For weeks, a day at The Huntington Library, Art Collections and Botanical Gardens has been planned with Lori. A ran delay pushed it to today and it could not have been more perfect.
Located in San Marino (near Pasadena) this private, nonprofit institution was founded in 1919 by Henry E. Huntington, an exceptional businessman who built a financial empire that included railroad companies, utilities, and real estate holdings in Southern California.
Huntington was also a man of vision – with a special interest in books, art, and gardens. During his lifetime, he amassed the core of one of the finest research libraries in the world, established a splendid art collection, and created an array of botanical gardens with plants from a geographic range spanning the globe.
Part 1 of our visit was to the exhibit Inspiring Walt Disney: The Animation of French Decorative Arts (there through March 27) which explores the early inspirations behind Disney Studios' creations, examining Walt Disney's fascination with European art and the use of French motifs in Disney films and theme parks. Très merveilleux!Approximately 50 works of 18th-century European decorative art and design, many of which are drawn from The Huntington's significant collection, are featured alongside hand-drawn production artworks and works on paper from the Walt Disney Animation Research Library, Walt Disney Archives, Walt Disney Imagineering Collection, and The Walt Disney Family Museum. WOWSERS.Walt Disney (1901–1966) had a deep affection for France, having served there as an ambulance driver following World War I. It was then that he first became fascinated with Europe and European art. Inspiring Walt Disney highlights his art and architecture encounters during return trips following the war. Those visits became a profound source of inspiration for both himself and his studios; they also sparked his passion for collecting and building miniature furniture and dollhouse furnishings, foreshadowing the kind of creativity he would exercise in the creation of new "worlds" through his theme parks and films.
The exhibit was incredibly layered and covered so much, I was almost overwhelmed.
It began with the concept of Animating the Inanimate, which features French and German Rococo porcelain figurines alongside story sketches for The China Shop (1934), one of Disney's Silly Symphonies. These types of whimsical porcelain figures, originally inspired by the pastoral scenes of French Rococo painter Antoine Watteau and his contemporaries, were brought to life by the first generation of Disney animators. The exhibition suggests connections between the remarkable technological advancements of the Meissen and Sèvres porcelain manufacturers over the course of the 18th century and the cinematic innovations pioneered by Disney animators at the beginning of the 20th century. Another large portion is devoted to Disney's most Rococo film, Beauty and the Beast (1991), famous for featuring inanimate objects that come to life—from the level-headed Mrs. Potts to the charismatic Lumiere. The exhibition explores anthropomorphism and zoomorphism in 18th-century French literature and decorative arts, the interiors of the movie's enchanted castle, and the design and animation of the Beast and other characters. Disney's satirical take on Rococo fashion introduced me to macaroni prints—18th-century illustrations that poked fun at the extreme fashion worn by the upper classes at the time.
It wasn't until today, when I am almost 61, that I learned what the verse in Yankee Doodle Dandy, "Stuck a feather in his hat and called it Macaroni" means. Sheesh! Actor and playwright Robert Hitchcock's The Macaroni mocked the pretensions of fashionable young Englishmen, dubbed macaronis for their affected admiration of Italian modes, manners, and cuisine. Hysterical.Disney architecture is also examined, specifically the fairy-tale castles that are central focal points in many Disney movies and theme parks. While the fantastical buildings exist outside actual periods and styles, Disney's artists were heavily influenced by French and German architecture when creating their settings, particularly for the theme parks. Although separated by two centuries, the Disney animators and European craftspeople represented in the galleries had one shared goal: the illusion of life. Their creative ingenuity allowed them to animate the inanimate, from candlesticks to teapots. Children seem particularly drawn to such fantastical forms of animation. Indeed, children's perceptions of the world fascinated both the learned circles of eighteenth-century Paris and Walt Disney himself, who spoke of "that fine, clean, unspoiled spot, down deep in every one of us that maybe the world has made us forget, and that maybe our pictures can help recall." We were invited to rediscover that place within us while exploring the wonders of Disney animation and Rococo decorative arts. What wonders, indeed!
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It began with the concept of Animating the Inanimate, which features French and German Rococo porcelain figurines alongside story sketches for The China Shop (1934), one of Disney's Silly Symphonies. These types of whimsical porcelain figures, originally inspired by the pastoral scenes of French Rococo painter Antoine Watteau and his contemporaries, were brought to life by the first generation of Disney animators. The exhibition suggests connections between the remarkable technological advancements of the Meissen and Sèvres porcelain manufacturers over the course of the 18th century and the cinematic innovations pioneered by Disney animators at the beginning of the 20th century.%20(Medium).jpg)
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