The American Arts and Crafts Movement Gets Its Due

St. Petersburg, Fl

By Lisa Lippincott

Let it be said, first of all, that the Museum of the American Arts and Crafts Movement (MAACM) is a niche, destination museum. So niche, in fact, that it’s the only one of its kind in the world, and many would say that its presence is long overdue.

While dates can be a little slushy, the Museum considers the arts and crafts movement in America to have been in existence from roughly 1890 to 1930. In the simplest terms, the movement began in England as a philosophical and aesthetic rebellion against industrialism, banality, and ornamental excess. Championing a revival of artisan-crafted goods, a sparer, more practical sensibility, and thoughtful, measured embellishment, the crusade rippled outward, and upon reaching U.S. shores it caught fire, enjoying wide expression here.

Rudy Ciccarello, a passionate collector of American arts and crafts movement artifacts and the man behind the museum, is an Italian-born philanthropist who made his fortune as a pioneering pharmaceutical juggernaut. Arriving in the US in the late 1960s as a trade analyst at the Italian consulate in Boston, Ciccarello expanded on his education over time, earning degrees from Boston and Northeastern Universities—the latter in their school of pharmacy. After some years spent working for the former locally-based Jack Eckerd Corporation (more commonly known as Eckerd Drugs) the nascent entrepreneur left to form his own company, eventually growing it into the second-largest distributor of specialty pharmaceuticals in the country.

It should come as little surprise that a museum dedicated to a movement as design-forward as arts and crafts should be as beautifully realized as this one. Architect Alberto Alphonso’s airy, light-filled edifice, designed in close concert with Ciccarello and crafted in service to the collection, is itself a stunner, inside and out.

The “Ovoid,” (a massive, eye-catching, white-scaled architectural feature towering above the main entrance) was not dreamt up by chance; it’s a canny bit of foreshadowing. Its curving, inverted-vase silhouette was arrived at by averaging the forms found in the collection’s pottery holdings. It also contains four capsule galleries

(one on each exhibition floor) that house some of the crème of the collection.

Entering into the grand atrium, a lofty, well-lit space that rises five stories and terminates in a dramatic set of skylights, it’s impossible to miss the remarkable ringlet staircase at the opposite end of the expanse. Spiraling from the second floor to the fifth, it wears a creamy exoskeleton of Venetian plaster that took a team of four artisans an entire year to apply and then polish to perfection. Standing beneath the stairs and gazing upwards through the center, another clever element is revealed; the overlapping arcs resolve themselves into an approximation of a Mackintosh rose—a familiar motif created by renowned Scottish architect/designer Charles Rennie Mackintosh, who borrowed from, and in turn influenced, the arts and crafts movement. Let it be known that the Dali does not possess the only remarkable set of treads in town.

The first floor level contains a cozy reference library accessible by reservation and appropriately kitted-out in quarter-sawn oak millwork and furnishings, including coffered ceilings, leather-topped study tables, wainscoting and, of course, bookcases. The shelves contain a selection of period publications as well as contemporary materials focusing on the arts and crafts era. Many of the items in the thoughtfully-curated gift shop relate closely to the collection, including a massive, seven-volume hardbound catalog of its lavishly-documented holdings. The Arts Café, a charming, counter-service eatery bedecked with Eero Saarinen tulip chairs, dishes up sweets, sandwiches, flatbreads, and more. I was delighted to find that a limited cocktail menu is also on offer, because few things are as refreshing as a crisp gin and tonic when the out-of-doors goes masquerading as a sauna.

The exhibition galleries begin on the second floor, and, as one might expect, they are pleasingly spare and highly-presentational. Each floor is predominately devoted to one or two segments of the collection, though there is some intermixing. There are several environmental installations, but most objects are displayed singly, inviting the viewer to consider each table, each lamp, each vase as a work of art unto itself, elevated well beyond its practical purpose. The museum has far more to it than can be covered in this brief article, so I will preface the following descriptions with this: you must go and experience it for yourself, and if you can, get a docent tour. There are fascinating back stories to many of the objects, and much to be learned about the social conditions of the day. The collection itself serves as an excellent primer on the basis of good, solid design, the knowledge of which has saved many an object from the pits of vulgarity.

Dedicated primarily to architects of the period, the second floor is home to many standout artifacts including an elegant section of stairs rescued from the Adler and Sullivan-designed Chicago Stock Exchange, which fell to the wrecking ball in 1972. Numerous splendid specimens of Frank Lloyd Wright windows, furniture, and decorative objects are on display. The lavishly-carved redwood entry hall of the Greene and Greene-designed James Culbertson house, evicted from the home during a bout of remodeling, can also be found here, meticulously reassembled in it’s entirety—minus the front door which is a faithful reproduction. The swaddlingly dim, organic nature of this particular room, combined with its unusually broad, squat doors, might put one in mind of a certain Tolkein novel, but it is a marvel nonetheless. Other Greene and Greene objects figure prominently in the collection as well, many demonstrating an elegant, strongly Japanese-in-

A special exhibition space currently focusing on metalwork covers the gamut from furniture hardware to lighting and much in between. A sizeable newel-post urn by Frank Lloyd Wright and a tremendous Greene and Greene lantern represent two recently-acquired specimens in this temporary, albeit extended, exhibition. Boasting one of the largest examples by various designers and makers sprinkled throughout the museum.

The tile and faience collection is similarly robust, with both individual and installed tiles on view. One of the showpieces of the collection is the “Iris Bathroom” a petite, perfectly-preserved lady’s oasis (circa 1914) entirely covered in both “off-the shelf” and spired aesthetic. collections of American art pottery on permanent display, the MAACM has excellent representation of many of the most important and highly-respected makers of the day: Newcom, Grueby, Rookwood, and others.

The third floor lighting galleries are not only a celebration of artistry, they are mercurial love letters to electrification. In the then-recent move away from flame illumination, makers were experimenting with fetching ways to tame the harsh glare of incandescent bulbs, and wicker, copper, mesh, and, most notably, leaded glass, were all artfully pressed into service.

In keeping with the chaste, naturalistic leanings of the time, sinuous forms, silky-matte glazes and tranquil, organic tones dominate. While a large portion of the fourth floor is devoted to their display, there are stellar custom-designed tiles from the Grueby Faience and Tile Company. As was the case with the Culberson hall, the renovating homeowners recognized that, while not to their taste, the room was of significance and they patiently allowed its meticulous salvation.

The fifth floor furniture collection, mostly simple, sturdy and wonderfully clean of line, is largely a testament to the hardiness of quarter-sawn oak. After nearly a century of use, the tables and cabinets still stand square and ready to serve for a further hundred years, if asked to do so. There are numerous examples of Stickley, Roycroft, and a hefty percentage of the total (though modest) output of the Byrdcliffe Arts Colony. And, having grown up near his rambling studios in southeastern Pennsylvania, it was a lovely surprise to see the honorable inclusion of a stupendous conference set by George Nakashima circa 1980s. A hero among contemporary woodworkers, the late master embodied the arts and crafts ethic to a T, fully honoring the integrity of his materials and elevating what many before him perceived as flaws into features.

If you go, and you should, the MAACM is open Tuesday through Saturday from 10:00 am until 4:00 pm, and from noon until 4:00 pm on Sunday; they are closed Mondays. In a smart bit of planning, the museum has its own garage with ample on-site parking. Please visit the website at www.museumaacm. org for tiered pricing and other admission details. •