By Susan Froyd
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By Kate Gibbons
The history of modern design is one of the focuses of the Kirkland Museum of Fine & Decorative Art, and the Kirkland's founder, Hugh Grant, has avidly acquired more than 3,000 interesting examples of furniture and accessories by a who's-who list of international designers. In the process, Grant has turned the small museum into a world-class center for this kind of material, much of which has been on view, filling every nook and cranny. Still, until now, the museum had presented only one coordinated design exhibit.
The design collection has attracted its own distinct audience, which includes the husband-and-wife designer team of Michael and Katherine McCoy, who moved to Denver in 2004. The McCoys spent more than twenty years as co-directors of the design department at the legendary Cranbrook Academy and nearly a decade teaching at the Institute of Design at the Illinois Institute of Technology. Both institutions have a special place in the history of American design: Cranbrook engendered its own movement in the post-war period, while the ID was founded as the new Bauhaus.
The McCoys have also worked as practicing designers, with Michael specializing in furniture and Katherine in graphics. And although they spent most of their time in the Midwest, the McCoys have had a long relationship with Colorado and have maintained a vacation home in Buena Vista since the early 1970s. This home has morphed over the years from a small cabin to a large complex where they spend most of their time; in addition, they've purchased a loft in the Golden Triangle as a Denver base.
After coming to Denver, which Michael calls "an interesting design and architecture town," the couple discovered the Kirkland and approached Grant with the idea of doing a show. The result is Streams of Modernism, on view there now.
The show's title reveals the couple's interest in how designers influence one another, and the streams of ideas they're looking at are akin to a braided creek in the mountains, with channels coming together and then splitting apart, only to come together again. The McCoys selected the pieces together and determined the sequence in which they appear in the show, which is essentially chronological.
The exhibit's design is emphatic, intelligent and absolutely sensational. The McCoys have placed each piece of furniture on a three-foot-square modular black stand, and these floor modules, in turn, determine the placement of the graphics on the walls. Designed by Katherine, the wall panels are dominated by enlarged portraits of the furniture designers themselves. These portraits have been given a very pop-art appearance, both through the large dots used to fill in the pictures and because of the hot, Day-Glo colors used in duotones that carry them out. "They're like posters, because these particular designers are kind of like the rock stars of design," explains Michael.
Both the stands and the wall graphics separate the show from the permanent collection on display in other spaces, and that makes Streams of Modernism easier to understand than the typical changing exhibit at the Kirkland. One problem I've had with Kirkland shows in the past is that it is hard, if not impossible, to determine what is part of a particular exhibit and what isn't, with the permanent collection typically intruding on the special displays. The solution the McCoys came up with put that issue to rest, as did Grant's decision to empty out two entire galleries to make room for their display.
Streams of Modernism begins in the large exhibition space with a section focused mostly on European modernism beginning in the late nineteenth century. The only American designer in this section is Frank Lloyd Wright, who is represented by two pieces — a floor lamp from 1915 and a "Peacock" chair from 1920. Both are examples of Wright's prairie style and are made of light-colored wood boards. Wright's simplicity and his taste for rectilinear designs made his work widely influential in Europe in the early twentieth century, but not for the trio of European designers — Charles Rennie Mackintosh, Josef Hoffmann and Peter Behrens — whose work follows his in the show. On the other hand, Wright was a source for designer/craftsman Gerrit Rietveld, whose work is also here. Rietveld was part of the de Stijl movement made famous by Piet Mondrian and, in a sense, he translated Mondrian's geometric abstractions into furniture such as chairs and tables. The exhibit includes Rietveld's "Red / Blue" chair, a "Zig Zag" chair and a lamp table.
I have a minor quibble with this particular sequencing, since I think it would have made more sense to have Wright finish out the first vignette as opposed to starting it off, both because of the dates of his two pieces included and because his work leads directly to Rietveld's. Despite the placement, though, the relationship between Wright and Rietveld is exactly the kind of thing the McCoys are trying to communicate.
Moving around the room, viewers next arrive at the international style designers of the 1920s and '30s, including Le Corbusier, and the key figures associated with the Bauhaus, such as Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and Marcel Breuer. These designers did work that referred back to Hoffmann, and especially to Behrens, in whose office both Le Corbusier and Mies worked early in their careers. These connections again make the point that the McCoys are stressing: Designers influence those who follow them.
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