Category: News

The « Maison Moderne » of Julius Meier-Graefe — Part 2

7 July 2025

Organization, offerings, and operation of La Maison Moderne

Among all the artists selected, two Belgian compatriots were given the most important assignment: Georges Lemmen, first and foremost. Meier-Graefe entrusted him with the task of designing the most recognizable element of the brand: its logo. This symbol, intended to be the “brand” of La Maison Moderne, consisted simply of the initial letters of the gallery’s name superimposed on each other, drawn in curves in line with the style already used by Lemmen in the posters for Dekorative Kunst. Simple in design, this logo appeared on most of La Maison Moderne’s production and publications, in its original or a more elaborate form.

 

The design of La Maison Moderne was commissioned to the artist Meier-Graefe trusted most: Henry Van de Velde. He designed a storefront with display windows, allowing passersby to see a selection of the items sold inside.

 

 

The typography for the letters was designed by Georges Lemmen[2]. This choice reflects Meier-Graefe’s confidence in the talent of the two Belgian artists, as the shop front played as important a role as a poster for shops at the end of the 19th century. In the gallery, Van de Velde proposed a complete decor, alternating display cases, shelves, and furnished rooms.

The other artists selected to appear in the gallery catalog were countless: more than sixty were listed. Despite Meier-Graefe’s stated desire to create a gallery that favored French works, foreign artists were very numerous within its walls.

 

To provide an overview of the diversity of the offerings, it is worth mentioning all the nationalities represented among La Maison Moderne’s collaborators: French, Belgian, German, Italian, Austrian, Hungarian, Romanian, Serbian, Danish, Dutch, and Finnish. It is interesting to note the absence of British and Spanish artists among them. Meier-Graefe’s taste is the only real common denominator among all these artists, and they were selected with a concern for consistency that was dear to him (Bing had been criticized for a lack of consistency four years earlier).

 

The establishment also offered a wide range of products: the article announcing its opening in September 1899 stated that “The galleries of the ‘Maison Moderne’ will contain a little bit of everything: furniture, upholstery fabrics, carpets, ceramics, glassware, lighting fixtures, embroidery, lace, jewelry, fans, toiletries, and fancy items—from brushes to cane knobs—in short, everything for the home and the person[3].” This prediction was clearly confirmed: La Maison Moderne offered everything needed to furnish an interior and all the accessories—except clothing—that a wealthy person in the early 20th century might need. The same article also mentions a selection of master painters whose works were offered for sale: Édouard Manet, Claude Monet, Edgar Degas, Paul Cézanne, Auguste Renoir, Maurice Denis, Théo Van Rysselberghe, Édouard Vuillard, and Pierre Bonnard. However, this article remains the only mention of the painting exhibition at La Maison Moderne. We do not know which paintings were exhibited there, and no other artists can be identified.

In addition to offering individual items for sale, the gallery also designed and furnished rooms, apartments, and other types of interiors. Most of these complete designs were carried out under the direction of Abel Landry, Pierre Selmershein, or Maurice Dufrène. No examples have survived other than old photographs, such as those of this fashion store, also designed by Van de Velde for the Palast Hotel on Potsdamer Platz in Berlin, managed by P. H. C. Kons.

 

The most important and best documented order was for the interior design of the German restaurant Konss[4], located in Paris on the corner of Rue Grammont and Boulevard des Italiens, on the first floor, also for P. H. C. Kons. The architect appointed by the owner to oversee the work was Bruno Möhring[5]. He decided on the overall layout of the place, and Kons renewed his trust in La Maison Moderne for the design and installation of the decorations. The work took place from January 15 to April 17, 1901. A real success, La Maison Moderne’s participation in the design was noted in the entrance hall of its establishment. A few months later, Meier-Graefe reported on it in L’Art Décoratif, under one of his pseudonyms: G. M. Jacques[6]. Reading this article, it is striking that, having signed it with a French-sounding pseudonym in his French magazine, Meier-Graefe adopts a point of view that could be that of a Parisian journalist, criticizing Möhring’s design by claiming that his “Latin instincts are closed to his Germanic conception.” “when it was in fact his own company that carried out the development. By sticking to what he imagined to be a ”Latin” mindset, he no doubt wanted to avoid any suspicion of a conflict of interest.

 

La Maison Moderne’s operating model is very well thought out, reflecting its director’s careful consideration and innovative abilities. Aware of the behavior of French collectors, who treat art objects in the same way as paintings or sculptures, Meier-Graefe proposed an organization inspired by the Vereinigten Werkstätten für Kunst im Handwerk (United Workshops for Art and Craft) in Munich. While French decorative art remained primarily a commissioned art form, in which artists responded only to specific requests by creating unique models that could not be reproduced, Meier-Graefe proposed the opposite system: objects were no longer commissioned by individuals but were mass-produced by artists and craftsmen. However, production remained in the realm of craftsmanship and did not shift to industry. In the absence of administrative archives from the gallery, no precise figures can be given: the number of pieces produced for the same model must have been relatively small, but there were no unique works. Without even mentioning taste or style, it was first and foremost the way of thinking that the director of La Maison Moderne wanted to change.

There were exceptions to this system. Tapestries by Paul-Élie Ranson, handmade by his wife France Ranson-Rousseau in single copies, were offered for sale at La Maison Moderne[7].

 

However, these objects were made before the gallery opened and therefore do not fall under the manufacturing method developed by Meier-Graefe. The principle is simple: artists create designs and grant production rights to the gallery, which is responsible for executing them. The artist receives a portion of the sale price—defined by mutual agreement—for each object sold[8]. The possibility of producing multiple copies also allows Meier-Graefe to sell his objects at a “reasonable price,” in his own words. The “reasonable price” encourages purchases and provides the artist with a comfortable income. Here, “reasonable” should not be confused with “low.” While the prices of the objects sold at La Maison moderne did not reach those seen at Bing, they were nonetheless accessible to fairly well-off individuals, rather than workers or low-paid employees.

The gallery had its own workshops for the production of objects. The only one that can be confirmed with certainty is the leather workshop[9], but it is possible that there were also workshops for cabinetmaking, tapestry, brasswork, jewelry, and watchmaking. The fire arts, which were difficult to set up on a large scale in the heart of the Parisian capital, came from manufacturers associated with La Maison Moderne. The vase Exposition 1900 Paris, from Germany, is a good example. Manufactured by Tonwerke in Kandern, run by Max Laüger, it is not part of the factory’s usual production but was made exclusively for LMM, as evidenced by the gallery mark incised under its base alongside Laüger’s monogram and the factory mark.

 

This approach to production and sales was complemented by a decisive choice of location for the gallery. 82 Rue des Petit-Champs is located just a few meters from Rue de la Paix, which remains one of the most prestigious shopping districts in Paris. In addition to being central, this location was frequented by a wealthy clientele receptive to artistic innovation. The street has since changed its name to Rue Danielle-Casanova. The former number 82 now corresponds to the current number 26, which is now occupied by a café.

As the director of a commercial establishment, Meier-Graefe naturally used all the means available to him at the time to promote his gallery. Two posters were the cornerstone of his advertising campaign. The first was designed by Maurice Biais. It depicts an elegant lady looking at objects displayed in one of the shop windows designed by Van de Velde, faithfully reproduced.

 

The objects depicted on the poster are all the more easily recognizable as Maurice Biais used photographs that would later be incorporated in the La Maison Moderne catalog. Among other items, the poster features a flamed enamel inkwell by Jakob Rapoport designed by Maurice Dufrène, small bronze sculptures by Georges Minne, a porcelain cat from the Danish manufacturer Bing & Grøndahl, and a lamp by Dufrène.

 

The second poster is the work of Manuel Orazi (fig. 5). With a composition and atmosphere completely different from that of Biais, it also features objects that were sold there. We can recognize an inkwell bearing a bronze figure by Alexandre Charpentier on a base designed by Dufrène and made of flamed stoneware by Adrien Dalpayrat, an armchair by Van de Velde, a bronze lamp by Gustave Gurschner, a vase by Dufrène and Dalpayrat, and a monkey figurine by Joseph Mendes da Costa. The distinctive feature of this poster is obviously the large, hieratic female figure that adorns it. This is in fact the famous dancer Cléo de Mérode, who lent her image to the gallery as its muse[10].

 

In addition to these posters, Meier-Graefe also published small leaflets designed to promote his gallery. The invitation card for the opening was designed by Georges Lemmen.

 

The composition was also used as an advertisement in the pages of L’Art Décoratif. The two women depicted are not anonymous, as they are actually Mrs. Meier-Graefe and Jenny, a young servant.

The second print was created by Manuel Orazi, who drew inspiration from his own poster for the design.

 

Meier-Graefe also printed discount coupons from the same poster, either for his best customers or to attract new ones. One of his most important advertising tools remained the book Documents sur l’Art Industriel au vingtième siècle (Documents on Industrial Art in the Twentieth Century), published in 1901.

 

Presented as a collection of the most beautiful works of art of the period, it is in fact the gallery’s commercial catalog, containing many references to objects from La Maison Moderne.

 

In addition to these independent advertisements, Meier-Graefe filled the magazines he edited with constant references to his gallery and collaborating artists. He also participated in events such as the International Exhibition of Modern Decorative Arts in Turin in 1902, for which he published a postcard featuring real objects from his shop.

 

However, despite all its innovative ideas and pioneering role at the beginning of the 20th century, the gallery was a failure. Its director sold it in 1904 to Delrue et C^ie, who took charge of liquidating the stock[12]. The climate of xenophobia in Paris was detrimental to both Meier-Graefe and Bing, as French collectors resented a German coming to lecture them on what their taste should be[13]. Furthermore, although its structure was ingenious, production costs remained too high for the gallery to remain viable.

 

This gallery, led by an innovative director with impeccable taste, never managed to find its audience, but remains the only real attempt in 1900 to create an alliance between art, industry, and commerce.

 

Bertrand Mothes

Translation: Alan Bryden

 

Notes

[1] Roger CARDON, Georges Lemmen (1865-1916), Antwerp, Petraco-Pandora, 1990, p. 449.

[2] Cat. Exp Georges Lemmen 1865-1916, Brussels, Crédit Communal, Ghent, Snoeck-Ducaju & Zoon, Antwerp, Pandora, 1997, p. 58.

[3] R. [pseudonym Julius MEIER-GRAEFE], “Chronique de l’art décoratif, La ‘Maison Moderne’,” L’Art Décoratif, September 1899, no. 12, p. 277.

[4] It is likely that the doubling of the final “s” in the restaurant owner’s name was intended to make it sound German and avoid confusion with a French word that was a little too similar.

[5] In 1900, Möhring had already built the Restaurant allemand at the Universal Exhibition in Paris, which was a great success.

[6] G. M. JACQUES, “Un restaurant allemand à Paris,” L’Art décoratif, November 1901, no. 38, pp. 54-60.

[7] Documents sur l’Art Industriel au vingtième siècle. Photographic reproductions of the main works of the contributors to La Maison Moderne. Commented by R. [Raoul] AUBRY, H. [Henri] FRANTZ, G.-M. JACQUES [pseudonym Julius MEIER-GRAEFE], G. [Gustave] KAHN, J. [Julius] MEIER-GRAEFE, Gabriel MOUREY, Y. [Yvanhoé] RAMBOSSON, E. [Émile] SEDEYN, Gustave SOULIER, G. [Georges] BANS, with nine additional illustrations by Félix VALLOTTON Les Métiers d’Art. Paris, Édition de La Maison Moderne, 1901, L’Ameublement, p. 36.

[8] R., op. cit. in note 3, p. 277.

[9] Documents sur l’Art Industriel au vingtième siècle, op. cit. in note 7, La Maroquinerie, p. II.

[10] Alexandre Charpentier (1856-1909).Naturalisme et Art Nouveau, exhibition catalog, Paris, Musée d’Orsay, N. Chaudun, 2007, p. 126.

[11] Roger CARDON, Georges Lemmen (1865-1916), Antwerp, Petraco-Pandora, 1990, p. 449.

[12] Advertisement for La Maison Moderne, Delrue et C^ie, Fermes et Châteaux, November 1905, no. 3, p. IX.

[13] Nancy J. TROY, Modernism and the Decorative Arts in France: Art Nouveau to Le Corbusier, New Haven and London, Yale University Press, 1991, p. 47.

 

List of artists mentioned in the Documents sur l’Art Industriel au XXème siècle (Documents on Industrial Art in the Twentieth Century)

Félix AUBERT

Henri BANS

Gyula BETLEN

Maurice BIAIS

Alexandre BIGOT

[manufacture] BING & GROENDAHL

Sofie BURGER HARTMANN

Alexandre CHARPENTIER

Cristallerie de Pantin

Jens DAHL-JENSEN

Pierre Adrien DALPAYRAT

Eugène DELATRE

Maurice DUFRÈNE

Paul FOLLOT

Édouard FORTINY

Maurin GAUTHIER

Gustave GURSCHNER

Bernhard HOETGER

Henry JOLLY

Emil KIEMLEN

G. KISS

Abel LANDRY

Georges LEMMEN

Hans Stoltenberg LERCHE

Clément MÈRE

Charles MILÈS

Georges MINNE

Koloman MOSER

Gabriel OLIVIER

Manuel ORAZI

Blanche ORY-ROBIN

Paul-Élie RANSON

Jakab RAPOPORT

Auguste RODIN

SAINT-YVES SCHLESINGER

Elisabeth SCHMIDT-PECHT

Tony SELMERSHEIM

Louis Comfort TIFFANY

Henry VAN DE VELDE

Heinrich VOGLER

Félix VOULOT

François WALDRAFF

 

To quote this article:

Bertrand MOTHES, “La Maison Moderne de Julius Meier-Graefe” in Catherine Méneux, Emmanuel Pernoud, and Pierre Wat (eds.), Proceedings of the Study Day Actualité de la recherche en XIXe^siècle, Master 1, Years 2012 and 2013, Paris, HiCSA website, published online in January 2014.

Jules Lavirotte: a new version of the book is published by the Cercle Guimard — an exhibition is dedicated to him in Évian — the building of the Châtelet mineral water company

9 May 2025

In 2018, the Jules Lavirotte Association published its first book dedicated to the life and work of an architect whose fame is paradoxical: although his name and some of his works are well known to the public, his life and career were virtually unknown even to specialists. This year, authors Yves Lavirotte and Olivier Barancy chose the Cercle Guimard for the publication of a revised and expanded edition of the book. Although the first version—now out of print—was remarkable, this new edition surpasses it. In 192 pages with numerous illustrations, the authors complete the architect’s career with previously unpublished information and new works. The book is available since the end of May 2025 at a price of €35. Its publication will be followed by a book signing and guided tours dedicated to Lavirotte’s work, events which we will come back to shortly.

 

To mark the launch of this new edition, the authors have seized the opportunity of an exhibition dedicated to the architect, organized with their assistance by the city of Évian at the Villa du Châtelet, from June 1 to September 30, 2025.

 

Olivier Barancy tells us the story of the thermal baths built in Évian by Lavirotte, of which the Villa du Châtelet is one of the remaining buildings.

 

Following the acquisition on April 4, 1906, by Arthur Sérasset and Émile Lavirotte of land built on the shores of Lake Geneva in Évian-les-Bains, Jules Lavirotte was approached by his brothers to build a spa on the newly acquired land. The architect immediately set to work and construction began quickly.

 

The project is significant: on a sloping plot of approximately 15,000 square meters, with a length of over 100 meters along a busy road that runs alongside the lake, a new building, the “buvette,” is to be constructed at 29 Quai Paul-Léger. This will incorporate a small, recently built (1898) neo-Renaissance villa with a charming layout. A patio designed by the architect will connect the new building to the existing part, which will house the offices. The refreshment bar included all the facilities necessary to welcome spa guests, as well as commercial services linked to the offices. In addition, two existing villas, including the one known as the Châtelet, which gave its name to the spa complex, were converted to accommodate spa guests, along with the service building and the gardener’s house at the top of the park, which housed the staff. The refreshment bar, in late Art Nouveau style, is spread over three levels. The ground floor houses the commercial bottling area, including a covered unloading bay and services. The first floor comprises, on the lake side, a large gallery with paired columns, flanked by a reading room and a large lounge; and on the south side, opposite the lake, a “luxuriously appointed refreshment room” connected to a “lunchroom.” The whole building is covered by reinforced concrete terraces accessed by a staircase sheltered in a graceful bell tower on the west side of the facade. To the east and at the opposite corner, another bell tower, with a slender silhouette, rises to a height of 16 meters. These two structures make the building visible from afar, in accordance with an architectural technique commonly used in the design of public buildings. The interior design is luxurious: a large stained-glass window[1] at the end of the south gallery depicts a landscape of snow-capped mountains with a stream flowing down from them; the walls are decorated with antique-style frescoes depicting fountains and garlands; and from the ceiling hang chandeliers with golden branches, decorated with three-tone leaves and clusters of Murano glass[2]; Finally, mosaics cover the floor. In the park, a stream winds its way between rockeries and flows through a rustic kiosk, where water from a second spring also flows, behind the “châtelet.” The establishment was inaugurated at the end of 1910.

Françoise Breuillaud-Sottas, a specialist in thermalism in Évian, highlighted the originality of the project: “Only the Châtelet spring is associated with a genuine hydrotherapy establishment.”

 

At the same time, Arthur Sérasset, administrator of the Société des Sources du Chatelet and partner of Émile Lavirotte, gave Jules Lavirotte “full powers” to find and fit out shops in Paris to sell the bottles of mineral water. He opened at least two, at 36 Boulevard des Italiens and 56 Boulevard de Bercy. The finishings of the refreshment bar appear to have been carefully executed, as some of the contractors were the same as those who worked on the mansion on Avenue de Messine in Paris. Finally, in 1909, the architect designed the Office des Baigneurs (bathers’ office) at 4 Avenue du Port in Évian. It was a modest premises for a real estate agency, which also owned the newspaper Évian Mondain.

However, the additional commission for the construction of the grand hotel overlooking the park was difficult to obtain, as the shareholders’ meeting criticized Lavirotte for his lack of follow-up on the first building and for exceeding the budget. They demanded the presence of an assistant architect on site: this was Étienne Curny (1861-1945), who was active in Lyon and the surrounding region. The main features of the project drawn up in 1907 were more traditional than the refreshment bar, although the large terrace overlooking the lake, the bold canopy over the south entrance, and the floral friezes surrounding the building under the attic were noteworthy. However, at the request of the clients, the plans were significantly modified to reduce costs and increase the number of rooms. The north façade in particular, with its balconies, two avant-corps, and an asymmetrical slate roof, bears little resemblance to the initial sketch. Lavirotte ultimately withdrew from the project.

 

In 1925, a scandal erupted around the water from the Évian-Châtelet springs: its managers, including its president, Mr. Bocheux, were sentenced to several months in prison for selling mineral water that did not meet health standards. The following year, the Hôtel du Châtelet was renamed the Hôtel du Parc. Then, in 1938, the refreshment bar was demolished[3] to make way for a road connecting the quay to the hotel where, on March 18, 1962, the Évian Accords were signed, ending the Algerian War.

 

Olivier Barancy

 

Notes

[1] Designed by Auguste Labouret (1871-1964), a prolific master glassmaker based in Paris.

[2] Jules Lavirotte went to Venice himself to choose them.

[3] Some elements were preserved and displayed in the park.

 

Translation: Alan Bryden

 

 

 

A Guimard’s metro signaling glass (“verrine”) for our museum project

( Note: in this article, the term “signaling glass” is used to translate the French “verrine”, meaning the protective cover of the lamp in a Guimard Metro candelabra)

 

If you could not attend our last Annual General Meeting, you may not have been able to see – or touch – our latest purchase: a Guimard metro candelabra signaling glass produced by the Cristallerie de Pantin. In a recent article, we corrected our earlier opinion [1] by admitting, with supporting evidence, that these signaling glasses were originally white, and that the change to an orange-red color took place around 1907, four years after Guimard’s collaboration with CMP (Compagnie du chemin de fer métropolitain de Paris) came to an end.

We would point out, however, that it was likely that red signaling glasses existed at an early date, since the detail of a black-and-white photograph of the uncovered surround of Rome station, taken in 1903 shortly after its installation, is more compatible with a red color than a white one.

 

On the contrary, white glass was used for at least one of the last surviving shield surrounds, installed at Porte d’Auteuil station in 1913.

 

At least one of these white signaling glasses still exists in a private collection, as we know it from a detailed photograph [2] taken in 1967.

 

A total of 103 open shield surrounds were installed between 1900 and 1913. One of these had already been dismantled in 1908, leaving 102 on the eve of the First World War. At a rate of two signaling glasses per surround, there were therefore 204 signaling glasses on the network at that time. Subsequently, the number of signaling glasses fell considerably because of the many dismantling operations that took place until 1978, when all the Guimard entrances were finally classified. At that date, there were still 60 uncovered entourages with shields. Logically, in the interest of optimal material management, the removed signaling glasses of the surrounds should have been stored, but we don’t know what happened to them.

As for the remaining signaling glasses on the network, whether red or white, they were all replaced by synthetic equivalents, probably in the 70s [3]. The motivation for this exchange can easily be guessed. It wasn’t a question of protection against vandalism, which was still in its infancy [4], but simply a maintenance constraint. These rather heavy glass vessels had to be handled when a lamp had to be replaced. This rather delicate handling, repeated dozens of times, led to numerous accidents on the necks of the signaling glasses and sometimes to their destruction. What’s more, the Pantin crystal glassworks had probably stopped producing new pieces a long time ago, so RATP was no longer able to renew them. The RATP therefore decided to replace them with copies made of synthetic material, which were lighter and less fragile, but far less beautiful. In the process, it dismantled at least a hundred signaling glasses, which should also have been put into storage.

 

By 2000, however, R.A.T.P. no longer owned a single one. What had happened? Unfortunately, the certainty that these signaling glasses would no longer be used on the network meant that this stock was probably managed in a less than rigorous manner. The lack of interest in, or even disdain for, the Art Nouveau style for many years meant that they had neither the artistic nor the financial value that would have encouraged R.A.T.P.’s management to preserve them. At the same time, however, private collections were being made, either out of aesthetic interest and without the feeling of committing a criminal act, or out of greed, since as early as the 1980s, Guimard metro pieces were being smuggled out of France, notably to make bronze copies for sale in the United States [5]. Authentic signaling glasses were found on at least one bronze subway surround in Houston.

Fortunately, before it no longer owned any, R.A.T.P. had, this time officially, loaned or donated signaling glasses along with complete surrounds, notably to the Museum of Modern Art in New York in 1958, the Staatliches Museum für Angewandte Kunst in Munich in 1960, the Musée National d’Art Moderne in Paris in 1961 (transferred to the Musée d’Orsay) and then to the Montreal metro company in 1966. During the restoration of the latter, the STP subway company also disassembled its signaling glasses, giving one back to the RATP in 2003 [6].

 

We concluded our previous article on the color of signaling glasses by prophesying that such glasses would inevitably reappear as the generations of their private owners changed. And this is precisely what happened: in October 2024, a few months after the publication of our article on glassware colors, one of our faithful correspondents — half-serious, half-amused — alerted us to the publication on a well-known free classified ads site of a proposal to sell the end of a subway candelabra with its glassware.

 

We immediately got in touch with the advertiser, who confirmed that it was cast iron (not bronze) and that the signaling glass was indeed made of glass. Given the rarity and interest of such an object, we quickly agreed on a price with the seller, and a family friend immediately dismantled it and put it in a safe place until it could be shipped to the Paris region.

 

As we had expected, the discussion with the vendor revealed that its owner (who had recently passed away) had held a fairly senior position in the RATP maintenance hierarchy, and that upon his retirement in the mid-80s, he had been given an entire metro lamp post. However, the size and weight of such an object made it very difficult to handle and use, so the happy new owner decided to saw off the end for outdoor use on his holiday home in the Pyrénées-Atlantiques region, where he was originally from. The remaining part rusted away for a few years outdoors in the Paris region, before being sold for its weight in metal.

Once the end of the candelabra had been recovered, we separated it from its sheet metal support. The signaling glasses had previously been removed from its housing. To do this, it was necessary to remove the cross-pin (held in place by a chain) which held the collar in place at the back.

 

The collar, held at the front by a hinge, can then be tilted to release the signaling glasses.

 

 

The post of the candelabra has been cut away, revealing the hole through which the lamp’s power supply passes.

 

The signaling glass was simply cleaned with soapy water, pending a more thorough cleaning. As we feared, its neck shows a lot of missing parts due to handling during lamp changes.

 

Weighing 6.5 kg, it measures 40 cm in overall length and 24 cm in height. Its maximum width is 26 cm, less than it should be (28 cm) due to the missing collar. The opening measures 26 cm by 20 cm.

 

Nevertheless, most of the signaling glass is in excellent condition and, with the difference that its neck is more uneven, our glass is identical to that of the RATP: same clean lines, satin-finish surface and color that varies according to the lighting and thickness of the glass, from dark red to light orange.

 

A piece of old glass sent to us by the seller shows that the glass is colored in the mass and not plated on the surface.

 

The fact that the signaling glasses were made in a crystal factory and not in a glass factory raised a question: was the material crystal or indeed glass? The shard above gave us an easy answer. Its weight is 8 g and its volume (obtained by dipping it into a graduated tube and measuring the rise in water level) is 3 ml, giving a density of 8/3 = 2.6, that of glass (that of crystal being 3.85).

 

Let’s recall the manufacturing process for this signaling glass as carried out by the Cristallerie de Pantin. A bivalve mold is used, articulated around its sagittal axis and based on a plaster model supplied by Guimard. To obtain the correct “point”, the glassmaker places a pellet of molten glass at the bottom of the mold. The gob of glass (the volume of glass picked from the jar at the end of the cane) is shaped by balancing and shaping, then introduced into the mold. A layer of about 8 mm of glass is then pressed onto the inner surface of the mold by air blown into the cane. The mold is then opened and the glass vessel cut with scissors to expose the wide opening. The edges are bent with pliers and probably shaped by applying another mold around the opening. After cooling, any imperfections and seams caused by the mold joints are carefully ground away. Finally, the outer surface of the signaling glass is acid-etched.

 

The aspect of this signaling glass has not failed to elicit comparisons with well-known shapes: teardrop, fruit, frog’s eye. One of the most disparaging comparisons, “half-sucked candy” [7], is not the most inaccurate. It’s not impossible that Guimard’s illustrative intent was to evoke a flame, as if spat from the end of candelabras. But now that we know that the first signaling glasses were white, this hypothesis seems less credible. It also seems possible that Guimard wanted to capture the look and workings of molten matter, with the signaling glass appearing to be both blown and then pinched at the end and stretched (this action being reflected in the wide striations around the neck). The idea of evoking a downward flow of viscous matter is also admissible, as Guimard was able to illustrate it, notably on the low-end posts of the secondary surrounds. As is often the case in his art of semi-abstract drawing and modeling, many interpretations are relevant, and everyone is free to formulate their own.

The Cercle Guimard was delighted to acquire this candelabra end piece and its signaling glass. It will of course be one of the centerpieces of the section devoted to the Paris metro in our museum project at the Hôtel Mezzara.

 

Frédéric Descouturelle

 

Notes

[1] Descouturelle, Mignard, Rodriguez, Le Métropolitain de Guimard, éditions Somogy, 2003; Descouturelle, Mignard, Rodriguez, Guimard L’Art nouveau du métro, éditions La Vie du Rail, 2012.

[2] As announced in our previous article, we will one day devote a special article to the astonishing batch of photographs of which it is a part.

[3] We give this very approximate date as a matter of conjecture. When writing the books on Guimard’s metro, we were unable to discover the exact date of this replacement.

[4] Unfortunately, at present, the reinstallation of signaling glasses, which  are easy and very expensive targets, seems to us to be completely unrealistic.

[5] See our articles on this subject: “The epidemic of fake bronze subway surrounds in the United States”: part one; the epidemic…part two; The epidemic…part three.

[6] The other signaling glass was entrusted to the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts.

[7] Quoted without reference by R.-H. Guerrand in Mémoires du métro, 1961. The article or book from which this quotation is taken has not yet been found.

 

Translation: Alan Bryden

A rare crystal vase by Guimard

22 May, 2025

Tracked for years, this exceptional vase has recently been added to the collections of our partner for the Guimard Museum project. Lengthy negotiations led to the acquisition of this rare object, the first of its kind to be identified and described. Unlike other areas of decorative arts where Guimard was prolific, he produced very little glassware.

 

The overall shape is fairly common for Art Nouveau glassware, resembling a “bottle vase” that can be divided into three parts: a very flat base highlighted by a protrusion, a slightly conical body, and a narrowing at the top before the opening curves outward. This shape, with its swirling ribs, seems to be unique to Guimard, who did not attempt to reproduce the silhouettes of his designs for bronze or ceramics. But as we shall see later, are we sure that Guimard is the creator of this shape?

This vase remained in the seller’s family for a long time, but it has not been possible to ascertain the original conditions of purchase. It is in good condition, despite a few scratches and a slight limescale deposit showing that it was once used as a flower vase.

It was produced at the Cristallerie de Pantin[1], as indicated by the signature engraved on its base, around the “STV” logo, which stands for the initials of the crystal factory’s full name: Stumpf, Touvier, Viollet & Cie.

 

Measuring 40.2 cm high and weighing 1.437 kg, it has a volume of 0.480 liters. These last two figures can be used to calculate its density: 2.99, very close to that of classic lead crystal (3.1).

 

The question of the exact nature of the material arose, even though the vase came from a crystal factory, because we established that the glass shades of the candelabra in the subway entrances produced by the same factory from 1901 onwards were made of glass without any added lead. The Cercle Guimard recently purchased one copy.

 

The base of the vase also bears Guimard’s handwritten, curved signature. It is characterized by the continuity of the design in a single line joining the first and last names and ending with a long initial that returns emphasizing them. It should be noted that the execution at the tip is slightly more hesitant than that of the crystal factory logo, for which the worker assigned to this repetitive task had a stencil.

 

In the list of contributors included in the brochure accompanying the series of postcards, mention is made of the Cristallerie de Pantin, located at 66 rue d’Hauteville, where their Paris store was located.

 

The crystal factory was included in this list of collaborators, certainly for the glass shades of the metro entrance that framed the entrance to Guimard’s pavilion, and possibly also for another product on display: probably vases, as suggested by the description that Guimard associated with the supplier’s name: “crystalware for decoration and furnishings.” Unfortunately, the views of the interior of the pavilion that we have do not show these vases. Moreover, there is no indication that the crystalware presented in the pavilion at that time was already the result of a collaboration between the architect and the Cristallerie de Pantin. Guimard may simply have chosen products from the glassworks’ catalog to decorate the furniture on display. The following year, however, we became certain that this collaboration had indeed taken place. In the booklet that Guimard published for the 1904 Salon d’Automne, he detailed his shipment by category. Number 4 of the “Objets d’art Style Guimard” is described as follows: “Guimard-style vase in aquamarine crystal. Price: 65 francs.“

The name ”aquamarine” was not invented by Guimard, who instead incorporated it into a production line of the Cristallerie de Pantin that had started a few years earlier. It refers, of course, to the name of the gemstone, a variety of beryl with a light blue color reminiscent of the sea. These bluish shades, which are difficult to achieve, were sought after empirically by various French crystal manufacturers. Émile Gallé in Nancy, for example, used cobalt monoxide to obtain a very light blue color called “moonlight,” which was unveiled at the 1878 World’s Fair. At the Cristallerie de Pantin, to obtain a slightly opaque glass with intermediate turquoise iridescence, the yellow of uranium dioxide and the green of a chromium oxide were mixed with cobalt blue.

The first mention of the production of “aquamarine” crystals by the Cristallerie de Pantin that we know of appeared on a page of the Maison Moderne catalog[2] published in 1901.

 

In the two photographs on this page, twenty-two vases of different shapes and a colors that can only be described as bluish all feature swirling ribs, often regularly punctuated with reliefs like the surfaces of shells, another way of recalling the marine inspiration of the series. The creator or creators of these modern shapes are not mentioned, suggesting that they were probably employees of the crystal factory[3].

Guimard’s crystal vase was not completely unknown to us, as documents from the Adeline Oppenheim-Guimard donation kept at the Bibliothèque des Arts Décoratifs identify at least two examples decorating a piece of furniture probably presented at the Salon d’Automne.

 

Within the same collection of documents, another twisted vase model, with a more pear-shaped base and a more tapered neck, is very similar to No. 4357 on the page of the Maison Moderne catalog (see above). However, Guimard’s involvement in this piece has not been confirmed.

 

Another example of a vase that could have come from the Cristallerie de Pantin is the translucent crystal model displayed in the showcase of the grand salon at the Hôtel Guimard, which features the same type of twists.

 

It should be noted that none of these vases feature any added floral decoration imitating the style of Gallé and Daum glassware from Nancy. This may have been a specific request from Maison Moderne, which wanted a more understated design in keeping with the Belgian style championed by Van de Velde. Outside of Maison Moderne, Cristallerie de Pantin produced numerous models of “aquamarine” vases with floral decoration, which occasionally appear on the art market.

 

Like these vases, Guimard’s vase also features an acid-etched decoration, but one that is unique to him and reflects his efforts to renew his semi-abstract style, gradually moving away from the harmonious arrangements of curved or whimsical lines that characterized his work around 1900.

 

Once again, it is not easy to describe or interpret this design, which leaves the observer’s imagination free to find its own references. While a plant-inspired motif seems to be ever-present, with highly stylized stems and flowers repeated ten times around the circumference, a motif inspired by the treble clef is not impossible.

 

Some of the undated watercolor drawings of frieze designs donated by his widow Adeline Oppenheim to the Musée des Arts Décoratifs show some stylistic similarities.

 

Other elements of the decoration, such as the blue lines and the yellow coloring at the top, allow us to speculate on how the vase was made. As with any glassmaking process, the glassmaker would have taken a parison from the furnace using his hollow rod and given it an initial shape by blowing and swaying it. He then rolls the parison on the “marble” (a polished cast iron table) to add calcined bone powder and arsenates, which have been placed there beforehand and which will give the glass a satin appearance over the entire height of the vessel and a yellow coloration in its upper quarter. In addition, twisted blue threads, visible at the top and bottom of the vase, were prepared in advance, laid down and then covered with a new layer of glass, which was returned to the furnace. This is therefore an intercalated decoration and not the usual Venetian thread technique, where the threads are applied to the surface.

 

With the glass vessel still at the end of the rod (on the side of the future opening), the base is roughly shaped by gravity and tapping against the marble. It is then placed in the clamshell mold and blown so that it sticks to the walls. This is when most of the swirling relief is created. Once the mold is opened, the vessel is picked up under the base using a small amount of molten glass at the end of an iron rod (the pontil). On the opposite side, the neck is twisted (as evidenced by the arrangement of the air bubbles that follow this movement) before being detached from the rod by cutting it with scissors and shaping it with pliers.

 

After cooling slightly to ensure stability, the vessel is coated with a thin layer of a more intense blue glass, which the glassmaker takes from a second furnace. The vase is then detached from the pontil, which leaves a scar under the base. After gradual cooling, the blue glass coating on the surface is treated with hydrofluoric acid. To reveal the decoration that will be preserved in blue, the surface is first protected with a varnish (at that time, Judea bitumen), while the unprotected surfaces are removed with acid until the underlying glass appears. Under the base, the trace of the pontil is removed by grinding and polishing so that the crystal manufacturer’s logo and Guimard’s signature can be engraved, as we saw above. However, around the opening, the remaining surface irregularities show that the glass has not been reworked by grinding.

 

The main reason why this vase came to the attention of Guimard specialists so late was its rarity. Its imperfect execution, particularly evident in its fairly substantial bubbling, suggests that it was part of a very small series. The other reason is that its attribution to Guimard is not obvious at first glance. It is even likely that, in the absence of a signature[4] and despite its abstract naturalistic decoration, this vase would not have aroused the same interest on our part, nor would it have prompted the research that followed to find the rare clues that enabled us to locate it within Guimard’s works. At the same time as he wanted to simplify the Guimard style by reducing it to a simple decoration on an object that could ultimately be adapted to all styles of interior design, it is quite likely that Guimard also chose a vase shape that already existed at the Cristallerie de Pantin — a shape that was not necessarily already on the market — and “Guimardized” it, thereby replicating the same approach he took with products from certain other manufacturers, as we have demonstrated for the stoneware vases produced by Gilardoni & Brault[5].

 

Frédéric Descouturelle and Olivier Pons,

with the assistance of Justine Posalski and Georges Barbier-Ludwig.

 

Notes

[1] The crystal factory was founded in 1847 at 84 Rue de Paris in Pantin and taken over in 1859 by E. Monot, a former worker at the Lyon crystal factory. It quickly prospered, becoming the fifth largest crystal factory in France and then, after the 1870 war (and the transfer of the Saint-Louis crystal factory to German territory), the third largest (after Baccarat and Clichy). The crystal factory industrially manufactured a complete range of products, which it displayed in its Paris store on Rue de Paradis. Its warehouse was also in Paris, at 66 Rue d’Hauteville. The company name changed several times: “Monot et Cie,” then “Monot Père et Fils et Stumpf,” and finally “Stumpf, Touvier, Viollet & Cie” after Monot withdrew in 1889. It was absorbed in 1919 by the Legras glassworks (Saint-Denis and Pantin Quatre-Chemins).

[2] Founded by art critic Julius Meier-Graefe at the end of 1899, this gallery dedicated to modern decorative art competed with the better-known L’Art Nouveau gallery owned by Siegfried Bing. Two articles by Bertrand Mothes will be published on this subject shortly.

[3] For other products, the catalog lists the names of the designers.

In this case, it is likely that the contract between the gallery and the designer specified that the latter’s name had to be mentioned.

[4] Another example of this vase has been catalogued and appears in the book “Le génie verrier de l’Europe” (G. Cappa, ed. Mardaga, 1998). Unlike our vase, which is predominantly aquamarine in color, this one is characterized by colorless crystal with a gradient of metallic tones, with the “rosathea” and “yellow” shades predominating, while the aquamarine tone is concentrated in the lower third. As this piece is unsigned, it may be a prototype.

[5] See our article on the “guimardization” of stoneware vases produced by Gilardoni & Brault.

 

Translation: Alan Bryden

The Hôtel Mezzara will become the Guimard Museum !

29 June2025

After more than twenty years of commitment, Le Cercle Guimard is seeing its project become a reality: the Hôtel Mezzara will soon be home to the Guimard Museum, dedicated to one of the masters of Art Nouveau. Twenty-two years after the creation of the Cercle Guimard, and nineteen years after our first exhibition at the Hôtel Mezzara (“Guimard, album d’un collectionneur”), our association is now taking a decisive step towards the creation of the Guimard Museum. We are proud to announce that our team — Le Cercle Guimard, Hector Guimard Diffusion — with co-financers FABELSI and Banque des Territoires (Groupe Caisse des Dépôts) — has won the call for applications for a fifty-year lease on the Hôtel Mezzara, Hector Guimard’s masterpiece and a listed historic monument. The official letter was sent to us on June 23, 2025.

 

Since this State-owned property was declared “of no public interest” ten years ago, our association has devoted all its energy and resources to turning the Mezzara Hotel into the future Guimard Museum. The strategic turning point in our campaign came in 2017 with the organization of the exhibition “Hector Guimard, précurseur du design” (Hector Guimard, pioneer of design), intended to demonstrate the potential of the Mezzara Hotel as a museum setting. The media coverage generated by the exhibition brought our project to the attention of the public.

Thanks to Belgian architect and historian Maurice Culot, in 2018 we met Fabien Choné, an entrepreneur with a passion for heritage, who breathed new life into our initiative. With his organization “Hector Guimard Diffusion”, we became co-sponsors of the private museum project, which we have since structured and developed together. Two calls for tenders launched by the French State, were declared unsuccessful, before our application was finally accepted on the third attempt.

All these years have enabled Le Cercle Guimard to become more professional, build up a collection, create an archive center and a publishing house — Les Éditions du Cercle Guimard, whose first publication was devoted to the Hôtel Mezzara — to continue our reissue and digitization projects, to develop research on Hector Guimard and his creations, and to establish the association’s headquarters in the architect’s former agency, at Castel Béranger.

An exciting period is now beginning: alongside Art Nouveau specialists, craftsmen, restorers, architects, and cultural and institutional partners, we will design a museum worthy of one of the greatest architects of the turn of the 20th century.

 

First and foremost, we would like to warmly thank our members and the members of the board of directors for their loyalty, commitment, and patience throughout these years of hard work.

We are grateful to Jean-Pierre Lyonnet, the first president of the Cercle Guimard, who passed away several years ago, as well as to all the former members of the board who actively contributed to the development of the association.

Thank you, Arnaud, thank you, Bruno.

We also have fond memories of the first “hectorologists,” some of whom are still members of the Cercle: Henri Poupée, Roger-Henri Guerrand, Alain Blondel, Michèle Blondel, Yves Plantin, Laurent Sully Jaulmes, and Ralph Culpepper.

We are of course also very grateful to Philippe Thiébaut, honorary curator of heritage, and Georges Vigne, curator of heritage, who have significantly advanced knowledge about Hector Guimard through their research, exhibitions, and publications.

 

And we would also like to thank:

The DRFIP, the State Property Department, the local Paris property department, the Ministry of Culture, the DRAC Île-de-France, and the members of the application review committee for the trust they have placed in us.

 

The RATP for its active support in promoting Guimard’s legacy.

 

The museums and institutions that support us and have announced exciting collaborations:

The Musée d’Orsay

The Musée des Arts Décoratifs (MAD Paris)

The Cité de l’Architecture et du Patrimoine

The Le Corbusier Foundation

The Archives de Paris

The Musée de l’École de Nancy.

 

The City of Paris, and in particular Karen Taïeb, Deputy Mayor of Paris, whose constant and decisive support was essential, notably in initiating the Guimard Year in 2023, which greatly contributed to raising awareness of our project.

The Municipality of the 16th arrondissement for its commitment to the museum, and in particular:

Jérémie Redler, mayor of the 16th arrondissement

Samia Badat-Karam, first deputy mayor

Bérengère Gréé, Paris city councilor.

 

The department of Haute-Marne and the town of Saint-Dizier for their support for Guimard’s artistic castings, with the assistance of:

The GHM foundry

The municipal museum of Saint-Dizier and its curator Clément Michon

Élisabeth Robert-Dehault and all the local stakeholders involved.

 

Normandy and the town of Cabourg, where Guimard built three iconic villas (La Sapinière, La Bluette, La Surprise),

with the support of:

The Villa du Temps Retrouvé

Tristan Duval, Emmanuel Porcq, Roma Lambert.

 

Our American partners, who have contributed greatly to Guimard’s international recognition:

The Driehaus Museum

The Art Institute of Chicago

The Alliance Française of Chicago

The Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum in New York

The Virginia Museum of Fine Arts

Delta Air Lines.

We would also like to express our sincere thanks to Barry Bergdoll, David Hanks, Sarah Coffin, Ingrid Gournay, David Dozier, and Elisabeth Cummings.

 

In Catalonia, we would like to thank Teresa Sala, Professor of Art History at the University of Barcelona and specialist in Catalan Modernism.

 

In Belgium, we would like to thank the Horta Museum and its curator Benjamin Zurstrassen, as well as Françoise Aubry. Our project also aims to strengthen ties between Brussels and Paris around Art Nouveau.

 

We would also like to thank the professionals who contributed to the quality and strength of our application:

Rydge Avocats, for their legal support
KPMG, for their financial and tax expertise
Beaux-Arts Consulting, for their strategic and cultural expertise
Thibierge Notaires, for the notarial aspects

REVA (Bruno Donzet and Maurice Masri), for the project’s economics
Picard Expertise, for the real estate appraisal
Dozier Stratégie, partnership and cultural financing consultants

We express our deep gratitude to all those who, in one way or another, have supported this project: elected officials, researchers, museums, institutions, associations, journalists, collectors, and enthusiasts—in France and abroad. We would also like to thank all those who, even briefly, crossed our path and offered their help or advice at the right moment. These ten years of effort have enabled us to forge many strong bonds, often friendships, that we will never forget.

The Cercle Guimard executive committee

Nicolas Buisson, Frédéric Descouturelle, Nicolas Horiot, Peggy Laden, Dominique Magdelaine, Olivier Pons

What color were the red signaling glasses on Guimard’s metro surrounds?

( Note: in this article, the term “signaling glass” is used to translate the French “verrine”, meaning the protective cover of the lamp in a Guimard Metro candelabra)

Due to the flow of contradictory information, we are being urged from all sides to give our opinion on this crucial point. We are happy to oblige, all the more so as we had neglected to add any nuances to the overly clear-cut opinion, we expressed in the two books published in 2003 and 2012 that established a serious study of Guimard’s metro [1]. The recent discovery of a color photograph taken in the 1960s is a fitting conclusion to our article.

To define the curved glass pieces that complete the candelabras on the open surrounds of Guimard’s Paris metro entrances, we have adopted the term used at the time by the CMP (Compagnie du chemin de fer métropolitain de Paris), “signaling glass”, rather than “globe”, which refers to an image of a sphere [2]. Due to the low luminosity of their electric bulb, which is entirely covered by the signaling glass, the function of these lights is nocturnal signaling rather than lighting. This latter function, which Guimard had not foreseen, as it had not been requested [3], was gradually taken over by uncovered lamps installed by CMP on the aediculae and on certain open surrounds. The surrounds of the additional entrances [4], which at the time were used solely for exiting, had neither luminous signage nor lighting.

Originally, these signaling glasses were indeed made of glass. For a more complete study, we refer the reader to our dossier Hector Guimard, Le Verre pp. 20-23, published in pdf format in 2009 and still accessible on our website. We give some extracts below.

 

We know the supplier of these signaling glasses thanks to a few rare archives. The first is a CMP accounting document, dated September 12, 1901, listing the names of the various suppliers and the costs incurred with each of them for Guimard’s first project, i.e. the construction of surface accesses for line 1 and two additional sections of future lines 2 and 6. Entitled “Travaux des édicules/M. Guimard Architecte”, this document actually lists the costs incurred for both the aediculae and the uncovered surrounds. The penultimate line of the document reads: “Stumpf, Signaling glass […] 900”.

 

This company, better known as “Cristallerie de Pantin”, had been called Stumpf, Touvier, Viollet et Cie since 1888. It was founded in La Villette in 1851 by E. S. Monot, then transferred to Pantin in 1855. It rapidly prospered, becoming France’s third-largest crystal works (after Baccarat and Clichy) after the 1870 war (and the transfer of the Saint-Louis crystal works to German territory). In 1919, it was absorbed by the Legras glassworks (Saint-Denis and Pantin Quatre-Chemins).

The price of 900 F-gold corresponds to 30 signaling glass at 30 F-gold each, i.e. 13 pairs of signaling glass for the 13 uncovered surrounds of the first project, plus 4 additional pieces in case of breakage. This price per unit is confirmed by another undated CMP accounting document for line 2, which sets the price of two signaling glass for each frame on the section from Villiers to Ménilmontant stations at 60 gold Francs. It was clearly stated that this price was identical to that set for the surrounds on the first site. The Cristallerie de Pantin’s commitment to Guimard and the CMP to maintain the price of glassware for Line 2 surrounds is also the subject of three documents (one handwritten and two typewritten) from November 1901 to January 1903.

There were 103 Guimard surrounds on the network, and twice as many signaling glass on their lampposts. They were still in place in 1960, when Louis Malle filmed ” Zazie dans le métro”, based on the novel by Raymond Queneau.

 

Early loans (later transformed into donations) of Guimard surrounds, complete or otherwise, enabled the preservation of their glass cases. Thus, the portico of the uncovered surround at Raspail station, installed in 1906, entered the Museum of Modern Art in New York in 1958. The same is true of the surround for Bolivar station, installed in 1911, which entered the collections of the Staatliches Museum für Angewandte Kunst in Munich in 1960 (not on display).

 

In 1961, the Musée National d’Art Moderne de Paris also received a complete surround, one of two from the Montparnasse station (installed in 1910). Returned to the Musée d’Orsay, it can be viewed on the occasion of thematic exhibitions.

 

Shortly afterwards, in 1966, the RATP donated a complete Guimard surround (without sign holder) to the Montreal metro company. The seven-module long, five-module wide entourage was composed from elements taken from the reserves and resulting from the dismantling of certain entrances. It included two glass signaling glass

 

So it was only later, at a date that is still difficult to pin down, that RATP replaced the glass signaling glass with red synthetic equivalents, which were cheaper, less fragile, but far less beautiful. However, as a symptom of RATP’s long lack of interest in this period of its history, the signaling glass that had been salvaged from these exchanges mysteriously disappeared from its reserves, so that by the end of the twentieth century it no longer possessed a single one.

As luck would have it, during restoration work on the entrance to Montreal’s Victoria station, the STP metro company had the wisdom to replace its somewhat damaged glass signaling glass and give one back to the RATP in 2003 [5]. This was the first signaling glass we had the opportunity to examine up close, admiring its clean lines, satin-finish surface and color, which varies from dark red to light orange, depending on the lighting and the thickness of the glass.

 

We have also learned of the existence of a signaling glass [6], also red, on a copy of a Guimard bronze surround in the USA. This unexpected presence, attested to by a State report [7] drawn up in 2002, confirms the existence of a network for the fraudulent export of Guimard metro parts to the USA.

 

For the supply of special glass for the windows and roofs of kiosks and pavilions, we have a contract between CMP (Compagnie du Métro Parisien) , Compagnie de Saint-Gobain and glassmaker Charles Champigneulle. This contract clearly specifies the color of the glass prescribed. However, we have no record of an initial contract for the supply of the signaling glass, which would undoubtedly have enabled us to know the color originally envisaged by Guimard. Given the color of the known glass signaling glass, all orange-red, we logically assumed that they all were. This opinion was supported by the fact that on some old black-and-white shots, considering the reflection of light, the signaling glass appears to be dark, which is compatible with a red color.

 

 

However, this opinion has been challenged by several facts.

The first, to which we should have paid more attention, is the autochrome photograph (giving the actual colors) of Porte d’Auteuil station, dated May 1, 1920 and held in the collection of the Musée Départemental Albert-Kahn. We were unable to reproduce this photograph in the book Guimard, L’Art nouveau du métro due to the museum’s opposition to its publication. Since then, having been included in an exhibition, it has been re-photographed by visitors and is now accessible to all thanks to Wikipedia.

.

This picture clearly shows that the signaling glasses are white, not red. To the best of our knowledge, we have no other autochrome images of the period. In our opinion, colorized postcards such as those in the “Le Style Guimard” series, published in 1903 on Hector Guimard’s initiative, cannot serve as a reliable reference, since the process consists in softening the contrast of a black-and-white shot and superimposing transparent flat tints of color which, while often plausible, are sometimes different from reality.

 

Secondly, the existence of an article published in 1907 in the conservative daily Le Gaulois definitively calls into question the certainty of the exclusive red color of the signaling glasses. We missed this newspaper article in 2003 and 2012. We owe its discovery to an author we will not name.

 

This article begins by explaining why red was preferred to white: more effective night-time signage. It also seems to settle the question of the change of color by establishing that in August 1907, CMP carried out a trial of red signaling glasses on the open surround of Monceau station (line 2), and that a month later, in September 1907, seven more stations were fitted with them. At the same time, on other Guimard surrounds, the CMP had obtained a red color by placing red bulbs in the white glasses. It should be noted in passing that the author justifies this temporary measure by “[safeguarding] the harmonious allure of the porticos, which the red globes would have spoiled during the day”. This justification is all the more strange given that red, acting as a complementary color to the green of the fonts, is more pleasing to the eye than white. Did the journalist copy a “piece of language” communicated by the CMP?

By 1907, red signaling glasses were destined to gradually replace white ones. And yet, it is highly likely that the surrounds of Rome station, photographed with certainty in 1903, already featured red glasses, as can be seen in this enlargement of Charles Maindron’s photograph (see above).

 

On the contrary, the autochrome plate of the Porte d’Auteuil surround (see above) shows white signaling glasses. In this case, however, it was one of the very last Guimard surrounds to be installed by the CMP, on line 10 in 1913 [8]. Logically, therefore, it should have been fitted with red glasses. But at a time when there was no doubt talk of definitively abandoning the use of Guimard entrances, it is likely that white signaling glasses from earlier replacements were used.

To conclude this little study, we finally had the opportunity to discover the image of a white signaling glass thanks to the photographic collection bequeathed to The Cercle Guimard by our friend Laurent Sully Jaulmes. It is just a detail from a very surprising shot taken in Germany in 1967, which we’ll come back to one day. On this occasion, the signaling glass was used as a chandelier.

 

So we don’t despair of seeing signaling glass arrive on the art market in the next few years, because we can’t believe that almost all of those that were originally set up have subsequently been destroyed. On the contrary, a sufficient number of them must still be in private storage. As new generations arrive, they will inevitably reappear, allowing us to take a closer look at these magnificent glass vessels, whether red or white.

 

Frédéric Descouturelle

Translation: Alan Bryden

 

Notes

[1] Descouturelle Frédéric, Mignard André, Rodriguez Michel, Le Métropolitain de Guimard, éditions Somogy, 2003; Descouturelle Frédéric, Mignard André, Rodriguez Michel, Guimard, L’Art nouveau du métro, éditions de La Vie du Rail, 2012.

[2] One of the earliest designs for a surround with a rounded base, project no. 2, was not validated by the authorities, and featured globular-shaped signaling glasses clamped in a cast-iron jaw, see our article Un porte-enseigne défaillant sur les entourages découverts du métro.

[3] The 1899 competition (in which Guimard did not take part) stipulated the presence of a signpost for open surrounds, without mentioning a light source. However, most candidates included one in their proposals.

[4] Low cartouche surrounds installed on the network from 1903-1904.

[5] The other signaling glass was entrusted to the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts.

[6] One of the signaling glasses was then stored and replaced by an equivalent in synthetic material.

[7] This condition report, carried out at the home of the owner of the surround copy in Houston, was written on June 27, 2002 and signed by Steven L. Pine, decorative arts conservator at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, and a specialist in metal conservation. It refers to a previous report of June l6, 1999.

[8] It also shared with the Chardon-Lagache station a peculiarity in the way the crests were hung, a sign, perhaps, of a change in the assembly teams.

 

 

 

 

The « Maison Moderne » of Julius Meier-Graefe — Part 1 June 11, 2025

 Thanks to our Swiss member Michel Philippe Dietschy-Kirchner, we got in touch with Bertrand Mothes, author of a study on “La Maison Moderne”, founded in Paris by German art critic Julius Meier-Graefe. Often overlooked in favor of its better-known competitor, Siegfried Bing’s La Galerie de l’Art Nouveau, it nevertheless published leading decorative artists such as Maurice Dufrène. Its links with Guimard are tenuous and indirect, but not non-existent. Bertrand Mothes has given us the honor of sharing a summary of his work with us.

 

The last decade of the 19th century was a period of radical change in the field of decorative arts in Europe. Artists, patrons, critics, and institutions actively participated in this renaissance of applied arts, each according to their own methods and ideas, but always with the aim of breaking away from the historicist pastiche in which decorative artists and architects had become trapped during the second half of the century. In this climate of emulation, the role of dealers should not be overlooked. In 1895, Siegfried Bing opened the Galeries de l’Art Nouveau at 22 Rue de Provence in Paris. While this gallery is now the best known and the one with the richest historiography, it is important to consider the environment of Parisian art galleries of the period, an environment that included “La Maison Moderne”. This establishment, founded by German art critic and historian Julius Meier-Graefe in 1899, stood alongside Bing’s Art Nouveau as the second center for the trade in innovative decorative arts in the French capital at the turn of the century. Like the Galerie de L’Art Nouveau, La Maison Moderne was a shop where Parisians could come to furnish their homes and buy works of art, trinkets, and fashion accessories. However, its structure and operation differed from those of 22 rue de Provence and reflected the mindset of its owner. Similarly, the selection of artists- some of whom worked for both stores—reflected Julius Meier-Graefe’s aesthetic choices.

 

The soul of « La Maison Moderne”

The first element to examine to understand the origins of La Maison Moderne is the definition of the goals of its creator, Julius Meier-Graefe. Indeed, the gallery was modeled according to his wishes, and he embodied its spirit throughout its entire period of activity. The son of Edward Meier, one of the leaders of the steel industry in Germany, and Marie Graefe, who died giving birth to him [2], Julius Meier-Graefe was born on June 10, 1867, in Reșița [3]. His family moved to the Rhineland and the young Julius grew up near Düsseldorf. He obtained his Abitur in 1879 and began studying industrial engineering with a view to taking over his father’s business [4], first in Munich in 1888 and then the following year in Zurich and Liège. He already seemed attracted to the world of art: he visited the 1889 World’s Fair in Paris and left for Berlin in 1890. He then began studying art history under Herman Grimm and left Berlin without graduating [5].

 

The year 1893 saw Meier-Graefe’s first involvement in the arts: he helped his friend Edvard Munch organize an exhibition and published his first work, the novel Nach Norden (“Towards the North”). That same year, he traveled to England, where he met the most important representatives of the Aesthetic Movement and Arts and Crafts, including Oscar Wilde, William Morris, Edward Burne-Jones, and Aubrey Beardsley [6]. In 1894, he helped found the Pan association and became editor of the eponymous magazine that accompanied it. He shared the title of editor-in-chief with the writer Otto Julius Bierbaum. Meier-Graefe was responsible for editing articles related to the fine arts, while Bierbaum took care of those devoted to literature [7].

 

He then began writing about decorative arts. In his view, painting had lost touch with society, and it was necessary to turn to the applied arts to revive art [8]. Meier-Graefe thus wanted to add an art salon to the Pan association. He wanted to make this salon a new kind of venue, breaking with the exhibitions organized at the time, which no longer satisfied the public, and proposed bringing together all the arts in coherent interiors, without distinction between fine arts and applied arts. His goal was to bring artists and spectators together and create a “modern and harmonious” environment [9]. This idea of an art salon seems to have emerged in his mind after his trip with Siegfried Bing to Belgium in the spring of 1895. They visited the Maison d’Art de la Toison d’Or in Brussels. This gallery, founded in 1894 by the Société Anonyme l’Art, was located in Edmond Picard’s mansion at 56 avenue de la Toison d’Or and was run by his son William Picard. The aim of the Société Anonyme l’Art, which was to stimulate the production of applied arts, was reflected in the presentation method chosen, which was completely new at the time: the layout of the mansion was preserved and the objects—contemporary works of art and craftsmanship intended for everyday use—were displayed in the rooms. This approach differed from the usual arrangement in galleries at the time, which consisted of simply displaying the objects for sale on shelves in soulless, undecorated spaces. Bing and Meier-Graefe were impressed by its innovative approach [10]. Immediately after their visit to the Maison d’Art, Meier-Graefe and Bing also visited Henry Van de Velde, who had just begun construction of his new house, the Bloemenwerf, in Uccle. In his memoirs, Van de Velde recalls “a trip that was intended to inform them about the revival of the arts and crafts in England and various countries on the continent. From Brussels, they were to travel to England, then return via Holland to Denmark, Germany, Austria, and Czechoslovakia (11).”

 

Van de Velde goes on to explain Meier-Graefe’s intentions and proposals, which include expanding his network of contacts and finding new topics for articles to contribute to the development of art magazines in Germany. Meier-Graefe therefore suggests to Van de Velde that he join the foreign contributors to the magazine Pan. The two travelers are apparently convinced of the need to work with Van de Velde and are full of praise for his taste in interior design [12]. Upon departure, Bing expressed his desire to reconnect with Van de Velde with a view to a possible collaboration when he returned to Paris. It was at the end of this trip that Meier-Graefe encouraged Bing to transform his Parisian gallery, inspired by the edifying example of the Maison d’Art as an innovative gallery.

At the end of the year, Meier-Graefe left the Pan association following a disagreement over the publication, in the September-November 1895 issue of the magazine, of a lithograph by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Mademoiselle Lender, in bust, which was deemed immoral by some members of the editorial board [13].

 

He then moved to Paris in the following months, while continuing to contribute to German magazines. From that point on, Meier-Graefe wrote little about painting and focused on the decorative arts. In parallel with his writing, at the end of 1895 he became artistic advisor to Siegfried Bing at his Art Nouveau gallery, where he organized exhibitions [14].

 

Meier-Graefe’s role within Bing’s company placed him at the center of a network of artists, enriching the one already established in Germany. However, his actions were not without criticism from leading figures in the French art scene, such as Auguste Rodin, Octave Mirbeau, and Edmond de Goncourt, who accused him of seeking to overturn “good taste” and the tradition of French decorative arts. Meier-Graefe and Art Nouveau were nevertheless defended by eminent critics such as Camille Mauclair, Gustave Geffroy, Thadée Nathanson, and Roger Marx [15]. After six months of collaboration, Meier-Graefe left Bing’s gallery. The two men continued to see each other, however.

Julius Meier-Graefe then returned to writing. In an article published in Das Atelier in 1896, he described what he considered outdated in the field of interior design. For him, Edmond de Goncourt’s house, furnished in the 18th-century style, no longer met the needs of a late 19th-century interior:

“A modern person cannot live in Second Empire “bric-a-brac”. Taking something from another era and placing it in a new environment can be as disastrous as the barbaric imitations of old models in the decorative arts.

Meier-Graefe also criticized the “museum-like” aspect of this residence during the auction of its contents in 1897. This idea of anachronism concerning the interior decor and furnishings was a constant theme for Meier-Graefe, who used it as an argument in favor of modernity. He considered that “living in a salon in the purest Regency style is equivalent, for a citizen of the Third Republic, to donning a hammered wig and a ribboned coat” and that a collector furnishing his interior in an antique style “often makes himself look as ridiculous as the Bourgeois Gentilhomme [18].”

Another article by Meier-Graefe, published in June 1896, serves as a profession of faith and an affirmation of his commitment to supporting modern decorative arts [19]. In it, he develops his view that divides art into “external environment” and “internal environment.” According to him, the 19th century was the century of the “external environment” dedicated to realistic art, and his era reacted to this artistic conception with “fantastic” art—a term understood today as ‘symbolist’—which aimed to be “useful.” He placed the applied arts at the center of this artistic renewal and believed that modernity could win over the public through the “neutral” field of decorative arts. He was one of the persons best placed to support this development of decorative art, given his interest in it, but also thanks to his knowledge in this field and his network of contacts throughout Europe. He shared this point of view with many artists who were beginning to abandon painting and sculpture to devote themselves to “useful” art, Henry Van de Velde foremost among them.

Meier-Graefe continued to write and, in 1897, acquired the best tool available for conveying his ideas: a magazine of which he would become editor, Dekorative Kunst. This German-language magazine was co-founded and published by Hugo Bruckmann from Munich. Most of the articles were written by Meier-Graefe himself, who used a large number of different pseudonyms [20]. Modelled on the English magazine The Studio, the journal was international in its approach, being published in Germany but with offices in Paris. Its aim was also to transcend borders, as indicated in the launch brochure. Meier-Graefe explained that abstract art had become an end in itself and was now only appealing to a minority of enthusiasts, while interior design and home décor had been abandoned to unscrupulous manufacturers who were content to produce poor replicas of old styles. A reaction against this state of affairs was said to be underway, and the new magazine, devoted exclusively to modern decorative art, would participate in this renewal by preparing the ground. This focus on modern applied arts alone sets it apart from other magazines created or revamped at the same time, which were devoted to both modern and ancient art, such as the Revue des Arts Décoratifs and Art et Décoration in France, The Studio in England, and Deutsche Kunst und Dekoration in Germany.

Meier-Graefe did not just write about decorative arts, he also put his ideas into practice in his new magazine with the help of Belgian artists: the title page of the first issue of Dekorative Kunst was designed by Henry Van de Velde and Théo Van Rysselberghe [21]. Meier-Graefe called on a third Belgian artist, Georges Lemmen, to design two posters and some letterhead for other promotional materials for his magazine. Meier-Graefe took his idea even further, commissioning Van de Velde to design the magazine’s editorial offices at 37 Rue Pergolèse in the 16th arrondissement [22].

 

It seems that Meier-Graefe was already behind the collaboration between the Belgian decorator and Siegfried Bing in 1895[23]. Following the negative reactions to his interior designs at L’Art Nouveau—Rodin called Van de Velde “a barbarian” [24]—Van de Velde seemed to have lost his appreciation for Paris [25], but Meier-Graefe, convinced of his potential success in France, did everything he could to get him recognized there.

 

In view of the success of Dekorative Kunst, and in order to spread his ideas even more widely, Meier-Graefe founded the magazine L’Art décoratif, the French counterpart to the original publication. The first issue was published in October 1898 [26]. It was entirely dedicated to Henry Van de Velde, whom Meier-Graefe commissioned to design the cover [27] and redesign the magazine’s offices.

 

The subtitle of L’Art décoratif, Revue internationale d’art industriel et de décoration, sums up the battle that Meier-Graefe had undertaken the previous year in the German-speaking world and which he now wished to wage in the French-speaking world. His approach was outlined in the preface to the first issue. He wanted to find a rational way of organizing the production and distribution of modern art objects. He wanted to break with the French tradition of promoting “rare objects.” He deplored the situation in the art industries at the time, which forced decorative artists to respond only to commissions from wealthy collectors and did not encourage industrialists with the necessary infrastructure to manufacture objects in large quantities to call on artists to design their models, producing only objects that copied old styles. Meier-Graefe wanted to change this state of affairs and hoped to reconcile artists with industry, which alone can make beauty accessible to the masses. From the third issue of L’Art décoratif, his desire to contribute to the art trade was clear: a fan by Georges de Feure, produced in a limited edition of 100, was offered to readers of the magazine, who had to contact the editorial office to order the item. This was Meier-Graefe’s first venture as an art dealer.

The need for a new gallery

A radical change was afoot in Meier-Graefe’s work. Although he left Bing’s Art Nouveau to concentrate on his writing, he continued to regard it as the ideal structure for promoting the modern style in Paris. However, during the last years of the century, he began to change the decorative concept he wanted to promote at L’Art Nouveau. Barely a year after the gallery opened, profits were already falling short of expectations, as Paul Signac pointed out: “Business is not going well at all; he doesn’t know what he wants, nor what customers want. He is in dire straits and I think he will soon move on to other pursuits[ 31].” Bing therefore began to favor artists with a more “French” conception of decorative arts [32]. This ‘return’ to the “French tradition” of furniture culminated at the 1900 World’s Fair, where Bing’s pavilion presented works by Georges de Feure, Édouard Colonna, and Eugène Gaillard.

 

Meier-Graefe, for his part, “will not allow any kind of compromise, at least for the moment [33].” He was already aware of the economic and financial stakes involved in a business such as L’Art Nouveau. The companies run by Louis Majorelle and Gustave Serrurier-Bovy were models of thriving businesses with processes that differed from those of Bing. Even though he set up his own workshop to create luxury items for his gallery, Meier-Graefe considered that he had “underestimated the enormous growth of this market for new products” and that he had not taken into account the competitive environment specific to Parisian furniture galleries[34].

These various factors led Meier-Graefe to consider setting up his own private art gallery, which he would run and where he would exhibit only works by artists who shared his vision of modern decorative art. By 1899, Meier-Graefe had given the matter a great deal of thought and his ideas had matured. The project was launched later that year. Drawing on his “instinctive feelings and knowledge,” Meier-Graefe began to assemble a “team” of artists who would select the works to be sold in his gallery and decide how and by whom it would be designed. From that date on, he gradually gave up the editorial direction of Dekorative Kunst and L’Art décoratif to devote himself entirely to his project [36]. He was also able to start his business thanks to a large inheritance from his father, who died in 1899. However, the lack of archives does not allow us to know whether Meier-Graefe received any financial support other than his inheritance and personal investment when he set up his gallery [37]. His change of activity and his increasing involvement were praised in the preface to Documents sur l’Art Industriel au vingtième siècle (Documents on Industrial Art in the Twentieth Century), published in 1901 by La Maison Moderne:

“Ten years ago, it was his pleasure to support, in magazines, with passionate enthusiasm, the doctrine of the equality of the arts […]; but Mr. Meier-Graefe was not content with the contemplative and usually ineffective action devolved to the critic; he wanted to prove his words, to move from theory to practice, from propaganda to fact. [38]“

 

The opening of the gallery was reported in the magazines of which he was still editor. The September 1899 issue of L’Art décoratif featured a page written by Meier-Graefe himself (under a pseudonym) announcing the upcoming opening of La Maison Moderne, “a new house for the production and sale of everyday art objects.” The following issue specified the date of the opening, scheduled for the second half of October, and announced that a preview would be held to which subscribers to the magazine would be invited[40]. However, the opening to the public was postponed, as reported in the November 1899 issue, “due to renovation work that the contractors had not anticipated[41].” This is the last mention of the gallery’s imminent opening. A letter sent by Van de Velde to his wife Maria, dated November 15, 1899, and mentioning the opening of the gallery, allows us to estimate more precisely the date of this event, which must have taken place between November 1 and 15, 1899. Van de Velde explains that the opening of La Maison Moderne was not as famous a social event as that of L’Art Nouveau four years earlier, but he was not concerned: “This opening is not sensational, far from it, but nevertheless I believe in the success of the venture[42].” Despite the lack of enthusiasm generated by the creation of a new gallery, Meier-Graefe and his collaborators were convinced of their innovative potential and the future success of their venture.

 

La Maison Moderne was, for its creator, an unprecedented venture: opposed to trade shows and official exhibitions due to the multiplicity of objects on display and their presence in multiple copies, but also opposed to department stores thanks to the indisputable artistic quality of the objects offered for sale, it was also different from workshops’ own shops, such as those of the Daum brothers or Louis Majorelle. La Maison Moderne was similar in style to Bing’s gallery, but Meier-Graefe believed that there was a significant difference between the two, beyond mere stylistic differences. Unlike Bing, who chose to appeal to a very wealthy clientele, Meier-Graefe wanted to include his establishment in “a new category of ‘modern art galleries’ that would meet the needs of a growing number of people for whom the items sold in existing shops were difficult to access[43].” The target audience was therefore much broader than Bing’s. The reason given for this choice was the desire to make art accessible to as many people as possible. According to the author of the preface to Documents sur l’Art Industriel au vingtième siècle (Documents on Industrial Art in the Twentieth Century), “the creation of the Maison Moderne had no other origin than the firm determination to satisfy an ideal that had been that of William Morris, our neighbors across the Channel, and which, until 1898, no one had succeeded in achieving among us.” This social commitment highlighted at the gallery’s opening can also be explained by the fact that a shop selling quality items at reasonable prices can expect to make more sales than a gallery like Bing’s, and therefore be economically viable. Indeed, the financial aspect of La Maison Moderne is an important factor to consider while Meier-Graefe’s ideas were honorable and his desire to fill the living spaces of modest households was commendable, he needed a certain amount of financial prosperity to make his venture a success. The social ideal of the Art Nouveau movement is thus subject to economic success, without which no creation and dissemination of new objects is possible. This financial health would also encourage the most renowned artists to want to collaborate with the gallery. These guiding principles were present from the outset in the gallery’s policy and were explained in the articles accompanying its opening[45]. In the preface to Documents sur l’Art Industriel au vingtième siècle (Documents on Industrial Art in the Twentieth Century), the operating principles and the variety of objects sold are highlighted. A year after the opening, Max Osborn explained the gallery’s position in the Parisian art market and the role of its director:

“One of the most recent phenomena of the present day, in which art and craftsmanship are finally reunited after too long a separation, is the decorative arts bazaar, a hybrid establishment halfway between an art gallery and a department store, offering both luxury goods and everyday objects, and whose owner is an unusual combination of connoisseur, artist, art critic, patron, and businessman in the noblest sense of the word[46].“

Max Osborn also highlights the paradoxical nature of the situation of the Parisian decorative arts: the two most important establishments were run by Germans who were trying, in their own way, to ”root” Art Nouveau in France. Van de Velde mentions in his memoirs the strength of will shown by Meier-Graefe regarding his conception of the decorative arts, but expresses doubts about his ability to carry out a project of this magnitude:

“La Maison Moderne had to differentiate itself from Samuel Bing’s Art Nouveau galleries through the uncompromising nature of its program; the aim was to bring together that section of the public that felt attracted to an evolution in painting and sculpture towards more assured forms and essential qualities. Julius Meier-Graefe could carry out such a program. He certainly did not lack ambition, but he lacked the financial means and the perseverance necessary to devote himself solely to this mission[47].”

Van de Velde’s fears were also justified by the scale Meier-Graefe wanted to give his gallery. While opening his first establishment in Paris, he also wanted to create branches throughout Europe to promote modern industrial art[48].

 

Meier-Graefe’s initiative was highly innovative in France at the time, and La Maison Moderne was to be the springboard for a new alliance between art, industry, and commerce. He sought to form the only trio capable of offering affordable objects and furnishings to a skeptical public and critics: the artist, the manufacturer, and the merchant [49]. Once his gallery was open, Meier-Graefe gradually withdrew from the management of Dekorative Kunst and L’Art décoratif, although the fact that the gallery and the magazines shared administrative offices on Rue des Petits-Champs and the frequency of his articles in both magazines indicate that this withdrawal was never complete. Although he readily presented himself as the director of La Maison Moderne and L’Art décoratif, he found it difficult to openly reconcile the management of a modern art gallery with writing articles in magazines that championed the same cause[50]. He managed to carry out a concerted campaign by using his real name at the head of La Maison Moderne and pseudonyms for the publication of his articles.

While the founding of Dekorative Kunst and then L’Art décoratif brought Meier-Graefe to the forefront of the Parisian art scene, the creation of La Maison Moderne distinguished him as one of the leading players in the art market at the beginning of the 20th century. He now had all the means necessary to disseminate his ideas through published writings and objects offered for sale. Furthermore, his position as gallery director allowed him to select the artists with whom he wished to collaborate, thereby establishing a Europe-wide creative network that helped fuel the climate of emulation that prevailed in the French capital at the time. However, his position as a defender of modern decorative art, determined to “declare war on French taste and the situation in France,” made La Maison Moderne a risky venture, which had to convert the Parisian public to modern taste as quickly as possible or face extinction.

 

Bertrand Mothes

Translation Alan Bryden

 

Notes

[1] Cat. exp. The Origins of Art Nouveau: The Bing House, Antwerp, Fonds Mercator, Paris, Les Arts décoratifs, Amsterdam, Van Gogh Museum, 2004.

[2] Lee SORENSEN, “Julius Meier-Graefe,” Dictionary of Art Historians, [http://www.dictionaryofarthistorians.org/meiergraefej.htm].

[3] City of Banat, now in Romania.

[4]Kenworth MOFFETT, Meier-Graefe as Art Critic, Munich, Prestel-Verlag, 1973, p. 9.

[5] Lee SORENSEN, “Julius Meier-Graefe,” Dictionary of Art Historians, [http://www.dictionaryofarthistorians.org/meiergraefej.htm].

[6] Exhibition catalog, Alexandre Charpentier (1856-1909). Naturalisme et Art Nouveau, Paris, Musée d’Orsay, N. Chaudun, 2007, p. 126.

[7] Jean-Michel LENIAUD, L’Art nouveau, Paris, Citadelles & Mazenod, 2009, pp. 453-454.

[8] Exhibition catalog, Art nouveau: Symbolismus und Jugendstil in Frankreich, Stuttgart, Arnoldsche, 1999, p. 150.

[9] Catherine KRAHMER, “Meier-Graefe et les arts décoratifs, un rédacteur à deux têtes” in Alexandre KOSTKA, Françoise LUCBERT (eds.), Distanz und Aneignung, Relations artistiques entre la France et l’Allemagne 1870-1945, Berlin, Akademie Verlag, 2004, p. 232.

[10] Cat. Exp Georges Lemmen 1865-1916, Brussels, Crédit Communal, Ghent, Snoeck-Ducaju & Zoon, Antwerp, Pandora, 1997, p. 51.

[11] Henry VAN DE VELDE, Récit de ma vie. 1, Anvers, Bruxelles, Paris, Berlin (1863-1900), text compiled and annotated by Anne VAN LOO and Fabrice VAN DE KERCKHOVE, Brussels, Versa, Paris, Flammarion, 1992, p. 263.

[12] The conversation takes place in the music room of Van de Velde’s mother-in-law’s house, which he has just redecorated for Irma Sèthe, his wife Maria’s sister, with wallpaper featuring a dahlia pattern.

[13] Roger CARDON, Georges Lemmen (1865-1916), Antwerp, Petraco-Pandora, 1990, p. 448.

[14] Les origines de L’Art nouveau : la Maison Bing, op. cit., note 1, p. 236.

[15] MOFFETT, op. cit., note 4, p. 28.

[16] Julius MEIER-GRAEFE, “L’Art Nouveau. Das Prinzip,” Das Atelier, 1896, no. 5, pp. 2-4; translation by Edwin Becker in Les origines de L’Art nouveau : la Maison Bing, op. cit., note 1, pp. 129-131.

[17] MOFFETT, op. cit., note 4, p. 28.

[18] Documents sur l’Art Industriel au vingtième siècle. Photographic reproductions of the main works of contributors to La Maison Moderne.

Commented by R. [Raoul] AUBRY, H. [Henri] FRANTZ, G.-M. JACQUES [pseudonym Julius MEIER-GRAEFE], G. [Gustave] KAHN, J. [Julius] MEIER-GRAEFE, Gabriel MOUREY, Y. [Yvanhoé] RAMBOSSON, E. [Émile] SEDEYN, Gustave SOULIER, G. [Georges] BANS, with nine additional illustrations by Félix VALLOTTON Les Métiers d’Art. Paris, Édition de La Maison Moderne, 1901, p. 11 [Preface].

[19] Julius MEIER-GRAEFE, “Dekorative Kunst,” Neue Deutsche Rundschau, June 1896, pp. 543-560.

[20] On Meier-Graefe’s pseudonyms, see KRAHMER, op. cit., note 9, pp. 248-249.

[21] Catherine Krahmer attributes the cover design to Van de Velde (KRAHMER, op. cit. note 9, p. 233), while Roger Cardon attributes it to Van Rysselberghe (CARDON, op. cit. note 13, pp. 445–446).

[22] CARDON, op. cit. note 13, p. 176.

[23] VAN DE VELDE, op. cit. note 11, p. 267.

[24] VAN DE VELDE, op. cit. note 11, p. 277.

[25] LENIAUD, op. cit. note 7, p. 129.

[26] VAN DE VELDE, op. cit. note 11, p. 341.

[27] Van de Velde’s composition was used as the cover of L’Art décoratif until issue no. 24 of the magazine, in September 1900.

[28] KRAHMER, op. cit. note 9, p. 239.

[29] Julius MEIER-GRAEFE [n. s.], “Préface,” L’Art décoratif, October 1898, no. 1, p. 2.

[30] L’Art décoratif, December 1898, no. 3, n. p.

[31] Letter from Paul Signac to Charles Angrand, December 30, 1896, private archives, quoted in Paris-Bruxelles, Bruxelles-Paris symbolisme, art nouveau : les relations artistiques entre la France et la Belgique, 1848-1914, exhibition catalog, Paris, Réunion des musées nationaux, Antwerp, Fonds Mercator, 1997, p. 393.

[32] Nancy J. TROY, Modernism and the Decorative Arts in France: Art Nouveau to Le Corbusier, New Haven and London, Yale University Press, 1991, p. 32.

[33] “Meier-Graefe lässt sich, wenigstens vorläufig, auf solche Kompromisse nicht ein” (Max OSBORN, “La Maison Moderne in Paris,” Deutsche Kunst und Dekoration, November 1900, vol. VII, p. 102).

[34] Stephen ESCRITT, L’Art nouveau, Paris, Phaidon, 2002, p. 316.

[35] Documents sur l’Art Industriel au vingtième siècle, op. cit., note 18, p. IV [Preface].

[36] Art nouveau : Symbolismus und Jugendstil in Frankreich, op. cit.,note 8, p. 151.

[37] TROY, op. cit., note 32, p. 46.

[38] Documents sur l’Art Industriel au vingtième siècle, op.cit., note 18, p. I [Preface]. This acknowledgement of Meier-Graefe’s contribution should be tempered: it appears that he himself wrote the preface to Documents sur l’Art Industriel au vingtième siècle, as well as the commentary in the “Furniture” section, as he is mentioned on the title page as one of the contributors to the work, although none of the texts are signed with his name. However, he is undoubtedly the author of the commentary on metal objects and lighting fixtures, signed under his pseudonym G.-M. Jacques.

[39] R. [pseudonym Julius MEIER-GRAEFE], “Chronique de l’art décoratif, La ‘Maison Moderne’,” L’Art Décoratif, September 1899, no. 12, p. 277.

[40] R. [pseudonym Julius MEIER-GRAEFE], “Chronicle of Decorative Art, The ‘Modern House’,” L’Art Décoratif, October 1899, no. 13, p. 51.

[41] R. [pseudonym Julius MEIER-GRAEFE], “Chronicle of Decorative Art, La Maison Moderne,” L’Art Décoratif, November 1899, no. 14, p. 96.

[42] Paris-Bruxelles, Bruxelles-Paris, op. cit., note 31, p. 392.

[43] TROY, op. cit., note 32, p. 43; ESCRITT, op. cit., note 34, p. 318.

[44] Documents sur l’Art Industriel au vingtième siècle, op. cit., note 18, p. I [Preface].

[45] R., op. cit., note 3_9, p. 277.

[46] OSBORN, op. cit., note 33, p. 99.

[47] VAN DE VELDE, op. cit., note 11, p. 357.

[48] KRAHMER, op. cit., note 9, p. 240.

[49] Rossella FROISSART PEZONE, L’art dans tout. Les arts décoratifs en France et l’utopie de l’Art Nouveau, Paris, CNRS Éditions, 2004, p. 69.

[50] KRAHMER, op. cit., note 9, p. 237.