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Biedermeier: The Invention of Simplicity
Milwaukee Art Museum
700 N. Art Museum Drive
Through January 1, 2007
Milwaukee Art Museum
700 N. Art Museum Drive
Through January 1, 2007
A Complex Simplicity: Biedermeier at the Milwaukee Art Museum
Anyone who has marveled at the pristine beauty of useful objects in the
IKEA catalog, or felt a twinge of aesthetic pleasure while making their
morning coffee in a Braun will love this show. The inception of the idea
that everyday things in our houses can be made with the same craft and
beauty of museum pieces can reasonably be traced back to the
Biedermeier movement, or so the tagline of this exhibition, “The
Invention of Simplicity” would have us believe. Certainly, things beautiful
for their functional simplicity existed before the Biedermeier style, but
from 1815 to the mid 19th century, design in Germany, Austria and
Denmark exhibited a distinct elegance and economy of form. The
hundreds of works in this show definitely merit attention, and will reward
its viewers.
Like the names of most art movements, the term was given to the
period after it was over. Biedermeier isn’t a real person or place, but the
name of a fictional character with inflated literary ambitions made-up by
a couple of amateur satirists for the mid-19th century German popular
press. A bit of historical context helps explain the sudden appearance
of Biedermeier in the early 19th century. Napoleon’s failed claims to
world conquest left some pretty bad cultural vibes about things French,
especially the Neo-Classicism that ruled architecture and the decorative
arts in Paris. Neo-Gothic stylings in Britain ran a close second. This
kind of highly un-original historicism was tiring, its furnishings looked
uncomfortable and ponderous, and like the Emperor they were made
for, they demanded courtly respect. There was little that was fun in
these imperial and medieval make-overs, and as the exhibition catalog
points out, these objects were seen as increasingly disingenuous and
disconnected from people’s actual lives. Biedermeier, by contrast,
seemed more real. Besides, it was silky smooth, easy on the eyes, and
begs to be touched. It was made for a post-Napoleonic nouveau riche
culture, reveling in newfound freedoms and looking for a little luxury of
their own. It lent itself to a kind of “quality of contemporary expression”
that was not so much royal, but one of a rising middle class living and
working in places below that level. For their tastes, pretentious
showiness gave way to a simpler and more personal practicality.
IKEA catalog, or felt a twinge of aesthetic pleasure while making their
morning coffee in a Braun will love this show. The inception of the idea
that everyday things in our houses can be made with the same craft and
beauty of museum pieces can reasonably be traced back to the
Biedermeier movement, or so the tagline of this exhibition, “The
Invention of Simplicity” would have us believe. Certainly, things beautiful
for their functional simplicity existed before the Biedermeier style, but
from 1815 to the mid 19th century, design in Germany, Austria and
Denmark exhibited a distinct elegance and economy of form. The
hundreds of works in this show definitely merit attention, and will reward
its viewers.
Like the names of most art movements, the term was given to the
period after it was over. Biedermeier isn’t a real person or place, but the
name of a fictional character with inflated literary ambitions made-up by
a couple of amateur satirists for the mid-19th century German popular
press. A bit of historical context helps explain the sudden appearance
of Biedermeier in the early 19th century. Napoleon’s failed claims to
world conquest left some pretty bad cultural vibes about things French,
especially the Neo-Classicism that ruled architecture and the decorative
arts in Paris. Neo-Gothic stylings in Britain ran a close second. This
kind of highly un-original historicism was tiring, its furnishings looked
uncomfortable and ponderous, and like the Emperor they were made
for, they demanded courtly respect. There was little that was fun in
these imperial and medieval make-overs, and as the exhibition catalog
points out, these objects were seen as increasingly disingenuous and
disconnected from people’s actual lives. Biedermeier, by contrast,
seemed more real. Besides, it was silky smooth, easy on the eyes, and
begs to be touched. It was made for a post-Napoleonic nouveau riche
culture, reveling in newfound freedoms and looking for a little luxury of
their own. It lent itself to a kind of “quality of contemporary expression”
that was not so much royal, but one of a rising middle class living and
working in places below that level. For their tastes, pretentious
showiness gave way to a simpler and more personal practicality.
| Chair, Vienna, 1830/35; Chair, Vienna, ca. 1820; Chair, Vienna, ca. 1830. |
If the meat of this exhibition is furniture, and it is, chairs
dominate. You might say the centerpiece of the show is a
pair of walls, each with seven chairs ascending and
descending like notes on a sheet of music. If chairs were
people, poise and grace elegance come to mind. The
innovative backrests, each different, give them distinct
personalities, and yet they all part of the same
conversation. The variety of these forms is astonishing.
They are more like contour line drawings than three-
dimensional objects, almost more pleasurable to look at
than to sit in. The 20th century painter Henri Matisse
captured this idea when he used furniture to explain what
he wanted in his paintings. “What I am after,” he said, “is an
art of balance, of purity and serenity . . . something like a
good armchair which provides relaxation from physical
fatigue.”
dominate. You might say the centerpiece of the show is a
pair of walls, each with seven chairs ascending and
descending like notes on a sheet of music. If chairs were
people, poise and grace elegance come to mind. The
innovative backrests, each different, give them distinct
personalities, and yet they all part of the same
conversation. The variety of these forms is astonishing.
They are more like contour line drawings than three-
dimensional objects, almost more pleasurable to look at
than to sit in. The 20th century painter Henri Matisse
captured this idea when he used furniture to explain what
he wanted in his paintings. “What I am after,” he said, “is an
art of balance, of purity and serenity . . . something like a
good armchair which provides relaxation from physical
fatigue.”
clockwise from left: Chair, Vienna,
ca. 1825; Chair, Vienna, ca. 1825;
Chair, Vienna, 1830/35; Chair,
Vienna, 1826.
ca. 1825; Chair, Vienna, ca. 1825;
Chair, Vienna, 1830/35; Chair,
Vienna, 1826.
The exhibition showpiece is the Viennese
Daybed of walnut veneer with maple inlay, a
sleek and sensuous essay in wood and textile.
Inspecting this work on my hands and knees, I
admit to letting out a few aesthetic “wows” as I
marveled at its seemingly impossible
construction. I am in full agreement with Steve,
one of my students, who said, “I was amazed at
the craftsmanship of each piece.” Form,
however, does not follow function in much of this
furniture. Rather, melodic harmonies of
materials, color, and textures play a kind of visual
music. The perfectly symmetrical veneered
surfaces of the architecture-like Writing Cabinets
with their countless locked compartments
inspire awe and respect. How could one NOT
compose beautiful lines of prose or poetry
seated at a gilded and ebonized desk of ash,
maple and yew, with brass and copper
marquetry?
Industrial technology plays a role in all this, and
Biedermeier does, after all, takes place mid-
stream in the Industrial Revolution. In 1817, for
example, a machine for the precision cutting of
veneer was developed in Vienna, and also, coil-
spring upholstery was invented in the early
1820s in that same city. Also in Germany at this
time, Michael Thonet was forcing wood into
curlicue patterns under industrial steam
pressure that would inform the Art Nouveau style
at the end of the century. One of his earliest
chairs made from that process can be seen in
the show, as can a chair made totally of cast-iron
by the neo-classical architect Karl Friedrich
Schinkel. But these two objects seem to be out
of the context of this show. Biedermeier objects
were largely hand-made. The style can be said
to be the last gasp of hand crafted furniture in
workshops before its full-blown take-over by
industrial production in factories.
Daybed of walnut veneer with maple inlay, a
sleek and sensuous essay in wood and textile.
Inspecting this work on my hands and knees, I
admit to letting out a few aesthetic “wows” as I
marveled at its seemingly impossible
construction. I am in full agreement with Steve,
one of my students, who said, “I was amazed at
the craftsmanship of each piece.” Form,
however, does not follow function in much of this
furniture. Rather, melodic harmonies of
materials, color, and textures play a kind of visual
music. The perfectly symmetrical veneered
surfaces of the architecture-like Writing Cabinets
with their countless locked compartments
inspire awe and respect. How could one NOT
compose beautiful lines of prose or poetry
seated at a gilded and ebonized desk of ash,
maple and yew, with brass and copper
marquetry?
Industrial technology plays a role in all this, and
Biedermeier does, after all, takes place mid-
stream in the Industrial Revolution. In 1817, for
example, a machine for the precision cutting of
veneer was developed in Vienna, and also, coil-
spring upholstery was invented in the early
1820s in that same city. Also in Germany at this
time, Michael Thonet was forcing wood into
curlicue patterns under industrial steam
pressure that would inform the Art Nouveau style
at the end of the century. One of his earliest
chairs made from that process can be seen in
the show, as can a chair made totally of cast-iron
by the neo-classical architect Karl Friedrich
Schinkel. But these two objects seem to be out
of the context of this show. Biedermeier objects
were largely hand-made. The style can be said
to be the last gasp of hand crafted furniture in
workshops before its full-blown take-over by
industrial production in factories.
And what about the other items in this show, the viewer may ask? The
tight-laced, corseted dresses, straw bonnets, and those countless
paintings of object-packed, mostly unpopulated domestic interiors, or
the mountainous peasant landscapes? The message is clearly lost
on some viewers, like Erin, a MIAD Industrial Design student in my
History of Design class: “The paintings,” she wrote, “ . . . I did not find
them interesting, the dresses seemed lacy, poofy and the style
hindered and awkward, still stuck in the 1800s when (seen) in
comparison to the elegant lines of the furniture displayed.” The
connections among the disparate objects on display aren’t always
immediately apparent. However, some time with the beautifully
produced and intelligently written catalog can provide additional
perspective on the age of Biedermeier and its works in art and craft.
If Biedermeier is appealing to our century, it isn’t be the first time.
Witt-Dörring in his catalog essay discusses “the grandchildren of
Biedermeier,” the Vienna Session artists and designers who around
1900, looked back into its history for a style that would accommodate
20th century machine-made production of objects for everyday use. I
noted that things like the 1930s Art Deco sofas of Donald Desky at
Radio City Music Hall, or many post-modern chairs by the likes of
Philippe Starck or Michael Graves seem strikingly reminiscent to
objects in this show. Now, seen in our own century nearly two hundred
years after their creation, the Biedermeier paintings, furnishings and
fashions suggest a kind of Retro design ethic, looking backwards in
order to sort out the present.
So, hats off to Laurie Winters and the myriad of scholars and workers
who brought these pieces together for the Milwaukee Art Museum, the
exhibition’s only venue in this country. Whether to intellectualize, or
simple to savor these gorgeous forms and surfaces, this is an event
not to miss. The show runs through New Year’s Day here, and then
travels on to Vienna, Berlin and Paris.
- Jim Slauson
Jim Slauson is an instructor of art history and modern design at
the Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design.
Comments? Email comments@susceptibletoimages.com
tight-laced, corseted dresses, straw bonnets, and those countless
paintings of object-packed, mostly unpopulated domestic interiors, or
the mountainous peasant landscapes? The message is clearly lost
on some viewers, like Erin, a MIAD Industrial Design student in my
History of Design class: “The paintings,” she wrote, “ . . . I did not find
them interesting, the dresses seemed lacy, poofy and the style
hindered and awkward, still stuck in the 1800s when (seen) in
comparison to the elegant lines of the furniture displayed.” The
connections among the disparate objects on display aren’t always
immediately apparent. However, some time with the beautifully
produced and intelligently written catalog can provide additional
perspective on the age of Biedermeier and its works in art and craft.
If Biedermeier is appealing to our century, it isn’t be the first time.
Witt-Dörring in his catalog essay discusses “the grandchildren of
Biedermeier,” the Vienna Session artists and designers who around
1900, looked back into its history for a style that would accommodate
20th century machine-made production of objects for everyday use. I
noted that things like the 1930s Art Deco sofas of Donald Desky at
Radio City Music Hall, or many post-modern chairs by the likes of
Philippe Starck or Michael Graves seem strikingly reminiscent to
objects in this show. Now, seen in our own century nearly two hundred
years after their creation, the Biedermeier paintings, furnishings and
fashions suggest a kind of Retro design ethic, looking backwards in
order to sort out the present.
So, hats off to Laurie Winters and the myriad of scholars and workers
who brought these pieces together for the Milwaukee Art Museum, the
exhibition’s only venue in this country. Whether to intellectualize, or
simple to savor these gorgeous forms and surfaces, this is an event
not to miss. The show runs through New Year’s Day here, and then
travels on to Vienna, Berlin and Paris.
- Jim Slauson
Jim Slauson is an instructor of art history and modern design at
the Milwaukee Institute of Art and Design.
Comments? Email comments@susceptibletoimages.com
| Karl FriedrichSchinkel, Cast Iron Chair, Gleiwitz, ca. 1830 |
| Daybed, Vienna, 1825/30. |
| Writing Cabinet, Vienna, 1810/15. |
| Michael Thonet, Bentwood Chair, Boppard am Rhein, 1835/40. |