Eva Zeisel at The Orange Chicken

Eva Zeisel at The Orange Chicken by James Pearson

The objects in the Erie Art Museum's exhibit "Eva Zeisel: The Shape of Life" can be divided into three groups: vintage pieces designed and manufactured from the 1920s through the 1960s; objects manufactured under the supervision of The Orange Chicken, circa the late 1990s; and some items produced later by such manufacturers as KleinReid and Nambé. Because roughly half of the collection that makes up the exhibit falls into the second category, it is valuable to give an account of the nature of Zeisel's work with The Orange Chicken.

Since the 1960s, Zeisel had been largely retired from design work, exercising her talents in other areas, but in hindsight it seems inevitable that eventually she would find a way to return to the occupation in which she had invested so much time and thought in her earlier years. One of her first forays back into design was her work at the solnay Porcelain Factory, in Pecs, Hungary, in 1983, underwritten by a National Endowment for the Arts Senior Fellowship. The fruits of this excursion were a series of prototype vessels clad in Zsolnay's characteristic iridescent glazes. The ensuing period was one of increasing recognition and honors, but no corresponding increase in production.

In 1997, Don Joint, of The Orange Chicken, discovered Zeisel's Zsolnay prototypes. Artists and gallery owners Don Joint and Brice Brown maintained The Orange Chicken in a storefront gallery in the Tribeca section of Manhattan. The gallery enjoyed a reputation for eclecticism, showcasing furniture, fine art, and other objects and decor of no common period or style but of uniformly high quality. Browsing the nearby Totem Gallery, Joint came across Zeisel's Zsolnay prototypes, recognizing them as Zsolnay but unable to place the designer; on closer inspection, he was surprised and delighted to learn that it was Eva Zeisel. He was indeed familiar with her older work, having collected it himself and sold it in his gallery. But, perhaps like most people, he had assumed she was no longer working.

Given the now-iconic status of many of her designs, the idea of new work from Zeisel was intriguing. A search by Joint turned up no Zeisel designs currently in production. Much vintage material was and still is to be found on the secondary market, but the most recent products were reissued Town and Country salt and pepper shakers, now languishing in MoMA's discount bin.

Zeisel was invited to the gallery; living in New York, she arrived the same day, along with her daughter. She was impressed with The Orange Chicken's fine German porcelain and selection of antique and modern furniture (she was soon to design some furniture of her own). Don Joint offered his concept for their collaboration: He wanted to treat her designs "like art." Rather than being mass-produced, work would be limited to small editions, executed by artisans expert in their fields. Of Zeisel's earlier work, designs would be reissued, but only select forms, the forms that in their judgment were her most iconic. This would reflect the change Zeisel's work had undergone over time, as her forms entered the vocabulary of design. In addition, new designs might be created and old designs redone in different media.

Their working relationship was quite close. Joint functioned virtually as her hands, drawing and redrawing her new ideas as she watched, guiding and correcting his lines, directing "Taper there," or "More bulbous there." Joint also did the footwork necessary to supervise production in diverse factories and workshops, while Zeisel herself inspected the final results before giving her approval. Such a close collaboration between two strong-willed people had occasionally run into differences of personality. There were arguments over the safety of candles and tabletops. Joint found the bird-shaped creamers disturbing; he complained that, when poured, they give the effect of a bird vomiting. Zeisel saw his point and laughed, but they produced the birds anyway.

Some well-known artisans were enlisted. Marek Cecula in ceramics, Emrys Berkower in glass, woodworker Richard Brown, and silversmith Michael Brophy each contributed to the project. Brophy's effort resulted in a set of Hallcraft/Century stacking platters and bowls, effulgent in hammered sterling silver. This project had initially been planned as a very small edition, but between the cost of fifteen pounds of silver, and four months' expert labor, it was destined to remain unique.

Designs that previously had existed only in prototype form, such as the Zsolnay vessels and Mancioli room dividers, were put into production. According to Joint's concept, work was done in America wherever possible, but abroad if necessary, either for quality that could be obtained nowhere else (for instance, Venetian glass) or so the work could be done in the factory where the prototypes were made.

Zeisel's work for The Orange Chicken broke off in 2000, when she left to work with such larger companies as Nambé and KleinReid, producing her designs in greater quantities and selling it for lower prices. This resulted in contractual and licensing disputes, some of which are stil in the process of being resolved. After 9/11, The Orange Chicken Gallery was displaced from Manhattan, the remaining stock of Zeisel's designs was put into storage, and, ultimately, much of it went to make up "Eva Zeisel: The Shape of Life.”

Zeisel's work with The Orange Chicken was a departure for her in some ways. And, to some extent, that was the point; Don Joint didn't want merely to repeat something that had already been done. But the project extended beyond the production of new designs; old designs were produced again, but in a different way. The idea centered on the concept of Zeisel's designs as modern classics. Because they had proven their worth, they deserved special treatment.

Joint's concept stemmed from two things: his awareness of the shortcomings of the previous production of Zeisel's designs, and the business idea of marketing high-end, limited-edition products. He saw many defects in the execution of certain lines she had designed; he wanted to avoid this in his remakes, doing her work justice, as he saw it. The Orange Chicken remakes present Zeisel's designs as if they had come to fruition in a more perfect world, free from the constraints under which they had been produced-giving the designs a second chance, in the case of reissues, and giving the designer free rein to create whatever she wanted in the case of the new designs.

On the other hand, Zeisel as a designer has always been accustomed to thinking in terms of the various constraints placed on a commission. Early in her career, she addressed, for instance, the demand to maintain low prices: “This restriction is the first the designer must accept, and she must therefore be careful that the object she designs does not present unusual difficulties in production of large series, for instance, by demanding work-processes which only specialists can perform. And just as she must not test the workers' skill, so also she must avoid exploiting to the last the forming possibilities inherent in the material, lest the production of her designs yield an unacceptable number of seconds.’” *From an article by Zeisel, first published in the magazine Die Schaulade, in 1931, and quoted in her essay "On Being a Designer," in Eva Zeisel: Designer for Industry, exhibition catalog (Montreal: Musée des Arts Décoratifs, 1984).

Relatively large amounts of seconds sometimes were incurred, though not necessarily through any fault of the designer. For instance, Red Wing's Town and Country line made low cost a priority. Although Zeisel made a point of creating a robust design to compensate for the irregular quality of the earthenware employed, inconsistent firing temperature and uneven application of glazes led to crazing and breakage in these pieces, whether in the factory, in shipping, or, later, in use. The Orange Chicken reissues were made with superior quality control; however, that comes with an increase in cost. In general, because of their uniformly high quality, Orange Chicken reissues sell for much more than the originals do.

In the case of certain Town and Country forms however, a vintage piece and its corresponding reissue can end up with the same price. Since the originals were cheaply made, it becomes increasingly rare, with the passage of time, to find the most sought-after forms in pristine condition. Thus, there are originals to be found, few in number and good in quality (by chance), and reissues also to be had that are few in number and good in quality (by design): a bit of economic irony. Unfortunately, both outcomes are at odds with Zeisel's desire to make objects not only beautiful but also widely available.

It is appropriate to view The Orange Chicken limited-edition reissues in the context of a museum exhibit. They can be interpreted as serving a preservationist and an educational purpose, introducing people to Zeisel's designs, albeit in a way that keeps them at arm's length. But viewing these objects in display cases is not the same as having them on one's table, which we must be reminded is an essential part of their meaning and our personal enjoyment. With this proviso, we can acknowledge that the reissues are a valid reinterpretation of Zeisel's designs, but also that they contribute something to the old debate of fine art versus design. Rather than blurring these lines, the reissues serve to clarify the distinction.

- James Pearson, Assistant Curator, Erie Art Museum Erie, Pennsylvania