection

Don’t fret if you missed the opportunity to visit—you can virtually ‘tour’ thousands of  AAG images online through the Smithsonian Collections Search Center. Interested in getting involved? Share your own garden story at Community of Gardens, discover “mystery gardens” in the AAG collections, or help make collections more accessible through the Smithsonian Transcription Center. AAG is a resource for those interested in American horticultural and landscape heritage—meaning anyone can use or contribute to documenting this history, including you!

Haley Steinhilber
Archives of American Gardens Intern
Recipient of The Garden Club of America Scholarship in Garden History and Design for 2019

Reconciling Sexual Identity in Legacy Archival Collections

Perry Wheeler

It all began during a conversation about archival description with my mentor at the Archives of American Gardens, Kelly Crawford. We stumbled onto the topic of describing sexuality when I wondered aloud about the existence of LGBTQ-related records preserved in the collections. I was intrigued to learn that Perry Hunt Wheeler (1913-1989), a renowned landscape architect who worked on numerous private and public gardens in Washington, D.C. during the mid-20th century, was rumored to have had two long-term relationships with men, one of whom was in possession of Wheeler’s papers after his death. When we consulted the finding aid for Wheeler’s collection at AAG, however, we realized that nowhere in his biographical note did it mention the person he shared a home with for nearly 20 years, James M. Snitzler, or his other partner, James M. Stengle.

With my interest piqued, I started digging through accession records, biographical profiles, and digitized newspapers including the Washington Evening Star (thank you DCPL!) to construct an updated profile of Wheeler. Meryl Gordon’s 2017 biography, Bunny Mellon: The Life of an American Style Legend, helped frame Wheeler and Snitzler’s reputation in Georgetown’s “evening society circuit.” Gordon refers to Snitzler as Wheeler’s “companion” and mentions Mellon’s invitation to the two men to construct a home on her property in Middleburg, Virginia.

The Evening Star, Washington, D.C. October 9, 1948

Throughout the research process, Kelly and I discussed how to describe Wheeler’s connections to Snitzler and Stengle when the evidence of these relationships was so clearly covert. On that point, would we be “outing” the three men? A session at the 2018 Society of American Archivists’ conference addressed this dilemma, warning archivists against applying modern labels and instead providing context with the prevalent terms in use during a particular period in history.

Washington Evening Star, November 16, 1947

Following descriptive policies outlined in the Digital Transgender Archive, Kelly and I adopted the following language used to describe the living arrangement between Wheeler and Snitzler in the 1940s for the revised finding aid’s biographical note:

In 1947, he formed a 'bachelor household' in Georgetown with James Snitzler. Later, at the invitation of Rachel "Bunny" Lambert Mellon, he and Snitzler created a second home outside of Washington called "Spring Hill" on property owned by Mellon. Shortly after Snitzler's death in 1968, Wheeler moved permanently to Middleburg, Virginia and continued to travel, lecture, and consult with clients. Wheeler semi-retired in 1981 to 'Budfield,' a property in Rectortown, Virginia where he passed away in 1989, leaving his estate to his partner, James M. Stengle.

In 2019, I think we’ve reached a place where archives no longer claim complete neutrality. As Kelly pointed out, “cataloging is an open-ended and ongoing process.  You have to realize we come in with our own biases and impose our own interpretations. It’s our job to look at all of the materials and present the facts. Then others will look at it and put their own spin on it.” In short, all we know about Wheeler is from what we read in the newspapers, saw in photographs and correspondence, and learned through interview notes with Wheeler’s friends and colleagues. We can only present the evidence that Snitzler and Wheeler lived at the same address between 1947 and 1968 and that Snitzler left Wheeler a trust. After his death, Wheeler donated the trust to the Antiquarian Society in Snitzler’s name.

Studying the Perry Wheeler Collection, I discovered firsthand the importance of periodically revisiting and re-describing finding aids. When Wheeler’s collection arrived at AAG in 1993, the materials were rehoused but largely left in their original order by collections staff.  Very little within the boxes of records from Wheeler’s garden design records and personal papers suggested that he had any romantic attachments. Only by reading between the lines of the society pages in Washington’s newspapers and sifting through personal photographs did it become more apparent that Wheeler’s long-term relationships were closer partnerships.

Which brings me to my final lesson, imparted by archivist Bergis Jules and distilled over the last few weeks with the Perry Wheeler Collection: “The politics of what we’ve traditionally preserved means the archive is filled with silences, absences, and distortions, mostly affecting the legacies of the less privileged.” To say that Wheeler was less privileged would be a blatant falsehood. As a wealthy, white, professional man living with another man in D.C. during the Red and Lavender Scares, Wheeler was in a better position than most people at that time who were rumored to be homosexual. However, the unintentional erasure of Wheeler’s sexuality distorted his life in the context of the period in which he lived. For me, it brings up questions about whether his sexuality impacted his work life and how he (and Snitzler who worked for the State Department) escaped the scrutiny of the “gay witch hunts” during the Cold War. These are questions left unanswered by Perry Wheeler’s papers, perhaps to be answered by a future researcher. 


Haley Steinhilber
2019 Summer Intern
Archives of American Gardens 
Smithsonian Gardens


Further Reading:

Beth Page and Kate Fox, “Biography of Perry Hunt Wheeler (1913-1989),” Smithsonian Gardens. 2010.

Bergis Jules,“Confronting Our Failure of Care Around the Legacies of Marginalized People in the Archives,” Archivy, November 11, 2016.

Digital Transgender Archive


Erin Baucom,  An Exploration into Archival Descriptions of LGBTQ Materials. The American Archivist: Spring/Summer 2018, Vol. 81, No. 1, pp. 65-83.


Meryl Gordon, Bunny Mellon: The Life of an American Style Legend, Grand Central Publishing, 2017.

Michelle Peralta, “SAA Session Recaps: 101: Toward Culturally Competent Archival (Re) Description of Marginalized Histories.” September 11, 2018. 

Searching for Oldman: Museum Collaboration Across the Globe

Since 2010, a project has been underway at the National Museum of the American Indian to reunite archival records with our collections and reconstruct the provenance, or record of ownership, of objects. You can read more about what we refer to as the Retro-Accession Lot Project here. Our research began by utilizing our own resources in the NMAI Archive Center, the Museum of the American Indian - Heye Foundation Records, but has since grown to include archival resources at other institutions including one halfway around the world.

Early in the project it became evident that the history of the MAI, our predecessor institution, was intertwined with that of other organizations. It was also clear that the world of collecting Native American objects in the 20th century was a relatively small one. Many anthropologists and archaeologists worked for multiple institutions over the course of their lives; the result was that their papers were often spread between several locations. Objects for sale were offered to multiple institutions or collectors and if one potential buyer declined to purchase an item, another might scoop it up. For this reason, documentation about these transactions may exist in multiple archives. We knew that for some objects in our collection, the only way to get the full picture of their provenance was to expand the search to other institutions. This would also give us a better understanding of the interconnected network of dealers in Native American objects.

The George G. Heye Collection of North American Ethnology on display at the University Museum in 1910.
Photo Courtesy of the Penn Museum.

In 2015, we expanded our search for collections documentation to the University of Pennsylvania Museum Archives. In 1908, George Heye struck a deal to place his growing North American ethnology and archaeology collections at the University Museum in Philadelphia. There, the collections were cared for and exhibited in two galleries from 1909 until 1916 when Heye withdrew them to create the MAI, much to the dismay of the University Museum staff, who believed he would donate his collection to their museum. George Hubbard Pepper and Mark Raymond Harrington, who would later join the MAI staff, were employed at the University Museum to care for the Heye collection, conduct research and collect additional objects. Due to these relationships, the Penn Museum archives hold documentation from this early period of Heye’s collecting. 

Surprisingly, correspondence in the Penn archives between Heye and George Byron Gordon, the University Museum’s director, pointed to a new connection. In a letter to Gordon dated July 19, 1909, Heye wrote that he had in his possession “a British Columbia painted skin from Oldman.” This led to the discovery of an incredibly rich archival collection on the other side of the world.

I recognized the name Oldman from Museum of the American Indian catalog records: William Ockleford Oldman (1879–1949) was a British dealer in ethnographic art and European weaponry. He sold to museums and collectors throughout Europe and the United States, including George Heye. The NMAI collections include hundreds of objects recorded as purchased from Oldman, but we had no record of a 1909 purchase. Searching our collections database, I found a painted skin from British Columbia acquired in 1909 but there was no source named: its catalog card simply indicated that it was a purchase.

2/2063 Painted Skin from British Columbia purchased from W.O. Oldman in 1909 and its catalog card. Photo by Ernest Amoroso.

Digging deeper, I learned that Oldman was not only a dealer but also a collector. He sold his personal collection of Oceanic objects to the Government of New Zealand in 1948. This collection, including his business records, is now part of the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa in Wellington.

To learn more about these business records, I contacted Te Papa’s archives and received word that they had several of Oldman’s sale registers as well as his collection ledgers and correspondence. Their archivist, Jennifer Twist, kindly provided a few photographs of the material so I could evaluate the type of information included. One photo from Oldman’s ledger confirmed not only the sale of the painted skin in June 1909 to George Heye but other objects Heye had purchased at the same time. Based on the descriptions in Oldman’s ledgers, I succeeded in identifying several other NMAI objects that were described simply as purchases on their catalog cards. As an added bonus, Oldman had recorded the date he had purchased the items and from whom. The painted skin that began this search was purchased by Oldman from the J.C. Stevens Auction on February 16, 1909. Documentation at Te Papa confirmed the items’ association with Oldman but also provided starting points for research into his sources and the hands objects had traveled through.

W. O. Oldman Sale Register CA000228/001/0001 page 209, New Zealand Museum Te Papa Tongarewa

It became clear that the information in the Oldman ledgers was pertinent not only to NMAI and our provenance research project but also to other museums around the world that also hold collections purchased from Oldman. Gaining a better sense of who Oldman bought from also has the potential to improve our understanding of how Native American objects made their way to Europe in the first place.

To maximize the importance of the Oldman records to NMAI and to other institutions, we initiated a collaborative project with the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa to digitize the Oldman ledgers and make digital images accessible to the public. Te Papa has digitized five Oldman sale registers and two collection ledgers dating from 1902 to 1916. These collaborative research materials are now available for review on the Smithsonian Online Virtual Archive here . Since the ledgers date from the early 20th century and are handwritten, we have also begun a Smithsonian Transcription Center project to have them transcribed. Please take some time to check out this important project and become a volunteer!

Without the connections we have made with other institutions, research about the NMAI collections—including the Oldman objects—would quickly have reached a dead end. By researching relationships between early collectors, dealers, and museums, we can fill in some gaps in our catalog data and restore the connections that have long been broken between our objects and the individuals that made, used, or sold these items.

Many thanks to Alessandro Pezzati and Eric Schnittke for providing access and guidance during research at the Penn Museum Archives and to Jennifer Twist, Mike O’Neill, and Victoria Leachman at the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa for their hard work in collaborating with us on this project.

Maria Galban, Collections Documentation Manager
National Museum of the American Indian