National Heritage Museum

New to the Collection: A Masonic Cupboard from Indiana

Over the summer in 2010, we were alerted to the availability of this Masonic cupboard, which reportedly came from the “old Masonic Hall” in Madison, Indiana, but had most recently been part of a private collection in Ohio. After some negotiations, the Scottish Rite Masonic Museum & Library purchased the cupboard for its collection and had it transported to Lexington, Massachusetts.

We are always on the lookout for Masonic furniture, especially if it is accompanied by a story or documentation of its previous use. We were very excited to add the cupboard to our collection – we do not have another piece like it, nor do we have many pieces of Masonic furniture from the Midwestern United States. The symbols on the doors suggest that the local Order of the Eastern Star group organized their papers in one section, while the town’s Masonic lodge used the other two. Pencil notations remain inside over some of the dividers to remind previous users about which types of papers went where. A new Masonic building was constructed in Madison, Indiana, in 1871 and the cupboard may have been made or purchased around that time.

The cupboard has recently been placed on view in the Museum’s lobby area as part of a new exhibition of recent acquisitions for the collection (see the photograph at right). The Museum actively works to improve and refine its collection of over 17,000 objects through gifts and purchases. The new display highlights some of our recent acquisitions in order to recognize our donors and to demonstrate the kinds of things that we collect. We plan to rotate these objects once or twice a year. We hope you will plan a visit to the Museum soon – and then leave a comment here about your favorite recent acquisition!

Cupboard, 1870-1900, probably Indiana, Collection of the Scottish Rite Masonic Museum & Library, Museum purchase through the generosity of Helen G. Deffenbaugh in memory of George S. Deffenbaugh, 2010.039a-r.

References:

“Masonic Chit-Chat,” The Freemason’s Monthly Magazine 30 (July 1871), 288.

Dwight L. Smith, Goodly Heritage: One Hundred Fifty Years of Craft Freemasonry in Indiana (Indianapolis, 1968).

Skeleton Leaves and Phantom Arrangements

The National Heritage Museum recently received a gift of four stereocards titled Skeleton Leaves and showing the same leafy arrangement shaped like a Masonic square and compasses symbol. One of the cards is shown here (for more on stereocards, see our previous post). I was struck by how quintessentially Victorian this image seems and became curious about the story behind the image.

According to the card itself, the publisher was John P. Soule of Boston. Soule was born in Maine in 1828. City directories for Boston from the late 1850s tell us that Soule was a partner in the firm of Rogers and Soule, Printsellers. Soule’s partner was none other than John Rogers (1829-1904), the sculptor whose “Rogers Groups” would become popular decorations in many Victorian homes. By 1859, Soule was identified as a “photographist” in the Boston directory. He went on to publish a number of stereocards in the 1870s, including this one. In 1888, Soule moved to Seattle; he died in 1904.

The Masonic symbol shown on the card is perhaps the most recognizable sign of the fraternity. The square and compasses represent reason and faith. The letter G in the center stands for God, geometry, or both. While this symbol was used on all sorts of objects during the late 1800s – from furniture to ceramics – this representation is done in a specific medium – that of skeletonized leaves (also called “phantom leaves” or “phantom bouquets”).

Instructions on how to pursue this type of project were provided in numerous late-1800s household guides and ladies’ magazines. For example, the March 1870 issue of The Lady’s Friend reprinted directions from an 1867 issue for skeletonizing leaves “at the special request of new subscribers.” The writer acknowledged the popularity of this activity, “These Phantom Bouquets are more beautiful than could be believed by those who have not seen them…We had not thought that anything so dainty and airily graceful could be preserved in this way.” To make one of these arrangements, the leaves were gathered while green and then soaked. The “green matter” had to be rubbed off the surface of the leaf, leaving the “fibrous network” or skeleton of the leaf. Once the leaves were thoroughly dry, they could be bleached and then formed into an arrangement.

This stereocard notes that an I.L. Rogers registered the image at the Library of Congress in 1873. Reportedly, a Mrs. I.L. Rogers of Springfield, Massachusetts, patented an improved method for skeletonizing leaves in 1877. While we were particularly interested in this image because of its Masonic content, a number of stereocards were available during the late 1800s showing other arrangements of “skeleton leaves,” primarily non-Masonic and decorative.

Have you ever tried skeletonizing leaves? Do you know more about Mrs. I.L. Rogers? Do you have a stereocard showing a “phantom arrangement”? If so, let us know in a comment below!

References:

“John P. Soule Family,” http://familystacks.com/custom/views/fam/S02.htm.

The Lady’s Friend 7 (March 1870): 202-206.

Routledge’s Every Boy’s Annual, London: George Routledge and Sons, 1866.

Skeleton Leaves, 1873, John P. Soule (1828-1904), Boston, Massachusetts, National Heritage Museum Collection, gift of Ronald T. Labbe, 2010.076.1.

Keep Within Compass, or, A Tempest on a Teapot

 

 

 

 

 

This transfer-printed teapot from the late 1700s is not only charming, it also communicates an important social message. Through slogans and illustrations, it reminds both husbands and wives to abide by a moral code of self-restraint and to “keep within compass.” The prints on each side of the teapot—one featuring a man; the other, a woman—depict the rewards of proper behavior versus the dangers of temptation. A large central image, contained within a compass’s legs (“within compass”), presents an idealized view of the perfect life in the late 1700s.  Around each of these main illustrations, four vignettes provide cautionary tales of the ruin that awaits those who eschew a virtuous life.

In the large vignette on one side, the well-dressed gentleman, bags of money at his feet, is surrounded by bountiful fields, a large mill, and men working on his farm. On the other side, the fashionable lady is similarly surrounded by her elegant home, a trunk of pretty things and her loyal dog. Both sides also feature the proverb, “Keep within compass and you shall be shure to avoid many troubles which others endure,” as well as the brief admonitions, “Fear God. Know thyself. Bridle thy will. Remember thy end.” The vignettes around these central images show dangers that an imprudent person could easily fall into, including ruined reputation, prison, and shipwreck—a metaphor for lost fortune. Biblical sayings—“The end of the upright man is peace” and “The virtuous woman is a crown to her husband,” respectively—appear below each image.

A large percentage of the Museum's collection relates to Freemasonry and other fraternal organizations, so we found the iconography on this teapot familiar. The compass is a central Masonic symbol, representing restraint, but this teapot’s manufacturers may have selected it because its meaning of self-control was familiar to society at the time. The images on this teapot appear to be inspired by, though not directly copied from, a pair of prints made in 1786 by London printmaker Carington Bowles (1724-1793), also in the Museum’s collection, reproduced here. These prints may in turn have been inspired by two series of prints by William Hogarth, “A Harlot’s Progress” (1732) and “A Rake’s Progress” (1735), which depict the downfall of a formerly innocent woman and man through drink and seduction.

In the late 1700s, when this teapot was made, tea-drinking was a socialactivity. According to 1700s French lawyer Méderic Louis Élie Moreau de St. Méry, in America “friends, acquaintances and even strangers are invited” to join the family for tea. How you set your table told your guests something about your financial standing, taste and place in the world. So this teapot not only reminded the family to be honorable people, it also conveyed a message about the family’s moral character to their guests—that they valued—and perhaps aspired to—the morals that the prints' designers highlighted. The Museum’s Public Programs Coordinator, Polly Kienle, selected this teapot to include in the exhibition, "Curators' Choice," which features the staff's favorite objects from the collection. Of this teapot, she said, “I wonder what kind of teatime discussions this pot triggered between the couple who owned it.”

References:

David Drakard, Printed English Pottery: History and Humour in the Reign of George III, 1760-1820 (London: Jonathan Horne Publications), 1992.

Rodris Roth, “Tea Drinking in 18^th-Century America: Its Etiquette and Equipage,” United States National Museum Bulletin 255 (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution), 1961.

 S. Robert Teitelman, Patrica A. Halfpenny, and Robert W. Fuchs II, Success to America: Creamware for the American Market, featuring the S. Robert Teitelman collection at Winterthur (Suffolk, England: Antique Collectors’ Club), 2010.

 Photos:

“Keep Within Compass” Teapot, 1796–1801. Attributed to Ferrybridge Pottery, Yorkshire, England. Museum purchase, in part through the generosity of Helen G. Deffenbaugh, in memory of George S. Deffenbaugh, 2008.040a-b. Photograph by David Bohl.

 “Keep Within Compass” Prints, 1786. Carington Bowles (1724-1793), London, England. Museum purchase, 98.007a-b.

A Tale of Two Trivets

While living in Philadelphia in the mid-1990s, my future husband and I were browsing through an antiques store and saw a cast-iron trivet that we liked. Neither of us had ever owned an iron trivet, or had a particular use for one, but this one had at least three qualities to recommend it. First, since we were both studying history and historic preservation, we liked old things. Second, since we were new to the state of Pennsylvania, its Pennsylvania German folk art style charmed us. And third, as starving graduate students, it was pretty much the only thing in the store that was cheap enough for us to buy. Manufactured in the mid-1900s, it was a commonly reproduced design and it didn’t have a high value.

Over the years, I continued to buy iron trivets at the occasional yard sale or antiques store, and also purchased a reference book that described their history and the companies that made them. I even bought a few on eBay. I ended up with a couple of dozen trivets that wouldn’t impress a serious collector, but they still charm me quite a bit. I love the folk art patterns, the stars and whirls and geometric designs, the flowers and birds, the solid heft of the cast iron. Some of the trivets are painted with bright colors, and evoke the vibrancy of Pennsylvania German art forms such as hex signs and fraktur.  (The photo below shows my collection.)

When I began volunteering at the National Heritage Museum, I was happy to discover that the museum’s collection includes some wonderful trivets. Many trivets made in the 1800s and 1900s were not only decorative, but also featured commemorative designs that honored famous people (such as George Washington and Jenny Lind) or organizations such as the Freemasons and Odd Fellows. Several of the Museum’s trivets feature a combination of Masonic symbols with traditional shapes and forms. The example above, manufactured by the John Wright Company of Wrightsville, Pennsylvania, includes the Masonic square, compasses, and “G,” perhaps the most common Masonic symbol, representing reason and faith. On this trivet, the symbols appear within a horseshoe shape, a common trivet motif that signifies good luck. Manufacturers of cast-iron trivets would often reuse popular shapes and patterns – such as the horseshoe – while changing a small part of the design to meet a new need, such as to create a commemorative piece for a particular group or audience. These mid-1900s trivets were often more popular as decoration rather than as functional pieces and were made with short legs to facilitate being hung on a wall. My grandparents had several trivets that I remember hanging in their summer cottage.

Another cast-iron trivet in the Museum’s collection (seen at right) also features a square, compasses, and “G,” along with an archway and a five-pointed star. This one most likely dates to the late 1800s, based on the length and shape of its legs, its cast mark, and its weight. Older trivets often had longer legs (more than one inch), depending on their intended use, and although often ornamental, were made primarily to hold hot objects such as pots and clothes irons. Some, like this example, were shaped specifically for a clothes iron: wide at one end and tapering to a point at the other.

The fact that foundries regularly produced and marketed Masonic trivets suggests the popularity and influence of Freemasonry in American culture over many decades. Trivets can also be found bearing the symbols of other fraternal and social organizations including the Independent Order of Odd Fellows, the Grand Army of the Republic, and the Daughters of Union Veterans of the Civil War.

I still have my own two dozen iron trivets in a box in the garage. I stopped collecting years ago because I didn’t have a place to display them.  I also began to realize the folly of collecting something that weighs as much as … um … a box full of cast iron. But I still find them to be a fascinating bit of Americana.

Reference:

Rob Roy Kelly and James Elwood, A Collector’s Guide to Trivets & Stands. Lima, OH: Golden Era Publications, 1990.

 

Top: Masonic Trivet, ca. 1950, John Wright Company, Wrightsville, Pennsylvania, National Heritage Museum collection, Special Acquisitions Fund, 75.24. 

Middle: Cathy Breitkreutz's collection of trivets.  Photograph by Cathy Breitkreutz.

Bottom: Masonic Trivet, 1880-1900, American, National Heritage Museum collection, gift of Harriet G. Ward, 88.5.

A Masonic Cash Box

This unusual cash box, which the National Heritage Museum purchased for its collection in 1990, is a favorite with several staff members. So it comes as no surprise that it is currently on view in our exhibition, Curators’ Choice: Favorites from the Collection.

The inlay work draws the eye around the entire box. On first glance, you may think that it is inlaid with ivory, but it was actually made using sulfur! The preference for this material seems to have been localized to German woodworkers in the Lancaster, Pennsylvania, area during the early and mid-1800s. Despite the unpleasant smell of the sulfur, these craftsmen seem to have enjoyed the speed and ease of completing the inlay this way. Initially, the sulfur dried into a yellow color, which has lightened to its current ivory shade over the decades.  Our box is helpfully dated to 1861 (along with the Masonic date of 2395), although it is not signed by its maker.

The box's maker melted the sulfur and poured it into the wooden sections while in a liquid state. Once it hardened, he polished it and, in this case, it was decorated with pen and ink. The delicate illustrations are copied from the sixteenth edition (1851) of The True Masonic Chart, or Hieroglyphic Monitor by Jeremy L. Cross (1783-1861). Cross first published his book, with illustrations engraved by Amos Doolittle (1754-1832), in 1819 after witnessing the “improper classification” of Masonic symbols at degree lectures. Cross soon became America’s leading Masonic lecturer, and his book became a best-selling and influential source of Masonic symbolism.

The box has a tray inside with spaces fitted for coins and bank notes, suggesting that it was used as a cash box by the Treasurer of a Masonic lodge or Royal Arch chapter. Do you know of other examples of household accessories made using sulfur inlay? If so, let us know in a comment below!

Masonic Cash Box, 1861, Pennsylvania, National Heritage Museum Special Acquisitions Fund, 90.3a-b. Photographs by David Bohl.

A Memorable Gift

At almost two feet high, this pitcher stands out from the crowd of transfer-printed jugs made in the late 1700s and early 1800s.  During this time, English pottery manufacturers designed and sold great quantities of light beige-to-white earthenware, called creamware, to Americans.  Much of it was plain or minimally decorated tableware, but consumers who wanted to splash out could order transfer-printed designs with gilded or enamel-painted decorations to embellish jugs, bowls or platters. 

Some of these surviving objects celebrate accomplishments, both individual and national.  This monumental pitcher, personalized with an inscription that says, “From John Walton to St. Paul’s Lodge,” may have marked either the founding of the Groton, Massachusetts, lodge in 1797 or Dr. John Walton’s (1770-1862) term as master from 1806-1808.  Much bigger than typical examples, which are large enough for 2-3 transfer prints, this pitcher features over a dozen different Masonic and floral transfer-printed designs.  Hand-applied gilding decorates the top and base and also highlights elements of the printed decoration. Walton most assuredly gave his lodge a lavish gift.

Unlike the majority of transfer print-decorated pitchers, this one bears a maker’s mark, WEDGWOOD, impressed on the bottom.  This mark identifies the famous Staffordshire pottery company founded by Josiah Wedgwood as the pitcher’s maker.  Unfortunately, none of the transfer-print designs on the pitcher are signed.  A few of the transfer prints, such as a stanza that begins “The World is in Pain/our Secrets to Gain,” and an image thought to have been derived from different Masonic membership certificates (see illustration), are fairly common on antique creamware pitchers decorated with Masonic themes.  Many other designs on the jug relate to English Royal Arch Freemasonry.  They are less common in the Museum or the Grand Lodge of Massachusetts collections, but do appear other collections.  For example, a 1925 history of the Grand Lodge of Ireland includes an illustration of a 1797 pitcher of the same size and maker with a very similar decoration as the Walton gift. 

How St. Paul’s Lodge used this enormous vessel is an open question.  A rough calculation estimates that, if filled, the jug would hold about four-and-a-half gallons of liquid and weigh nearly 40 pounds.  The secretary of the Union Lodge of Dorchester, Massachusetts, left a clue as to how his lodge used their pitchers.  He described a pair of smaller (11" high) transfer-print-decorated pitchers (see illustration) given to the lodge in 1811 as “punch pitchers.” In 1802 St. Paul’s Lodge comprised 42 members.  If they filled this pitcher with punch (and could lift it!), every member could certainly have a serving. Regardless of its use, this monumental presentation piece ensured the donor was long remembered. 

Part of the collection of the Grand Lodge of Masons in Massachusetts housed here at the Museum, John Walton's gift to St. Paul's Lodge is currently on view in Curators' Choice. If you know about other monumental pitchers associated with Masonic organizations, we'd love to hear about them! Please get in touch or leave a comment.

Pitcher, 1797-1810.  Wedgwood, Staffordshire, England. Loaned by the Grand Lodge of Masons in Massachusetts, GL2004.10165.  Photographs by David Bohl.

Pitcher, 1811. England. Gift of Union Lodge, Ancient Free & Accepted Masons, Dorchester, Massachusetts, 75.46.11a-b.

Sources

John Heron Lepper and Philip Crossle, History of the Grand Lodge of Free and Accepted Masons of Ireland, Vol. 1, Dublin:  Lodge of Research, 1925.

John D. Hamilton, Material Culture of the American Freemasons. Lexington, Massachusetts:  Museum of Our National Heritage, 1994.

S. Robert Teitelman, Patricia A. Halfpenny and Ronald W. Fuchs II, Success to America:  Creamware for the American Market. Woodbridge, Suffolk:  Antiques Collectors’ Club, 2010.

An Example of Tiffany's Favrile Glass

Although this bowl may not be as recognizable as the famed stained-glass Tiffany lamps or windows, it does bear Louis Comfort Tiffany’s (1848-1933) name on the bottom. The soft colors and elegant style of the bowl made it a natural for inclusion in the “beauty and craftsmanship” section of the National Heritage Museum’s current exhibition, Curators’ Choice: Favorites from the Collection.

The ruffle-edge rim gives the piece a natural feel, which was one of the hallmarks of Tiffany’s work with glass vessels. In the early 1890s, Tiffany developed a method of blending different colors together in a molten state. He initially used this technique when crafting his stained-glass windows, extending it to three-dimensional objects in 1893. Initially, Tiffany christened this glass “fabrile,” from an Old English word meaning “hand-wrought.” By 1894, he changed it slightly to “Favrile” and the name stuck. New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art is fortunate to have 27 Favrile pieces from Tiffany’s personal collection.

Do you have a favorite Tiffany piece? Let us know in a comment below.

Favrile Bowl, 1909, Louis Comfort Tiffany (1848-1933), Corona, New York, National Heritage Museum, gift of Dorothy A. Richardson, 77.70.10.

Aboriginal Style and Victorian Excess

I love the aesthetic shown by beaded purses like this one, which were made during the late 1800s and early 1900s by members of Native American tribes in upstate New York. The two-tone beading, the rich velvet and silk fabrics and the floral designs make these artifacts recognizable at one glance. So, when selecting objects from the National Heritage Museum collection for our current exhibition, Curators’ Choice: Favorites from the Collection, I just had to pick one of the Native American-made purses from our collection.

Capitalizing on the Victorian love of decoration, Iroquois women beaded purses, wallets, pincushions and numerous other kinds of “whimsies” to sell to tourists at Niagara Falls and other popular vacation spots. Making and selling souvenir beadwork was a means of cultural as well as economic survival. The beadworkers created a successful mixture of aboriginal style and Victorian excess, allowing them to make a living in an manner deemed “acceptable” by white society, while also manipulating the market to not only accept, but prize, their aesthetic, which retained a sense of ancient beliefs and an independent spirit.

Paper patterns were frequently employed as guides to create the beaded motifs. The beadworker would anchor the pattern to the fabric and apply strings of beads across the surface, filling in the space. Some purses include a beaded fringe around the edge. This was a recognizable “Indian” characteristic for consumers, bringing to mind “traditional” Indian costumes made from animal hide and fringed at the ends.

Purse, 1860-1890, probably New York, National Heritage Museum collection, gift of Prescott Richardson Collection, 91.055.55.

There are Masons in Foxholes

Fighting boredom as well as the enemy, soldiers have long passed the time between battles making gifts and souvenirs using available materials and improvised tools. With these objects, these men often sought to remember or mark their extraordinary experiences during their service. A previous post on this blog highlighted a Masonic pendant made by a French prisoner in England between 1793 and 1814, during the Napoleonic Wars. During World War I, however, in part because spent shells and other war-related debris littered the trenches and battlefields, this so-called trench art like this three-armed lamp, which is featured in our new exhibition, "Curators' Choice: Favorites from the Collection," became more common. Despite its name, however, not all of this trench art was made by soldiers on the front lines or in prison camps. Soldiers and civilians who lived through the conflict also purchased commercially produced souvenirs, often after the fighting ended.

According to a brass plate attached to the base of the lamp, Brother Robert T. Woolsey presented it to Union Lodge #31 in New London, Connecticut, on December 25, 1922. The lodge used it to let late-arriving members know which of the three Masonic degrees the lodge was working in, depending on whether one, two, or three of the bulbs were lit. The Museum purchased the lamp from the lodge in 2000.

Born in Appleton, Missouri, in 1893, Robert Woolsey enlisted in the Navy on June 5, 1917, just two months after the United States entered World War I. Following the war, he landed in Connecticut, where he was initiated in Union Lodge on March 22, 1922, and was raised a Master Mason on April 19, 1923, several months after giving the lamp to his lodge. It appears that he made a career of his military service. The 1930 census lists him as a mariner in the navy, living in Vallejo, California, with his wife, Jean, and two small children. By World War II, still in the navy, Woolsey had moved back to New London, Connecticut. He died in November 1944.

Although we made some inquiries, we don’t know if the shell is from naval or land-locked artillery. This information would help us figure out whether Brother Woolsey collected the shell himself or purchased it during or after the war. Neither do we know if he made the lamp himself. He may have bought it ready-made from one of the many vendors in America or Europe who created trench art. Unfortunately, Union Lodge #31 had a fire in 1923, and all previous records were lost. If you have any insights or questions about this object, please leave a comment or e-mail Aimee Newell, Director of Collections at anewell@monh.org.

Reference: Jane A. Kimball, Trench Art: An Illustrated History (Davis, CA: Silverpenny Press, 2004).

Photo: Lamp, 1922. France or America. National Heritage Museum purchase, 2000.059.8. Photograph by David Bohl.

Made in Japan

With the exceptions of pieces owned by famous people, or particularly rare or valuable examples, ceramics are often overlooked as important aesthetic and historic objects. This is unfortunate because dinnerware, vases, figurines, and the like have much to tell us about the people who made and used them, and their societies. The National Heritage Museum owns a diverse group of ceramics, ranging from commemorative mugs for Masonic events to delicate porcelain teacups. The sugar and creamer set and the vase, seen here, were donated to the museum in 1977, and have been waiting for their stories to be told.

Both the sugar and creamer set and the vase are examples of the so-called "Nippon China" that was popular in American homes between 1865 and 1921.  "Nippon" is the transliteration of the more formal Japanese name for Japan. While Japanese craftsmen had made high-quality porcelain for centuries, the Western world only developed a strong interest in Japanese culture in the late nineteenth century, when many American and European artists began to incorporate Japanese-inspired motifs and imagery into their work.

The end of the Tokugawa policy of seclusion in the 1850s meant that Japanese borders opened to foreigners for the first time since the early seventeenth century. This allowed Westerners to discover Japanese fine art and decorative arts, triggering a new fashion for Japonisme - the influence of Japanese art on Western art and design - that lasted into the early twentieth century. Likewise, Japanese artistic influences inspired many notable decorative artists who were active in the Art Nouveau movement, such as Louis Comfort Tiffany and Edmond Lachenal.

Like most other pieces of Japanese export porcelain during this period, the Museum's objects were hand-painted by Japanese artists with designs that were specifically created for Western audiences. Americans who purchased porcelain tableware and housewares in the early twentieth century were drawn to the ornate and the exotic.  They were also used to the gilded, highly decorative designs hailing from Limoges and Staffordshire. Both the floral motif of this vase and the idyllic landscape pictured on the sugar and creamer set reflect the popular designs of contemporary products from France and the United Kingdom, which had dominated the American market. Ironically, during the Meiji Period (1868-1912), when these objects were made, the Japanese favored simpler designs.  Gilded lusterwares, like this vase, were unfashionable in their country of origin.

The marks on each of these objects provide insight into their history. Both the sugar bowl and the creamer are marked on the bottom with a trademark consisting of an “M” encircled by a wreath, with the words “Hand Painted” printed above and “Nippon” printed below the wreath. The “M” signifies that these pieces were made by the Morimura Brothers factory, which later developed into the Noritake China corporation. Morimura Brothers used this mark from 1911 to 1921. Likewise, the maple leaf stamp on the bottom of the vase was also a trademark of Morimura Brothers, which branded various products with this distinctive mark between 1891 and 1921.  

The year 1921 signaled the end of an era for Japanese export porcelain, as a new American law required that foreign manufacturers mark the country of origin of their products in English. Japanese products designed for the American market began being labeled with the anglicized name “Japan.” In turn, this evolved into the once-ubiquitous “Made in Japan” label that came to appear on everything from toys to electronics sold in the United States later in the twentieth century.

References:

Alden, Aimee Neff, and Marian Kinney Richardson. Early Noritake China: An Identification and Value Guide to Tableware Patterns. Des Moines: Wallace-Homestead Book Company, 1987.

“Japanese Porcelain Noritake Marks.” Antique Chinese and Japanese Porcelain Collector's Help and Info Page. Nilsson, Jan-Erik, 2006, http://gotheborg.com/marks/noritake.shtml, accessed September 29, 2010.

“Nippon China Dinnerware History.” Antique China Porcelain & Collectibles. Nacq Partners, Ltd., 2010, http://www.antique-china-porcelain-collectibles.com/nippon_china_dinnerware.htm, accessed September 29, 2010.

Van Patten, Joan F. Collector’s Encyclopedia of Nippon Porcelain: Identification and Values. Paducah, KY: Collector Books, 2001.

Vase, 1891-1921, Japanese, National Heritage Museum Collection, gift of Dorothy A. and Albert H. Richardson, 77.70.38.

Creamer, 1911-1921, Japanese, National Heritage Museum Collection, gift of Edith V. Carlson, 77.46.1.

Sugar Bowl with Lid, 1911-1921, Japanese, National Heritage Museum Collection, gift of Edith V. Carlson, 77.46.3a-b.