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Despite the abundance of literature that exists regarding the
career of Louis Comfort Tiffany, little serious attention has
been paid thus far to his work in mosaic. This is in no small
part determined by public perception of mosaic as an art form:
dry, Byzantine and most often associated with ecclesiastical
settings. Certainly the bulk of Tiffany’s work in this
medium tends to confirm these impressions. The vast majority
of his works in mosaic tend to be either located in churches,
or else mimic the flattened Byzantine format despite their secular
placement and themes. However, a small body of Tiffany's work
radically broke with this tradition and sought, for the first
time, to endow the medium with a sense of pictorial depth by
experimenting with both linear and atmospheric perspective.
The culmination of these experiments is evident in The Dream
Garden mosaic [figure 1], installed in the Curtis Building
in Philadelphia in 1916, about which Tiffany stated:
I trust it may stand in the years to come for a development
in glassmaking and its application to art which will give
to students a feeling that in this year of nineteen hundred
and fifteen something worthy has been produced for the benefit
of mankind, and that it may serve as an incentive for others
to carry even further the true mission of mosaic. [1]
Although his work in mosaic dated back to 1889 with the interior
design for the Havemeyer House, it is in the first two decades
of the twentieth century that Tiffany seemed to solidify an
artistic vision for mosaics based upon a faithful rendering
of pictorial space. The Garden Landscape and Fountain
(1905-15) at The Metropolitan Museum of Art [figure 2], and
the Mosaic Curtain for the Mexican National Theatre
(1911) [figure 3], two extant commissions which preceded The
Dream Garden, can be used to trace this trajectory, demonstrating
a continued reliance on the modernization of materials even
while preserving a fervently anti-modern aesthetic sensibility.
One of the difficulties in examining any aspect of Tiffany’s
career in terms of modernity is the inherent contradiction created
by his revolutionary exploration of materials when compared
to his rather conservative employment of them. His artistic
career, which spanned six decades and saw numerous developments
in the arts, remained almost anachronistically singular in its
concerns. This longevity is the source, in many ways, of the
tension between innovation and conservatism one finds in his
oeuvre. What seemed an inspired, fresh approach to interiors
and the materials used within them in the middle of the 1870s
had, by the 1910s, become passé and regressive. The opulence
of the aesthetic movement and its concern for color, pattern
and texture remained a hallmark of Tiffany’s style despite
the changing artistic environment around him. Tiffany’s
artistic vision, as Martin Eidelberg has noted, “was firmly
rooted in the historic revivalism which dominated much of mid-nineteenth-century
design…inspiration [was] drawn from the experience of
past European styles and from foreign cultures.”[2] Rather
than adapt and respond to emerging modernity in the United States
and abroad Tiffany seemed remarkably unfazed by the developments,
although at times he decried them. A notable example is his
1895 commission by Siegfried Bing to translate one painting
each by artists Bonnard, Vuillard, Toulouse Lautrec and Ranson
into glass. Despite the completion of these windows, there is
no discernable visual impact on Tiffany’s style, or in
the productions of his staff.[3] Rather, he continued in the
same vein, unmoved and unchanged by the art world around him.
Beyond merely being attributable to his age or wealth, Tiffany’s
rejection of modernism clearly relates to the aesthetic vision
he had forged for himself during the early part of his career.
Returning from Paris in 1913, for example, he stated, “the
cubists are hammering away, but I think they will peter out,”[4]
and later in the Evening Telegraph noted “they call it
modern because it can’t be called art.”[5] Even
the success of other glass artists at the turn of the century,
like Blanche Ostertag and Orlando Giannini, whose Japonisme-tinged
mosaic work garnered them critical acclaim at the Chicago Architectural
Club exhibition of 1900, had no noticeable impact on Tiffany's
work. He retained the sensibilities of the aesthetic era far
longer than other artists of his time and rejected the penchant
for flatness and two-dimensionality that modernism embraced.
The significant development that preceded and enabled these
mosaics was Tiffany’s advancements in rendering perspective
and atmosphere in stained-glass windows. His mastery of perspective
in his landscape or ecclesiastical windows should be seen along
the continuum of his experimentation in glass and constant desire
to advance the medium. Aside from their material construction,
the two mediums have little in common in terms of technique.
At the time Tiffany began experimenting with glass, in fact,
landscapes were believed to be a wholly unsuitable subject for
that medium. As Harper’s New Monthly Magazine
noted in 1879:
A glass-painting is incapable of those nice gradations of
color and of light and shade which are indispensable for close
imitations of nature, and for producing the full effect of
atmosphere and distance. And even if this defect could be
overcome, the lead and metal work would infallably ruin the
picture. For these reasons it would be improper to select
landscape, for instance, as the principal subject of a glass-painting.[6]
It was not a foregone conclusion that issues of perspective
would be solved; rather, it should be understood that Tiffany
was working to explore the full potential of the glass, relentlessly
transforming the material and adapting its compositional possibilities.
It is his spirit of inventiveness, rather than any particular
achievement in window making, that should be emphasized. By
1899, for instance an art reviewer from the New York Times
visiting the exhibition of Favrile glass at Tiffany’s
New York Showroom noted that “some of the windows done
in this glass as well as some of the other objects shown, have
a play of color and a transparency and vitality which are remarkable.
The windows in particular have really the effect of beautiful
paintings, and in distance, atmosphere and color are hardly
surpassed by the products of the brush.”[7] The main obstacle,
however, in rendering perspective in mosaic, is the lack of
plating or overlapping of segments that is possible in the windows.
This trait is well illustrated by Tiffany's window Magnolia
and Irises (c. 1908) at The Metropolitan Museum of Art,
in which he softened the outline of the mountain by placing
the leading behind the primary glass of the pictorial plane.
The magnolia blossoms, which seem to flutter on the branches,
are the result of folded and manipulated glass. These blossoms,
made from sheets of glass worked as it is cooling, project from
the plane of the image—a trait that is not appropriate
for mosaic.
While Tiffany demonstrated a willingness to defy the prevailing
attitudes regarding the suitability of glass to landscape subjects
in his landscape windows of the late 1890s and early 1900s,
it is within the glass vessels of this period that he developed
the formal vocabulary necessary to execute this vision. The
arrival of Arthur John Nash in 1892 and the subsequent construction
of the Tiffany Furnaces in Corona, Long Island shortly thereafter
heralded a new era in Tiffany’s glass production that
led to the development of his trademark Favrile glass. [8] Nash
was a talented artisan who had been chief designer and manager
of White House Glass Works in Wordsley, England beginning c.1875-80;
he later joined Dennis Glass works c.1887-90. It is in this
time period, in February 1892, that Tiffany dissolved Louis
C. Tiffany, Incorporated and formed Tiffany Glass and Decorating
Company. The shift in manufacturing to Favrile glass in 1893
under the stewardship of Arthur J. Nash resulted in a radical
new material whose possibilities changed the design of Tiffany
mosaics. As a company brochure suggested, “through its
limitless range of color, diversity of tone and endless variety
of texture…this new glass… is particularly and peculiarly
fitted for windows and mosaics.”[9] As the firm clearly
acknowledged, “Tiffany Favrile Glass not only complies
with every condition required in mosaic work, but it goes further
and furnishes the mosaicist with an unlimited range of colors,
so that he never has to resort, like the workers of old, to
contrasting colors in order to supply the deficiency of his
palette.”[10] By broadening the spectrum of color available,
Tiffany’s new glass expanded the compositional and illusionistic
options that could be executed within the medium.
The first tangible evidence of these developments evident
in mosaic occurs in his Garden Landscape and Fountain
which the Metropolitan Museum has dated between 1905-15. Despite
the uncertainty in dating that the ten-year range implies, it
would seem that this example is stylistically the earliest,
and served as a precursor to the larger commissions to follow.
The Garden Landscape explored pictorial space in a
new way precisely because Tiffany was actively exploring the
tonal and textural possibilities of his Favrile glass. As the
writer H. L. Vivian noted, “Mr. Tiffany, in the making
of Favrile glass, has achieved the delicate colours for glass
mosaic demanded by modern taste, so that we have now a magnificent
series of pinks, greys, grey-blues, greenish yellow and yellow.
These tones were impossible to reproduce in the old mosaics
where only the primary colours were used.”[11] Tiffany
exploited the three main characteristics of his glass: clarity,
color and surface, thus expanding the pictorial possibilities
of the medium. The border for the fountain [figure 4] provides
a remarkably clear illustration of these features and of the
effects that are possible by altering them. Clarity as a feature
gives the glass a sense of depth that recedes into the picture
plane. One looks through the square, clear tesserae and notice
the variation and texture of the gold foil that backs each piece.
The clear casing over the gold gives a sense of depth to the
color that is markedly different from the milky-green opalescent
sections that surround them. These tesserae are pure color,
and seem to sit on the plane of the picture, offering a neutral
environment that neither pulls into the wall nor comes off of
it. By contrast, the iridescence of the pieces surrounding the
central squares actively asserts a sense of surface. The metallic
glazes create a spatial illusion that draws these tones away
from the picture plane and activates the surface when lit.
For some, though, the reliance on material detracted from
the artistry of the creation. As critic and rival mosaicist
Charles Rollinson Lamb noted, “as much as we may admire
the beauty of the glass, the artistic use of it by the designer
is the main thing to be considered. What should we think of
a painter who should lay more emphasis on the grinding of his
pigments than upon the composition of his picture?”[12]
Professional rivalries aside, it is clear that Tiffany’s
emphasis on the primacy of glass to the composition enabled
him to achieve effects that were unavailable to artisans using
lesser materials. By altering the combinations of these three
traits - color, clarity and surface - Tiffany was able to realize
a sense of pictorial illusion and atmospheric perspective previously
unattained in mosaic.
Tiffany’s next major landscape mosaic, the Mosaic
Theater Curtain (1911) for the Mexican National Theater,
built upon the developments of the Garden Landscape and expanded
them to a much larger scale. Not only was the physical size
of the commission increased, but the expanded pictorial space
allowed for a more dramatic representation of linear and atmospheric
perspective. Instead of the shallow, measured recession into
space evident in the Garden Landscape, one finds a
foreground with fir trees “in bold relief” and colorful
leaves of Bouganvillia and Aralia, which Tiffany insisted created
a “picture truthfully portraying the charm of the country.”[13]
The middle ground was essentially a void, and vast characterless
plains lead the viewers’ eyes into the volcanoes in the
distance. Depth was achieved by a softening of line and a reduction
of color intensity. The quality of illusionistic depth that
Favrile Glass could render allowed it, Tiffany Studios claimed,
not only to equal but to surpass in effect the art of painting.
As the studio’s promotional pamphlet suggested:
On viewing the curtain the spectator is impressed with the
deftness of the artisans at the studios who executed this
poem in glass. The minutest details, such as the stem of a
flower or the needle of a fir tree are as realistically pictured
as the glistening sides of the snow covered mountains. The
completed curtain illustrates the decorative and ornamental
possibilities of the Tiffany Favrile Glass. Its opalescence,
iridescence, and the beauty of its finish lend a touch of
reality to landscape scenes and pictures of natural beauty
that cannot be obtained as effectively through other mediums.[14]
The curtain was displayed in Tiffany Studio’s New York
showroom before it was shipped, where critics praised the effects
not only of the glass, but of the artistry of the execution
as well. A reviewer from The New York Times
noted: “The artists who made the studies for the final
composition are to be congratulated for the result of their
labors. The picture, regarded simply as a decoration, irrespective
of the feats of Craftsmanship involved, having great beauty
and a moving quality of color.”[15] In addition, the segmented
bronze work, which mimicked the effect of window mullions, further
reinforced the notion of gazing into a picturesque landscape.
Considering both the physical distance at which the audience
was placed and the sharp break between the foreground and background
compositional elements, the Mosaic Theater Curtain
emphasized a very traditional idea of pictorial space in which
the composition broke through the wall and became a window onto
the outside world. Leslie Nash, who managed the Furnaces after
his father Arthur John Nash, noted that “the curtain was
so important to us that no book on Favrile glass could be written
without mention of it.”[16]
Despite its smaller size of forty-nine feet by sixteen feet,
The Dream Garden, installed in 1916 in the Curtis Building,
Philadelphia, represented the culmination of Tiffany’s
experiment with perspectival space in mosaic. Though the success
of the project was paramount in Tiffany’s mind, the commission
of the mosaic had more to do with providence than preference.
During the construction of the building, the architect had originally
consulted muralist Edwin A. Abbey, notable for his Quest
for the Holy Grail (1890-1902) in the Boston Public Library,
and commissioned him to decorate the entrance space.[17] Abbey
had “selected his subject, made his preliminary studies,
and was about to begin work on a mural when his death occurred.”[18]
Maxfield Parrish, who was completing murals in the upper floors
of the building and whose work was regularly featured in Curtis
publications, was asked to undertake the commission but refused
because of time constraints. It was eventually agreed that he
would provide a small painting, which would then be executed
in glass mosaic by Tiffany Studios. The successful exhibition
and subsequent critical acclaim of the Mosaic Theatre Curtain
were the determining factors in awarding the commission. As
the company noted, “The exhibition of the curtain called
forth expressions of the greatest enthusiasm from the artists
and connoisseurs who saw it…here, then, obviously, was
the solution to the difficulty which the mural had seemed to
present to the Directors of the Curtis Publishing Company.”[19]
The firing of the glass and construction of the mosaic continued
from 1915 into 1916 and was supervised by Tiffany himself and
his assistant Joseph Briggs.[20]
The Dream Garden represented for Tiffany the culmination
of the poetic possibilities of glass mosaic, achieved through
both relentless experimentation in the medium and a singular
focus on creating illusionistic space. Ironically, while the
previous examples of this trend were the result of Tiffany’s
own artistic sensibility, or those of his studio, The Dream
Garden’s success is inevitably linked to Maxfield
Parrish’s style and its suitability to the medium. The
hard lines and photographic quality of Parrish’s painting
in conjunction with his penchant for glowing color made Favrile
glass mosaic the perfect vehicle for The Dream Garden’s
execution. In addition, the formal qualities of the work, such
as the highly-detailed foreground and sweeping recession into
space, mirrored the Mosaic Curtain’s composition and allowed
Tiffany to readdress similar formal issues. However, unlike
the Mosaic Curtain, The Dream Garden’s
effect was predicated not merely on the imitation of nature
but on endowing nature with romantic, glowing color. The combination
of the romantic and realistic sensibilities of the mosaic were
particularly pronounced when Tiffany displayed the work in his
studios before it was installed in Philadelphia. As one reviewer
noted, “one sits in the darkness to observe it, and the
light behind the spectator is gradually increased until dawn
is changed to noonday, then to late afternoon, then to moonlit
night…The textures are all closely imitated, and, of course
the changing light gives as in theatrical lighting the illusion
of reality.”[21] These realistic effects were further
heightened by a more complex and technically proficient handling
of the glass.
While Tiffany had manufactured glass specifically for the
Mosaic Theater Curtain, it is in The Dream Garden
that these innovations come to fruition and crystallize the
meeting of technical proficiency and artistic vision that remains
the hallmark of the landscape mosaics. Each tesserae and sectilae
performed distinct functions; creating optical illusions which
represented material forms, mimicked the effects of atmosphere,
and indicated the change of light across the scene. Whereas
in the Garden Landscape Fountain Tiffany relied on
segmented sectiliae for the blossoms of flowers, The Dream
Garden featured numerous multi-colored blossoms constructed
from a single piece of glass. [figure 5] Utilizing the ‘paperweight’
technique, which he had employed in his blown glass since the
late 1890s, [figure 6] Tiffany was able to construct individual
blossoms full of veining and shading without having to place
mortar lines within the flower. At the left-hand side of the
mosaic, the iridescent blue glass creates a pool of water which
shimmers behind the plant forms, each leaf mottled and varied
with hues ranging from an olive green to a deep red. Tiffany’s
sensitivity to the effects of the color and texture of the glass
are likewise evident in the construction of the main tree, whose
branches reach convincingly back into the pictorial space—demonstrating
a sense of recession and of volume not fully realized in his
other landscape mosaics. The use of small sectilae among the
branches allowed Tiffany to vary the orientation of the pieces
as well as the color in order to create unparalleled effects
of texture and shading which heightened the sense of pictorial
depth. [figure 7] The same strategy can be seen in the distant
mountains, whose varied color and complex structuring create
the effect of the sun setting over jagged rocks. While color
is the primary indicator of the position of the rocks, the varied
pattern of the sectilae within both the light and dark sections
of the mountains further amplifies the sense of structure within
these color-fields. In addition to altering both the structure
and color of the sectilae within the flowing water in the right-hand
side of the mosaic, Tiffany manipulated the iridescence of the
glass to create the impression of mist.[figure 8] This carefully
crafted detail, created by changing both the color of the glass
and its surface effect, lends further credence to the illusion
of depth by allowing the viewer to look through the effervescence
of the atmosphere to the solid forms of the rocks behind.
While the commission clearly demonstrates the peculiarly anti-modern
aesthetic impulses of Tiffany Studios, it also serves to highlight
their technical achievements in glass color, and in rendering
pictorial depth. The New York Times stated that:
as a phase in the development in modern taste it cannot
fail to be interesting. It is interesting, too, to reflect
that so special and technical art as that practiced with the
medium of glass should within our own generation have run
the scale from the medieval type as shown in such work as
Miss Armstrong did for the windows in Mrs. Belmont’s
armory, through the La Farge glass to this amazing realism
at the Tiffany Studios…[22]
The commission would prove to be the last landscape mosaic
Tiffany executed and signified the culmination of his vision.
Changing artistic trends, the outbreak of World War One, the
subsequent decline of opportunities for such work, as well as
his advancing age were likely factors that forced this cessation.
Bankruptcy, a reduction in innovation and the general sense
that perhaps he had outlived his artistic relevance marked his
later years, and his death in 1933 precipitated the closing
of his remaining industries.
Although Tiffany has been frequently aligned
with Art Nouveau and an emerging modern sensibility, this relationship
is tenuous at best, and ignores substantial parts of Tiffany's
oeuvre in order to secure an American artist’s place within
the cannon of early modern design.[23] As these mosaics demonstrate,
Tiffany’s predilections turned more to the mimicry of
nature than to an abstraction of line and form.[24] His continued
innovation in glass was tempered either by a reliance
on historical models, as seen in his early interiors and windows,
or by the fidelity to nature one witnesses in his later windows
and landscape mosaics. The artistic impulses that informed The
Dream Garden were decidedly anti-modern and rejected whole-heartedly
the dominant aesthetics that had emerged in Cézanne’s
wake for nearly two decades. In reexamining these often-neglected
works, a more precise picture of Tiffany’s artistic ambitions
emerges which, despite its contradictions, is instructive in
illustrating the full scope of artistic expression possible
within the early modernist period. For patron and artist alike,
The Dream Garden represented a physical and aesthetic
retreat from the frenetic pace of the modern world.
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