Of the many immigrants from Japan that have settled in Seattle, one couple named their son George.
George studied forestry, then architecture, graduating in 1929 from the University of Washington, and later earned a master's degree at MIT. He left architecture in 1940; lived in Paris, Japan and India; was a friend of the renowned sculptor, Isamu Noguchi; and became a famous artist himself before his death in 1990.
Can you name him? No, it wasn't George Tsutakawa; it was George Nakashima, who became an award-winning craftsman of fine but distinctive furniture.
Author of The Soul of a Tree, first published in 1934, and innately attuned to the Japanese aesthetic, Nakashima's creations were a form of spiritual activity that relied on simplicity and revealing the beauty of nature's gift of wood.
Last month, Sotheby's in New York held an auction of Nakashima's furniture. Nearly all items sold for tens of thousands-and some for hundreds of thousands-of dollars.
Why relate all this? An Oregonian this month told me he once gave away several pieces of Dale Chihuly glassware; he was unaware of what he had. Now imagine owners that prize a container they possess but are clueless that what is inside is actually a priceless treasure. The latter case, I fear, applies to those of us who live here in Magnolia.
In this metaphor, the prized container is our own Magnolia Library. Designed by Kirk, Wallace and McKinley, AIA, and constructed in 1964, the building was awarded top national honors by the American Institute of Architects. Over the years our pride has grown into love of this structure, admiration for its beauty and utility. But do you know of the treasure that is within-beyond its staff and materials?
The furniture of our neighborhood library is George Nakashima's. Seven tables and 28 chairs. I urge you to notice, to examine them, but not for their putative monetary value. Rather, observe and feel the design, craftsmanship, as well as the golden, polished hardwood.
Nakashima lets nature's grain be the decoration. Each of the tables is a pair "book-matched" slabs that mirror-image each other. Perfect butterfly joints unite each pair, yet provide a one-eighth-inch gap to allow for expansion and contraction.
Each table evinces Nakashima's trademark: the outer edges are left in the rough shape of the original tree. (His pieces are coveted in proportion to the number of these "free edges.) The supports are a simple wood-trellis structure. All chairs are of his custom design, which is strongly influenced by Shaker style.
This furniture is a significant, but perhaps unrecognized, cause of our visceral fondness for the library.
What individual at the library had the taste and foresight to have selected Nakashima furniture. A large, on-display scrapbook of the history of the library neglects to tell us. Adjacent to a lavishly illustrated book, Nature, Form & Spirit: The Life and Legacy of George Nakashima, and indicators direct you to pages picturing the library's pieces.
We can be proud of what we have, but not complacent.
Unseen by the public is a room for the staff that once had a glass window looking out at a Japanese-style garden. The room was furnished also with the same chairs, but different Nakashima tables. According to the librarian Irene Haines, in the 1960s burglars removed the window and stole the tables. Over time, staff-room chairs have replaced library chairs that have been damaged.
You probably know our library will be expanded by 1,200 square-feet to include a meeting room. This is a consequence of funding from the Libraries for All bond measure passed in 1998, as well as the earlier efforts of Jose Montoya. Montoya, an architect and then-president of the Magnolia Community Club, first initiated a survey documenting the community's desire for an expanded library.
Then, with his expertise and conceptual illustrations, Montoya gained full support of the library board for expansion. In late February, the Magnolia Library will close for approximately 10 months of remodeling and expansion.
Remember my admonition that we can't be complacent?
The expansion, if not carefully done, could damage these tables and chairs. Or imagine an uninformed inventory manager deciding to order conventional replacement furniture from an industrial catalog. An unwarranted fear? Perhaps. Yet the consequences of such risks is significant.
This furniture is valuable, and impractical to ever replace. Though city property, these tables and chairs are ours. Selected for, and having been a part of, the library since its opening, Nakashima's furniture is an original, intrinsic element of the Magnolia Library.
The Magnolia Community Club has been asked to write Seattle librarian Deborah Jacobs to express the neighborhood's insistence that these pieces not be routinely handled-that, specifically, they be protected, secured and, then, reinstalled in Magnolia.
See these treasures before the closing of the library in a few weeks, and look forward to next fall for a joyful reopening.
Steve Erickson is a longtime resident of Magnolia and occasional contributor to the Magnolia News. You can respond to this article at mageditor@nwlink.com.[[In-content Ad]]
