I grew up surrounded by my great-grandfather’s ceramics. One of his large ashtrays is the first thing that greets me at my door, ready for my keys. Vases and lamps litter the surfaces of tables and cabinets, triangle ‘Cherry Heering’ dishes, and flower-shaped candle holders line the shelves of cupboards. 

Every time I visited the family farm in Sorø, we would spend hours in the attics of the old stables, which are now used entirely for storage. Boxes full of family memories pale in comparison to the number of shelves packed with busts and pottery. 

My great-grandfather, Per Linnemann-Schmidt (1918-1999), trained at the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts and began his life as a sculptor. His early work consists of plaster casts, busts, and statues that were either specifically commissioned, gifted, or remain within the family. 

Transitioning to functional pottery, he founded his workshop Palshus with my great-grandmother, Annelise Linnemann-Schmidt, in 1947. It began in Sengeløse, just 30 minutes outside of Copenhagen. The name itself is an acronym: PALS takes the first letters of their names, Per and Annelise Linnemann-Schmidt, while the second half, Hus, is the word for ‘House’ in Danish. Per and Annelise Linnemann-Schmidt’s House is a highly fitting name, as they truly built the company up together. Per was in charge of artistic direction, creating and designing, while Annelise ran the business and had the connections.

“One of the things that I think made Palshus distinctive is that it was this combination, the partnership between Per and Annelise, because she came from a business family and kind of brought that business perspective to the workshop. He was a sculptor, he was not a businessman at all. So it was that combo, they made Palshus a commercially successful artistic stoneware workshop,” said Danish ceramics collector and expert Kevin Henry. 

Despite her focus on the business, Annelise still found her creative outlet in the designing of items in the workshop, creating a few of her own pieces. The children of the family were even involved in the process, one of the most recognizable pieces being designed by my grandfather Henrik. 

The 1950s and 60s were the peak of production at Palshus. Throughout the years of technique experimentation, glaze exploration, and adaptation to the changing market, Palshus’s style remained relatively consistent, true to its original form. 

The two most influential lines of Palshus were the Haresfur and the Chamotte. Admittedly, Kevin Henry knows far more than I do about them both, and holds a much higher appreciation for the technical and artistic evolution that they represent in the workshop. 

“In the early 1950s there was a revival of ceramics, and you see this throughout the Nordic countries, which had very strong ceramic traditions. This kind of a new style that developed was a heavier, more textured work, and a very different style than that period in the 20s and 30s that is referred to as functionalism,” Henry said.

It is clear that 1930s functionalism is what influenced the Haresfur line in the early 50s. “They tend to be very simple, sleek kinds of forms, with not simple glazes but monochromatic glazes, so rich glazes but simple forms, and that was sort of the dominant style,” Henry said. 

About a decade later they adopted a newer style influenced by this Nordic ceramics revival, which led to their aptly named Chamotte line. This chamotte technique adds a dimension of texture to the artwork. It is a method of combining practical reuse with artistic exploration. Its process entails taking fired clay, which will generally come from a batch of work that had failed in execution, crushing it up, and mixing it into the fresh clay body of what is to be another work of art.

Towards the end of the life of Palshus, there was a lot of experimentation in style, but many of these newer ideas never had the opportunity to really take hold and grow like the previous lines. 

Three years after the early death of my great-grandmother Annelise in 1969, Per shut down the business and sold it to Danish ceramicist icon Bjørn Wiinblad in 1972. 

The birth and death of Palshus happened all in the span of 25 years, and yet they were able to make a lasting impact on the world of art and design in Denmark, and this has crossed borders, to the homes of collectors, or even strangers who unknowingly hold a piece of my great-grandfather’s work. It has expanded across the Atlantic and into the halls of a museum in Iowa, where the stories of twelve creations are told and honored. 

This past November 2024, I attended the opening night of the Museum of Danish Americas (MoDA) exhibit ‘Danish Ceramics: Beyond Blue and White,’ which had on display twelve pieces of my great-grandfather’s work. 

Elk Horn, Iowa, like its neighboring town Kimballton, was originally settled by Danes, and has since maintained a strong connection to the country. Elk Horn’s official population today is only 631, which made the experience all the more fascinating and foreign having traveled from New York City. 

We left on Thursday night. Having slept on the plane to Iowa, I had not looked out the window and therefore had no idea what was waiting for me down below. It was dark when we left the airport, so the drive to our hotel allowed me no view of our surroundings.

After an hour-long drive through the dark farmlands outside of Omaha, we finally reached our hotel in Atlantic, Iowa. With a population of 6,000, and being only 20 minutes from Elk Horn, it was a much more convenient location to settle in. The grocery store, restaurants, and Walmart superstore in town ensured that all our needs for the weekend would be met.

On Friday we piled into the car and began our drive to Elk Horn. Our trip into town slowly acquired a sense of ‘Danish-ness’ the closer we got. Vast farmlands and wheat fields, already reminiscent of the country, gave way to windmills and the Danish flag on the horizon. At the town’s border, a sign saying ‘Velkommen’(Welcome) sets the tone. 

Continuing to explore the area brought us to the next Danish-like town, Kimballton. On our drive, and within the town itself, we were also afforded a view of many ‘Trump Vance 2024’ signs — a juxtaposition that felt jarring against the backdrop of the otherwise proudly Danish area, whose Scandinavian ideology is usually associated with liberal thought — as well as a humbling reminder that Midwestern America is culturally its own region, no matter who it was originally settled by. 

Back in Elk Horn, the air felt lighter, and the unique callbacks to Denmark were charming. For example, there was a motel called Tivoli, named after the famed landmark amusement park in Copenhagen. Street benches painted like the Danish flag ran up and down Main Street. The restaurants, while few in number, were Larsen’s Pub, The Danish Table, and the Norse Horse, which all connected the town to its ancestry. An antique store packed with Danish relics and a thrift store where every item was only one dollar, were my most exciting prospects for our day in town. However, one of the most impressive parts is the authentic Danish windmill circa 1848 that was built in Nørre Snede, Denmark. 

The entire windmill was disassembled, shipped across the Atlantic, and then rebuilt where it stands today. It now serves as an interactive experience and museum. 

Off the main road and a two-minute drive down was our final destination, the Museum of Danish America (MoDA); within it lies a treasure trove of artifacts outlining the history of Danish-America. The team at MoDA created a comprehensive history of Danish ceramics, highlighting the value of Denmark’s artistic style. 

The most natural start to the story of Danish ceramics falls in line with the start of the exhibit itself, the birth of Royal Copenhagen. 

Perhaps one of the most important businesses in Danish history, Royal Copenhagen was founded in 1775 by German chemist Frantz Henrich Müller. What is now the longest-running ceramics manufacturer in Denmark began under the name of The Danish Porcelain Manufactory. The classic blue-fluted pattern is a staple of Royal Copenhagen’s design and has been since its beginnings. Due to economic hardships, the company was taken over by the King and was renamed The Royal Danish Porcelain Factory in 1779. Another wildly popular ceramics company, Bing & Grøndahl, merged with Royal Copenhagen in 1987. 

Iconic collections such as the Flora Danica or the annually released Christmas plates took the world of ceramics by storm. Any Dane can recognize the Bing & Grøndahl or Royal Copenhagen Christmas Plates. My own family has a limited collection. These classic blue and white patterned dishes, while at the forefront of the ceramics industry, are nowhere close to telling the whole story of Danish ceramics. What is left unseen to much of the world is the artists and smaller workshops that took charge and began to define what we know today as the famous Danish design. 

Danish design is often associated with furniture. Over the past few decades, the sleek, minimalistic, landmarks present in Scandinavian work have become increasingly popular in the global market. 

However, this focus on high quality, carefully curated, natural work is not exclusive to one facet of Danish design. “We see the same thing echoed in ceramic art, a lot of the same concerns, the same interest in natural materials, and physics and chemistry, and this fundamentally Danish humor to it,” said the curator at the Museum of Danish America, Adam Bierstedt. 

As in many facets of artistic expression, a continuous transference of inspiration, revivals of technique, and stylistic innovation flourish in the Danish ceramics market. The blue and white fluted pattern most associated with Royal Copenhagen is of German origin; many glazes and techniques hail from China, yet through centuries of cultural diffusion and competition, the boundaries of a country’s national style seem to become clearer. 

The ceramics world in mid-nineteenth-century Denmark was one that was highly interconnected, where competitors in the market were close friends at home. Palshus was no stranger to collaboration and design innovation – stories of friends who became designers and designers who became friends inundate the conversation every time the business comes up. 

Adam Bierstedt was able to shed some light on the culture of the art world. “It was something that, that was a relatively late revelation for me, as I was going, is just how collaborative the spirit of the 1950s and 60s overall was, with one notable exception. Natalie Krebbs at Saxbo was not friends with any people,” he said.

This world of dinner parties and collaboration, without Ms. Krebbs, of course, was a staple of these artists’ lives. In such a niche line of work, and in such a small country, there weren’t so many workshops or independent artists that were striving to achieve the same goals. This spirit that was lost in the 70s and 80s due to economic hardship and the collapse of many of these studios was the heart of the life of a ceramicist. Such stories offer a unique perspective on an industry that was synonymous with Danish design excellency, especially as it was in such a different environment than what we see today in a competitive sphere.

“[It was an understanding that] we’re all in this together, and it’s friendly competition, and we’re all better when we’re actually talking to each other. That was really a charming thing to come to understand through these pieces,” Bierstedt told me.

The beauty of imitation and connectivity in art across time is perfectly encapsulated in ‘Beyond Blue and White.’ This exhibit explores types of Danish art beyond those that are mainstream.

One example of the incredible attention to detail by the team at MoDA, as well as the intricate and fascinating themes seen across the expansive history of Danish ceramic art has to do with the coloration of porcelain. “Porcelain clay often has iron mixed into it, and when that iron is not washed out of the clay, the porcelain sometimes turns this yellow-gray color. It’s very subtle often, but it’s not quite the pure white that we really expect from porcelain. So very, very early Royal Copenhagen pieces often have this. The piece we have with that defect is from about 1790,” said Bierstedt.

In the art nouveau period, this defect became Royal Copenhagen’s infatuation. The head of artistic production, Arnold Krog, obsessed over the replication of this color, infusing new designs with pieces of their history. Designer Olaf Jensen accomplished his task through the use of glazes, which is beautifully shown in a vase in the exhibit. 

The very last piece in the exhibit is by contemporary artist Sandra Davolio and displays the same coloration, offering a beautiful ending to the story of this classic chromatic theme. 

“For a full 200 years, we can see the same chemistry, continuing to resonate with Danish designers,” said Bierstedt.

The museum itself is incredibly impressive, and the experience was truly immersive. Downstairs, the walls showcase a detailed timeline of Danish-American history and the immigrant experience. A large glass room stands in the middle, and within it are shelves packed with artifacts such as paintings, ceramics, and items of historical relevance. 

‘Beyond Blue and White’ was housed upstairs. The room was set up in a circular fashion, starting with ceramics from about 250 years ago. On display at the entrance were Royal Copenhagen designs: two Juleplatte and two blue and white patterned dishes, inviting the audience to physically step beyond the classic blue and white to explore the unknown. 

The journey starts with beautiful, ornate designs detailed with bright colors and floral patterns. Flora Danica and pieces meant to display the wealth of the Crown align with the era’s focus upon status and excess. 

Following are more ornate pieces, displaying impressive feats in terms of design and ability, such as The Princess and the Pea by Gerhard Henning at Royal Copenhagen. Others are marks of historical significance, like the hippopotamus figurine designed by Princess Marie of Denmark. 

The exhibit created the emotions of walking through the centuries themselves. As ‘time’ passed, and I moved further through the room, designs became less ornate and complex, but maintained some simple detail and flair. The evolution of style was evident. 

Around the third corner, I finally came to the display that had brought me all this way. Twelve very familiar pieces sat atop a display, defining my great-grandparent’s career. 

Approaching the end of the exhibit, the pieces became more abstract. Wilder figures, bolder designs, and experimentation with the definitions of the art form itself offered a representation of modern expression. Arriving back at the very spot through which I had entered, the walk through 250 years of art connected to my family and my country concluded and left behind a greater appreciation for the beauty I often take for granted. 

“It’s been really exciting for us to realize that on some level now we can say we have the best collection of Danish ceramics outside of Denmark in a museum setting,” said the Executive Director at the Museum of Danish America, Tova Brandt. 

When walking through a museum, it’s impossible to know how much effort went into the collection and presentation of the pieces. The research and outreach that it took every member of the museum’s team is hidden behind the flawless presentation. 

Curator of the museum Adam Bierstedt and Executive Director Tova Brandt walked me through the creative process and intense labor that went into creating this exhibit.

It had become clear to me by this point that my previous view of the subject was lacking in proper context. With the exception of my personal connection to Palshus, when talking about Danish Ceramics I would think of Royal Copenhagen or Bing & Grondahl. When talking about Royal Copenhagen or Bing & Grondahl, the Christmas plates, blue fluted patterned dishware, and the seagull service are what immediately come to mind. 

“Those three things make up 90 percent of what we expect, or what we have seen a Danish American audience knows, and for a very long time represented about 90 percent of our Danish made ceramics collection. So this is really trying to demonstrate how big that tradition is and reach beyond that, use that as a starting point, but then be able to say but also look at all of this,” explains Bierstedt.  

The idea for the project began through the museum’s connection to one collector. They had wanted to create an exhibit that showcased Danish Ceramics, and through many challenges in the process realized they had to really branch out and start from square one in the design of the exhibit. 

“Most major art museums are going to make sure they have good representations for English, French, German and American, Chinese, Japanese and Korean, but we haven’t come across any other museum institutions that are really forefronting or making an intentional effort to collect and promote the Danish story,” said Brandt. 

While this posed an insurmountable challenge, instead of writing off the project as a failure the team persevered. When explaining the creative process and planning that went into the orchestration of the exhibit, Brandt expressed she believed the results were better because of this, and I am inclined to agree. 

“By growing a large network of experts and advisors and collectors, I think we are ending up with a stronger collection,” she said.

Fundraising and research was their immediate mission. Their first step was eBay, and their goal was to find as much information as they could. In the world of Danish Ceramics, what’s available? What is there that has been produced, is on the market, and how much does it cost? 

This step led them to find a man that would be essential to the rest of their journey. Brandt explained that by a stroke of luck, through his listings on eBay, they found his Instagram, and from there a treasure trove of information on the industry. From here on out Kevin Henry, perhaps the most knowledgeable person on Danish ceramics I spoke to, played an integral role in the success of this exhibit. 

Henry is connected to my family as well; through his own research on the Palshus workshop, he came into contact with my aunt and grandfather, still living in Denmark. Henry aided greatly in connecting the MoDA with my family, allowing them to purchase and display Palshus ceramics. 

Connections were made to collectors in California, and families in Denmark. Relationships with museums across the nation, including the Smithsonian, and countless others across the whole world were built. From these institutions, they began to receive shipments of ceramics, purchased, gifted or loaned, and with the pieces physically in their hands, the next challenge began. 

Curator Adam Bierstedt described the painstaking process of deciding which pieces to display. Factors such as artists, workshops, style, era, color, and impact all influenced the decision. Timing was another hurdle. As the last shipment arrived on October 25th, 2024, with the exhibit’s opening night on November 14th, there was very little time for drastic changes. Through trial and error, and a few instances of completely redesigning the layout, they were able to put together the artwork in a way that spoke to the audience in such a way to seamlessly guide us through the timeline. 

“It was down to the wire there for a little bit, but we were getting two major shipments from Denmark, a shipment from Washington, plus all of our loans, and it was a lot of work to get all in. But then, as soon as they all showed up in the same room, it was like, oh, yeah, this exhibit is going to be fantastic,” said Bierstedt, as he reflected upon the process. 

The timeline of 250 years is no coincidence. Royal Copenhagen’s 250th Anniversary is coming up in May of 2025, and as the most recognizable foundation of the industry during this time period, it allows for a beautiful thing to happen. It serves both an homage to the growth of the factory and its importance in Danish history, as well as transforming its success into the perfect backdrop for the display of the intricacies of the industry — those that go beyond one workshop and into the obscure culture and evolution of Danish craftsmanship. 

Given that 250 years is a long span of time and museum space is limited, countless stories have to be stripped down to fit on the placards, select pieces are chosen to represent as much as possible about an artist, workshop, or era. The main focus of the exhibit is to therefore give the audience the foundation they need to appreciate the art. A subject so niche and complex, that spans global movements as well as national shifts in culture warrants such in depth exploration that multiple exhibitions and approaches are absolutely necessary. This is exactly what the Museum of Danish America has in store. This phenomenally curated exhibit creates the opportunity for future projects that delve into the intricacies of more specific aspects of Danish ceramics.

“It’s a lot of figuring out what’s the takeaway, what do we want people to get out of each step in it and how much can we expect them to read, how much do we need the objects to just tell the story, on their own, because of what they are,” said Bierstedt. 

It can be safely said that from the perspective of an audience member, they achieved their goal with bewitching execution.

This past November 2024, I attended the opening night of the Museum of Danish Americas (MoDA) exhibit ‘Danish Ceramics: Beyond Blue and White,’ which had on display twelve pieces of my great-grandfather’s work.