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Stories of Craft: Marquetry 

Detail of a bureau brisé of red-tinted tortoiseshell, laid atop a thin sheet of brass. Marquetry by Alexandre-Jean Oppenordt Dutch, designed and possibly engraved by Jean Berain, French, ca. 1685. © Metropolitan Museum of Art.

When we speak of marquetry (a technique often associated with cabinetmaking, which is however more limited in the variety of materials), we refer to the interlocking application of wooden shapes or precious elements on a surface. For André Chastel, it is 'the cubism of the Renaissance', but its use extends well beyond time, to the present day. One of the first materials used by man was wood, and its decorative potential was soon discovered.

At first it was carved or hollowed out, but a technique very similar to marquetry must have already been mastered by the Egyptian and Greco-Roman civilisations (contemporary writers such as Pliny report on it), except that it fell into oblivion in the Middle Ages. Like many other arts, it was rediscovered in the Renaissance, in Italy, and took the name of Intarsio. Despite the use of tools that were still backward and the limitation to local woods, the results were highly sophisticated and, more importantly, foundational to a genre whose aesthetic rules would resonate for centuries. The Parquetery (or Tarsia Geometrica), for example, imposed itself as a variant of the mosaic and, a custom that persists to this day, remained confined to the use of geometric elements - this was due to the fact that the rather primitive blade used by the craftsmen precluded designs with excessively complex curves.

Commode by André Charles Boulle, French, ca. 1710–20. © Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The technical invention that led to the fundamental leap forward was the fret-saw blade and, although the masterpieces associated with the new generation are generally referred to as Boulle marquetry, it actually dates back to before the birth of the master of the same name. This technique involved the simultaneous engraving of two veneers, stacked one on top of the other, and consequently the simultaneous production of two mirror-image products: the so-called première-partie (with a dark background) and the contre-partie (on the opposite, with a light background). Boulle, who was a collector of prints and old masters paintings, gained eternal fame with his floral designs, the components of which were made individually and assembled later. In 1720, Boulle's workshop suffered a catastrophic fire that, along with the rest, destroyed six chests of drawers containing flowers already carved and ready for use. Flowers, however, a Rococo theme, only gained popularity (and progressive realism) throughout the 18th century, pandering to a mannered taste that symbolized the gaiety of the privileged classes. Next great master and Boulle’s worthy successor was, under Louis XVI, Oeben, who made hidden compartments, intricate mechanical games and secret mechanisms his signature.

Mechanical table, Jean Henri Riesener, French, c. 1781 © Metropolitan Museum of Art.

The second half of the 18th century is counted as the apogee of marquetry but, ironically, it also marked a return to its origins. With the gradual abandonment of blossom and scroll decoration, trompe l'oeil, which had been the obsession of Renaissance man, the discoverer of perspective, was brought back into vogue. Once again table tops were invaded with seemingly three-dimensional armour, books and instruments of culture typical of the studiolo, trophies of music.

Leleu and Riesner were the names that dominated the scene, producing many of the masterpieces that we still admire today, but in a certain sense the foundations had already been laid for that inversion of taste that would bring mahogany to the fore, and the finesse of marquetry to oblivion (the first patron to bet on mahogany, importing the English fashion, was Madame de Pompadour, in other ways a great admirer of marquetry). Unsurprisingly, it was the French Revolution that finally crushed the marquetry craftsmen's business, in some cases even deliberately destroying the prized pieces that symbolised the Bourbon dynasty and the power to be overthrown.

Panel, Firm of Ferdinand Duvinage, Paris, France, ca. 1880. Wood marquetry with metal cloissoné on an ivory ground. © Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

Laura Kugel, member of the Parisian Galerie Kugel, has great experience of inlaid works, because it has often happened that some of those not kept in the Louvre or Versailles or in the mansions of great collectors (e.g. Givenchy), have passed through the gallery. "The artisans of marquetry have given us masterpieces from which it is impossible not to be impressed - and this even considering that the versions that have come down to us are unfortunately often faded or compromised by exposure to light. One of the stratagems used in the workshops to obtain greater contrast between the woods was to dip them in dyes, which have however faded over the years'. An invention of Boulle's that was happily replicated by all his successors consisted in laying the outlines of the inlays on boiling sand in order to create a shading that would better delineate the contours...this technique too, however, was susceptible to deterioration over time.

Commode (part of a set) with marquetry medallion attributed to Christopher Fuhrlogh, Swedish, ca. 1772. © Metropolitan Museum of Art.

"The most beautiful works are those in which the inlay texture never seems to be interrupted, broken," says Laura. "The gallery currently houses several pieces, including an amazing game table built in layers...as you move the planes, different games appear." Another destination to admire extraordinary inlays is the Wallace Collection in London: naturally, this temple of Rococo, containing paintings by Fragonard and Boucher, has some real treasures on display. Going back in time, to the origins of the technique, the stages of the pilgrimage will instead inevitably be Italian: the Ducal Palace in Urbino, where the famous studiolo is located; the sacristy of Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence, and the impressive choir of the Certosa di Pavia. Finally, back in Paris, in the 12th Arrondissment, there is the Ecole Boulle, the last stronghold of a craftsmanship in danger of extinction: it is here that new recruits are instructed in the refinements of this technique perfected in the capital some three hundred years ago.