It all began at a small auction in Frederick, Maryland, over 20 years ago, and a whimsical architectural feature that caught my fancy. Surrounded by a circlet of Acanthus leaves, a trio of egrets stood among the reeds, congregating around the central stalk of an undulating canopy, with scalloped edges leading back in folds toward the center to support a rock formation sprouting a myriad of Calla Lilies with their blooms scattered among their leaves. The design was artful and balanced, the execution was articulate and minutely detailed, so that the whole piece presented a peaceful repose of natural beauty. And I wanted it. Needed it. Had to have it!
The problem: it was an antique fountain, 9 feet across, five feet tall, and made entirely from cast iron, weighing over 1,000 pounds, and would ultimately take 9 strong men to lift it onto the back of a flatbed truck for delivery.
My ever-patient and accommodating husband agreed that we could consider it; we could talk about it in the morning. Most of my fancies are fleeting, gone within a day, and my excitement would be sparked anew on another subject. This, however, proved somewhat different, as my sleep was punctuated by visions of this fountain, the pull of the iron, the attraction to the metal. The substance of it was simply intoxicating, and by morning it was all I could think about. I awoke with visions of egrets inhabiting my back yard, plans for paint removal and restoration of the metal. Without even realizing what had happened, I was addicted; pure and simple.
From that point on, Tom has had to patiently acknowledge and accommodate my Iron Deficiency. He has come to a simple conclusion about my endless need for old iron: if an object requires a forklift to move and has a crusty painted surface with rust bleeding through, then it will most certainly be something CARLA MUST HAVE! While he paints the portrait of a long-suffering spouse, I do believe he also sees what I see in the metal, as he indulges my pleadings far more often than he refuses them, and occasionally has surprised me with a piece here and there.
My need for rusty metal has also added many projects to the overall scope of our home that we had never envisioned, or budgeted for, but the end results have been more than satisfying. One example of this is the antique fence surrounding our front yard, which you can read more about in my blog by clicking here from January 13, 2012.
Another fence, more recently installed, graces the side yard. While the front fence is a cast-iron fence, the one in along the side is wrought iron. Cast iron consists of creating a mold which is the “negative” of the design. The molten metal is then poured into that mold to eventually cool and form the resulting “positive” design, which is very crystalline in structure, with many impurities, and subject to fractures if re-heated. Cast iron is notoriously difficult to repair when damaged, because when the item is heated during the welding process, the crystalline structure is subject to fracturing along the boundary where the heated and cold metals occur. It is, however, the most delicate, detailed and versatile of materials, limited only by the imagination of the designer.
Wrought iron, on the other hand, is a very sturdy chemical structure, as the metal is heated, folded over on itself, and hammered into shape. This repeated process of heating, folding, and hammering the metal gets rid of the impurities, and this metal has a strength to it, without any fracture lines like the crystalline character of cast iron. However, it can lack the delicate details that you can get with cast iron, as any decorative features have to be beaten into the metal.
The more elaborate a wrought iron feature, the more hard work and labor by a skilled craftsman that went into it. Every bend and curl has to match those that came before to allow the pattern to maintain its integrity. Each leaf, carefully constructed, each clasp exactingly worked, so that the uniformity and delicacy of the end result is pleasing to the eye, yet well-constructed.
While both cast iron and wrought iron have their own unique character and differences, I could never choose one over the other — I love them both for different reasons. I guess the main thing I appreciate about antique iron is the fragility of such a seemingly-strong material. Looking through old postcards and photographs, you see a myriad of fountains, fences, architectural iron, and decorative garden elements that no longer exist. How this amazingly durable material failed to survive into the future is the mystery for me. While the WWII war effort scrap drives carried off its share of garden fences, I wonder what happened to all of the fountains, the porches, the garden urns and even the weather vanes. I see each surviving piece as a special treasure, to be carefully restored as a gift for future generations to enjoy.
When we first purchased the home at 878 Main Street, we found a small portion of roof cresting in the attic, with finials at each end. After examining some old photographs, it was clear that this was the original pattern that used to completely surround the entire mansard roof of the home. After a long search and many cost estimates, we finally chose a foundry to reproduce these reasonably.
The re-installation effort proved to be the last straw with “Iron Guy” who had previously worked on sandblasting the cast iron elements we had collected from salvage yards in order to re-construct the front porch. We had the roof cresting delivered to his shop, anticipating that he would be the one to install them.
After waiting months for a quote, he finally let us know what he would charge for the job, and frankly, the price was outrageous. We politely declined, and I drove by his workshop with the station wagon to pick up our roof cresting, but was told that before I could take them I would have to pay a “storage fee” for the months that he “stored” our metal for us while he was calculating a quote. The local police were not much help, deeming this a “contractual dispute” and refusing to intervene. Somehow the company we eventually hired to install the roof cresting managed to wrestle our iron from his possession. It was exhilarating to see another original metal feature, once lost to time, restored to its former glory.
One exciting find was that almost all of the fireplaces in the house were lined with cast iron fire backs. As the original heat for this home was coal burning in the fireplaces, it was essential that these fire backs were there to reflect and throw the heat back into the room. Though they were subject to years of coal-burning fires, they were all intact, and the details in the designs are just as beautiful today as when they were first cast. Each room had a different design, and even the flanking side panel pieces were still in place.
A foliage scene with an eagle confronting a snake
A household scene of a young couple dancing, flanked by musical putti
A scene of familial contentment, father mother and infant, older child stoking the fire
My particular favorite, Vulcan with his hammer at his forge, flanked by rocky waterfalls
While seeking out old iron, I began to read and research to discover who the country’s preeminent manufacturers were, and what they were producing. Resources were few, as most books on Victorian architecture or furniture barely touched on the metalwork of the time. Over time I collected enough information to guide me. The names of J. W. Fiske, J. L. Mott, Elihu Vedder, Samuel Yellin and Oscar Bach, among others, became familiar names. I admired their works, seeking them out in museums and historic homes and gardens. As it turns out, the first cast iron fountain we purchased, the three egrets, was designed and cast by J.W. Fiske. We found the foundry stamp inside the central column when we took it apart for restoration.
I became almost obsessed with J.W. Fiske, logging sales results for every auctioned item I could find, stalking the websites of Victorian homes across the country, looking through the photos for glimpses of a fountain, a fence, even garden furniture designed by this man. I looked at old maps where his foundry was located in New York, and bought old Fiske fountain design catalogs, marveling at their beauty and delicacy, and memorizing their forms so that I could recognize them if I ever were fortunate enough to see one in person.
A trip through upstate New York almost left me in an auto wreck as I was startled, while driving, by the sudden looming presence of a “catalog” fountain I thought I would never see. There in the center square of Poughkeepsie, NY, their Soldier’s Fountain was a Fiske of extraordinary portions. The catalog never indicated how large this piece was, and I was awed by its splendor. In time, I found another, just like it, in the center of Forsyth Park in Savannah, Georgia.
As my obsession with J.W. Fiske grew, so did my collection of his iron. Mostly just a little piece here and there, but eventually another fountain presented itself at an auction in upstate New York. This was a piece we had seen at one of the New York City Armory Antiques shows, which was unaffordable at that time. It came up for a ridiculously reduced price, and we were able to purchase it at the auction. As a bonus, it was the fountain on the cover of one of the old J.W. Fiske catalogs I had collected.
Carla Minosh
While I am new to Blogging, I have always enjoyed sharing the stories of my crazy life, so this is simply another medium to share, and hopefully entertain and enrich others. Perhaps you can feel thankful that your life is so steady and predictable after reading these, perhaps you can appreciate the insanity and wish you had more of it in your life. Either way, the crazy tales are all true (to the best of my spotty recollection) and simply tell the tale of a life full of exploration, enthusiasm, curiosity and hard work. I hope you all enjoy being a part of the journey.
I write a blog about cast iron drinking fountains and have posted a few Fiske designs with many more to do. I am currently researching the fountian on Block Island. If I send you a photo of it, could you kindly check to see if it is in one of the Fiske catalogs?
Restored roof cresting?
Be still my excited heart!
I LOVE YOU TWO!
it is the icing on the cake for a Victorian home — it would be a sin to NOT restore it.
Sure, send it along to cminosh@verizon.net
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