A small, self-standing clock that sits atop a pedestal is among the first objects one encounters in the International Arts and Crafts exhibition at the de Young Museum. The clock is modest compared to many of the objects that surround it. It’s scale and hand-painted wooden surfaces seem quaint next to the lush materials and exquisite handicraft seen elsewhere in the exhibit. The clock, designed by Englishman Charles Francis Annesley Voysey and made by Frederick Coote (case) and Camerer, Cuss and Co. (clock movement) between 1895 and 1896, might not have been memorable to me were it not for an adage that appears below the clock face, “TIME & TIDE WAIT FOR NO MAN.” This truism would be apt in the context of any historical exhibit, but concretized in a domestic use-object another truth emerges: many of the things made by people will long outlive their makers. This seems more inevitable than ironic. Still, in our age of disposability there is something improbable, even providential, about anything that lasts longer than the average human lifespan. Time and tide may indeed wait for no man, but collected and categorized the hundreds of mostly functional objects on display in the exhibit do wait for us—each new generation’s curiosity about the past.

Clock, 1895-1896
Designed by Charles Francis Annesley Voysey. Mahogany case made by Frederick Coote. Movement made by Camerer, Cuss and Co. © Victoria & Albert Museum/V&A Images.

The exhibition organized by the Victoria and Albert Museum in London hovers between a display of unique objects and didactic history—insisting on period dates and geographic distinctions, [the exhibit is broken into Britain (1880-1914), Continental Europe (1890-1914), United States (1890-1916) and Japan (1926-1945)] and biographical information about the major proponents of the movement (apparently William Morris, the Arts and Crafts patriarch, unable to find suitable furnishings for his home, founded his own company to fill the void, thus Morris & Co. http://www.william-morris.co.uk/ was born). At the same time there is very little given in the way of broader historical and cultural context. I suppose this is typical of art history, and it may not be the worst strategy. I did leave the exhibit anxious about my knowledge/memory of the history of art and world events, seeking to clarify a number of vagueries. Who were the Pre-Raphaelites again? When was Art Nouveau happening (France is conspicuously absent from the exhibit)? How was it different from Arts and Crafts? What characterized Victorian style? And how was that different from Edwardian? Why did it take so long for an Arts and Crafts movement to emerge in Japan? And what about World War I? I hardly know a thing about World War I!

Of course it is a mixture of history and art that drew me to the exhibition in the first place. So the questions of chronology and context can recede, did recede, into the shadows cast by particular objects that caught my attention. It’s not that history has nothing to do with my appreciation for the set of delicate, thin-walled glasses designed by Philip Webb and made by James Powell & Sons in 1860, just that history becomes an ambient element along with my imagination around what appears to me a thing that is in perfect proportion to the world. Admittedly the intended utility of the Arts and Crafts objects—the human scale required for “the integration of art into everyday life” appeals to me, but it’s not every rug, chair, or light fixture that I find compelling. There is something more. Like David Ireland’s Dumballs or Gordon Matta-Clark’s Cuttings, a genuine engagement with the material world that produces something ineffable, something transcendent.

I know “transcendent” is generally reserved for the likes of Rothko paintings, but I found several instances of transcendence in the International Arts and Crafts exhibit. Most profound to me were objects that strongly foreshadowed “form follows function” modernism: the glasses by Webb, an arm chair designed by Josef Hoffman and made by J & J Kohn in 1908, fire irons designed and made by Ernest Gimson in 1910, and perhaps most disarming, the typeface designed by Edward Johnston for the London Underground http://www.tfl.gov.uk/tube/ in 1916 (it’s still in use today!). With this last item, what is on display are the original, hand-inked, upper and lower-case sans serif alphabets, complete with drafting marks, corrections, three versions of the lowercase “g” and a note warning that the ink is not waterproof—traces of the designer’s hand. It's surprising that such contemporary looking objects were not only made, but imagined close to a hundred years ago.

Of course relative to the history of human activity the Arts and Crafts movement could be considered contemporary. Its closeness to us—the familiar forms and textures, and to a great extent its ideologies, make the Arts and Crafts movement seem at once quaint and relevant. One of the first modern movements, Arts and Crafts embraced personal expression, egalitarianism, and secular imagery. It also opposed the dehumanizing effects of industrialization, idealizing rural life and emphasizing handcraft. The more socialist ideals of the movement didn’t survive as Arts and Crafts became tailored to wealthier clients. The apex of which can be seen in the all-encompassing architecture of Frank Lloyd Wright and Greene and Greene. The highly skilled craftsperson working away in his shop, blissfully or not, simply cannot compete with factory production and mass marketing. It’s apples and oranges really. Ikea! And we find ourselves in a post-industrial world—hovering rather precariously above a deeply industrial infrastructure—where craft, in the Arts and Crafts sense, has become a hopelessly elitist notion.

Room re-creation, based on original drawings from Gustav Stickley's Craftsman Workshops. Designed and built by Jo Hormuth, Chicago Architectural Arts. Courtesy V&A, London.

Still, I’m able to take occasional pleasure in well made, beautiful objects, even if they are strictly “do not touch” (I set off one of the sensors simply by staring at it too long). Also part of the International Arts and Crafts exhibition is a room based on images from Gustav Stickley’s magazine The Craftsman, a sign carved by students of Frederick Meyer for the California School of Arts and Crafts (first named School of the California Guild of Arts and Crafts, later called California College of Arts and Crafts, and recently renamed California College of the Arts), a pair of “weed holders” designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, an unusual ceramic funerary urn in the shape of a Japanese building (I’m unable to remember the maker’s name), and a Japanese Mingei (Folk Art) interior from 1928 designed by Yanagi, Hamada, and Kawai, and until recently, thought to have been lost. Lastly, there is the de Young Museum itself, not in the exhibit proper, but in many ways an homage to the legacy of Arts and Crafts design. So I was surprised, then disappointed, then amused to see such shoddy workmanship in the construction of the walls for the exhibit (yes, the badly taped sheetrock joints are noticeable under those tasteful muted tones).

International Arts and Crafts: William Morris to Frank Lloyd Wright will be on view at the de Young Museum through June 18th. For more info go to http://206.14.230.206/index.asp