Nestled between Eli’s Table and a massive parking deck on Meeting St. lies the Gibbes Museum of Art, downtown Charleston’s premier art museum and a favorite haunt for the history buff. Behind the facade of imposing columns lies nine galleries, two classrooms, two studios, and a spacious reception hall. And of course a museum gift shop should one want to take home a book of Alice Ravenel Huger Smith paintings or a mug emblazoned with “The Gibbes Museum of Art”. Being a lover of art museums myself but never getting the chance to visit this one, I headed to the top floor to take a look at the traveling exhibitions, in this case William H. Johnson’s Fighters for Freedom and a collection of Federal Art Project prints, before making my way to the second level, where the gallery of 18th century art was housed.

Mr. Peter Manigault (1731-1773) and his Friends, 1854

I became engaged in a deep conversation with the docent there that day, who took me around the room and pointed out specific paintings and furniture that might be interesting to discuss for an assignment such as this. She showed me a 1711 portrait of Henriette Charlotte Chastaigner, considered the first professional female artist in the country, and a sketch, first done by George Boone Roupell then copied later by Louis Manigault, of Mr. Peter Manigault and his Friends engaged in a lively discussion with copious amounts of wine. This image is particularly striking because it was not meant for public consumption and therefore details a more intimate scene, one that startlingly features a young enslaved boy standing at the edge of the room, signaling Southern decadence’s dependence on slavery.

Off to the side of the Gibbes’ 18th century

Fraser’s supplies

gallery lies another small room, this one containing the work of Charles Fraser (1782-1860) and other miniaturists like him from the late 18th, early 19th centuries. In a time before photographs and phones, where now seeing a loved one’s face can be as simple as looking down at a screen, miniaturists created tiny portraits for people to carry around when far from one another. It was a privilege mainly dedicated to the extremely wealthy, and Fraser’s and other’s prolific work in Charleston speaks to how popular such pieces must have been South of Broad. There was also a small case containing his materials, his small pallet of ivory perfectly preserved and small jars that once held paint of just primary colors sitting alongside his notebook, where he would create small, extremely detailed portraits of his subjects then transfer them onto small ivory ovals, filling in the lines with paint mixed on his pallet.

A selection of miniaturist’s work

I was intrigued by this idea because not only were the paintings incredibly detailed (some looked real enough to be photographs) but they also spoke to the enduring nature of human love, and how we always find ways to keep those special to us close to our heart. It speaks to the intense trappings afforded to the wealthy, and showcased the way Charleston elites saw one another and themselves. When asked about what he created as a miniaturist, Fraser responded “Striking resemblances, that will never fail to perpetuate the tenderness of friendship, to divert the cares of absence, and to aid affection in dwelling on those features and that image which death has forever wrested from us.” That quote is inscribed in large letters on the wall of the gallery.