Beyond the surface
How one of the world's biggest design movements isn't quite what you think
Shaker design. Probably the most dominant force in American design.
Its influence has spawned house and interior styles (yes, farmhouse, I’m talking about you); publications (Remodelista, for example); no end of markets and retailers. Not to mention the entire canon of Mid-Century design. Shaker “style” is now synonymous with anything simple and spare with a touch of the hand. It’s modern but traditional, traditional but modern. American but also a visual cousin to Japanese and Scandinavian design. However you want to play it, it’s design catnip.
Cultural catnip, too. The Shaker Museum in (formerly sleepy, now quietly buzzy) Chatham NY is getting an expansion designed by architect Annabelle Selldorf who’s also responsible for the widely-fêted expansion of the Frick.
And why not? Its simplicity is timeless, compelling, romantic: a fantasy of an earlier if not easier time, when things were Just. Less. Complicated.
For many, it largely ends there…perhaps because the design is so good, so compelling, there’s no need to go beneath the surface.
But Sarah Margolis-Pineo knows better.
A curator and collections specialist of American craft and design (both contemporary and traditional), Sarah works with John Keith Russell, one of the pre-eminent Shaker dealers in the US, and was curator of Hancock Shaker Village in Pittsfield MA. Prior to that, she cut her teeth in the curatorial departments of some of the most noted US craft museums, including the American Folk Art Museum, (now-closed) Museum of Contemporary Craft, and Cranbrook Art Museum.
But she didn’t start out wanting to be a Shaker expert or even a specialist in American craft. Sarah began in the wide, wild, rollicking world of contemporary art. Until it left her wanting something more…human, meaningful, spiritual even.
She found it. Let’s trace that path.
The Journey Begins: Love at first sight or slow seduction?
Slow seduction is an understatement in my case! My interest in Americana — antique Shaker furniture and design specifically — was a decades-long journey initially sparked by my work with contemporary makers and designers as a museum curator.
My first exposure to Shakerism was growing up in Portland, Maine, which is about 20 minutes from Sabbathday Lake (the only active Shaker community still existent). As a kid, my family would stop by the little general store to buy rock candy and gumballs from the Shaker sisters. This is a bit embarrassing to me now, but I remember not being even remotely curious about what the village was – to me, it was just a candy store where elderly ladies wore funny clothes and spoke in that really wonderful, old-timey Maine intonation.
I went to school for art history, wanting to be a curator working on large-scale biennials and art fairs. But once I started working in the art world…let’s say it varied a lot from my personality. And so I pivoted into focusing on artists who were incorporating traditional craft-based materials and practices into their work. Ultimately, that’s what led me here.
Why This but Not That? What is it about this particular area that speaks to you over the others?
I think it’s the holistic vision of Shakerism – the idea that strongly held religious beliefs led to a set of earthly practices and the creation of an entirely radical material landscape. And, I’m not just speaking about the buildings, furniture, tools, garments, and household items, I’m talking about the landscape itself — Shakers literally moved mountains to create intricate agricultural, industrial, social, and spiritual systems. As a curator, I was always very interested in practices of worldmaking, and looking at the whole of a Shaker village, I see a total work of art.
Of course, I can’t ignore the aesthetic as a big draw. There is something just so satisfying about the spare lines and minimal forms of Shaker architecture and design.
People are drawn to the design language and the aesthetics, but when you dig a little deeper there's so much more: the spiritual underpinnings tend to be marginalized or ignored to emphasize the Shaker aesthetic and utilitarian principles.
For Shakers, the religious belief system is wholly embedded in the material culture: you cannot separate the two. It’s a shame when even design historians miss this because Shakers are not furniture makers, they’re Believers.
What else is the world missing?
Another aspect that tends to get glossed over by historians is that Shaker design is not monolithic. The furniture and household items were made by craftspeople — often very skilled craftspeople, who were still just people–individuals who learned trades over time, had different tastes, and had good and bad days. There is a lot of nuance within Shaker. By removing this nuance, you forget about the humanity behind the movement.
Then there are also geographic nuances. In the 19th century, the Shaker diaspora extended from Maine to Florida to the Midwest. Design evolved differently in each of these different communities depending on the materials available, the skill of the cabinetmakers, and regional tastes in furniture making. Even really good historians writing about Shaker design tend to settle on one form of Shaker design: New Lebanon, New York, circa 1820-1840. Granted, New Lebanon was the center of Shaker spiritual life, but it’s not the extent of Shaker.
So what’s the best way to find the genuine article?
The best way to get an authenticated piece of Shaker would be to work with a Shaker dealer. Of course, I recommend John Keith Russell (whom I work for), who has been dealing in Shaker for over 40 years. Unlike other dealers, he works exclusively with Shaker material and is a foremost expert.
Auctions are another common place to start. They can be exciting, but be wary of what’s presented as fact. (Auctioneers can easily inflate your value by describing the piece as “Possibly Shaker”.) It can be tricky if you don’t know what you’re looking at. If you’re looking at a blanket chest made by a Shaker craftsperson versus a blanket chest made by a worldly craftsperson unaffiliated with movement, it can be very challenging to parse the two, but subtle clues point you in one direction or another. If you know what to look for.
Sense or sensibility, in what proportion? Is there a feeling that you get beyond the research and provenance and the visual cues?
Both! Of course, the foundation of any assessment is the material at hand and, if available, the provenance. In the case of a blanket chest we look for a few things: fine craft, dovetailed bracket bases, interior tills designed into the case…
We do have our little spidey senses that go off from time to time; there are absolutely some pieces that John and I get that we're like, ooh…this just has to feel just right. But we would never base a decision or an assessment entirely on that.
But what does that feeling feel like?
It's just a funny gut instinct that you get after engaging with the material like this so intimately for some time. I can't describe it, but it's just an instinct thing. And of course, again, we would never say something is Shaker unless it is unequivocal. If we can't validate, then we don't, but there are certain things that just feel right. That’s the fun part about it.
Given the ubiquity of Shaker in design, let’s talk about reproductions. How do you tell the difference between the real thing and the repro?
Well, not all reproductions are bad: there are some super-talented reproduction makers out there and that’s not to say that they’re not incredible or the real thing in their own way, but if you’re looking for real Shaker work that’s a different matter.
In terms of contemporary Shaker-inspired design, a rule of thumb is that talented furniture makers sign their work so you’ll know their pieces were not Shaker-made. And it’s not as if there’s no relationship between some of the great reproduction makers and Shaker. For example, Christian Becksvoort is a well-known maker of Shaker material who works very closely with the Sabbathday Lake Shaker village in Maine. There’s also Tim Rieman, another very respected maker.
What’s the gateway drug to Shaker collecting?
Most collectors start with the Shaker chair, because that is just the iconic form. We’re most familiar with the New/Mount Lebanon chair form, but many communities had their own distinctive style, so there’s a tremendous amount of diversity out there: many different variations, and degrees of rarity. The most desirable chairs date to the early 19th century when, essentially, Shaker furniture was largely bespoke: chairs were created to accommodate the proportions of a specific Shaker Brother or Sister. These are called “community chairs,” because they were made for community use.
The New/Mount Lebanon, New York community had a whole chair industry. They realized that their form, their design and their craftsmanship were very desirable. So being the good capitalists they were, they created chair factories to meet demand.
Here’s a hot tip: in 1874, the Shaker chair factory in Mount Lebanon created a gold trademark stamp. Any chair that came off the production line will have this stamp somewhere on it–usually on the inside of a rocker blade or chair leg. Also, the size of the chair (0-7) is stamped into the wood on the reverse of one of the back slats.
If somebody's getting started, what is the best way to go about working with a dealer?
I realize that a dealer's depth of knowledge can be intimidating, especially to a new collector. Here’s my advice: dealers are excited to speak with anyone who has an interest in the material. Everyone has to start somewhere and, in my opinion, the best place to start is by asking an expert some basic questions — trust me, they’ll be excited to share their knowledge with you!
We're in it for the love of the material – we're not in this business to make a ton of money! And we want to find a good home for any given piece and want to find people who understand what it is and appreciate it. So that's the ultimate task.
We’ve worked closely with collectors of varying levels of resources including some younger collectors who are just drawn to the material. And many of our clients will send us auction listings that they come across, and we're happy to share information, simply because we're enthusiastic about the material.
What are the rarest objects in the Shaker collecting world?
Objects that are signed. Most Shaker craftsmen didn't sign their pieces. That makes sense because it was a communal society, often things were made but unattributed. So whenever you can find either a craftsman's name on a piece with a date, or if you find somebody's name on the piece who used it, who acquired it, and it traveled with them through their life, that is always the most exciting thing, because it enlivens the piece. It makes it dynamic, and breathes life into it. It's just so much more compelling when you can position a piece within a specific building in time and place, a set of hands.
Another thing that we always love seeing is original paint. Throughout the 20th century, so much Shaker furniture was stripped of its original surface. As the material began to be collected, a stained woodgrain was more appealing than the vibrant shades of red, yellow, green, and blue that Shakers preferred. This is another myth of Shaker society that I love to demystify: the Shaker world was brilliantly colored! We think of these spare interiors but, in fact, floors, furniture, and garments were all in rich shades of dye, stain, and paint.
Let's get personal: what’s your it? Your most coveted Shaker piece?
Oh boy. I covet one of the large-scale free-standing case pieces–a classic Shaker design. I would love to own a cupboard over drawers made in New Lebanon, elevated on little cut feet, in a rich, original iron oxide paint. I think they're just the most elegant and functional design… chrome yellow would be fine too! I’d take that.
Drawers and cupboards were built into walls, and so there's a limited number of furniture pieces that were designed to be moveable, which is why they're far more rare. Add in original paint, and there are just a handful that exist today.
If you were to cheat on your subject, flirt with another obsession, what would it be?
I have so many obsessions! I still like mid-century craft, particularly fiber art. I can't get enough of that. I still love 20th-century, 21st 21st-century visionary art as well.
But back to Shaker: I’m increasingly interested, actually, in the spiritual history of Shakerism and of early American religion more broadly. There was a recent op-ed in the Times about the decline in organized religion and the way humans are essentially engineered to be very social and very spiritual creatures who come together over a shared set of higherbeliefs and purpose. Within our contemporary, secularized, very divided, and, indeed, alienated society, we are missing these spiritual outlets, so things like Soul Cycle and CrossFit are taking the place of religion. There’s something about Shaker and the merger of spirituality and community that's really compelling, and I think we have a lot to learn from this history.
THE TOOL KIT
Sabbathday Lake Shaker Village is the home of the three living Shakers and the hub of a vibrant community that comes together around the living legacy of Shakerism. Visit the Museum, attend a Shaker Sunday Meeting, and see the site of the future Herb House Cultural & Traditional Arts Center.
Shaker Museum (Chatham, NY) is home to a significant collection of Shaker material and archival collections. The Shakers: A World in the Making, organized by Vitra Design Museum opens in Germany this June before traveling to the Milwaukee Art Museum and ICA Philadelphia. A catalog will accompany the show – I’ve contributed an essay on the concept of Shaker time.
Collectors should reach out to us at John Keith Russell, in South Salem, NY. We have so much more inventory in our gallery than online – please come visit! Also, you can take a look at the research on our Blog, hear more in videos and podcasts, and link to other Shaker cultural sites.
This summer, don’t miss Believers: Artists and the Shakers, on view at ICA Boston, and A Good Many Hands and Brece Honeycutt: Anything But Drab, on view at Fruitlands (Harvard, MA).
Everything has a meaning. Thanks for starting us on the journey, Sarah.
