This firescreen or overdoor is based on the 1738 painting La Toilette d'Esther by Jean-François de Troy (French, 1679-1752). This wallpaper is an almost exact replication of the original oil painting by de Troy. The manufacturer has used about 40 printed colors to capture the lushness of the original painting with all its luxurious textiles. Each printed color required about 5 different shades to create this sense of depth. As this is a wood block print, each different color required a separate hand-carved woodblock. This is an exquisite printing, as witnessed by the on-register printing of a great number of colors, the masterful blending of all these colors which create this wonderful sense of depth, and the printer’s ability to capture the ambience and all-around grandeur of the scene.

Firescreen’s were used to cover the empty fireplace in the summer months creating a nice decorative cover to an otherwise unsightly hole in the wall. It was also popular at this time to use decorative panels over doors, filling that void between the top of the door frame and the ceiling in high-ceilinged rooms. These panels appeared in infinite variety and were designed like little scenic wallpapers in that they frequently contained landscape views and had no repeat. Still life vignettes were another popular genre with many containing lavish spreads of fruits, wines and cheese.

This firescreen, and the painting by Jean-François de Troy, depicts a scene from the scriptural Book of Esther, when Esther prepared to meet King Ahasuerus, ruler of Persia, who subsequently took her as his wife. The painting is in the Musée du Louvre and has been described as one of the most famous in the Louvre.

The color palette of contrasting red, black and white symbolized Russia’s Communist Revolution and represent the polarities in ideologies between the Socialist Reds and the Whites of the aristocracy. This Constructivist theory of art as political message was brilliantly depicted in El Lissitzky’s Beat the Whites With The Red Wedge, 1919.

Rather than use abstract forms of Russian Constructivism to promote Russia’s Communist ideology, this poster depicts a more literal interpretation, promoting Russia’s aggression over Poland in the post revolution era. Two strapping members of the proletariat dressed in red, cheekily present a missile as a gift to a white figure in the background.  The poster reads, “A Red Present to the White Pan” at the top and “Advance this Package at Pan’s Forehead” below.  So who then is Pan?  The figure, rendered as having a small, yet bloated physique, curly-q moustache, saber and spurs is meant to represent Pan Tadeusz, Poland’s national folk hero since the days of the Napoleonic Wars. Written by Adam Mickiewicz, the story, named for the hero Pan Tadeusz , was and is recognized as the national epic of Poland and came to symbolize the resilience of Polish identity and culture despite continued invasions from both Russia and Western Europe.

In this piece of war propaganda Russia is clearly exploiting Polish morale, polarizing once again the theme of red and white.  Despite the aggressive tone of this poster, it was Poland who proved triumphant, winning their independence at the decisive Battle of Warsaw in 1920.

The Honey Pop Chair is made entirely of paper. 120 layers of honeycombed, glassine paper. 

Designed by Tokujin Yoshioka, who is known to use materials in unexpected ways, the chair starts out as a completely flat honeycomb and then unfolds into a semi-chair shape. The first person who sits in it has an important role to play, because the chair will mold to her body, and start to look more like a chair.

Several museums have a Honey Pop chair (or two) in their permanent collections, including The Art Institute of Chicago, the V&A in London, MoMA, The Philadelphia Museum of Art, The Israel Museum, and many more.

As you might imagine, making sure that a chair like this will survive well into the future without discoloring or even disintegrating is quite an undertaking for museum conservation experts.

In this video, hear from Annie Hall, our Senior Objects Conservator, and Cindy Trope, our Associate Curator of Product Design, speak about this piece from a curatorial and a conservation perspective.

In Elizabethan England (1558 – 1603), elaborate purses were often used to parcel gifts, and this lustrous purse may have been intended as a luxurious gift wrap. At New Year’s, for example, higher nobles and bishops were obliged to present Queen Elizabeth with gold coin-filled purses as a sign of their gratitude and loyalty to their monarch.

Although purses of this kind were often made from knitted silk or silk satin with metallic threads, this purse was created by an ancient type of openwork knotting known as macramé, which took its current form in the 1500s.  The word macramé is derived from the Arabic for lacing or piercing. In the sixteenth century, weavers in Italy and Spain (and soon after around the world) used macramé to decoratively secure unwoven fabric ends. The resulting lace-like fabric was known as macramé lace. Later, macramé pieces were made separately and then attached to textile ends.

This purse’s unlined macramé body is made from radiant gold and silver threads, formed by wrapping thin strips of metal around silk or linen strings. It fastens by braided metallic thread drawstrings that end in large fringe tassels. The diamond-shaped clusters seen on this purse may be renderings of grapes, a common seventeenth-century symbol for Bacchus, the god of grape-growing, wine and pleasure, as well as plentitude. The berries would have certainly been an appropriate motif for a purse intended for a Queen or member of the elite.

The author thanks Leslie Essoglou, Department Assistant of Indian and Himalayan Art at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, for tracing the Arabic etymology of the word macramé.

Laura Camerlengo is an Exhibitions Assistant with the Philadelphia Museum of Art’s Costume and Textiles department. She is the author of The Miser’s Purse, a Cooper-Hewitt DesignFile e-book.

With the establishment of Yellowstone National Park on March 1, 1872, Americans began embracing the idea of preserving and protecting the best of the United States’ natural treasures for the benefit and enjoyment of generations to come. In the years following the end of the Civil War, an increasing number of travelers navigated the country exploring and enjoying the landscape. They shared their discoveries and encounters through a variety of printed media, and soon these sites were recognized as iconic American landmarks. Places like Yellowstone, Niagara Falls, Yosemite and the Grand Canyon were extensively documented through photography, etchings, engravings and paintings. Those Americans who could not partake in an actual exploration of the country were able to enjoy the experience vicariously through the numerous images produced.

Artists were commissioned to document the American landscape as a way to both familiarize the urban dweller with places of leisure, as well as to convince the public of the promise and opportunity held by the distant corners of the country. By engaging with these now iconic places, Americans were able to construct a unique identity as well as develop a sense of national pride in their country’s landscape. Interestingly though, the pursuit of a national identity overrode notions of authenticity, and many of these resounding images were doctored so as to appear more poignant and glamorous.

The deck of playing cards in the Cooper-Hewitt collection is a spirited yet telling embodiment of the notions circulating throughout America at the end of the 19^th century. The game consists of 52 cards, each with a photo of the most renowned and picturesque landmarks of Yellowstone National Park. Likely the object of the game was to separate the cards into groups of twelve as constituted by a suite, labeled A-D. The winner was the player who had the greatest number of complete suites at the end of the game. These cards functioned both as an educational tool and a unique vehicle through which Americans could become “urban armchair travelers”, exploring the wonders of the United States from the comfort of their homes.

For more information on the unique ideas circulating through the American consciousness at the end of the 19^th century, please reference the exhibition catalogue Frederic Church, Winslow Homer & Thomas Moran: Tourism and the American Landscape. Adventure awaits – Happy trails!

This wallpaper panel contains a block-printed portrait of George Washington rendered about half-life size. It is unusual to have portraits featured on wallpaper but is seen more often on panels as opposed to repeating designs. The portrait is printed in a monochrome colorway of tans and brown imitating statuary, on a combed ground simulating oak wood grain. Washington is shown dressed in military attire standing on a plinth with a cannon and shot at his feet. Part of a four panel set called Les Grands Hommes or The Great Men, the other figures included Ben Franklin, Marquis de Lafayette and Thomas Jefferson. These were produced by the Parisian firm of Jules Desfossé for the American market.

Washington is one of a very few persons who appears on multiple wallpapers, as the museum collection has three wallpapers paying tribute to Washington, two of which contain a portrait. I am trying to think of other famous people who have appeared on wallpaper, and they are really very few. Most of the figures are male military heroes, such as General Nathanael Greene, a major general of the Continental Army in the American Revolutionary War, and Commodore Isaac Hull, who sank a British frigate in the War of 1812. It was quite common to feature Gods and Goddesses on Neo-classical wallpapers (Hercules is frequently seen, as is Venus.) Maybe wallpaper manufacturers following this format to elevate the status of these American heroes.

Personally speaking, I think the reason the use of portraits and busts on wallpaper is not more common is the repetitive nature of wallpaper. Unlike the Washington panel shown here most wallpapers repeat. So it would not be a single representation of a person but a full wall or a full room. The thought of having all these eyes watching you, every time you enter the room, could be a bit creepy. Call me paranoid, but something to think about.

This coat, called an habit, embodies aristocratic extravagance before the French Revolution. The habit was worn as part of the habit à la française, an early three-piece suit which also included a waistcoat (vest) and breeches. The embroidery is dense with large-scale flowers, scalloped ribbons, and tassels on a silk fabric woven with a pattern of blue and black chevrons and stylized floral designs. This garment was produced by professional textile workers: Men wove the patterned silk fabric, and then a master tailor oversaw female sewers who embroidered the coat, before he custom assembled it. The coat is cut to fit closely to the body, it gradually curves backward from the mid chest to the knee, and it has no stiffened pleats in the lower portion. The maneuverability and emphasis on movement coincides with French attitudes about posture and gesture in social situations. Smooth and flowing movement, not too broad or agitated, was critical for maintaining a pleasant atmosphere. Towards the end of the 18^th century, a coat with this magnitude of decoration was worn only at exceptionally formal events.

Steve Burges earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in Classical Archaeology and Art History with highest honors from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in 2013. In 2013 he also entered an Art History PhD program at Boston University, where he studies ancient Roman art and archaeology. Steve participated in the Peter Krueger Summer Intern Program at Cooper-Hewitt in the summer of 2013.

This embroidered nightcap represents a type of hat worn by English men beginning around 1550. It was appropriate for any time of day despite its name, and men wore it informally at home but not while sleeping. A man would have rarely worn an embroidered nightcap in public, yet some appeared in elite portraiture. Headwear was important because keeping the head covered and warm was thought to be part of a healthy lifestyle, even though most men wore their natural hair at the time. This hat’s lavish decoration also indicated the wealth and social status of its wearer. It may have been embroidered by a woman in her home using designs from pattern books or a draftsman, since embroidery was an important skill for women of any status. It could have even been produced by the flourishing professional embroidery trade. Most embroidered hats at this time feature floral designs with insects or birds, so the pattern of rainbows and rainstorms above snails and caterpillars is distinctive. The rainbows may symbolize the peace brought by Queen Elizabeth I after a time of political storms, and the caterpillars signify this transformation. 

Steve Burges earned a Bachelor of Arts degrees in Classical Archaeology and Art History with highest honors from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in 2013. In 2013 he also entered an Art History PhD program at Boston University, where he studies ancient Roman art and archaeology. Steve participated in the Peter Krueger Summer Intern Program at Cooper-Hewitt in the summer of 2013.

To the western reader, graphic design of the early Soviet period carries a mysterious and even hyperactive aggressive effect. This feeling can certainly be attributed to the foreignness of the Cyrillic script, with its thick strokes, bold outlines, staggered and almost rudimentary spacing. When it’s illegible, the Russian alphabet bares some similarities to the Roman one, yet its curious backward glyphs and symbols make it just strange enough to see the makings of more eastern alphabets, like the Chinese character.

This poster bears all the proto-modern elements of Russian Constructivist design, making it certainly appealing to lovers of graphic design. As functional object though, it is actually a movie poster advertising the 1924 film Die Nibelungen by the great German director Fritz Lang. Lang directed two silent fantasy films based on the Norse epic poem Nibelungenlied. The same story made famous by Richard Wagner in his opera The Ring Cycle. This poster advertises the first part of the film series, Siegfried to be played from the 17th of November at the Colosseum Theatre, weekdays at 8 and10:15 and weekends at 6, with a full orchestra to complement the silent film.

Both Siegfried and its sequel Die Nibelungen: Kriemhild’s Rache (revenge) were successful in Europe and the US. Lang’s next film, Metropolis, filmed in 1927 solidified his innovative directorship everywhere, making him an auteur for the ages.

A valentine from graphic designer Marian Bantjes is more than just a valentine—it is an artwork, to be cherished and displayed year-round. These unique cards are coveted by design enthusiasts; by lovers of ornament, who believe that at least sometimes, more is more; by the curious, the whimsical, and those who, like Bantjes, wonder. Each year, she creates new valentines, and hopefuls check their mailboxes to see if they were lucky enough to receive one.

Cooper-Hewitt owns six of Bantjes’s 2010 valentines. Originally Christmas cards, each is laser-cut into impossibly delicate and elegant hearts.

Within the larger shape are additional hearts—some with scalloped edges, others perfectly smooth—intertwined shapes, and two Cupids with bows and arrows. While the Christmas elements are mostly abstracted, in some, the remnants of a red tree ornament or a poinsettia come through, but the rest is a beautiful mystery. Bantjes has called herself “undeniably playful,” and in transforming mass-produced, mediocre (some, she has said, were “downright ugly”) products into individual works of highly desirable art, she has proven her playfulness once again.

The layers of meaning on these valentines are endless. Each of the approximately five hundred cards Bantjes made in 2010 is unique, perhaps a poetic comparison to the friends and colleagues to whom she sent them. At a time when it seems all romantic gestures are mass produced—a Hallmark card, Godiva chocolates, a Tiffany engagement ring—Bantjes reminds us of the beauty of individuality. Past cards, which she has sent every year since 2005, have included love letters, individually hand-drawn hearts, and travel postcards overprinted with a design. But I have an affinity for the up-cycled Christmas cards, combining two holidays that both need a little more love, and a little less mass production.

And although Bantjes likes to surprise us with new ideas each year, she isn’t afraid to share her secrets: read her process for making the 2010 valentines in her own words or listen to her discuss her work and the 2010 valentines in her TED talk of that year.

Marian, if I promise to embrace beauty and wonder and individuality, next year, will you send me one too? 

I first came across this wallpaper when I was looking for children’s wallpapers for an exhibition I worked on a number of years ago. Sparkie was a puppet who believed he was a real boy, and he played the central figure in Big Jon and Sparkie, a children’s radio show that aired on Saturday mornings from 1950-1958. Big Jon and Sparkie was a serial with adaptations of classic books or original adventures adapted from Arthur's neighborhood.

Sparkie was part of a juvenile line of wallpapers produced by Child-Life wallpapers in 1953. The collection included eleven patterns that included Peter Pan & Wendy, Gabby Hayes, as well as baseball, nursery rhyme, circus, space ships, and cowboy and Indian themed wallpapers. Each of the patterns was available for less than $2.00 per roll. Produced as inexpensive novelty papers that would appeal to children, these were quickly run through the printing press as evidenced by the amount of color bleed in the designs.

On this wallpaper Sparkie is pretty much the only character illustrated. He is shown acting out a number of famous stories from American history including George Washington crossing the Delaware, Paul Revere making his historic ride and Buffalo Bill Cody with Sitting Bull. As with almost all children’s papers designed at this time, Sparkie would have had direct marketing appeal to boys. Looking at the other patterns in this collection, of interest to those beyond the nursery years, Peter Pan & Wendy is the only one of more gender-neutral interest., the little boy with big ambitions

Claudy Jongstra is a contemporary textile designer who practices the ancient technique of felting. Jongstra’s fabrics have a raw elegance that comes from her use of materials such as wild silk, wild linen, and wild cashmere, as well as the special (and proprietary) techniques she has developed in her felting. Jongstra even goes so far as to raise her own sheep in the Dutch countryside and currently has a herd of 200 including the rare species of long-haired Drenthe Heath, whose shorn locks she felts along with the straw and lanolin that accumulates on their hair.

This textile by Jongstra is a primary example of felting, which is a technique that uses the application of pressure, heat, and moisture to mat together fibers. The fibers are not spun or twisted, but are simply a massed together in an expressive composition of varied textures. Composition (DH/WD/SI 001) exemplifies Jongstra’s work. This textile is made of wool merino, Drenthe Heath, Wensley Dale, wild silk, and cotton gauze appears to come directly from the back of the sheep.

At the peak of the golden age of whaling, 1825-1865, more than 700 whaling vessels sailed the seas. As a reference point, Herman Melville’s Moby Dick was published in 1851. Sailors didn’t hunt whales at night, sightings could be few and far between, and whaling voyages were often 3 years in length. In the downtime, and there was lots of it, many sailors occupied themselves with scrimshaw, and a delicately lined and boldly imagined example is in our collection.

Scrimshaw is any decorative or functional carving on marine mammal ivory or bones—and in this case is an engraving on a whale tooth, most likely a sperm whale tooth. The process is as follows. Whale teeth are ridged, and first a smooth surface would need to be made through filing and sanding. Once prepared, the scrimshander (the term for one who makes scrimshaw) would carve images into the tooth with a jackknife, sail needle, awl, or other dentist like tools. To bring out the design afterwards, india ink or lampblack, soot mixed with oil, would be applied to the tooth and then wiped away, with the ink staying in the grooves. For reddish sepia tones, rust or tobacco juice was used.

The whale tooth in our collection is by an anonymous artist, not uncommon for scrimshaw, who appears to be strongly concerned with arriving home safely!

This artist, most likely a sailor, incorporated many design elements found in scrimshaw from this period—the ship, border elements, nature, and nautical symbols, and used both red and black coloring. On the front of the tooth, we see the starboard broadside of the ship (a true ship because it has three masts that are square rigged, the fictional Pequod on which Captain Ahab sailed was a bark). This is important, because in some cases, depictions of whaling vessels on scrimshaw are the only visual record of a specific boat’s design. Also, an American flag is flying astern, aside from whaling signals, flags are typically only flown on homeward bound vessels. Above the ship is a 5-pointed nautical star, surrounded by a wreath made of what looks like branches from the flowering or fruiting tree on the back of this tooth, which brings in the red coloration as well. An image of the nautical star, or North Star, symbolically meant that the sailor could always navigate and find their way home. Additionally, the land on the verso with the tree that provided the wreath, and the mysterious house under the sea all promote this idea of getting home to land—something that was not in Captain Ahab’s destiny.

References
Malay, Richard C., Graven by the Fishermen Themselves: Scrimshaw in Mystic Seaport Museum (Mystic Seaport Museum, 1983),

Frederick Myrick of Nantucket: Physical Characteristics of the Scrimshaw by Donald E. Ridley, Janet West; with additional contributions by Desmond T. Liddy and Judith N. Lund ; and with research and editorial contributions by Paul E. Vardeman Jr., and Stuart M. Frank. KWM Monograph Series #14. 2000.

“Rigging of American Sailing Vessels”, Peabody Museum, http://www.pem.org/sites/archives/guides/rigs.htm

Window shades and curtain papers are one of the lesser known collecting areas of the Wallcoverings Department. This shade depicting a lace panel suspended from a carved wood cornice is a beautiful example of late-19th century window shades. The shade in printed on a heavy paper that has a chalky blue ground color applied to both sides making it very opaque. Judging by the examples contained in the Cooper-Hewitt collection window shades in this period were predominantly of two types: designs that filled the shade as this one does, and designs that only filled the bottom portion of the shade, frequently a border or trim pattern running across the width at the bottom edge. All of the shades in the Museum’s collection are printed on deep blue, a deep green or a brown ground color. Some of the designs are printed on canvas and were known as Holland shades. This design fills the available space that would be visible in a window with a simulated lace pattern. The lace pattern is delicately rendered and one of the most convincing I have seen in machine-printed papers. The wood cornice, tassels and bullion fringe are also rendered with highlights and shadows suggesting depth. The basket of flowers follows an earlier tradition of centering medallions or landscape scenes in the center of the shade.

The shades were printed on continuous rolls of paper similar to the manufacture of wallpaper, with a printed black line and pattern number denoting where the individual shade was to be cut. These would have been used on spring rollers
The first shades to appear in windows are purported to have been in Holland in the 17th century, gaining wider use during the 18th century. These early shades were mounted to the window frames and needed to be rolled up manually and tied off with string. The first spring rollers were introduced by a New York factory in 1858. ¹

¹http://www.hausershade.com/about-us/a-brief-history-on-the-origins-of-wi...

In 2011, Italian designer Michele de Lucchi (b. 1951) reflected in an interview, “design is truly a kind of witness to history. Design documents the spirit of the age.” [1]  His 1981 drawing of Two Designs for Tables (and Three Designs for Tables) is an example of how design records its historical and cultural context, and reflects the nature of that time.

Drawing, Three Designs for Tables, June 15, 1981. Designed by Michele de Lucchi. Gift of Friedman Benda. 2013-24-7.

De Lucchi has been a prominent figure in the Italian design world since the 1970s, crafting architecture, furniture, lamps, domestic appliances, office equipment, and a variety of other products, and he transforming the ordinary and everyday into the bold and whimsical.  He began his radical approach to design in 1978 when he joined the group Studio Alchimia. In 1981, de Lucchi and a number of other furniture and product designers co-founded the Milan-based collective Memphis, which dominated the Postmodern design scene until it was disbanded in 1988.

Memphis believed that design did not have to be enduring; but it should be provocative, fresh, and surprising. The group’s designers questioned the rules and conventions of Modernism. They opposed its pure functionalism and practical rationality, and rebelled against its use of industrial materials and minimalist design. Instead, they unashamedly played with kitsch motifs and gaudy colorful laminates, creating a revolutionary visual language inspired by popular culture and embracing mass media.

During his involvement with Memphis, De Lucchi explored the relationship between color, form, and type. As this drawing depicts, he played with elementary forms in untraditional ways, and contrasted winsome pastel colors with hard black-and-white geometric patterns. With a focus on vivid colors, artificial surfaces, and animated forms, de Lucchi’s table designs record and reflect the spirit of the materialistic 1980s and the decade’s superficiality, exuberance, and excess.

Hitoshi Ujiie is a textile designer as well as educator and founder of the Center for Excellence in Digital Inkjet Printing at Philadelphia University. Ujiie’s work is an exploration of the aesthetic implications of digital inkjet printing for textiles, which is bringing about profound changes in the approach to design for this medium.

Working from photographic and video sources combined with hand manipulation, Ujiie exploits the full range of effects that can be achieved by digital technology, yet his work maintains a profoundly delicate aesthetic. Digital technology permits a fineness of line not previously possible due to the higher “resolution” of inkjet vs. screen technology. It also eliminates the need for repeat in textile design, and Ujiie turns his attention instead to a sense of movement without repetition.

Virtual Fruit (2003) achieves this sense of movement through randomization of pattern over extended lengths. The subtle tonal gradation and sense of transparency typical of Ujiie’s work and showcased in this work is only possible with inkjet technology. While it is theoretically possible to print millions of colors with a four-color printing process, Ujiie uses this color precision instead in the creation of layered dimensional effects and subtle color blending. This length of digitally printed silk is layered with pomegranate-like forms that create an abstract pattern of intersecting circles in subtle shades of tan and taupe.

This paper contains a repeating pattern of light red poppies against a field of deep red foliage printed on a red ingrain paper. An ingrain paper is one that is colored in the pulp stage of production so the color runs through the paper rather than just being printed on the surface. This gives the papers a softer, somewhat mottled appearance. Also known as cartridge papers, they were favored over printed-ground papers or painted walls which had a very flat appearance. In 1877, James Munroe of Massachusetts patented a process for making ingrain papers and they quickly became fashionable. They remained popular into the 1920s, and found a renewed interest in the 1960s. The color of this paper is a medium-light shade of red, actually the second darkest in tone as evidenced by the paper color visible in the selvedge. The design is printed in three darker shades of red and one lighter pink color. By allowing the paper color to be used as one of the design colors, manufacturers could print using one less roller. It also prevented the need to print a ground color over the paper’s surface which would require the use of a separate grounding machine.

This paper is one sample from a group of 168 that had been removed from three sample books prior to being donated to the Cooper-Hewitt. This is indicated by the standard-size cutting of each sample and the holes pierced. The three books ranged in date from 1906-1908. The manufacturer of these papers is unknown; however, one of the samples does retain the name of S.A. Maxwell & Co, one of the largest wallpaper distributors of the time. Maxwell distributed in such large volume that manufacturers agreed to print his name on the wallpapers. Sample books can consist solely of papers by one manufacturer, or be a compilation of papers by different manufacturers. The trimming of the paper’s selvedge sometimes makes it difficult to determine who the manufacturer is for a given sample.

Open an interior decoration magazine, peruse a sartorial blog, or catch-up with the latest fashion on television, and you’ll know mixing prints has been the trend for the last few seasons.  Endorsed as a risky and intimidating choice, it is often accompanied by a number of rules and guidelines. English-born industrial designer George J. Sowden (b. 1942) is renowned for his use of patterns and prints. He rendered a densely patterned interior in this print from 1985, while part of Memphis, the Italian-based design collective at the forefront of Postmodernism in the 1980s. Let’s see if Sowden’s design breaks or abides by today’s guidelines of mixing prints:

1.      Start with one bold piece to build the ensemble around.

o   BROKEN: Sowden treats all pieces of furniture and the interior itself equally, illustrated by the two-dimensionality of the room and the furniture.

2.      Choose a color family to help blend prints.

o   SOMETIMES: We don’t know how or if this black-and-white print materialized in color, but examples of Sowden’s other work demonstrate that he often did not share colors across prints.

3.      Mix big prints with smaller less dominant prints.

o   BROKEN: Sowden renders all patterns – small or big – alike, none more or less dominant than the other.

4.      Restrict the number of prints to be mixed, limiting it to two or three.

o   BROKEN: Sowden mixes a mélange of nine patterns in this drawing.

5.      Accessorize with solid items.

o   BROKEN: Sowden predominantly avoids clean or solid surfaces choosing instead to adorn all walls and surfaces with patterns and prints.

As illustrated in this print by Sowden, breaking the rules and getting away with it was the premise of the Memphis group. Designers broke the conventions of Modernism and experimented with wild patterns, bright colors, and plastic laminates to create “flashy and faddish” objects and interiors.[1] They visually animated rooms and furniture with fantastical prints and patterns that embodied movement and created illusions. Today, as fashion’s finest continue to mix prints in clothing and interiors, perhaps we can consider the current trend a reference to Postmodernism, transmitted to consumers by way of popular culture and mass media – two sources that inspired Memphis designers.

In 2004, the Museum commissioned the Dutch designer Hella Jongerius to create a series of ten textiles, collectively titled Sampler Blanket, in conjunction with the exhibition Hella Jongerius Selects: Works from the Permanent Collection, shown in the Nancy and Edwin Marks Collections Gallery March 4 to September 4, 2005.
Each work in the series is inspired by designs found on historic samplers in the Museum's Textile Department. Embroidered samplers are one of the richest areas of the collection; the department has over 1,000 examples from all over the world. Jongerius visited the collection three times in 2003/2004, and viewed hundreds of samplers.

Jongerius was interested in the learning process inherent in the making of these objects, the historic use and re-use of established motifs, as well as the highly personal symbols and information contained within samplers. For her blankets, the unique motifs are hand-cut from recycled materials and joined to the foundation fabric using needle-punch technology, in which mechanized needle boards holding hundreds of barbed needles push up and down through the layers to entangle the fibers together. As a result, as second "shadow" version of the imagery appears on the back. These are then embellished with machine embroidery.

Inspired by traditional handwork but using industrial processes and recycled materials, Sampler Blanket explores the transition between domestic and industrial production, and the influence of the hand even within technological innovation.

In 2004, the Museum commissioned Hella Jongerius to create a series of ten textiles, collectively titled Sampler Blanket, in conjunction with her Collection Selects exhibition. Each work in the show was inspired by designs found on historic samplers in the Museum’s Textile collection, which includes over 1,000 examples of embroidered samplers from all over the world spanning three centuries. Shortly thereafter, Maharam, a fourth generation family textile company, became interested in collaborating with Jongerius to make a production version inspired by the Sampler Blanket collection, and as a result, they introduced Layers Garden Double and Layers Park Double. These textiles were designed by Jongerius and manufactured by Maharam, each in three color ways. This version, Layers Garden Double, is a dark green wool fabric that has been appliquéd with a dark brown layer, which is then partially cut away by hand, and then red stitching joins the fabric and creates the embroidered pattern on the textile. This three dimensional floral textile is primarily used for upholstery.

Jongerius continues to have materials largely determine the design direction at Jongeriuslab, and combines ancient craft technique with modern technology. Layers Garden Double is another beautiful example of this philosophy. Together, Sampler Blanket and Layers Garden Double weave a narrative about the works as a creative endeavor and reveal the importance of handwork and machine production in each.