The Andrews were greatly responsible for cultivating this admiration. A marvelous show at the Portland Museum of Art called “Gather Up the Fragments: The Andrews Shaker Collection,’’ organized by the Hancock Shaker Village in Pittsfield, gives us an opportunity to see what they saw, and to chew over the Andrews’ complicated and occasionally vexed relationships with the Shakers themselves.
Presenting more than 200 Shaker objects, the show itself carries a salutary sting, like a brisk slap of cologne on freshly shaved cheeks. All the objects in it are clean, hygienic, well-made, and quietly confident, in a very adult way, of their own purposes. All this sets them apart from so much of today’s art and design, which can seem so flimsy and insecure, so spoiled by infantile exaggerations.
It’s surprising, perhaps, to have mere objects perform what amounts to a spiritual diagnosis on the impure and underdeveloped state of one’s soul. But that is the effect of Shaker design, and reading the descriptions of each object only reinforces it. About one plain-spoken yellow pail, for instance, we’re told: “A close look at the handle reveals that the underside is rounded to conform to the hand. The width of the handle also flares out at the ends where it is attached. Note the beveled edge on the handle end, a simple measure to avoid splitting. The steam-bent ash hoops are joined by tucking the opposing ends into a notched hook … ‘Harriet G. Augusta’ is written on the bottom in pencil.’’
Alas! you think as you read this: If only one’s own handles (figuratively speaking) conformed so well to others’ hands! If only our souls flared out so accommodatingly at points of attachment! If only we could be tucked, notched, and hooked so as not to split into pieces! And if only we inscribed ourselves on the world in delicate pencil, rather than always in indelible pen!
