Audio Episode 01: The Reading Room

Speakers: Rose Sheehan, Intern, Iman Khakoo, Intern, Muyon Zhou, Intern, Sally Brazil, Associate Chief Librarian, Archives and Records

Rose Sheehan: We ascend a few steps between walls in tavernelle-fleuri marble, and enter a small hall in the style of Louis XVI, decorated very simply with pilasters and lunettes. The doors are carved oak, the handles of which are finely chiseled in ormolu.

An elevator carries us to the main floor; where the reading room, the files for the card index, and the principal offices are located. Here, the austere atmosphere of those monastic libraries for which 16th-century Italy is famous, has been duplicated.

Walnut-paneled tables and chairs; lamps, which throw all the light on the books without affecting the eyes of the reader; Acousta-Lite walls, which absorb all sound; beamed oak ceiling, leather-covered doors, and a red tiled floor; all this lends itself to study, and the absorption and ideas in books. In the center is a desk, where an attendant sits to await our pleasure.

Iman Khakoo: Stephan Bourgeois' 1935 recount of the Reading Room at the Frick Art Reference Library narrates just as evocatively today how the library awakens the bibliophile senses.

Upon entering, the visitor is beckoned inside by the warmth of the wooden panels, and the sweet, musky scent of old books. This backdrop is set against a symphony of voices, which whisper in hushed tones; the soft creaking of wooden chairs, and the flashing of pages as visitors flip through books.

Whilst one end of the room is softly illuminated by the worn gold background of an early Italian fresco, the dominating presence of the Frick family is evoked in both painterly and sculptural form on the other side.

A bust of Helen Clay Frick stands proudly beside a portrait of her father and distinguished art collector, Henry Clay Frick. An inscription on the plaque reads that, "This library was founded in loving memory of Henry Clay Frick in 1920." Leading to the precious relationship between father and daughter, which led to the creation of one of the most celebrated art libraries in the world.

This is the Frick Art Reference Library: A Peek into the Past. Episode One: If These Walls Could Talk.

Muyon Zhou: Helen Clay Frick, the third child of Henry Clay Frick and his wife, Adelaide Howard Childs, was born in 1888. In her lifetime, she evolved as an important art collector, an architectural patron in her own right.

Today, she is well remembered as both a philanthropist and an amateur art historian; two roles which merged in her expansion of the Frick Collection and its library, which is a trove of art historical resources at the public's dispense.

Miss Frick visited Europe in 1920 for the first time, after the death of her father in 1919. And it was during this excursion when she first visited Sir Robert Witt's library of reproductions at his home in Portman Square in London. Art historian Katharine McCook Knox has recounted how in Miss Frick's dream that night:

Iman Khakoo: "Kaleidoscopic visions took over with memories of each and every museum, library, and memorial that she had visited. Her vision, however, of the Witt Library of Reproductions expanded to such an extent that it burst like a sizzling rocket, propelling its great pattern across the Atlantic, to the United States of America, into a city called New York."

Muyon Zhou: From the evening onward, a spark has ignited in Miss Frick, and spurred her to mimic and surpass Mr. Witt's library, in creating what would soon to be known as the Frick Art Reference Library.

Rose Sheehan: Although today the library is housed in the heart of Manhattan on 10 East 71st Street, New York, it might be hard to believe that the library was in fact originally housed in the bowling alley and billiard room of the Frick mansion.

The Frick family were fond of leisure and recreation in all its forms. They had a playhouse at their former residence at Clayton, a plunge pool at their summer residence, Eagle Rock. And, of course, their billiard room at 1 East 70th Street.

On returning to New York, Miss Frick took over this room in her determined quest to form a library. And the area was quickly converted from one of fun and games, to one of quiet concentration.

Space in the billiard room was cleared to accommodate her collection of books and photographs, which had been accumulated by the family over the years; whilst the bowling alleys were covered, and shelves were installed along the walls. This room continued to be used for library purposes such as storage and indexing, even when it officially opened to the public in 1924.

Iman Khakoo: However, in 1933, when architect John Russell Pope undertook the immense project of converting the Frick mansion into a museum, Miss Frick also gave him orders to expand the ever-growing library into the building in which it is housed today.

When instructing Pope on his plans, Miss Frick asked that he reuse as much salvage from 1 East 70th Street as possible. For not only cost-efficient, but also sentimental reasons.

Indeed, one of the main charms of the Frick Collection and Art Reference Library today is that they retain the intimate ambiance of a private residence.

When expanding the building, Pope followed Miss Frick's advice and eclectically combined old and new, by installing the panels and bookcases from Henry Clay Frick's study into the new private storage area of the library, as well as repurposing the hardware from his bedroom.

History is quite literally embedded in the walls of the small Reading Room and its adjoining Conference Room. Where the Jacobean oak-paneled walls were the same ones which adorned that of the bowling alley and billiard room; evoking the founding moment of the library, in bringing the old in with the new.

Muyon Zhou: While Miss Frick laced the new plan with the traces of its history, she nevertheless added personal touches, especially when planning the new Italian-style interior of the Reading Room.

It was at this time where the construction and expansion of new spaces also carved out places for her own voice to be heard, and her personal tastes expressed. As well as spearheading plans for the new library, Miss Frick was also in charge of acquisitions in the mid-1920s, where she helped to shape the collection into what it is today.

In 1935, the collection both honored her father's memory in hanging a picture gallery as curated by her father. Whilst newer additions were celebrated in the rooms of Limoges Enamel which was transformed into a space to also feature early Italian Renaissance masterpieces, which she helped to acquire. Miss Frick's travel books and diaries, a test to her highly critical and scrupulous eyes, which she developed in her scholarly and cosmopolitan upbringing.

Even after the death of her father, she stayed in close contact with artists and dealers, as she saw the world through the lens of a collector. For her, objects within the space had equal importance to the space itself.

Rose Sheehan: Visionary half figures rise up with beaming halos from behind a stone ledge, as they're set against an infinite goal beyond. The figure of St. John the Evangelist stands on the right and beckons the eye towards the tender moment shared between the infant Christ and Madonna, who holds him as she stands, robed in sumptuous, ultramarine blue drapery.

Gestures and facial expressions help to construct a harmonious narrative, as the Madonna points behind her to the figure of St. Francis, so our eye is drawn from left to right, then back again.

On the predella below, a crucifix is flanked by the coat of arms of the Orsini family, whilst the space on the left, which would have most been most likely filled with a portrait of the woman donor, is instead blank.

Whilst one would imagine this lyrical picture to be decorated in Italian Renaissance altarpiece in a church, it was instead completed by a Russian artist, and is embedded in the south wall of the Reading Room.

Iman Khakoo: This is Nicolas Lochhoff's copy of Madonna between St. Francis and John, completed in 1930 after Pietro Lorenzetti's 14th-century fresco in the lower church of San Francesco at Assisi.

The Russian expatriate Nicolas Lochoff was born in Pskov. And while studying chemistry at St. Petersburg, became interested in the aesthetic and alchemy of art. And began producing masterly copies of paintings at the Hermitage Museum, and later, restored paintings for the Italian government.

The fresco in the Reading Room was commissioned by Miss Frick, who would have most likely met Lochoff through Bernard Berenson, a distinguished authority on Italian paintings who was living in Italy at this time.

This fresco was commissioned alongside a copy of Piero della Francesca's mid-15th century fresco of the Resurrection for the University of Pittsburgh's Fine Art department, to which Lokhoff agreed to paint both for $13,000.

In the fullest sense, Lochoff's paintings are replicas of their originals. In an article written for the American Magazine of Art in November of 1930, Mary Logan Berenson expressed her amazement at Lochoff's virtuosity at imitation, claiming that he copied everything, down to the minutest speck of dirt that in the course of centuries had adhered to the picture. She claims that everything was there.

Muyon Zhou: A letter sent from Lochoff to Miss Frick on first September of 1930, revealed the painstaking, meticulous attention to detail acquired when emulating an Old Master.

In the letter, Lochoff describes a working method, which is akin to the method described by Cennino Cennini, in his Il Libro dell’arte, which is a 15th century how-to guide on late medieval and early Renaissance painting.

There is something paradoxical in Lochoff's working method. From the way he creates a full antique appearance, to the way in which he pays as much attention to destruction as to creation, in order to mimic what has been lost over time, as well as what has stood the test of time.

In order to understand Lorenzetti's methodical process, Lochoff dissected and re-created it, layer by layer. Initially, he starts with the areas done in pure fresco, such as the figures. Then adding a red clay substance known as the ball, to underlie the gilded elements of the painting, such as the halos and background. Until finally, using tempera al secco to add the finishing touches such as the light blue tunic worn by St. John.

Lochoff went to thorough lengths to ensure complete simulation of the original. And in his letter, he claimed that his contemporaries, including Bernard Berenson, Mr. F. Mason Perkins, and Raimond Van Marle, agreed that he did the original painting justice.

Miss Frick's decision to commission a copyist for work for the library would have been seen as bold and daring, as the debate over the aesthetic idea of a good fake versus an original, was raging in the art world at this time.

Iman Khakoo: So the important question to ask is not so much what the painting is and how it was painted, but rather, why was it commissioned by Miss Frick in the first place?

All paintings, by nature, are bound to perish. And by recreating, Lochoff is preserving them for future centuries when the originals would have diminished.

Lochoff's method of copying paintings is not so far from Miss Frick's expeditions, in which artworks were photographed to build up the library's photo archive in order to preserve rapidly deteriorating works. Perhaps, then, the painting in itself could also be considered as part of the archive.

In line with Miss Frick's pursuit of education in the arts, by commissioning Lochoff's fresco, and later donating her collection of his paintings to the Frick Fine Arts Building in Pittsburgh, they jointly made it possible to study particular works of art in America without ever leaving the country.

However, the aesthetic and the symbolic significance of the fresco, and the contemplative effect it has on the space, cannot be overlooked. Playful and personal touches have been added, such as the frieze completed by Angelo Magnanti above the fresco, which incorporates two roundels depicting Helen's two cherished dogs, a field spaniel named Bobby, and an Irish terrier named Paddy.

A golden inscription written in Italian gleams in the midst of the frieze, and reads, ,nessuna cosa si vedes sanza luce meaning, "Nothing can be seen without light."

Light is universally recognized as symbolic of knowledge, reason, and clarity. The way that light filters in through the large Venetian windows and beams of the gold leaf of the fresco, is not too far from the darkening effect light has when reflected through the stained glass windows of churches.

It is possible that Miss Frick had re-imagined the setting of the Reading Room as a church of sorts; the reference desk its altar, the fresco its altarpiece, and the visitors, the disciples of study.

Muyon Zhou: Whilst the taste and characteristics of Miss Frick are hinted at in the fresco, her presence is enlivened by the means of a recently acquired sculptural bust, which stands in the far corner of the Reading Room.

In the same way that Helen made changes to the collection and library to honor her father's legacy, so too changes have been made in the Reading Room, in order to honor the foundress herself.

At first glance, the bust on display in the Reading Room appears to be made of terracotta, but is actually a plaster cast, which has been painted in a burnt brown color, which matches the warmth of expression worn by the depiction of Miss Frick, who tilts her head in a profile.

The statue was recently given to the museum by Derek Ostergard and his wife, Lillian, the niece of the acclaimed American sculptor, Malvina Cornell Hoffman, who is the artist behind our masterpiece.

Hoffman was a longtime friend of the Frick family, as Mr. Frick was part of the powerful circle of patrons who recognized her talent, and saw her drive at the beginning of her artistic career.

In a sense, members of the Frick family were the ones to bookmark the start and end of her career. As this sculpture is part of one of her first-ever commissions offered by Mr. Frick in 1919: a marble portrait of his daughter.

While Miss Frick offered Hoffman the last commission of her life in 1963, which was a bas relief medallion of her father; now in the Frick Art and Historical Center in Pittsburgh.

Rose Sheehan: In her memoirs, Hoffman recounts completing this portrait of Helen Clay Frick for Mr. Frick, who invited her to study the French neoclassical sculptures of Jean-Antoine Houdon he had in his collection. After he suggested that it might be suitable to do my daughter in 18th-century French manner.

Hoffman noted that for her, Houdon had a very definite style, a particular approach to the subject's eyes, very live. And a delicate crease of drapery and detailed treatment of the hair. All details which she paid close attention to when carving her depiction of Miss Frick. The sculptor Houdon united Henry Frick and his daughter in a sense, as both were enthused by his work in practice.

After Mr. Frick died, Miss Frick followed in her father's footsteps and acquired Houdon's Marquis de Miromesnil for the museum's collection. And Marie-Ange-Cecile Langois, Madame Houdon, for her private collection. Whilst also carrying out extensive research on his work, which is now in the archives.

When the bust arrived for study purposes at the museum in 2016, it was ambiguously accompanied by a tag, presumably written by Hoffman, which reads, "Carved in marble for Mr. Frick. Destroyed by HF after her father's death."

This tag remains as the only known account of the destruction of the original marble bust, which Mr. Frick had commissioned. HF, most likely, refers to Helen Frick. So why exactly did she destroy the original? Therein lies the mystery of the marble bust.

Iman Khakoo: Although the original version no longer exists, this preliminary model is evocative of the original, and further imitates Houdon's working practice of modeling his subjects in clay.

In true Houdon manner, Miss Frick has been portrayed with tendrils of hair escaping her loosely tied chignon, and adorned with a grape-leaf wreath. Whilst her garment decorated with roses and foliage is in similar disarray, and being held precariously with a clasp over one shoulder, whilst the other one is on full display.

In this way, Hoffman's work bears likeness to Houdon's sculpture of Diana. It is almost as if Miss Frick was presented to us in the guise of a goddess.

It is possible that Miss Frick thought these details far too sensual, revealing, and not least, too provocative, to be put on display. However, the depiction somewhat matches the photograph stills done with Miss Frick by Hoffman for the sculpture, as it is rare to find such intimate and relaxed photographs of her.

These photographs foreshadow the strong bond, which was soon formed between artist and sitter. Hoffman and Miss Frick were close contemporaries, with similar social circles. It comes as no surprise that the two women developed a strong friendship over their shared interest in art, and devotion to the Red Cross during the First World War.

Although the original marble bust was destroyed, the plaster version remains as a monument to not only the foundress, but perhaps also to the personal interest in the relationship, which she maintained in her lifetime.

Although made of plaster, the bust seems to come alive when you visit the Reading Room. You can sense the presence of Miss Frick as she assumes the role of onlooker, and contently observes the visitors delight in the space which she has created.

Here is Sally Brazil, the Chief of Archives and Records Management at the Frick Collection and Frick Art Reference Library; on Miss Frick's library and her presence in it today.

Sally Brazil: She made that showpiece of the building. I mean, it mattered to her that it was a beautiful place full of art in itself, a sort of inspiration to people who were coming to do research there. It's gracious, it's comfortable, it's quiet. It's all the things you need to put your mind towards your tasks. I think that was very important to her.

And I think that there's a bit of a legend that she haunts the stacks. Open the door and you hear funny noises and you think it might be Miss Frick in the building somewhere, keeping an eye on things.

Iman Khakoo: After having explored both the Reading Room and the objects within it, it is plain to see that the Frick Art Reference Library was a real labor of love. A love which Miss Frick had for her father, combined with an innate love of art.

It is thanks to this determined woman, and the staff today, which the facility is able to serve more than 6,000 readers annually; and more through its online sources. We can once more return to the end of Bourgeois' account, where ...

Rose Sheehan: ... we descend silently through silently moving doors. Silently, the elevator lands us at the entrance. The door opens by itself. We pass, out in the street, to be swelled up by the noise of the city.

Precipitately, we cross Fifth Avenue and we are in the park. A lonely bench invites us to sit down, and we ask ourselves and perplexity with Gauguin: Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?

Iman Khakoo: Although our journey through the Reading Room has come to an end, this episode is the start of a three-part series. So stay tuned for the next two episodes, where we will be exploring more hidden gems from the Frick Art Reference Library.