Morgan Library

An exhibition of books designed by Andy Warhol got me to the Morgan Library for the first time in more than 30 years.  I used to work nearby, for its dowdier, more comprehensive rival.

At the turn of the 20th century, the financier John Pierpont Morgan commissioned the architectural firm of McKim, Meade and White to design a Renaissance palazzo on Madison Avenue to house his collection of rare books.  He lived next door.  His son JP Morgan, Jr., lived around the corner.  Junior razed Dad's digs to make way for an annex.  The library compound eventually swallowed up junior's home, too.

Starchitect Renzo Piano added a three-story atrium to the library with his 2006 renovation, doubling the exhibition space without sacrificing any of the intimacy of the original library. John Singer Sargent's portrait of Morgan's wife hangs in the lower level.

Shakespeare and Ben Franklin keep her company.

A ship's bell is among several disparate objects displayed in the Gilbert Court.

There's a cafe and a performance space, too.

You enter the original library, which faces East 36th Street, through a narrow hallway that connects the old building with the new.

Red flocked wallpaper covers Pierpont Morgan's study.  Quite the place to kick back.

 

Marble and mosaic give the rotunda that connects the study and the library a chilly feel.

Prepare to be amazed when you look up.

Or when you look around at the American miscellany displayed from Morgan's vast collection.  Like this first edition of Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass . . . 

George Washington's death mask . . . 

a gift presented to Lafayette in recognition of his role in the American Revolution . . . 

and original sheet music for Irving Berlin's "God Bless America."

Items of antiquity are displayed in the librarian's office.  As you might expect, it's the least impressive of the old rooms.

The original library, however, evokes oohs.

A tapestry hangs above the gargantuan fireplace.

C'mon baby light my fire.

Bibles decorated with precious stones and ivory flank the hearth.

Other items on display include a Gutenberg bible . . .

an illuminated manuscript . . .

a first edition of Jane Austen's Emma . . .

and tarot cards.

It's odd that you're allowed to take photos of these precious objects, but not the Warhol material on display in another gallery.  I managed to sneak a few anyway.  That's Goethe, in the hat.  Who knew?

Photos were off limits in another gallery devoted to the works of Richard Wagner.  King Ludwig II of Bavaria gave him this ivory conductor's baton.