If you were an archaeologist with a medieval turn of mind and a Victorian sense of interior design, what would you do if an aunt died and left you a fortune? If you were Henry Chapman Mercer, you'd also be an ardent Arts & Crafts proponent and you'd build Fonthill, an outrageous fantasy castle in lovely Bucks County, Pennsylvania (a short drive NW of Philadelphia.) In 1898, before Mercer built Fonthill (in 1908, entirely of hand-mixed concrete) he created the Moravian Pottery & Tile Works to produce art tiles with designs inspired by his 10 years of travel in Europe, where he clearly made a
close study of all the historical sites. He returned and became a member of the UPenn Archeology department (despite having no degree in the subject) but it was when his wealthy aunt died that he really let loose with the Arts & Crafts. The Arts & Crafts movement, a reaction to industrialization that
promoted such painstakingly patient arts as hand carved furniture, closely patterned textiles and wallpapers, and hand-printed books, was particularly strong in the late 1800's; major figures include William Morris in England and Elbert Hubbard in the US. Mercer was a bit late for that party but he seems not to have noticed. Every corner, every nook and cranny (Mercer should be a patron saint of nooks and crannies), truly every inch - walls, floors, and ceilings - is decorated in his quirky obsessive, handwork-attentive style. The ceilings are a particular
high point - the tour guide described the way in which laborers piled mounds of dirt on a platform across the tops of columns. When the shape was correct, they then covered the dirt with sand and pressed in tile decorations - thus working not only blindly but upside down and backwards - and poured the concrete ceiling. Only when it was set completely could they see if they had made any mistakes - there were very few from what I could see, but they couldn't have done much about them if there had been. The whole place is a wonder. One of
my favorites was the room with columns in which Mercer imbedded small clay cuneiform tablets from early Mesopotamian civilizations (2500-3000 bce) then surrounded them with tiles giving dates and
details of their content - trade in sheep, names of kings, etc. Also the Columbus Room, with a jigsaw puzzle ceiling with the map of the world and an illustrated history of the age of exploration (all made of tiles set into concrete, remember - upside down, backwards, working blindly.) There's no interior photography allowed so I'm using what I could find to give an idea. Pictures don't really do it justice in any case. There's no way to convey the moody, solitary genius spirit of the place with its twisting staircases, odd angles, slightly morbid atmosphere (Mercer died in a narrow bed in one of the nook/crannies) that is both claustrophobic and fascinating - you need to see it.
Note: the Moravian Pottery Works continues to operate, still churning out Henry's designs.There is also a nearby Mercer Museum. The website for all Mercer related sites is at http://www.mercermuseum.org/
It's time to talk about the Barnes Collection, whose days in its suburban Philadelphia mansion are fast coming to a close. I last commented on Barnes matters after seeing the plans for the new Center City building at a city hearing. I was enthusiastic about the move then and I remain so, even with the understanding that some things will be lost in the translation. These include the experience of Dr. 
Barnes's original setting and with it the aura of the master's touch, with the knowledge that he stood here and placed that there, on occasion conversing with the visiting Matisse to inspect the placement of his Bathers mural, or with Bertrand Russell, whom Barnes hired to lecture in his classes in the 
building. The mansion in Upper Merion is beautiful in its own right, as are the 
surrounding gardens which were a haven for Dr and Mrs Barnes when they resided there and continue to be important to horticulturalists. The original Barnes residence will, after July, become an archive open to scholars, an fitting and enduring role for this singular collection and its interesting history. But much will be gained in the move. Most obviously, better access to the jaw-dropping, over-the-top incredible collection. The 'New Barnes,' now nearly finished, sits in pride of place along the Benjamin Franklin Parkway (the Champs Elysees of Philadelphia - with its allee of trees and long views it is one of the great urban spaces of America) in easy proximity to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Rodin Museum, the Franklin Institute, the Free Library, etc. The design seems jarringly 
modern after the earlier Beaux Arts gentility, but my understanding of the plan from what I saw is that it is respectful of the fact and spirit of the original while also accommodating the practical needs of a modern art museum. The designers, Tod Williams Billie Tsien Architects, took pains to replicate the exact orientation of the galleries to light and even to the details of the landscaping visible through the windows. The arrangement of the collection will, of course, continue to reflect the valid, if idiosyncratic, ideas of Dr. Barnes with all the bits and pieces of metalwork stuck between the masterpieces. Dr. Barnes would probably not be happy - from 
what I know he was quite a grump and was not often happy - he had quarrels with the Philadelphia Museum, the Philadelphia art establishment of his day, even with 
Bertrand Russell and Matisse - (this painting by Giorgio di Chirico captures him nicely) but he made clear his intentions to make his collection accessible and he showed a strong belief in the value of African art and in the African-American community - the 
move will allow more space to show the breadth of this astonishing collection as well as to show it to more visitors including school groups, most especially those for whom the trek to Upper Merion, with accompanying rules for reservations and parking allotments, was difficult, if not impossible. The legal hassles and the vitriolic assertions about the Barnes have been exhaustive and acrimonious to a ridiculous degree (if you need to know more, it's easy to find the history going back many years.) It is now time to celebrate this extraordinary treasure and be glad that it is intact and available - it's a new jewel for Philadelphia. What do you think? Were you ever at the 'Old' Barnes? Do you think the advantages of the move outweigh the experience of the original?
