Wallace Nutting: From Cherry Blossoms to Windsor Chairs
by Barbara Miller Beem – Images courtesy of Mike Ivankovich
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I love living in the presence of old things. I consider time cruising the aisles of antique malls and flea markets to be well spent, even though, at this point, I usually just “look with my eyes” and move on. The truth is that I really do not need to start another collection. So there you have it. I’ve said it.
But on the other hand…
There’s something about Wallace Nutting and what he left behind that I find really appealing. And the more I learn about this talented, albeit quirky, New Englander, the more I want to know. With that in mind, maybe it’s time for us to give Nutting a second look. I think we might be charmed by what we see, because what’s not to love?
Although most of the scenes photographed by Nutting were of his native New England, “Monument Behind Blossoms,” a view of the Washington Monument in Washington, D.C., is of particular interest to collectors.
Ask anyone what Nutting did, and they will probably point to his nostalgic scenes of America, photographs that capture the countryside’s natural beauty, taken before the trappings of progress marred the landscape. Seasonal views often pictured springtime, an adroit
marketing decision, as Nutting understood that the last thing farmers wanted to see hanging on their walls were reminders of wintertime. But the hope of spring… now there was a winning formula. And for people like me, whose favorite color is pink, those hand-colored prints of
blossoms are a “natural.”
I’ve seen these pictures, mounted and framed, titled and signed, on countless antiquing adventures, but did I ever take one home? No. Why? Maybe it’s because, back in the day, I was intrigued (okay, obsessed) with another kind of hand-painted pictures, those being
mid-century paint-by-numbers (affectionately known as “PBNs”). But that’s a story for another day. I’ll just say that a person only has so much wall space.
Back to Nutting.
If Nutting’s lovely pictures were his only contribution, that would be fine. But there’s more to his legacy. Nutting’s story: A student at Phillips Exeter Academy and Harvard University, class of 1887, he went on to marry a wealthy widow, Mariet Griswold. With a Doctor of Divinity degree, Nutting served as a Congregational minister but found the pressure of writing sermons so great that he hung up his collar. With time on his hands, he packed up his camera and bicycled the back roads of New England, capturing on glass plates an idyllic landscape that would soon be lost forever.
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That’s not all. With Mariet’s money, Nutting collected a carefully curated array of furniture and accessories dating from the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries. Putting his photographic talents to work, he captured the beauty of his recreated sets, well-appointed Colonial-style home interiors.
In the process, Nutting came to see that as these precious antiques became more and more scarce, not to mention too expensive, all but museums and the very wealthy could afford to purchase them. Subsequently, Nutting set about overseeing the meticulous reproduction of the original pieces, which earned him recognition as an integral actor in the Colonial Revival movement. As it happens, these “reproductions,” now more than a century old, are antiques in their own right, just as prices realized for them at auction and in shops are slipping.
Finally, there are the travel books. About twenty years ago, I stumbled on a collection of Nutting’s Beautiful books. Personally and professionally interested in historic houses, I scooped up a handful. For the record, these volumes continue to occupy valuable real estate on my bookshelves, and I recommend them to like-minded folks.
But I digress.
Back to my “no more collections” rule, which is on shaky ground. I’d like to think that one thing I learned from my PBN era is that there is no need to scoop up hundreds of examples to enjoy something you like. Two of anything counts as a collection. And a picture collection need not take over your life or all of your display space.
As for the pluses in favor of a collection of Nutting’s pictures, it doesn’t have to break the bank. There are enough of them around that you can be (and should be) discerning when it comes to condition. Nutting aficionado Mike Ivankovich reminds us that each picture has been “hand touched.” Those that did not meet Nutting’s strict criteria were destroyed; there are no “seconds.” Ivankovich advises against buying any picture that shows signs of damage. Above all, be patient.
Other points in their favor: I find them calming. The pink pictures fit into any décor, most any room. They’re nostalgic. And they make great gifts. Expect to pay between $50 and $100 for most examples, a bit more for those particularly valued. Think Mother’s Day, springtime weddings, and wedding anniversaries.
You could stop at pictures, but Nutting’s reproduction furniture is mighty tempting. Surely we all have room for an extra Windsor chair. This is a good time to buy, according to Mike. Oh, and to make this even more tempting, there’s an active collectors’ club. Check it out at wallacenutting.org.
It’s easy to get caught up in all-things Nutting, especially if you know Mike. Let me know what you think. Tell me if I’ve inspired you, or at least piqued your interest. I’m at TheCharmJOAC@gmail.com.
