The Fans.

I have a wandering mind, and sometimes it wanders back in time to moments with my paternal grandmother. Actually often it does. My grandma (Theresa), was a big influence in my life, and she and my grandfather encouraged my creativity and artistic pursuits. Ironically - or not - my grandfather's name was Art. They were each creative in their own right, but neither saw their creativity as their profession, but rather hobbies. I think grandpa Art was truly an artist at heart, but he trained as a chemical and metallurgical engineer - crafting amazingly fanciful plants and flowers out of scrap metal and sometimes silver in his spare time.

Anyway, my wandering mind slid back in time this morning to discussions with my grandmother about her maternal grandfather (Alexander), a very wealthy, prominent NY lawyer, and art collector and critic. He was part of an elite inner circle of swanky people of many types, but many, many artists were his friends. Louis Comfort Tiffany and portrait painter Madrazo, were two of many that included so many recognizable names in art of the time.

Alexander's love for art and connections to the artists brought him to develop a project of massive proportions. His idea, was to commission artists to each paint a blade of a fan, sadly ivory blades. (I loathe this aspect of this story, but must remember the time in which this project was taken on.) The blades would then be curated, and assembled into fittings designed and made by Louis Comfort Tiffany.

There were 5 created in total, and some "spare" blades painted that didn’t make it into the final 5. My grandmother had some of the spares still in her collection, I think my dad might have them now. My grandmother always referred to them as “The Fans”.

And while the “The Fans” were long sold and sales trail forgotten there were also left over blanks of these fan blades. Theresa gave me the extras when I was in art school. She asked me to “decorate” them and send them to her so that she could frame and hang them. Regrettably, I never did. I was highly intimidated by the seemingly overwhelming task. I didn’t want to soil the virgin blades that the likes of Rosa Bonheur had touched. I never told her about my fear of the project nor my sadness that they were made of ivory. Had I, she would have tsk-tskd me. She didn’t believe in letting intimidation limit her in any way. She would not have been pleased with my inability to do the task.  And yet, decades after her death, the blades still sit, wrapped as she sent them, with her hand written note, among my things. Like a tiny time capsule of sadness and regret – but also a wonderful memory of my grandmother who believed that I could have risen to the task and created something beautiful for her to cherish. I have no idea where the finished fans are, or if they still exist in the bowels of some basement or archives of a museum.  If you know – please reach out, I’ve only seen black and white photos of these masterpieces of combined artistic genius and I would love to set my eyes on the actual objects.

Below is a story about the fans from the period, the artists included and the real collaboration that it was to curate and create these unique objects that spun from Alexander’s imagination (and finances).

https://www.jstor.org/stable/25435675?seq=4  It irritates me that the fans are named for someone else, but nevertheless the beauty of the project is the point.

And for the curious, no, none of that wealth passed down this far, but something more important did, the love of art and the understanding that art is essential to existence, and the need for the richness it brings to life itself is universal.