Simply Marvelous: Royal Events Attended by the du Ponts

This October, Winterthur is launching a new exhibition series, Eye on the Iconic. The concept behind Eye on the Iconic is to closely examine an iconic object. The first in the series is a well-known replica of Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation gown, which was used on the Emmy Award-winning Netflix series The Crown. This gown allows us to explore the design and iconography of the original and helps us to understand how it became iconic and what the significance is of a replica object. While the historical and cultural significance of the original dress is self-evident, this replica is interesting because it was created for the celebration of the queen’s jubilee and was used as a costume in The Crown. A literal icon, the replica invites us to look at why commemorative objects such as the dress and coronation souvenirs play such an important role in our experience and memory of historical events.

Considering this question led me to wonder exactly how Ruth Wales and Henry Francis du Pont remembered their trips to England and their own encounters with the royal family. Their keepsakes and correspondence in the Winterthur Archives did not disappoint.

H. F.’s papers in the Winterthur Archives include postcards from various houses and gardens he visited in England. Some include notes on the back regarding what he saw. Among the social visits and trips to see various collections and gardens, the du Ponts also had the opportunity to attend some special royal occasions. Ruth recorded details of these events in her diary and letters.

Long before Queen Elizabeth II was crowned, H. F. and Ruth had attended a garden party at the British Embassy in Washington, D.C., where Elizabeth’s parents, King George VI and Queen Elizabeth, were the guests of honor to hosts Ambassador and Lady Lindsay. In a letter on June 12, 1939, Ruth recounts the June 8 party:

“Finally we heard the cheers of the populace and knew that the Royal couple were arriving at the Embassy. In a few moments Lady Lindsay and the Queen began a tour of the grounds and Sir Ronald and the King made a tour in a different direction. Everyone acted well, no one crowded around. All stood quiet and were dignified.

The Queen is simply enchanting, so charming in manner, so pretty, such poise. Everyone was wild about her. She wore the most beautiful white dress imaginable and the way she raised her hand in greeting is a gesture too charming to attempt to describe. It is not a wave or a hail, but something between the two.

The King is attractive, but cannot touch the Duke of Windsor for looks as he was ten years ago. The King is not nearly as tall as I expected. He is not a short man, but certainly not tall, and he is very slight. I should think he is very sweet and has a good deal of charm. . . . I think he looks delicate and I am terribly sorry they have had this overpowering heat to bear, for I am afraid they won’t remember much else.”

Similarly, Ruth expressed her interest in the royal family and her concern following the death of King George VI in a letter she wrote to Mrs. Lillian Best of Yorkshire, England, on May 10, 1952:

“I was delighted to hear from you and can assure you that all Americans shared your sorrow in the death of your King. We had a young Englishman here the other day, a Major Barber, who is, I believe, head of Exbury Garden (property of the Rothschild family). He is here lecturing on orchids and rhododendrons. He has travelled here from coast to coast, and told me he was very much impressed by the admiration of all Americans for your Royal Family and by the sincere expressions of their sorrow on the death of the King.”

In this letter Ruth acknowledges the American adoration of the royal family, a fascination that lives on today as Americans make a point of watching royal weddings, keeping up with the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and their children, or marking the Queen’s 91st birthday.

It seems that H. F. may have been just as enamored with the ceremony associated with England’s royal family. On June 13, 1959, the du Ponts attended the Queen’s birthday parade and witnessed the Trooping of the Color. Among the treasures in the archives, I found the tickets and the program from the event as well as a separate booklet all about the Queen’s Guards. While the Queen’s actual birthday is April 21, it is in June that the people officially celebrate her birthday with the Trooping of the Color, a parade of the queen’s personal troops and a display put on by more than 1,400 men and officers, 200 horses, and 400 musicians from 10 bands and drum corps that play as one.

What charmed me most about these keepsakes was not the image of H.F. and Ruth sitting along the parade path from Buckingham Palace to Horse Guards Parade via the Mall, but the note he inscribed on the back of the program. For H. F., the parade was “simply marvelous.”

Ruth also remembered the day and noted the special nature of the event; however, she did not seem as impressed. She recorded the event in her diary with the following description, “Up betimes on the most perfect of days as we are to go to see the Trooping of the Color. This was a wonderful experience and the regiments were wonderfully drilled and equally wonderfully rehearsed. An enormous number of spectators as well, both those in seats, and also those across the street in the St. James Park. The Queen rode at the head of the troops; the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret having driven in beforehand as spectators. I was disappointed in the selections played by the band. They played well, and at great length but the selections were unfamiliar and I thought, uninspiring.”
At other times however, Ruth does seem to have found the pomp and circumstance of these royal events just as intriguing as H. F. did. A few years later when the du Ponts visited England, they attended an Order of the Garter Ceremony. Tucked among the house and garden brochures and postcards that H. F. saved from the 1962 England trip, I found the program from the Order of the Garter service.

The Order of the Garter is one of the ancient orders of knighthood in Europe. King Edward III founded the order in 1348. Today the Queen appoints both men and women to the order, and those appointments are announced on St. George’s Day (April 23), since St. George is the patron saint of the order. Members of the order include the Queen, appointed members of the royal family, and 24 knights chosen by the Queen for their service to the public or to her. The royal family’s website explains, “The annual iconic Garter Day procession, where The Queen and the Knights process in grand velvet robes, glistening insignia and plumed hats, is one of the most traditional ceremonies in the Queen’s calendar.”

Ruth recognized the grand nature of this event to which the Marquess of Salisbury had given tickets to her and H. F. She wrote, “The ceremony began at 3:00 with every kind of pomp and majesty. The procession was impressive and the whole ceremony, breath-taking.”

With this fall’s exhibition of the replica coronation gown, we look at not only the fascination for the royal family that inspires shows such as The Crown, but also at the objects and memorabilia that are created to celebrate the Queen, such as this replica dress, which was originally displayed in a Harrods department store window designed to recognize the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee (a 60-year anniversary).

See Royal Splendor: The Coronation Gown from The Crown, October 20, 2017–January 7, 2018, at Winterthur.

Post by Kim Collison, Manager of Exhibitions & Collection Planning, Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library

British Orders and Awards. Kaye & Ward Limited, 1968.

The home of the Royal Family,
“Trooping the Colour.” The Household Division: Seven British Army Regiments serving Her Majesty

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Delft Tiles, English Country Houses, Architectural Salvage, and Downton Abbey!

Blenheim Palace, panoramic view, Image by Magnus Manske

Madeline Hagerman, Winterthur postgraduate fellow in objects conservation, is researching delft fireplace tiles at Winterthur. Her series of blog posts details her findings. Read her latest post connecting England and America and the history of architectural salvage, with a nod to Downton Abbey for providing some historical (and entertaining) perspective!

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A “Crazy” Quilt and its Revolutionary (War) History

Winterthur does not always acquire objects in pristine condition, untouched by time. For some objects, the years have not been kind. At some point, they have been purposefully altered, accidentally broken, or their histories forgotten. However, in their new state, these objects take on new meanings, tell new stories, and remind us that history can sometimes be rewritten.

The Accident in Lombard-Street by Charles Willson Peale (1741-1827). Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; 1787. Ink on laid paper. Museum purchase with funds provided by Caroline Clendenin Ryan Foundation, Inc. 1962.88a.

An extraordinary early nineteenth-century quilt featured in Winterthur’s exhibition Collecting for the Future: Recent Additions to the Winterthur Collection exemplifies how objects can be repurposed over time but still preserve fascinating information.

Quilt with inset eighteenth-century men’s cloak. Possibly made by Myranda Codner Patterson (1808-1881), possibly Ohio, early 1800s, wool. Museum purchase with funds provided by the Henry Francis du Pont Collectors Circle 2016.0017.

This quilt has a unique appearance and connection to the Revolutionary War. While the quilt’s checkerboard star design is fashioned from pieced brown, blue, red, and patterned wools, the majority of the object is dominated by a large semicircular red textile. This red fabric is an extremely rare late eighteenth-century men’s cloak, a piece of outerwear worn draped over the shoulders with an attached collar that folded down around the wearer’s neck.


This 1801 etching illustrates a cloak similar to the one worked into Winterthur’s quilt, with its wide, attached collar and semicircular construction. Behold, Courageous Collonel Monro, a Highland Hero, Turn’d a Blue Goun Beau by John Kay. An etching, created in Great Britain, ca. 1801. Courtesy the Trustees of the British Museum.

The cloak (and later the cloak quilt) descended through at least six generations in the same family before coming to Winterthur. Family lore indicates that an ancestor who fought in the northern campaign of the American Revolution captured the cloak during a battle with a British soldier and kept it as a war prize. Which ancestor and which battle is still unclear, but there are several strong possibilities.

The earliest documented family owners of the quilt are Thomas Patterson (1809–1891) and his wife, Myranda Codner Patterson (1808–1881), from Ohio. Myranda likely created the quilt in the early nineteenth century, perhaps around the time of her marriage to Thomas in 1828. However, how they came to possess the cloak is a matter of debate.

Both of Thomas’s grandfathers fought in the Revolutionary War, so it is possible that one of them was the soldier who captured the cloak. However, the recollections of John Grover McGuffey (1888–1980), the great-great-uncle of the final family owner of the quilt, tell a different story. According to John, his “Grandmother Patterson” received the red cloak from her “Uncle Codner,” who moved to Ohio and died in Hardin County. Others in the family recall that Uncle Codner’s first name may have been Sam.

There are several options for the family ancestor who may have captured the cloak. Infographic by Anna South.

Recent genealogical research confirms that a Samuel Codner, born about 1769 in North Kingstown, Rhode Island, moved to Ohio and died in Hardin County on March 30, 1833. This Samuel would have been too young to fight in the Revolutionary War, but his father would have been of the Revolutionary War generation. If Samuel received the cloak from his father, he then might have passed it on to his niece Myranda, who incorporated it into the quilt now at Winterthur.

Historically, it was common to recycle fabric into new projects. Quilt makers frequently recycled clothing or colorful printed fabrics into their quilt designs. For example, the now-unknown maker of a rare embroidered wool quilt in the Winterthur Collection fashioned its dark brown stripes from the fabric of heavy full-wool breeches. However, it is only through close inspection of the dark-brown fabric that we can identify it as deconstructed clothing. There is no mistaking or ignoring the red cloak in Winterthur’s new quilt! Its maker designed the rest of the quilts around the intact cloak, perhaps reluctant to cut it up in the more traditional fashion since it viscerally symbolized the victory of America’s forces over their British enemy.

The dark brown stripes of this quilt are made of wool recycled from breeches. Embroidered wool quilt, made in New England between 1800 and 1830. Gift of Henry Francis du Pont 1955.739.1

This quilt is not the only known object to recycle the captured clothing of a British solider into new projects. The wool from a British soldier’s coat was supposedly used to make a pair of baby shoes in the collection of the new Museum of the American Revolution. They descended in the family of Sergeant James Davenport of Massachusetts, who served in the Continental Army during the Revolutionary War. A shoemaker’s apprentice before the war, Davenport rose to the rank of sergeant in General Lafayette’s Light Infantry Division by 1781. After the war, Davenport and his wife, Esther Mellish, had eleven children! Although details are scant, it’s possible that Davenport captured the British coat during the war and created the shoes for one of his children. After all, creating clothing for the next generation of Americans seems a fitting way to celebrate the nation’s victory and independence.

Baby booties potentially made from the wool cloth taken from the coat of a British soldier. Courtesy of the Museum of the American Revolution.

From clothing to furnishing textile and now museum object, this reinvented item has a multilayered history, and we are thrilled to begin its next chapter here at Winterthur. Recently past and present collided when we welcomed members of the cloak quilt’s family for their first visit to Winterthur! Lee and Jane were able to see their family item on display in the galleries and spent a day exploring its new home, taking a house tour, and a garden tram tour across the estate’s 60-acre cultivated landscape. It is not an unusual occurrence to meet visitors with personal connections to the objects in our collection, and these miniature family reunions are always a treat for museum staff to witness.

Winterthur collection objects have families too! Photo by Nalleli Guillen.

The cloak quilt and other new acquisitions are now on view in Collecting for the Future: Recent Additions to the Winterthur Collection in the first floor galleries.

Post by Nalleli Guillen, Sewell C. Biggs Curatorial Fellow, Museum Collections Department, Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library

I would like to thank a number of people for their assistance in researching this object and writing this blog: Jane and Lee, for generously providing extensive and invaluable genealogical records and family history relating to the quilt; Neal Hurst, curator of textiles at Colonial Williamsburg for his insight on historic foul weather gear; Matthew Skic, assistant curator at the Museum of the American Revolution, for providing information on the Davenport baby shoes at MoAR; and Anna South, Winterthur’s William and Mary Woody Intern in Museum Studies, for creating the genealogy infographic.

Linda Eaton. Quilts in a Material World: Selections from the Winterthur Collection. (New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2007).

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Royal Commemorations: Celebrating Coronations and Jubilees with Objects

Today marks the 64th anniversary of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. Although Elizabeth ascended the throne on February 6, 1952, upon the death of her father King George VI, the coronation ceremony was delayed to allow for a period of mourning. Coronation ceremonies have remained unchanged for nearly 1,000 years, as has the tradition of commemorating the occasions with objects such as ceramics, handkerchiefs, coins, and more. Commemorative objects are made not just for the coronation itself but for jubilee celebrations as well. These celebrations mark a monarch’s special anniversaries. February of this year marked Queen Elizabeth II’s Sapphire Jubilee—65 years on the throne. She is the longest reigning British monarch in history and the only one to have celebrated a sapphire jubilee.

Plate commemorating the coronation of William of Orange and Mary Stuart. Made in England, ca. 1689-1694. Earthenware (delftware). Bequest of Henry Francis du Pont 1954.0535

Commemorative objects have been a tradition for hundreds of years. In fact, Winterthur has many such objects in its collection. Ceramic mugs and plates are commonly created to commemorate a monarch or a specific event such as a coronation. For instance, this delftware plate portrays William of Orange (who reigned from 1689–1702) and his wife Mary Stuart (who reigned from 1689 until her death in 1694). The couple, who jointly ruled the kingdoms of England, Scotland, and Ireland, is shown in an outdoor setting wearing their coronation attire with the initials “W M R” for William and Mary Rex/Regina near their heads. This plate was most likely made in Bristol or London around the time of William and Mary’s coronation. Evidence of delft commemorative plates like this one have been found in America, particularly in the New England region.

Similarly, a printed textile in the Winterthur collection features a more elaborate scene from the coronation of Queen Victoria in 1838. The swags of flowers that surround the scene resemble those used to decorate fabrics with American patriotic motifs, and evidence of patterns showing Queen Victoria’s coronation have been found in America.

Printed textile showing the coronation of Queen Victoria in 1838. Printed in Britain, 1837. Woven cotton, roller printed. Gift of Barbara and Brock Jobe 2006.0016

The ceremony as portrayed above hints at the richness of objects used during the coronation—the Crown Jewels, King Edward’s Chair, the Anointing Spoon, the elaborate robes and dresses, and much more. One of the tureens that came to Winterthur as part of the Campbell Collection was from a group of pewter tureens and other tableware created for the banquet following the 1821 coronation of George IV. This banquet, the last to take place in Westminster Hall, featured turtle soup on the menu, which may have been served in this very tureen. The Observer reported that crowds plundered the tables of the coronation banquet taking the pewter dishes like this one marked for the sovereign. The mark “GR IV” appears below a crown. Unlike the commemorative objects above, which were made for the purpose of remembering, in this case, it seems people took it upon themselves to acquire an object made to serve a purpose at the event.

Tureen. Made by Thomas Alderson. London, England, 1821. Pewter. Campbell Collection of Soup Tureens at Winterthur 1996.0004.100.001 A-C

King George IV’s monogram as it appears on the tureen.

People today continue to value such commemorative objects, and jubilees are celebrated around the world. Among the objects commemorating this year’s Sapphire Jubilee are newly issued coins and stamps. To celebrate in February of this year, the Royal Mint introduced eight coins and the Royal Mail released a Sapphire Jubilee Stamp.

Coins created in celebration of the Queen’s Sapphire Jubilee this year—one featuring the Imperial State Crown and the other featuring an oak and olive branch, symbolizing the Queen’s service and faithfulness to the nation. Images from

65th anniversary commemorative stamp issued by the Royal Mail. Image from

While England has marked the Sapphire Jubilee with objects such as these, the celebrations this year have not been as grand as those in 2012 for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. That year, 8.5 million people attended “Big Jubilee Lunches” in the United Kingdom and 70 countries took part in these lunches. The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh went on a regional tour of England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland, and attended various other events, including concerts, contests, and exhibitions held to celebrate the milestone.

Later this year Winterthur will feature a commemorative object created for the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. In 2012, Angels Costumes carefully created a replica of the Queen’s coronation gown, a dress originally designed by Norman Hartnell. The replica dress was displayed as part of the jubilee celebrations, but it has recently earned new fame as the dress worn by Claire Foy in the Netflix series The Crown. Foy wore the dress in the episode portraying the coronation.

Photo courtesy Alex Bailey, The Crown, Netflix

Visit us this fall, beginning October 20, 2017, for the first of our Eye on the Iconic exhibition series featuring a single remarkable object. Royal Splendor: The Coronation Gown from The Crown will explore how objects like the replica coronation dress and other collectibles help us celebrate and remember important historical moments.

Post by Kim Collison, Manager of Exhibitions & Collection Planning, Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library



Eaton, Linda. Printed Textiles: British and American Cottons and Linens, 1700-1850. New York: The Monacelli Press. 2014.

Fennimore, Donald L., and Patricia A. Halfpenny. Campbell Collection of Soup Tureens at Winterthur. Winterthur, DE: The Henry Francis du Pont Winterthur Museum, Inc. 2000.

Tanner, Lawrence E. The History and Treasures of Westminster Abbey. London: Pitkin. 1953.

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Corvettes and the Cold War

During World War II, American GIs could be found all over Europe speeding down country roads in small, powerful, and agile cars that were not available back home: MGs, Allards, Austin Healys, and Triumphs. But it was not just average grunts who were enjoying these cars. Air Force General Curtis LeMay fell in love with sports cars during his time overseas, and after he helped defeat Hitler, he brought an Allard J2 back to the States. By the late 1940s, LeMay was in charge of the Strategic Air Command—the first line of defense against the looming Soviet threat—and encouraged his airmen to race cars on the bases he was stationed at in order to keep their senses, reflexes, and instincts sharp, since they were basically driving a road version of their bombers and fighters.

Air Force General, Curtis LeMay was a champion of the American sports car. (

LeMay knew that America’s new superpower status meant it needed a sports car that could rival anything coming out of the Old World. He encouraged legendary auto designer Harley Earl to come up with what became America’s sensational sports car—the Chevrolet Corvette. Named after the highly maneuverable, powerful, and crafty military ship that gained fame in the war, helping to save Europe from fascism, this new car embodied the new post-war jet age with tail fins, bullet headlights, and wraparound windshield. Chevy capitalized on military imagery in their advertising. One ad claimed that Corvettes, come upon you “like a Stuka,” and another ad said the new V8 performs like a V2 rocket or missile (appropriate for the Cold War and the burgeoning space race). Other ads compared Corvette to Europe’s best sports cars—often goading Italy’s Ferrari, Germany’s Mercedes and Porsche, and England’s MGs and Jaguars—in essence “doing America proud” with a sports car that matched its ascendency in the post-war world.

This advertisement from 1957 pokes jabs at European sports cars while referencing the fighter planes of the Second World War. (

The Cold War imagery is hard to deny in this Corvette ad from 1955. (

America’s status as a superpower came with “doing America proud” in sports cars—a formerly European domain. (

This was also the era of the Space Race—a hotly contested theater in a now interstellar Cold War. Astronauts were courageous, daring, and talented men who lived life on the very edge. They needed machines that were speedy, responsive, and powerful to survive in the great unknown. What better car than the Corvette to serve these modern-day heroes and mimic the vehicles they took to space. They often raced at Cape Canaveral, pushing their bodies to the limit in preparation for launch. Indeed, from the Mercury missions on, the Corvette was the official car of astronauts. The Apollo 12 crew was so enamored that they each had matching gold ’69 Corvettes with black trim, and their mission roles written on the doors. The space imagery even carried over to the advertising for 1969, which touted its high performance and removable T-top with the catchphrase, “10 Seconds to Lift Off.”

Corvette and the Space Race were linked—this time the launch of a rocket mimics the way the new T-top lifts off the Corvette. (

In the Space Race, Corvette was the official car of American astronauts. (

Indeed, from the country roads of England in the waning days of World War II to the airstrips of the Strategic Air Command to the Final Frontier, the Corvette was not just a reflection of the Cold War era, but an active participant in the culture of the Cold War.

Join us for Winterthur After Hours, Friday, May 26, where you can see vintage Corvettes and hear Thomas give a brief talk on Corvettes and the Cold War. In addition, Thomas will give a full lecture on the topic on Saturday, May 27, during Historic Autos and on July 6.

Post by Thomas Guiler, Manager and Instructor, Academic Programs
Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library


Jeremy R. Kinney, “Racing on Runways: The Strategic Air Command and Sports Car Racing in the 1950s,” Icon 19, Special Issue Playing with Technology: Sports and Leisure (2013)

Jerry W. Passon, The Corvette in Literature and Culture: Symbolic Dimensions of America’s Sports Car (Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Company, Inc., 2011)

Karl Ludvigsen, Corvette: America’s Star-Spangled Sports Car, The Complete History (Cambridge, MA: Bentley Books, 2014)

Automobile Quarterly, Corvette: Thirty Years of Great Advertising (Princeton: Princeton Publishing, 1983)

Randy Leffingwell, Corvette: Seven Generations of American High Performance (Minneapolis, MN: Motorbooks, 2015)

Randy Leffingwell, Legendary Corvettes (Minneapolis, MN: Motorbooks, 2010)

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Paper Dolls Go Hollywood

In the early 1900s, the budding movie industry creatively used publicity to cement its foothold in the entertainment world.  One easy marketing method was to create paper dolls of leading actors and actresses that were reproduced in popular magazines. This marketing strategy allowed the movie industry to quickly get the faces and names of their stars into the homes and hearts of fans.

Hollywood’s first major child star, John Leslie “Jackie” Coogan (1914–1984), got an early start in vaudeville and silent movies before his breakout role in the 1921 movie The Kid. His character, raised by Charlie Chaplin’s “Tramp” into a life of minor crime, was finally reunited with his mother, who had earlier abandoned him as a baby. Studios quickly cast him in a succession of similar roles.  A 1925 issue of Woman’s Home Companion featured a Coogan doll with costumes from Oliver Twist, A Boy of Flanders, Little Robinson Crusoe, and The Rag Man— all movies where he starred as boys in straitened circumstances. His role in Long Live the King was a slight departure in that he was a runaway prince who was later captured by revolutionaries. 

Jackie Coogan and costumes. Col. 121, Waldron Collection, Winterthur Library.

Coogan reached multimillionaire status by age 21, but soon discovered that his earnings had been spent by his mother and stepfather, and he could only recoup a small percentage of his millions through legal means. His experience served not only as a warning for other young actors, but also led to the passing of the 1939 California Child Actor’s Bill, commonly known as the Coogan Act, which protects their earnings and regulates schooling and work hours. Coogan survived his family’s betrayal, continued to work in film and radio, and later turned to television work, most famously playing Uncle Fester in the 1964–66 sitcom The Addams Family.

Magazines had been offering paper dolls even earlier than 1925. The film fan magazine Photoplay featured illustrator Percy Reeves’s likenesses of actresses Lila Lee and Mary Miles Minter in a 1920 Movy-Dolls series. Lila “Cuddles” Lee (1910–1973) graduated to a Hollywood contract in 1918 after performing in kiddie review shows and appeared in movies alongside matinee idols Gloria Swanson and Rudolph Valentino.

Lila Lee paper doll. Col. 121, Waldron Collection, Winterthur Library

Reeves depicted her in her rugged costume in the 1919 film Daughter of the Wolf, a love story set in the dangerous fur-trading world of northwestern United States. The caption “Full Figure of Judy of Rogue’s Harbor,” possibly corresponding with the yellow dress and cloche hat on the same page, is misleading since another actress, Mary Miles Minter, and not Lee, played Judy in the 1920 movie. 

Lila Lee’s costumes. Col. 121, Waldron Collection, Winterthur Library

Lee was in high demand throughout the decade and though she made the transition to talkies, roles became more infrequent by the mid-1930s. She acted in a few plays and soap operas in later decades, but a string of divorces and struggles with alcoholism took their toll.

Mary Miles Minter (1902–1984) followed an early career trajectory similar to Lila Lee’s but hers ended in a more dramatic fashion. With her blonde curls and demure looks, she frequently competed with Mary Pickford for many sweetheart roles. 

Mary Miles Minter paper doll. Col. 121, Waldron Collection, Winterthur Library

In the 1917 Melissa of the Hills, Minter played a poor young woman supporting her father Jethro during many family feuds with money-making schemes. She later fell in love with a lawyer after Jethro’s tragic death. Minter again played the title character, a housekeeper’s daughter who falls for a drunk’s affianced friend, in the 1920 movie Sweet Lavender. 

Mary Miles Minter’s costumes. Col. 121, Waldron Collection, Winterthur Library

Despite acting in more than 50 silent movies, Minter’s career ended rather abruptly after the 1922 murder of her frequent director William Desmond Taylor. Scandal erupted when her romantic feelings for him and rumors of a possible affair with the much-older Taylor went public, casting a shadow on her reputation and influencing her decision to quit the business the following year. Taylor’s murder remains unsolved.

While these paper dolls are not symbolic of the glamorous and idyllic lives of their subjects, they do play an important role of their own. With several of these movies – Coogan’s Little Robinson Crusoe and Minter’s Melissa of the Hills and Sweet Lavender—now considered lost, these surviving dolls and costumes help to preserve a bit of film history.

Post by Jeanne Solensky, Librarian, Joseph Downs Collection of Manuscripts and Printed Ephemera, Winterthur Library

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Chinese Export Porcelain, Swedish Iron, and Beer: A Union of Late 18th-Century Global Connections

Pair of oversize mugs owned by Isaac Gustav Clason (1748-1804). Made in China, ca. 1792. Porcelain (hard paste). Gift of Julie and the late Carl M. Lindberg 2014.29.1.1, .2.

An extraordinary pair of Chinese export porcelain mugs recently donated to Winterthur and featured in our Collecting for the Future: Recent Additions to the Winterthur Collection exhibition opening May 6, has a fascinating private as well as global history.

Likely produced in the late 1700s in Guangzhou (Canton), China, as a special custom order, the mugs were exported to Gothenburg, Sweden, by the Swedish East India Company (S.E.I.C.). According to the Swedish language publication Med Hammare Och Fackla (1940), these items descended through generations of the Clason family and became a crucial part of their holiday celebrations. Every Christmas, the mugs were filled with local beer and shared communally to toast the family’s future prosperity. In their native Swedish they exclaimed “Oss väl och ingen illa!,” or, roughly translated, “For us well and no one bad!” The two mugs are colossal (about 8 inches tall and six inches in diameter) and accommodate over a gallon of liquid each! This likely made for a festive Christmas celebration at the Clason home and is just one of the many stories embedded in these unique items.

Compare our Swedish market mug with a typical coffee mug. While our modern mugs hold about 150 mL, the Swedish mugs hold over 4,700 mL!

Beyond this convivial family history, these vessels also shine a light on the highly productive trade relationship between China and competing European powers in the 18th century. While other European countries began trading with China as early as the 1500s, Sweden did not begin trading directly with them until well into the 18th century (60 years after the Portuguese and 30 years after the Dutch and British).

This punch or hong bowl (a very popular souvenir among traders) shows the blue and yellow Swedish flag (far left) alongside the British and Dutch flags. Made in China, ca. 1780-90. Porcelain (hard paste). Gift of Leo A. and Doris C. Hodroff 2000.0061.

In 1731, the Swedish government granted the first of four charters to the new Swedish East India Company, establishing their monopoly on the nation’s trade with China. During their 82 years in operation, the S.E.I.C. sailed 132 voyages to China on 35 ships. The one-and-a-half-year roundtrip could be treacherous. In fact, the S.E.I.C. lost eight ships during their years in operation. This included the great East Indiaman Götheborg, which tragically sank just outside its home harbor after striking rocks on its return from China in 1745. An extensive marine archaeological excavation of the wreck (conducted from 1984–92) produced an extensive documentary record of the mid-18th-century Swedish-China trade and led to the full scale reproduction of the ship in 2005!

The rebuilt replica of the East Indiaman Götheborg left on her first voyage from Gothenburg to China in October 2005. Image from

The Swedish market desired traditional Asian export wares and designs already popular with other Europeans. However, Swedish consumers also commissioned unique items like Winterthur’s pair of mugs, which speak much more specifically to Sweden’s aspirations on the world stage in the 18th century and the impact the melding of global influences had on the material record at that time.

From the start, the S.E.I.C. purchased underglaze blue and white wares and also items with additional overglaze enameling, runaway favorites among European consumers that they could sell for big profits. In addition, Swedes who could afford to, commissioned custom wares decorated with their family crests. Scholars estimate that as many as 300 Swedish noble families sent orders for custom armorial designs to China via the S.E.I.C. to be reproduced on their dinner services.


Blue and white pudding plate. Made in China, ca. 1743. Porcelain (hard paste). From the 1905 excavation of the wrecked ship Gothenburg by James Keiller. In the Collection of AntiWest company of Gothenburg. Image from

Plate from the estate of Gullbringa, which was owned by Hans Henrik Clason, a captain in the Swedish East India Company on four different ships between 1782 and 1794. Image from

Winterthur’s oversized mugs fall into a special subset of Swedish commissions for customers who wanted to honor their Swedish heritage and affluence with more than the standard armorial design. These items, in many cases in spectacular forms, are decorated with highly detailed topographical landscapes of real Swedish locations and feature detailed settlements, manors, castles, and fortifications.

For example, four surviving covered punchbowls with matching underdishes decorated with topographical designs exemplify the strides the Swedish were making to establish their presence on the global stage and expand their economy beyond their stronghold in northern Europe in the 18th century.

Covered punch bowl and underdish depicting the Swedish Château of Läckö, on Lake Vänern. Made in China, ca. 1745-55. Porcelain (hard paste). In the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art (Purchase, Joseph Pulitzer Bequest, 1940).

Covered punchbowl and underdish depicting the Chinese Pavillion at Drottingholm Palace in Stockholm, Sweden. Made in China, ca. 1763. Porcelain (hard paste). In the collection of the Peabody Essex Museum, Salem, Massachusetts (Museum purchase, 1999. AE85710.A-C).

Suecia antiqua et hodierna (Sweden ancient and modern) was a collection of published engravings based upon topographical drawings by Eric Dahlberg (1625–1705), an accomplished Swedish civil servant and draftsman. Through his over 400 drawings, Dahlberg hoped to make a visual argument for the glory of Sweden. Reproducing those designs onto porcelain also transferred those aspirations onto these luxury items, to be seen on the tables of the powerful Swedish families leading the charge to make Sweden a great European power.

Like these punchbowls, Winterthur’s oversized mugs are decorated with a topographical scene representing an extant Swedish landscape. However, they differ from those examples because rather than depicting an ancient estate from Suecia antiqua et hodierna, Winterthur’s mugs feature an industrialized landscape. The iron-red enamel scene in the central register of these large vessels features the buildings, terraces, and wooden bridge-covered stream of Furudals Bruk, one of Sweden’s foremost iron foundries in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Renowned for its production of iron chains, the foundry was originally founded in 1709.

The foundry’s third owner, Isaac Gustav Clason (1748–1804), purchased the foundry in 1776 and brought Furudals Bruk to the height of its success. Under his management it became one of the main suppliers of quality large ironwork in Sweden, even supplying the S.E.I.C. with chains and anchors for their ships! With the foundry thriving at the end of the 1700s, Clason decided to commemorate his success by commissioning a pair of stupendously sized Chinese export porcelain drinking vessels.

Rather than reproducing a grand estate, as might have been the choice of members of the Swedish aristocracy, businessman Clason chose to reproduce an image of his iron foundry. For the drawing, he turned to his friend Gustaf Henrik Hertzenhielm (1749–1804), a nobleman and major in the Swedish army stationed at Dalarna County (where Furudals Bruk was located). Hertzenhielm, reportedly a friend of Clason’s and perhaps an investor in his business, was also an amateur draughtsman and artist. In the 1790s, after a systematic examination of the foundry and the surrounding countryside, Hertzenhielm produced several graphite sketches of Furudals Bruk in the 1790s. A surviving sketch dated 1792 (also at Winterthur) was the direct inspiration for the mugs’ design. 


Utsigt af Furudals Gård från Öslorn (Prospect of Furudals Courtyard from Öslorn). Gustaf Henrik Hertzenhielm. Sweden; ca. 1792. Graphite on paper. Gift of Julie and the late Carl M. Lindberg 2014.29.2.

Utsikt mot norra stranden med herrgården (View of the north beach with the manor house). Gustaf Henrik Hertzenhielm. Sweden, ca. 1775. Jernkontoret (Swedish steel producers’ association), library picture collection, Stockholm, Sweden.

Utsikt mot brukets strand (View of the beach of the resort). Gustaf Henrik Hertzenhielm. Sweden, ca. 1790. Jernkontoret (Swedish steel producers’ association) library picture collection, Stockholm, Sweden.

Clason likely sent his order for the mugs through his cousin, S.E.I.C. captain Hans Henrik Clason, who travelled to China on four expeditions between 1782 and 1794 (The Gullbringa service pictured in fig. 6 was owned by Hans). Following Clason’s death, the mugs descended in his family until at least the mid-20th century.

Although sadly empty of Swedish beer now, these exciting new additions to the Winterthur collection tell us a great deal about the global luxury goods market in the 18th century and the power plays being made by both individuals and nations alike in that period of rapid global change. Sweden, long mired in wars with its neighboring countries, sought to gain profit and power through the success of the S.E.I.C. Clason, a member of the self-made industrial class rising to prominence in the late 18th century, aspired to equal status with Sweden’s titled nobility. For both country and man, Swedish-designed, Chinese-produced porcelain was the key to achieving those goals.

Come see the mugs and their print source in the exhibition Collecting for the Future: Recent Additions to the Winterthur Collection, opening May 6, 2017, in the Winterthur Galleries.

Post by Nalleli Guillen, Sewell C. Biggs Curatorial Fellow, Museum Collections Department, Winterthur Museum, Garden & Library



A special thank you to Ynge Axelsson and the library at Jernkontoret in Stockholm, Sweden, for providing invaluable references and information on Furudals Bruk and Gustaf Henrik Hertzenhielm.

Clason, Frederick. Furudals mill history. Stockholm: Published by grants from Prytz British fund. 1938.,

Hervouet, Francois et Nicole and Yves Bruneau. La Porcelaine Des Compagnies des Indes A Décor Occidental. Paris: Flammarion. 1986.

Motley, William (Cohen & Cohen). Double Dutch or, on with the Dance, Let Joy Be Unconfined: Asian Art in London Auction Catalog. 2-10 November 2006.

Örjens gille, Sancte. Med Hammare Och Fackla. Stockholm: Sancte Orjens gille. 1940-41.

Phillips, John Goldsmith. China-Trade Porcelain. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 1956.

Pinto de Matos, Maria Antonia and Rose Kerr. Tankards and Mugs: Drinking from Chinese Export Porcelain. London: Jorge Welson Research & Publishing. 2016.

Roth, Stig. Chinese Porcelain Imported by the Swedish East India Company. Printed in Sweden: Elanders Boktryckeri Aktiebolag, Göteborg. 1965.

Sargent, William R. Treasures of Chinese Export Ceramics from the Peabody Essex Museum. New Haven: Yale University Press. 2012.

The Swedish Ship Gotheborg,


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Killing Vampires in Delaware

Photo Courtesy of the Mercer Museum

In the final section of the Treasures on Trial exhibition, visitors can pass their judgement on three objects: an Elmyr de Hory painting, a 19th-century Vampire Killing Kit, and a Winslow Homer landscape. Are these objects what they purport to be or are they fake?

In the case of the Vampire Killing Kit, opinion is almost completely divided between those who believe it is a genuine 19th-century object, and those who believe it is a fake. It is easy to see why this object, on loan from the Mercer Museum, attracts attention. There is quite a bit of mystery and romance that surrounds vampires in gothic fiction, old black-and-white Hollywood movies, and the more recent blockbusters and TV series, which lends to visitors to Winterthur will recognize all the hallmarks of ‘antique’  this object embodies. Faded and yellowing paper labels, a rich dark-wood interior and a cracked, peeling leather exterior all combine to create an object that is both consistent with the nineteenth-century in the public imagination and can easily be visualized in the hand of a vampire killer out on a wet and stormy night, pursuing their next target. The case contains all the objects one may need to kill a vampire; a stake, a gun, gunpowder, silver bullets, vials of serum, and a syringe among others items. All of the objects are held in specially shaped and made compartments.

Photo Courtesy of the Mercer Museum

On face value this object certainly looks nineteenth century, but it presents a really interesting case study of ‘the art and science of detecting fakes’. In assessing this object, as Winterthur’s curators and scientists were tasked to, museum professionals cannot be fettered with their beliefs that vampires are fictional; the object must be assessed within the context of beliefs of the period. For the nineteenth century, as a print of ‘Varney the Vampire’ in the exhibition shows, belief in vampires was not unheard of. In fact, in some areas it was widespread — perhaps stemming from a misunderstanding of the decomposition of dead bodies. The printed label on the inside of the box lid — fake or otherwise — captures this belief:

“Vampire Killing Kit. This box contains the items considered necessary, for the protection of persons who travel into little known countries of Eastern Europe, where the populace are plagued with a particular manifestation of evil known as VAMPIRES. Professor Ernst Blomberg respectfully requests that the purchaser of this kit, carefully studies his book in order, should evil manifestations become apparent, he is equipped to deal with them efficiently. Professor Blomberg wishes to announce his grateful thanks to that well-known gunmaker of Liege, Nicholas Plomdeur whose help in the compiling of the special items, the silver bullets etc. has been most efficient.”

Such eastern European vampires are well documented: the Upier of Poland, Vǎrkolak of Bulgaria, and F.W. Murnau’s 1922 on-screen vampire Nosferatu, who hailed from Romania. But other vampires were believed to exist closer to home: the Chupacabra, the Fifollet, and the Richmond Vampire are all recorded in folklore in the United States.

Set against a strong historical context in which to place a possibly genuine vampire killing kit, Winterthur’s Scientific Research and Analysis Laboratory were able to test the materials used to make the kit for their authenticity. A combined analysis using X-ray fluorescence (XRF), UV light, and fourier transform infrared spectroscopy (FTIR) suggests that the ivory-faced side of the cross is ivory, and therefore a genuine antique, and FTIR used on the green felt inside and the leather case outer are good matches with real materials. By comparison, the identification of optical brighteners in the paper labels challenges that they were made in the 19th century. Optical brighteners were a product of the 1940s, and so therefore these labels cannot date from the 19th century. Similarly the supposed silver bullet of the kit, when tested with XFR, was revealed to comprise large quantities of lead, tin, and antimony, but no silver. This suggests that the bullet is made of a pewter alloy instead of silver. Therefore, even if the bullet is a genuine 19th-century object, which has not been ruled out, this poses an interesting question in terms of determining whether this object is fake or genuine. Namely, if this is a genuine vampire killing kit made in the 19th century, why would its bullet be made of the wrong metal?

These scientific findings therefore can confirm connoisseurial doubts over the authenticity of the material by demonstrating that although some of the objects in the case may be genuine antiques, some of the significant components are either not what they purport to be or date from the mid-to late 20th century. Visitors to Treasures on Trial at Winterthur will have until January 2018 to view the Vampire Killing Kit and make the decision for themselves. In either case, this exciting object is an example that fake ideas and beliefs can leave behind a material trace that is as physically real as the beliefs are to those who hold them. Fake histories can be real things, but we must be careful to know when we are in the process of creating them and knowing when they have been misused.

Post by Tom Rusbridge, a second-year Ph.D. student from the University of Sheffield and visiting scholar at Winterthur until the end of April (funded by the White Rose College of the Arts and Humanities). Twitter: @tom_rusbridge

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What’s Proof Got to Do, Got to Do with It?


Fakes; 1980−90, Made to imitate 18th-century English pottery Earthenware and stoneware
Gift of Henry H. Weldon in honor of June deH. Weldon 1998.28.14−.16, .27a,b

They seem to make unusual exhibition bedfellows: a pair of Tiffany Studios’ lampshades and an eclectic assortment of Staffordshire bear jugs, owl jugs, and candlesticks. On the one hand, the “Grape” and “Dragonfly” lampshades, on loan to Treasures on Trial from the Neustadt Collection of Tiffany Glass, are beautiful examples of glass objects: rich in color, intricate in composition, and stylish in design. On the other hand, the Staffordshire objects from Winterthur’s own collection, donated by their original buyer Henry Weldon, are by comparison far more simplistic, if not without their own charm. It is hard not to be drawn to the family of earthenware and stoneware bears that inhabit the back cabinets of the Proof section of the exhibition. Their eyes comical and alert, ears pricked upright, and mouths agape; they are at once bears in a state of both joyous optimism and content repose.

Fakes; 1980−90, Made to imitate 18th-century English pottery
Earthenware and stoneware. Gift of Henry H. Weldon  in honor of June deH. Weldon 1998.28.11, .12, .17−20a,b

Therefore, what these objects share  is not their function, their aesthetic, nor probably even their user, but rather they have all had their authenticity called into question and been exposed as fakes and forgeries through the use of modern microscopic and instrumental analysis in tandem with more traditional connoisseurship. As Treasures on Trial teaches us, techniques such as X-ray fluorescence spectroscopy, fourier-transform infrared spectroscopy, and X-ray diffraction have become important tools in a curator’s arsenal to understand the material composition of objects and validate their authenticity.

“Grape” library lamp (forgery), Maker unknown; 1975−2000,“Dragonfly” lampshade (forgery)
Maker unknown; 1975−2000, both from The Neustadt Collection of Tiffany Glass, Queens, New York

For the Tiffany lamps and Weldon’s Staffordshire bears, scientific analysis and connoisseurship worked together to ultimately prove that these objects were not genuine. For collectors and curators, connoisseurship is often grounded in opinion rather than fact, resting on a broader knowledge of the field of objects and an assessment of style and technique to differentiate the possible fake from a field of established and documented genuine objects. In many cases, it is connoisseurship that provides the first question and leads to a more thorough investigation. For both the “Grape” and “Dragonfly” lampshades, curators were able to compare the distinctive coloration and quality of glass, the skill of soldering, and the quality of the casting of the bronze bases to many examples of known Tiffany glassware. Meanwhile for the bear jugs and other items of supposed 18th-century pottery, including the owl jugs and candlesticks as well as a candelabrum, teapots, and coffee pots, collectors have a truly extensive back catalogue of examples to make comparisons against. While it was alleged that the faker of the bear jugs and other pieces had used 18th-century illustrations to manufacture these fakes, it was their very uniqueness that first roused suspicion. No genuine surviving examples of such bears are known, and hence if these were genuine, they would be extremely rare. Collectors were also struck by the similarity in form and technique across the different examples of what is now known to be fake earthenware, suggesting that the fakes were produced by an individual craftsman.

The suspicion of collectors was not enough to prove indisputably that the lamps and bears were fakes, and in the case of the bears, it was certainly not enough to level a case against the seller of the items. For the earthenware bears, thermoluminescence analysis dated their production to the 20th century. In addition, the work of Pat Halfpenny, former curator of ceramics at Winterthur, compared the objects against a large sample, creating a two-part case for their fakeness. Despite the combined scientific and curatorial expertise applied to these objects, the courts were still unable to convict the man who sold them to the Weldons in 1992 as evidence of their inauthenticity did not prove that the seller knowingly sold fakes.

While the opulence of the 175 rooms at Winterthur are a nostalgic and charming window into both the culture of a time gone by and the unique collecting habits of H. F. du Pont, they should not conceal the cutting-edge, scientific object research that the institution also houses. The Tiffany lamps and the Staffordshire bears are among the most exciting, but by no means the only objects, which point to the important collaboration between curators and scientists in modern museum life.

Post by Tom Rusbridge, a second-year Ph.D. student from the University of Sheffield and visiting scholar at Winterthur until the end of April (funded by the White Rose College of the Arts and Humanities). Twitter: @tom_rusbridge

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Historians as Detectives

Chinese export porcelain, 1920-38. Bequest of Henry Francis du Pont 1966.663; 1966.674; 1966.636; 1966.683.1; 1966.648a,b; 1966.645.1; 1966.638; 1966.639

One of the best examples of the difficulty involved in dating and verifying a genuine antique is represented by the Chinese export porcelain in the Intent section of the Treasures on Trial exhibition. These objects were not sold in a deceitful or malicious way. They were not sold with an exorbitant price tag to intentionally deceive gullible buyers and swindle them, but bought in good faith by H. F. du Pont in 1948 as an expansive set of 63 objects for $7,000. They were, however, incorrectly identified as dating from the late 1700s to the late 1890s by their first collectors, curators, and conservators. They successfully masqueraded under this identity until more extensive historical and scientific research was undertaken in the late 2000s that pinpointed their origins to the 1920s and ’30s.¹

The majority of scholars, however, had dated the porcelain to 1876, and the reason is simple: this fabulous collection of goods—a table screen, flower container, plate, tea canister, platter, punch bowl, jug, and sugar bowl from the exhibition as well as others on display in the main house—include artistic representations of John Trumbull’s The Declaration of Independence painting, dated 1786–1818.

This set of objects is an opportunity to consider how historians and curators use objects as clues to determine when and where they were made. As the subtitle of the exhibition, The Art and Science of Detecting Fakes, indicates, historians and curators are not only involved in interpretation but often need to act as detectives and piece together a story from clues and fragments. In many cases, these clues are the objects themselves. As historian Edward Muir pointed out, historians “share an assumption with detectives […] that the clues found in documents, at murder scenes, and in informants’ oral accounts point to something other than themselves.”²
For a wide range of historians, ceramics such as bowls, teacups, saucers, and teapots have long been a very important part of 18th-century practices of tea drinking, sociability, and new forms of behavior. This story has been pieced together by drawing on a range of sources, including contemporary images and drawings, conduct manuals, and personal journals. However, perhaps the most important source to understanding why these objects were particularly relevant to the 18th and 19th centuries is the common sense understanding of what the objects’ physical qualities would have enabled: the pouring, serving, and drinking of hot drinks. More recently, this has been expanded to include cold and alcoholic drinks and their associated objects in history such as punch bowls and tankards, which are part of this set.

Not on display in Treasures on Trial, but in Winterthur’s China Shop, is a covered soup tureen that forms part of the same set du Pont purchased in 1948. The object, which is slightly over eleven inches in length and eight inches in width and height, is exemplary of the set in demonstrating the full range of decorative features it uses en masse: overglaze enamel decoration, an American eagle holding a banner, Trumbull’s image, the use of bright colors, a floral border, and a prominently displayed “1776” at the base of the tureen. Research into the chemical composition of these goods ultimately dated them in the 20th century, but the scientific data was only one source of information in this case.³

Soup tureen, Jingdezhen, China, 1920-47. Bequest of Henry Francis du Pont 1966.0669 A, B


The wrongly identified dates of manufacture of these objects has been a significant part of how they have been understood since. When the objects were first catalogued, the collection entry cards listed 1825–50. It was checked and validated in 1989, and a further museum report in March 1994 corroborated this date based on the form and design of the porcelain. A Los Angeles Times newspaper clipping in the object record of the tea canister cited the date as 1800–20. Most recently, a 2007 flyer for the Philadelphia Antiques Show listed circa 1870 as the date of manufacture.4

Similarly, while James Henry is frequently cited as the seller, H. F. du Pont’s personal correspondence and bills show that Henry was using paper with the letterhead of Lingnan University, Hong Kong. Although James Henry is now understood to be the seller, on face value it is not clear whether he was conducting a personal transaction on business papers or acting on the university’s behalf.

These porcelains serve to demonstrate how working with an incomplete record can create long-lasting misunderstandings and how historians and curators are often detectives when working with these objects. Nevertheless, by tracing clues and fragments, their work can reveal overlapping histories of objects both at their point of origin, through their collection, and—for these goods— their eventual museum home.

Post by Tom Rusbridge, a second-year Ph.D. student from the University of Sheffield and visiting scholar at Winterthur until the end of April (funded by the White Rose College of the Arts and Humanities). Twitter: @tom_rusbridge

¹R. Fuchs and J. Mass, ”Deciphering The Declaration of Independence on Chinese Export Porcelain” in American Ceramic Circle Journal 15 (2009), p. 169

²E. Muir, “Introduction: Observing Trifles” in E. Muir and G. Ruggiero, Microhistory and the Lost People of Europe (1991) p. xiv

³Fuchs and Mass, pp. 177–180

4 Registrars object folders, Winterthur Museum

Posted in Academic Programs, antiques, art fraud, Ceramics, declaration of independence, Decorative Arts, House, museum collection, Treasures on trial, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment