Showing posts with label Louis Comfort Tiffany. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Louis Comfort Tiffany. Show all posts

Saturday, September 24, 2022

Art Eyewitness Essay: The Dream Garden of Maxfield Parrish & Louis Comfort Tiffany

 

Art Eyewitness Essay:
The Dream Garden of Maxfield Parrish & Louis Tiffany

Essay Text by Ed Voves
Original Photos by Anne Lloyd

It was a perfect September day. Golden sunshine, bright blue sky, temperature in the high 70's, low humidity. "Camelot" weather, where "it never rains until after sundown." More to the point, since I live in Philadelphia, it was a "Dream Garden" kind of day. 

On this delightful day, my wife, Anne, and I visited The Dream Garden, a magnificent mosaic located in the historic "Old City" section of Philly. Created over a century ago by Maxfield Parrish and Louis Comfort Tiffany, it is one of the greatest mosaics in the world and it is right here, in Philadelphia.



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
The Curtis Center lobby, showing The Dream Garden.

It is always a sunny day in Philadelphia's Dream Garden. But the dramatic story of the creation of this vision of earthly paradise has plenty of stormy weather.

Cyrus Curtis, who founded the Curtis Publishing Company in 1891, desired a grand work of art for the lobby of his new office building, opened in 1910. The Curtis Building, now Curtis Center, is located at 601-645 Walnut Street, Philadelphia, across the street from the park behind Independence Hall.

 


Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
Exterior view of the Curtis Center, Philadelphia PA

The Curtis Building served as the headquarters of one of America's great media empires. Cyrus Curtis and his talented son-in-law, Edward W. Bok, guided their flagship magazines, The Saturday Evening Post and Ladies Home Journal, to readership in the millions and immense profits.

Curtis and Bok wanted a work of art to match the influence and vision of their publications and they got what they wanted - eventually. 

Edwin Austin Abbey (1852-1911) was commissioned to create an appealing, accessible work of art, suited to the taste of the readers of the Curtis publications. A Philadelphia-born painter with an international reputation, Abbey was a member of the Royal Academy in London, a rare honor for an American. He had played an important role in the American watercolor renaissance following the Civil War and was an accomplished mural painter. 

For the Curtis Building, Abbey planned a painting in the spirit of Raphael's School of Athens. The mural would depict Plato and his disciples engaged in discussion in the Grove of Academe.

Abbey set to work on the preparatory sketches. And then, suddenly, in August 1911, he died.

Abbey's death was a heavy blow but this moment of adversity also brought Edward W. Bok, Vice President of Curtis, to the center stage of the saga of The Dream Garden. Three dynamic men of genius would play leading roles in the creation of this masterpiece, with Bok as a Lorenzo the Magnificent-style patron. 



Edward W. Bok

Edward Bok (1863-1930) was a leading proponent of the Art and Crafts movement as well as a brilliant editor. Born in Holland, Bok was ambitious and hard-working, courteous and community-conscious. In short, he was well-positioned to find the right artist to create a mural for the lobby of the Curtis Building. 

Following Abbey's death, Bok offered the mural commission to John Singer Sargent, who declined. Howard W. Pyle, America's most renowned illustrator, based in nearby Wilmington, Delaware, was next on Bok's list. Pyle, however, died suddenly in November 1911. 

Over the next two years, a succession of artists were considered and rejected for the mural, including Louis Comfort Tiffany (1848-1933), the leading decorative artist in the U.S.



Louis Comfort Tiffany

Bok esteemed Tiffany's luminous mosaic technique, known as favrile glass, but rejected the designs he submitted. Finally, a French artist, Louis Boutet de Monvel, was selected. Then, on March 16, 1913, Boutet de Monvel died.

The entire project to transform the lobby of the Curtis Building into a showcase of truth and beauty seemed jinxed.

"The hoodoo that is following me in regard to the panels is simply amazing," Bok wrote, "... the moment  I have mural relations with a man he seems to run off the earth."

After Boutet de Monvel's death, Bok turned to the hugely popular artist/illustrator, Maxfield Parrish, for a design which Tiffany and his artisans would translate into mosaic. Parrish, the "master of make-believe" had local Philadelphia roots like Abbey and Pyle. But he was in remarkably good health and would, in fact, live until 1966.

 


Maxfield Parrish

It is odd that Bok waited so long to approach Parrish. He and the artist had worked together on a number of successful projects. Parrish was completing a series of murals for the Ladies' Dining Room at the Curtis Building while Bok searched in vain for an artist for the lobby mural. Moreover, Parrish was a member of Bok's design selection team. 

There is no easy answer to this riddle. But it is revealing that the design Parrish submitted, a three by nine foot panel painting, was not a "grove of Academe" scene. Instead, it portrayed a "dream garden."

Based in part on Parrish's own garden at his home in New Hampshire, the design is radically different from a reworking of Raphael's School of Athens. Except for two small sculptures featuring Commedia dell'Arte masks at the bottom of the design, there is no sign of the hand of man. No Greek-style architecture, no pensive philosophers.



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
Detail of The Dream Garden, showing a Commedia dell'Arte mask

What Parrish's design depicted was an idyllic refuge from the hard-edged industrial world on the streets of modern American cities. 



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
Gallery view of The Dream Garden at the Curtis Center

Parish offered a beguiling scene to viewers, who could imagine themselves stepping over the lobby threshold into the sylvan setting of The Dream Garden. Bathed in golden light, meditating among the clumps of fragrant flowers and majestic trees, visitors to the Curtis Building would be "at one with nature." 



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
Detail of The Dream Garden, center-foreground of the mosaic

Bok accepted the design, paying Parrish $2,000 for the picture. Tiffany would receive $40,000 to create the mosaic. Work began in 1914. 

The key to success was matching Tiffany's favrile glass technique to Parrish's radiant color scheme. The favrile glass firing technique, patented by Tiffany in 1894, treats molten glass with metallic oxides which ingrain color throughout the glass, not just on the surface. The signature iridescent quality of Tiffany Glass is the result.




Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
Detail of The Dream Garden, showing Tiffany mosaic tiles

Rather than continuing with a detailed recapitulation of the production process of The Dream Garden, I will quote from the brilliant - and succinct - summation on the descriptive plaque in the lobby of the Curtis Center.

The mosaic's images are rendered in "favrile" glass, following a complex hand I firing process developed by Tiffany to produce over 100,000 pieces of glass in 260 colors. Most of the glass was set in 24 panels in Tiffany's New York studios. Thirty artisans worked for a year on the mosaic, and the installation of the panels in this location took six months. The finished work was hailed by art critics as "a veritable wonder-piece" at the official unveiling in 1916. The amazing variety of opaque, translucent, and transparent glass, entirely lighted from the lobby achieves perspective effects that have never been duplicated.

The unveiling of The Dream Garden, first in Tiffany's studio in New York and then in Philadelphia, created a sensation. Bok was mightily pleased, as were the throngs of art lovers who visited the previews. 



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
Detail of The Dream Garden, showing Louis Comfort Tiffany's careful
 translation of Maxfield Parrish's original design into mosaic 

Even art critics approved of The Dream Garden, one going so far as to say, "Mere words are only aggravating in describing this amazing picture."

Maxfield Parrish, however, was not pleased. He flatly refused to attend the opening reception in Philadelphia or to send a conciliatory message.

Parrish's dislike of The Dream Garden mosaic is hard to fathom. He only visited Tiffany's studios on two occasions, at the beginning of the project and once more, as work neared completion. He raised no major criticism at that time. 

Bok lavished praise on Parrish, printing and distributing a handsome color print of the the original painting which Tiffany and his team labored so diligently to translate into mosaic. Except for a remark that the mosaic lacked the "painterliness" of his original design, Parrish retreated into an aggrieved silence.

Unless a stash of recriminatory letters comes to light, it is unlikely that a definitive reason for Parrish's disapproval of The Dream Garden mosaic will be discovered. 

Anne was able to take some superb close-up photos of The Dream Garden mosaic tiles. These enabled me to study images of these bits of favrile glass on the computer screen in a way that I could not by direct examination in the Curtis Center Lobby. Over and over again, I was astonished by the artistry, as well as the technical skill, of Tiffany and his team. 

This mastery is particularly evident in the way that Tiffany and his artisans were able to recreate the orange glow of early morning light bathing the exposed mountain face. Shades of light purple evoke the shadowy recesses, still untouched by the dawn. 

All of this visual magic was achieved with thousands of small pieces of colored glass covering a vast space measuring fifteen by forty-nine feet.  




Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
Details of The Dream Garden mosaic
showing skillful use of contrasting colors in Tiffany's favrile tiles

As if this was not impressive enough, the very moment of sunrise is articulated by a golden line of light, outlining the summit of a mountain, above and to the left of the scene just described. Dawn awakens the world, not in one blazing moment, but in a gradual process, a sublime transformation which the Tiffany team captured with astonishing skill.



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
Mountain sunrise in The Dream Garden mosaic

As stated in the descriptive lobby plaque (provided by the Pennsylvania Academy of Art) the Tiffany Studio used 260 colors of glass to translate The Dream Garden into mosaic. But this wide array of colors was not sufficient for Tiffany who tasked his artisans to hand-paint some of the glass pieces to better replicate the details of Parrish's design. 



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
Detail of The Dream Garden mosaic. Painted embellishments by 
Tiffany artisans are visible in the rose petals.

Many of the glass pieces of the mosaic were also backed by gold leaf to enhance a shimmering effect.



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
Many of The Dream Garden mosaic tiles were set in place 
over a gold leaf backing by Tiffany artisans.

Given this exacting effort to to insure fidelity with Parrish's original, the  comment that the mosaic was not "painterly" does seem to be a bit unfair. 

It is important to remember that the original design was Parrish's conception, his "dream." It is intriguing to speculate about the human drama behind The Dream Garden. But a more important point needs to be considered, as well. 



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
The Curtis Center lobby, showing the installation of The Dream Garden

During the long six-year campaign to mount a major work of art in the lobby of the Curtis Building, a series of seismic shifts, cultural and political, transformed the familiar world of Bok, Tiffany and Parrish.

In 1911, when Abbey died and Bok's quest began in earnest, the social structures of the Edwardian age, with its unquestioning belief in progress and profit, were still in place. Then, in 1913, the Armory Show hit the American art scene like a tornado. The next year, World War I shattered Europe. "Too proud to fight" in 1915 when 128 U.S. citizens drowned in the sinking of the passenger ship Lusitania by a German submarine, many Americans were ready and willing to join in the global bloodbath in 1917.


Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 

Seen in retrospect, 1916 was the last year of America's Gilded Age. The Dream Garden, intended to embody precepts of truth and beauty, serves as a poignant memorial to a vanished America where "wars and rumors of wars" were almost always "Over There" or in the past.



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 

Melancholy thoughts like this don't last long, when you stand before The Dream Garden. Meditate for a moment or two. Behold the reflection of the glimmering mosaic in the wishing pool, below. Savor the essence of this remarkable work of art, ingrained in thousands of favrile glass tiles, and then that spirit will enter into our hearts, too! 

After we left the Curtis Building, Anne and I walked down Walnut Street past the 18th-style gardens cultivated  for by the Pennsylvania Horticultural Society. 



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022)
Colonial-style gardens at the Independence National Historical Park 

It was a familiar scene for me. Many years ago, I used to work as a volunteer tour guide at the Independence National Historic Park. I have walked past these gardens countless times

On this sunny day in September, however, the neatly-trimmed hedges and shrubs, sited with geometric precision, affected me much differently than they usually do. 



Anne Lloyd, Photo (2022) 
A Philadelphia "Dream Garden", 2022

Perhaps it was the weather or just my impression, but everywhere I looked I seemed to see a Dream Garden.

***

Maxfield Parrish (American, 1870-1966), designer. The Dream Garden, 1914-15. Constructed by Tiffany Studios, Cortona, New York; installed in the Curtis Center Building, Philadelphia, 1916. Favrile Glass Mosaic:15 x 49 feet (180 x 588 Inches.) Weight: four tons. 

The Dream Garden is part of the Collection of the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts. Partial Bequest of John W. Merriam; partial purchase with funds provided by a grant from the Pew Charitable Trusts; partial gift from Bryn Mawr College, The University of  the Arts, and the Trustees of the University of Pennsylvania. 2001-15.#2001.15

The photo of Maxfield Parrish is from the archives of the National Portrait Gallery, Washington D.C.; the photos of Edward W. Bok and Louis Comfort Tiffany are from the Library of Congress.

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Eakins to Tiffany: 19th Century Masterpieces at the Philadelphia Museum of Art


Eakins to Tiffany:    

 The Return of The Gross Clinic to the Philadelphia Museum of Art


Reviewed by Ed Voves

America during the decades following the Civil War entered what Mark Twain memorably called the Gilded Age. Many historians dispute Twain’s irony.  "Gilded" like another term of that period, "shoddy," casts a negative estimation upon the society of the United States between 1865 to 1900 that is largely undeserved.

Political corruption - symbolized by "Boss" Tweed of Tammany Hall and the "Whiskey Ring" bribery scandal that reached into the highest levels of the U.S. Government - was rampant. However, the 1870's and 1880's also witnessed an amazing outburst of artistic creativity. This was the era of Thomas Eakins, Winslow Homer, John Singer Sargent and Mary Cassatt.

The Philadelphia Museum of Art recently re-opened the dialog on American art during the post-Civil War era. The occasion for this re-appraisal was the return of The Gross Clinic by Thomas Eakins to the museum's American galleries. The Gross Clinic portrays the great surgeon, Dr. Samuel Gross, lecturing to medical students at the Jefferson Medical College while operating on a young patient afflicted with an infected thigh bone. 

The Gross Clinic is arguably the greatest American painting of the nineteenth century. It is likewise one of the nation's most significant works of art when viewed from the perspective of America's social development.



Thomas Eakins, The Gross Clinic, 1876

Portrait of Dr. Samuel D. Gross, as it is officially known, was painted in 1876, after exhaustive research and intensive preliminary studies. It is a very big painting, measuring 8 feet (240 cm) by 6.5 feet (200 cm). Originally purchased by admiring students of Dr. Gross for $200, the painting was redeemed for the hefty sum of $68 million, produced in a dramatic 2007 fund-raising campaign that saved The Gross Clinic from being sold away from Philadelphia. 

An art work of this magnitude surely deserves a gallery all to itself.

This is exactly what the curators of the Philadelphia Museum of Art did not do when they re-hung The Gross Clinic this summer. Instead, The Gross Clinic was closely integrated with other major American masterpieces of the period to create a visually and intellectually stimulating display.

Technically speaking, this revamped presentation of Eakin's 1876 masterpiece is a "reinstallation." The Philadelphia Museum of Art and the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts (PAFA) share ownership of The Gross Clinic, which rotates between the two institutions for presentation to the public.  

When it was recently displayed at PAFA, The Gross Clinic was positioned in a way to heighten its singular, almost majestic, individuality. In its present setting at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, The Gross Clinic shares the gallery walls with other works of art in very close proximity. During the nineteenth century, paintings were hung floor-to-ceiling and the Philadelphia Museum of Art evokes this Victorian era-approach to art to perfection.

Ironically, The Gross Clinic was rejected by the art jury of the Centennial Exposition, the "world's fair" that celebrated the one hundred year anniversary of America's independence in 1876. Eakin's painting was relegated to the back wall of the U.S. Army’s exhibit of a model military hospital, hanging above camp beds draped with mosquito netting. 

In a way, The Gross Clinic is a sublimated Civil War picture. It depicts heroic measures undertaken by Dr. Gross to rescue a threatened human body, just as Lincoln and the Union forces had saved the endangered body politic during the war. But few of the ten million visitors to the Centennial Exposition held in Philadelphia wanted to be reminded.

Progress and prosperity interested Americans in 1876. Across the room from The Gross Clinic, another huge masterwork by Eakins captures the contrast between the accepted standards of American society at the beginning and at the culmination of the so-called Gilded Age. 

Eakins’ The Agnew Clinic depicts Dr. Hayes Agnew performing a mastectomy in 1889 before students of the University of Pennsylvania's Medical Department. The parallel theme with The Gross Clinic was deliberate. But there the similarities end. Dr. Agnew and his team of surgeons are dressed in spotless surgical smocks, using sterilized instruments and have a professional nurse in attendance. 

An actual nurse at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania modeled for Eakins. Her name was Mary U. Clymer. The look of knowing compassion on her face makes Eakin's depiction of Miss Clymer one of his most appealing portraits. 



Thomas Eakins, The Agnew Clinic, photogravure print

This bond between nurse and patient, however, did not save The Agnew Clinic from a storm of controversy. Perhaps anticipating the outcry over the unflinching realism of the scene, Eakins went to the exceptional length of painting a black-and-white version of the work to insure that photogravure prints made from the painting would be of exceptional quality.

The Agnew Clinic was displayed in 1893 at Chicago’s World’s Columbian Exposition. It won a gold medal - but not much public approval. That went to a painting entitled Breaking Home Ties which was voted the most popular painting at the Chicago exhibition.

A poignant narrative scene, Breaking Home Ties shows a young man beginning his life's journey as he bids farewell to his family. Sadly, the painter of this work, Thomas Hovenden, was nearing the end of his life's journey. In 1895, Hovenden died trying to save a little girl who had wandered on to train tracks near his home in Philadelphia's suburbs. Hovenden and the child were struck and killed by a rail locomotive, the supreme symbol of nineteenth century progress. 



Thomas Hovenden, Breaking Home Ties, 1890

The Irish-born Hovenden had painted Breaking Home Ties in 1890. That year, a report from the U.S. Census Department revealed that westward frontier development had ceased, "there can hardly be said to be a frontier line." Young Americans like the central figure in the painting were no longer being urged to "go West." Instead, they were heading to America's booming industrial cities.   

"The frontier has gone, and with its going has closed the first period of American history,” announced historian Frederick Jackson Turner in an influential lecture presented in Chicago in 1893 that later became known as the Frontier Thesis.



José Maria Velasco, Valley of Oaxaca, 1888.

American painters had long been fascinated with the West. Grand Canyon of the Colorado River, by Thomas Moran, and a similar, if smaller, work, Valley of Oaxaca, painted in 1888 by Mexican artist José Maria Velasco, highlight the frontier "thesis" of American art. Other works in the gallery by John Singer Sargent and Mary Cassatt reveal that the geographic trend noted by the U.S. Census was also taking place in the American art world. Indeed, it had started well before 1890.

Sargent and Cassatt were American artists who responded to the call of Western civilization in Europe rather than the Western frontier. They were joined by the talented African-American painter, Henry Ossawa Tanner, who went on to create some of the greatest religious art ever painted by an American artist.



Henry Ossawa Tanner, The Annunciation, 1898

Sargent, Cassatt, Tanner and other Europe-bound artists were thus pioneers of a different sort, helping to create a global, international focus for American art.

Sargent (1856-1925), who was born in Florence, Italy, spent almost his entire life in Europe. Sargent's "swagger" portraits of the rich and famous of Europe - and rich Americans visiting there - made him rich and famous. Likewise, Cassatt (1844–1926), after training at PAFA and briefly working in Chicago, joined the celebrated circle of the Impressionists.

The two paintings in the Philadelphia gallery by Sargent and Cassatt are transitional works, pointing in the direction they and American art would take in the years to come. 



John Singer Sargent, Portrait of Frances Sherborne Ridley Watts, 1877

Sargent's painting of a young lady with an imposing name, Frances Sherborne Ridley Watts, was in fact the portrait of his childhood friend, "Fanny" Watts (1858-1927). Sargent and his sisters had a network of friends from American families like their own, who lived and traveled extensively in Europe. Sargent painted Miss Watts while he was still studying with Carolus-Duran, one of the leading portrait painters of the era. The work retains much of Carolus-Duran's polished style. Otherwise, it is pure Sargent, a patron-pleasing likeness with acute psychological insight.

I recently attended an exhibition of nineteenth century society portraits at the New York Historical Society. The Sargent portrait among the group was unmistakable. It almost jumped off the wall. One could not say that about Mary Cassatt's On the Balcony, painted during a trip to Spain in 1873. Cassatt was still struggling to find her own voice as an artist when she returned to Europe in the autumn of 1871. She had received a commission to paint copies of the Renaissance artist, Corregio. On the Balcony is a derivative work too and only a Cassatt scholar would readily identify it as a Cassatt.


Mary Cassatt, On the Balcony, 1873

However, there is a very telling detail of On the Balcony that shows that the young Mary Cassatt was an artist with a great future ahead. 

There was a mania for Spanish painting during the mid-nineteenth century. Cassatt, like Sargent and Eakins, traveled to Spain to study the great masters of Spain's seventeenth century Golden Age. Cassatt's 1873 visit was an important step toward creating her own independent style. If On the Balcony is only an apprentice-caliber work, another painting done by Cassatt at this time, Spanish Dancer Wearing a Lace Mantilla, (Smithsonian Collection) was more revealing of her talent as a portrait painter.

Another American artist travelling in Europe around this time was Louis Comfort Tiffany (1848-1933). Tiffany originally was motivated to be a painter. But after returning to the United States, where he exhibited Snake Charmer at Tangier, Africa, at the 1876 Centennial Exposition, Tiffany focused on decorative arts.

Fascinated with creating works of art in glass, Tiffany explored the range of effects, from jewel-like brilliance to subtle shades of opalescence. Then, in the 1890’s, Tiffany teamed with Arthur Nash, a master glass worker and chemist from England, to create one of the most exquisite forms of objets d'art of modern times.

Blending metallic oxides with molten glass to create iridescent art glass  - stained glass windows, lampshades, vases - Tiffany patented the process in 1894 under the  trademark name, Favrile. This brand name was based on the Old English word, fabrile, which means hand-wrought. 



Louis Comfort Tiffany, Flower Form Vase, c. 1900.

Tiffany’s Favrile glass pieces were deemed collectable treasures almost from the moment of creation. Louisine and Henry Osborne Havemeyer, pioneers in the collection of Impressionist painting, donated over fifty works of Favrile glass to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in 1896, an amazingly short time span in art appreciation. The Philadelphia Museum of Art has a breathtakingly beautiful example of its own on display, Flower Form Vase, which has been part of its collection since 1931.

There is incredible diversity of art works on display in this major installation of late nineteenth century works at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Hearkening back to the heroic age of Dr. Gross, American art of the period also looked forward to bold experimentation with color and form as exemplified in Favrile glass.

As the old American frontier faded, compelling democratic vistas emerged into view. A new age of American art and culture arose, neither golden nor gilded, but Modern to its core.
***
Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved 

Images Courtesy of the Philadelphia Museum of Art
Introductory Image:
Thomas Eakins, American, 1844 1916. Portrait of Dr. Samuel D. Gross (The Gross Clinic), 1875.  (Detail)
Thomas Eakins, American, 1844 1916. Portrait of Dr. Samuel D. Gross (The Gross Clinic), 1875.  Oil on canvas, 8 feet x 6 feet 6 inches (243.8 x 198.1 cm). Philadelphia Museum of Art, Gift of the Alumni Association to Jefferson Medical College in 1878 and purchased by the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts and the Philadelphia Museum of Art in 2007 with the generous support of more than 3,600 donors, 2007
Thomas Eakins, American, 1844 1916. The Agnew Clinic, 1889. Photogravure,  7 7/8 x 11 inches (20.0 x 27.9 cm) Philadelphia Museum of Art, Gift of Samuel B. Sturgis, 19y
Thomas Hovenden, , American (born Ireland), 1840 1895. Breaking Home Ties, 1890. Oil on canvas, 52 1/8 x 72 1/4 inches (132.4 x 183.5 cm) Framed: 76 1/8 × 96 1/4 inches (193.4 × 244.5 cm). Philadelphia Museum of Art, Gift of Ellen Harrison McMichael in memory of C. Emory McMichael, 1942.
José Maria Velasco, Mexican, 1840 1912. Valley of Oaxaca, 1888.  Oil on canvas, 41 7/8 x 63 1/4 inches (106.4 x 160.7 cm). Philadelphia Museum of Art, Gift of the Mauch Chunk National Bank, 1949
Henry Ossawa Tanner, American (active France), 1859 1937. The Annunciation, 1898. Oil on canvas, 57 x 71 1/4 inches (144.8 x 181 cm) Framed: 73 3/4 x 87 1/4 inches (187.3 x 221.6 cm). Philadelphia Museum of Art, Purchased with the W. P. Wilstach Fund, 1899.
John Singer Sargent, American (active London, Florence, and Paris), 1856 1925. Portrait of Frances Sherborne Ridley Watts, 1877. Oil on canvas, 41 11/16 x 32 inches (105.9 x 81.3 cm) Framed: 46 1/4 × 37 3/8 × 3 1/2 inches (117.5 × 94.9 × 8.9 cm). Philadelphia Museum of Art, Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Wharton Sinkler, 1962
Mary Stevenson Cassatt, American, 1844 1926. On the Balcony, 1873. Oil on canvas, 39 3/4 x 21 1/2 inches (101 x 54.6 cm). Philadelphia Museum of Art, Gift of John G. Johnson for the W. P. Wilstach Collection, 1906.
 Louis Comfort Tiffany, American, 1848 1933. Flower Form Vase, c. 1900. Favrile glass, 16 3/4 x 5 3/8 inches (42.5 x 13.7 cm). Philadelphia Museum of Art, Gift of J. Stogdell Stokes, 1931