A
Museum of One's Own, continued
Judy Cutler often catches herself running down the grand, curving staircase—modeled after the Petite Trianon’s at Versailles—in her sneakers. “We kind of take [living inside a museum] for granted,” she admits,
“so when people do come in and marvel about it, it brings me back to reality, because I then look at what we’ve done, and I think it’s pretty amazing. You don’t get the full impact of paintings in a quick run through a museum,” she adds, “but living with and looking at them all the time, you’re always seeing something new that makes them more special.”
The Cutlers spent seven years searching for the perfect place to display the works before they came across a notice that Vernon Court was for sale. “I wanted something to frame Judy’s life endeavor,” Laurence says, “and I wanted something that was an architectural monument, something with a milestone significance.”
The
project put their combined expertise—and persistence—to the test, as the
Cutlers attended to the many details that go into preparing a museum for
the public, from satisfying insurance companies’ security requirements
(all visitors must sign in), to setting up the non-profit American Civilization
Foundation to oversee it, to shelling out nearly $700 for a pair of door
knobs from Paris.
As a museum converted from a home, the NMAI is not unique. (See accompanying story on the newly opened Neue Galerie New York.) What is striking about Vernon Court, however, is how well images commissioned for magazines, storybooks, wartime propaganda—even movie advertisements—fit into these elegant surroundings.
Against the Italian black-walnut paneling of the Grand Salon glares a bare-chested, temple-breaking Victor Mature in his 1950 movie portrayal of Samson—as painted by Rockwell in sumptuous browns and golds. The light-saturated Rose Garden Loggia, by contrast, hosts several panels of Parrish’s whimsical Florentine FÍte—which once decorated a dining hall of Philadelphia’s old Curtis Publishing Company.
And what Laurence calls “iconic images” from this country’s history—both familiar and strange—can be found in every room. The pale marble entrance hall pays tribute to American patriotism with works such as Rockwell’s colorfully painted Miss Liberty, depicting women’s entry into the workforce during World War II. “We still feel the same way about protecting our freedom,” notes Judy.
Another timeless, yet nostalgic, image—and one of Judy’s favorite Rockwells—is of a milkman meeting a couple coming home late in the morning. “It’s so 1930s,” she says. “She’s so innocent and naÔve, and he’s so dapper, and the milkman’s just holding out a big clock like a pocket watch showing them that they should have been home long ago. Today most folks don’t even know what a milk bottle looks like, but they still know that when they get home too late, there’s always somebody there.”
It was the idea of another illustrator, J.C. Leyendecker, to commemorate the first of each year with a Baby New Year on the cover of the Saturday Evening Post. In a different Post cover image, marking congressional approval of Mother’s Day, Leyendecker depicts a young bellhop presenting a pot of hyacinths, thus launching the tradition of sending flowers on that occasion. “They’re images from our history,” Laurence says.
Clockwise from top: Villa Chigi by Maxfield Parrish, 1903; Herr Vollmer by Howard Pyle, 1913; Red Cap by Harrison Fisher 1932.
July/August
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