Antip Kuzmichev’s factory of gold, silver and bronze articles was founded in Moscow in 1856. Over the years, its product line earned it widespread acclaim among its clients and accolades from art critics. One of the few Russian businesses dealing in metal artworks, the Kuzmichev company took part in the Exhibition of Architecture and Industrial Art of the New Style, which took place in Moscow between December 1902 and January 1903. The exhibition committee and participants included stalwarts of the “authentic Russian art movement,” whose self-proclaimed goal was the “revival of the Russian style to meet the demands of everyday life while taking into account current technological advancements.” Antip Kuzmichev, whom one critic said “works well with bronze, copper and metals in general,” exhibited his wares alongside the leading Russian companies and art institutions, as well as accomplished foreign artists and architects.
It’s no coincidence that the fantasy enamel works of Antip Kuzmichev’s firm were widely popular in the United States, where they were imported by Tiffany & Co. In such instances, the objects bear the brand “Kuzmichev // Made for Tiffany & Co.”
It was precisely for Tiffany’s that this extravagant punch set was made, with its trompe-l'œil effect, quite stylish at the time; the tray appears to hold genuine linen napkins with rich embroidery that dazzlingly replicate fabric, lace and color threads. For the firm’s workmasters, virtuosos in their ability to rework silver beyond anyone’s expectations, the technique of handling metal was held to such a high standard that it attained its own, self-contained aesthetic significance.
Practically all the items were decorated with proverbs and sayings in champlevé enamel: “Turning down wine offends one’s host,” “Wine gladdens the heart,” “Shame about the morning headache,” “My soul burnt down to the lees.”
Atop the large bowl in the center is an engraving that reads, “Good is the person who shares food and drink, as is the one who remembers bread and salt.” There’s even an engraving on the ladle: “Pour, brother, pour every last drop.”