tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20631023721157600352024-03-26T21:53:14.859+01:00Beach-Combing Magpie
Far from the beach, but still surrounded by treasure of all kinds just ready to be found, looked at, gloated over, gleaned and swiped or simply created! Here are my latest finds....Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.comBlogger491125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-27363109846890438612024-02-28T21:20:00.004+01:002024-03-17T18:22:08.357+01:00Indigo Enchantment.... Burleighware.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhUjAn5iczYtrqzp96IODkk490-_sYxWYc9Db2ghS4OLvjhkwwcYd-7v-PN8qrykuChHa6rjb1FQM3Ez8ANsJwj6Do_C63adM08Gx8n2SurFURQowQ77xch3VW252pK3sduZOK48rbv969roPL-Z6uzge9AC48DCWdVddunUix6LTthLT5tvlXOU_S1Ps/s460/t.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="383" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhUjAn5iczYtrqzp96IODkk490-_sYxWYc9Db2ghS4OLvjhkwwcYd-7v-PN8qrykuChHa6rjb1FQM3Ez8ANsJwj6Do_C63adM08Gx8n2SurFURQowQ77xch3VW252pK3sduZOK48rbv969roPL-Z6uzge9AC48DCWdVddunUix6LTthLT5tvlXOU_S1Ps/s400/t.jpg"/></a></div>
As far back as I can remember, pieces of <i>Burleighware<a href="https://www.burleigh.co.uk/pages/all-made-here"></a></i> <i>Blue Calico</i> have been a visual staple in family life to the point where its unmistakable deep indigo seems to be the very essence of 'home'. In fact, the Burleigh design <i>Calico</i>, born in 1968, is almost a contemporary of mine and despite the company undergoing a number of ups and downs from the end of the 1990s, their ware is still much sought-after. Even though I don't at present possess any <i>Calico</i> myself, just the mere sight of a cup, plate or dish with its characteristic floral motive in that rich inky-blue literally pulls at ties that are almost visceral in me.
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Somehow the extreme contrast of that intense, rich blue with the white sprigged leaves and speckled petals of<i>Calico</i> creates a depth that is unique with a certain enamel-like relief that dazzles on the tableware. Strangely however, that same depth is not carried over to the <i>Calico</i> wall tiles that were born from the 2021 partnership with<i> Craven Dunnill</i> and nor is it replicated in the<a href="https://barnebygates.com/product/calico-wallpaper-collaboration-with-burleigh/?attribute_pa_colour=navy&attribute_pa_products-color=blues"> <i>Calico Burleigh X Barneby Gates</i></a> wallpaper. Furthermore, even though I love all <i>Burleighware</i> with its unapologetic, antiquated prettiness - for example <i>Blue Asiatic Pheasants</i> or <i>Blue Regal Peacock</i> - nothing has the same aesthetic and emotional impact as the <i>Blue Calico</i>.
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While an initial earthenware manufacturing firm was established in 1851 in the 'Mother Town' of Stoke-on-Trent, Burslem, in The Potteries region of North Staffordshire, the two men whose names gave rise to <i>Burleigh</i> (Messrs Burgess and Leigh) took over in 1862 and later moved the company to Middleport Pottery, where it is still based today. The company prides itself on its continued use, and unrivalled expertise in the practice of underglaze tissue transer printing in the production process, much of which can be observed during guided tours of <a href="https://www.burleigh.co.uk/pages/factory-tours">Middleport</a>. This is certainly one site that I would love to visit as not only can you admire intricate skills that have remained unchanged for over 250 years, it is also possible to purchase your favourite <i>Burleigh</i> pieces in the <a href="https://www.burleigh.co.uk/pages/factory-shop">factory shop</a>!
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-32522330233838384572024-02-28T21:19:00.008+01:002024-03-01T22:27:05.174+01:00Simplicity and Authenticity...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRhDavwmccOSh2SP8TlSPXMokGFxlvIm2OF10nDlhbbxjKf4v3u2_kDJR6wJbGZ8DU2MEHoeYbbhkvDo6G64u-khjyiSbNgxDWF_ayHAP6yQqm0P0u94NQuoKZQ2eVYWhbpa0CX5T2EIeTYD1q-QofE87frg4Hzb0xLGFEe2Mn-SQnCFKyhiQc8SSpjxw/s1080/n.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRhDavwmccOSh2SP8TlSPXMokGFxlvIm2OF10nDlhbbxjKf4v3u2_kDJR6wJbGZ8DU2MEHoeYbbhkvDo6G64u-khjyiSbNgxDWF_ayHAP6yQqm0P0u94NQuoKZQ2eVYWhbpa0CX5T2EIeTYD1q-QofE87frg4Hzb0xLGFEe2Mn-SQnCFKyhiQc8SSpjxw/s600/n.jpg"/></a></div>
This time last year, I had no notion of how artificial intelligence could be relevent to the everyday life of the average being. However, over the months it has become clear that these developments in AI represent less a breakthrough, albeit unprecedented, than an actual seachange in our existence, as sci-fi becomes reality. With a pace rapidly gaining momentum, we learn of some new skill acquired by this force to be reckoned with. And yet for the moment, no one seems to be wondering about the exact nature of this force and what ultimately our relationship will be with it. Nor do many appear to be alarmed by the speed of change as everything is shifting beyond our understanding and we have no time to consider what this may actually result in or when the day of reckoning will arise. Right now, we seem to be heading down a path that I do not want to take. In fact, I want to run in the other direction entirely...
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Looking at simple blossom on the blackthorn, I felt a rush of gladness to have such unadulterated natural beauty in front of me; nature in all its complex simplicity. I fear we are becoming increasingly irrelevent and redundant in an environment that will be pure artifice, far from the authenticity of the natural world that we have plundered as a mere commodity. Now we seem to be treating the essence of mankind with a similar lack of regard and respect, using human intelligence and emotion as further commodities - data - to be replicated artificially until we no longer know what is authentic and what is not.
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-82491907621906384742024-02-28T21:19:00.007+01:002024-03-01T20:39:57.662+01:00Black Magic... Cats!<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8orQXi0Yz4OdXMXla-wZag5hcvOlrEwceZSegoYSPoJXTWXm3eB5sBOX8REjwRK3YUngYwlkn8dn_oKS94On82VR0ERXiNCrWA7ZDYLvfVk67ZoI87D3HZvMPnAySBiw1PNd6eIIz9KWb-cUJEeLYaYxEATX0flFVxEsp330whlvRoqSr2d3UnqWR1U/s2675/Odie%202.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="2675" data-original-width="2319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm8orQXi0Yz4OdXMXla-wZag5hcvOlrEwceZSegoYSPoJXTWXm3eB5sBOX8REjwRK3YUngYwlkn8dn_oKS94On82VR0ERXiNCrWA7ZDYLvfVk67ZoI87D3HZvMPnAySBiw1PNd6eIIz9KWb-cUJEeLYaYxEATX0flFVxEsp330whlvRoqSr2d3UnqWR1U/s600/Odie%202.jpg"/></a></div>
Countless black cats 'find their way' to the cat shelter each year; a euphemism for finding themselves unceremoniously dumped off and subsequently rejected for adoption due to their colour. Surely associations with witchcraft and ill omens have no weight in the supposedly enlightened 21st century? And yet with alarming regularity, I have to humour visitors' expressions of disdain - and the occasional shudder of revulsion - when faced with one of these poor creatures! Having to contain and thus control my irritation at hearing the same old boring, repetitive nonsense poured out with such self-assurance and belief in originality is tiresome, to say the least. Needless to say, the cat's 'frightening' demeanour is often cited - black as the night - along with the 'fact' that such a beast of darkness will surely bring bad luck. What can you say?
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When I made the acquaintances with these two black beauties over four years ago, I had certainly no plan to add to the furry clan at home. Both had been part of a group of cats taken from an animal hoarder who had housed them in poor conditions and left them in a neglected state of health. One suffered from such extreme matted fur that I actually gasped in disbelief when I first laid eyes on him; his companion was hardly better. Little by little, with the months that passed, I began to gain their trust and eventually managed to groom them and give them the attention they deserved. Of course, as black cats they received nothing but fleeting interest from the public and the months gave way to years of life in the shelter... until last summer. Witnessing their health decline, slowly but surely, from the exposure to illness from communal living and the stress that entails, I decided to bring them home, these two perfect panthers!
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I came across this small painting at the <i>Tate Britain</i> last year; it immediately caught my attention and drew me in. Without even looking at its title or the name of the artist, I instinctively knew that it was a Cornish landscape with that distinctive but impossible-to-define light and unique atmosphere. Peering at the work, I even had the impression of familiarity so you can imagine my surprise, or perhaps lack of it, when I learnt that this was <i>Mount’s Bay and Tolcarne</i>, painted in c.1898 by Norman Garstin, one of Newlyn School of painters.
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I even imagined I knew from which vantage point it was painted and so through it relived the invigorating feeling of looking down across the bay. Although over a century has passed since the artist captured the dramatic view stretched out before him and furthermore his position was closer to Newlyn than Madron, it did remind of being in the area in the summer... This is certainly a far cry from the work for which Garstin is perhaps best-known, in Penzance at least; <i>The Rain It Raineth Every Day</i> (1889). However both are equally representative of the weather in the region! The work is on display in <a href="https://penleehouse.org.uk/"><i>Penlee House Gallery & Museum</i></a>, Penzance.
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-61266778801962809532024-01-24T22:39:00.003+01:002024-01-24T22:39:28.530+01:00Stamps of Time... Robert Nanteuil.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirEf-fKzkG55msfgzk0WY04O_Iwn_X7y3Ms27Ui6SRyDMT1mn37N7UN65n45zLgBna62hmjIJfEOFt1hsPulQK3s2aaa9gvGp0lLkU1QAKgtv6uJcNy9VCDp7ISpw4sN7hqf03xNa1b_nzicBz7i338w-gh82S6F2urCS6fr_TI0bz_HB0qbrstrsHFQY/s629/thumbnail.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="629" data-original-width="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirEf-fKzkG55msfgzk0WY04O_Iwn_X7y3Ms27Ui6SRyDMT1mn37N7UN65n45zLgBna62hmjIJfEOFt1hsPulQK3s2aaa9gvGp0lLkU1QAKgtv6uJcNy9VCDp7ISpw4sN7hqf03xNa1b_nzicBz7i338w-gh82S6F2urCS6fr_TI0bz_HB0qbrstrsHFQY/s400/thumbnail.jpg"/></a></div>
While I was looking at the limited edition stamps at the post office, this leaflet and indeed the postage stamp itself caught my eye. As the name of the artist commemorated was in no way familiar to me, I read the brief description in the display cabinet below. As it turned out, <i>Robert Nanteuil</i> (1623-1678) was in fact born here in Reims yet was to go on to become one of the leading portraitists of the Grand Siècle, renowned for his skills in etching, drawing and pastel. How strange that the name of Nanteuil appears, for the most part, to have fallen so far into the shadows of time. As I was reading over his life history, it seemed fascinating to me to realise that I must have traced some of the same steps as Nanteuil here in his birth city, at a remove of some 400 years, for what is now <i>Sciences Po</i> was once the <a href="https://beach-combingmagpie.blogspot.com/2018/04/ancien-college-de-jesuits.html"><i>Collège des Jésuites de Reims</i></a> where he initially pursued classic studies.
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Proving to be unable and unwilling to repress his artistic drive, Nanteuil felt himself 'persecuted' by the Jésuit teachers who disapproved of the incessant sketching which finally led to his dismissal from the establishment. Fortunately, the young Humanities student was received in a more comprehensive manner by the Bénédictines at the <i>Abbaie de Saint-Rémi</i> (today <i>Musée Saint-Remi</i>). By 1645, Nanteuil had already entered the atelier of the <i>remois</i> engraver Nicolas Regnesson, whose sister he went on marry, but he did not stay in Reims as the opportunities in engraving in <i>la Cité des Sacres</i> at that time were limited. Moving to Paris, he developed ties with engravers, publishers and print dealers and artistically was greatly influenced by the Flemish portrait painter, Philippe de Champaigne. From then on, his career took off, to the extent that his ascension was such that by 1658 he was appointed draughtsman and engraver to Louis XIV, thus establishig a position for himself in the royal court, executing numerous portraits of the greatest dignitaries of the kingdom such as Mazarin and Colbert, along with the <i>Roi-Soleil </i> himself, in engraved and pastel work. With an unparalled skill in engraving that somehow managed to represent less attractive features in a flattering manner, Nanteuil was in great demand. Famous writer Madeleine de Scudéry was so impressed by her portrait that she paid hommage to Nanteuil's 'divine art', with its ability to render her detested facial traits pleasing. Beyond his art, Nanteuil was a man of letters, greatly appreciated for the words and knowledge that enabled him to frequent the literary milieux with ease and yet neither his work nor his wit secured him a place of due recognition in the 21st century...
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Portrait de Madeleine de Scudéry - Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-41736339787088388452024-01-07T16:32:00.007+01:002024-01-19T15:59:28.994+01:00Helleborus Charm...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7kl8uF7mjI8c24MoiNeV6oYH1NJNSYiTuS8iBdVxbt4HAG9iqOn2yupW-EeO3-a17xA_gad5-a7HXKP_Nkf2nUQt06wMNgaZkUtHL_-rPGxYqkQ-lmPKqNxur024KkLaq8hNw2lFHvdo-gZRsvyHXRJWssltivvPa6u2pV-_2Nb2vwla37VIB2v3Lpc/s501/A.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="501" data-original-width="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7kl8uF7mjI8c24MoiNeV6oYH1NJNSYiTuS8iBdVxbt4HAG9iqOn2yupW-EeO3-a17xA_gad5-a7HXKP_Nkf2nUQt06wMNgaZkUtHL_-rPGxYqkQ-lmPKqNxur024KkLaq8hNw2lFHvdo-gZRsvyHXRJWssltivvPa6u2pV-_2Nb2vwla37VIB2v3Lpc/s600/A.jpg"/></a></div>
The end of the holidays and therefore just beofore plunging back into the madness of the working day, what more fitting as an antidote to all of that, than the sight of the beautiful Helleborus? <a href="https://beach-combingmagpie.blogspot.com/2015/01/helleborus-snow-is-dancing.html" target="_blank">The white Hellebore flower</a> - the 'Winter rose' - is reputed to possess healing qualities in addition to an ability to ward off negative energy. In Greek mythology, the tears shed by the bereaved Aphrodite - goddess of love - resulted in the blooms of white flowers springing up from the ground.
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However, it was the red Hellebore that caught my attention, with its typically discreet flower, bent gracefully down as if in modesty or perhaps hiding its face away. Again, it was cited in Ancient Greek mythology, with its name coming from <i>heleîn</i> - 'to injure' - and <i>borá</i> for 'food', since when ingested it could either combat bouts of madness or cause them, depending on the myth in question.
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Despite there being various diffent sorts of flowerhead , either relatively plain or ruffled, common to most are the delicate veins traced through the papery aspect of each petal. The fact that you have to contort yourself in order to admire each flower makes the experience all the more special as they play 'hard to get', unlike a typical rose which radiates its full glory plainly and self-assuredly for all to see...
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgdOOacSTeRgL34HFNxq1sqdiDLNFBUxvVp66wxIu9_l618iLjFywI3AZCibEC_qBqFIlKagv6Wug0KyDv-AoIgobEiKWWaOIWAdUfx45D-gKyZ1pyKzZwiKNBPbdvvux4cv63wIcdWfmRpBDadE7C7Y-qbBW2MHdtaB_vfJ-iaMQbOfeds6vsxHXX2Gw/s657/n.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="445" data-original-width="657" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgdOOacSTeRgL34HFNxq1sqdiDLNFBUxvVp66wxIu9_l618iLjFywI3AZCibEC_qBqFIlKagv6Wug0KyDv-AoIgobEiKWWaOIWAdUfx45D-gKyZ1pyKzZwiKNBPbdvvux4cv63wIcdWfmRpBDadE7C7Y-qbBW2MHdtaB_vfJ-iaMQbOfeds6vsxHXX2Gw/s600/n.jpg"/></a></div>Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-50677432834020092902023-12-30T20:13:00.004+01:002024-01-01T20:13:13.329+01:00A Victorian Oriental Jewel... Leighton House<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSWh6rrXV7z7RhopGQl2RBh8rUvgWSjVuGwNgA5hr2iubDcEe9h9VS_LFf8zLNo2FnRYrEU8Y0OQRDvZ6KYzz3ENAbgc3XSw39n9w4X_MlYCdKWgeM_AUnWBeYMUurttlJJV0PjjFcoiqCp1WyYnDYAM6yqFzX1CkF3W1g-AzFL55getBe9vmf8mgoYg/s1068/20231102_113236.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="756" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwSWh6rrXV7z7RhopGQl2RBh8rUvgWSjVuGwNgA5hr2iubDcEe9h9VS_LFf8zLNo2FnRYrEU8Y0OQRDvZ6KYzz3ENAbgc3XSw39n9w4X_MlYCdKWgeM_AUnWBeYMUurttlJJV0PjjFcoiqCp1WyYnDYAM6yqFzX1CkF3W1g-AzFL55getBe9vmf8mgoYg/s600/20231102_113236.jpg"/></a></div>
I learnt of <i>Leighton House</i> due to the commissioned work there realised by the grand ceramacist, <a href="https://beach-combingmagpie.blogspot.com/2020/01/visual-catnip.html" target="_blank">William de Morgan</a> and vowed to visit this Victorian'palace to art' that was home and artist's studio to the much-acclaimed Academician, the painter and sculptor Frederick Leighton (1830-1896).
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Following considerable early success due to the purchase of his first major painting by Queen Victoria, and buoyed by substantial family wealth, Leighton decided to have <i>Leighton House</i> built specifically to his requirements by architect, George Aitchison (1825-1910) whom he had met during travel to Rome. While numerous studio-houses were constructed and concentrated around Holland Park and Kensington from the latter part of the 19th century, it is fair to say that Leighton's was unique in the genre.
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As fitting for an individual of his position - much respected by fellow artists, frequented by royalty, political figures and members of the literary circles alike - Leighton's house is imposing in size and stature. From its conception, in the 1860s until his death over thirty years later, Leighton continued to extend and enhance the original design of its structure in line with aesthetic vision and his practical needs as an artist.
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Although born in Yorkshire, Leighton spent much of his youth travelling around Europe due to the ill health of his mother. In this way, his education was cosmopolitan and he was receptive to the artistic and cultural influences that he was exposed to, and would continue to be so throughout his life thanks to his extensive travels. Whilst as an artist he was drawn to classical, historical and biblical themes, his aesthetic interests were widespread but as seen in Leighton House, the Middle East was of particular importance to him.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP9qyVkeHczZCZ0TF0IIgw7WeBLMemxdbtGoKRHm1MqZbfgHom_P4NovS2MMeD7eVgrEWG-KmPuEWLha-Tq9-OeuQpc7l7oWx4tHGe4inQaCSsyAOy9WwFTI41uEUiyd6EqMAbW-tKcpHQJK0T7g3zT0xoZZQVcraeeG_-9v6AqUeQwE8MyJwouJIXjuE/s4032/20231102_112029.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="1816" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP9qyVkeHczZCZ0TF0IIgw7WeBLMemxdbtGoKRHm1MqZbfgHom_P4NovS2MMeD7eVgrEWG-KmPuEWLha-Tq9-OeuQpc7l7oWx4tHGe4inQaCSsyAOy9WwFTI41uEUiyd6EqMAbW-tKcpHQJK0T7g3zT0xoZZQVcraeeG_-9v6AqUeQwE8MyJwouJIXjuE/s600/20231102_112029.jpg"/></a></div>
From his trips to Syria, Egypt, Morocco and more specifically visits to Damascus, Cairo, Istanbul, Granada in Andalucia and Palermo, Sicily, Leighton brought back numerous textiles, rugs and ceramic pieces and more significantly the desire to create a space that would provide him with "something beautiful to look at". To house these items and assimilate aspects of these aesthetic influences, Leighton commissioned Aitchison to create the Arab and Narcissus Halls and staircase.
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Work on the two-storey Arab Hall commenced in 1877, with its design and decoration incorporating a variety of sources of inspiration but the main influence is said to have been a Sicilian palace, <i>La Zisa</i>. Many of the ceramic tiles used here and in other parts of the house date back to 16th and 17th century Damascus, whereas others were specifically designed on commission by <i>William de Morgan</i>, and the mural friezes were the work of <i>Walter Crane</i>. The mosaic floors were designed by Aitchison, and surround a water fountain in the centre of the hall.
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On the top part of the Arab Hall is the wooden-screen window box that looks down from the upper floor Silk Room containing the picture gallery, which was created in the last years of Leighton's life. It is easy to imagine <i>odalisques</i>, reclining on the cushions, hidden away from sight in an imperial harem. On display is one of
Lawrence Alma-Tadema's oriental paintings which seems perfectly fitting
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The 'Arab' extension of the house followed the early addition of greater studio space in 1869, providing an extensive light-filled area overlooking the garden, wherein to carry out work in optimal conditions. Leighton was certainly a prodigious painter, but in fact appears to have been proficient in much of what he undertook. Not only did he become President of the Royal Academy in 1878, he was also commander in the <i>Artists Rifles</i>, ready to defend England from attack.
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Of his private life, very little is actually known. Despite his great public persona, numerous friends and acquaitances from the privileged social circles, Leighton appears to have lived a discreet existence. Although thought to have been homosexual, that has never been confirmed and there is little personal correspondance nor any journals or diaries to throw any light onto any aspect of his life as a private being.
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Of Leighton's art on display in the house, I generally preferred the simple paintings and sketches carried out during his travels to the heavy, rather sterile classical pieces he was famed for. Leighton died just one day after earning the title Lord Leighton, and after his death, the house contents were sold off at Christie's whilst the home was used to exhibit art. For many decades, Leighton House was in a somewhat sorry state, suffering from war damage in the Second World War and then general disinterest and decline over the following years. Since the turn of the century however, it has undergone extensive work due to the <i>Closer to Home</i> restoration project and more recently the <i>Hidden Gem to National Treasure</i> transformation to ensure that it is safeguarded for the future whilst meeting the requirements of the public today.
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-22650483452924766142023-12-30T20:12:00.011+01:002024-01-07T15:24:32.172+01:00All Things Bright and Beautiful... The Goldfinch.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDHXaCM_kxyIWA0NGL5c2JhJpVtph4DOF5XnFA_k8U1jxEZ4swq6uCfk7W7z6TiZlXA0xkVt3nJNDJkk6mC7fB5jPm8tZ7O3CvIesWPEpHo94WOGuwRnPzgoWHuMeVw8mCRw9Nuh6mpJubmyBgBbq86MbKhbsK1r1Se470UVsBep6_AU9JLjKy4QMakw/s690/2.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="690" data-original-width="445" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUDHXaCM_kxyIWA0NGL5c2JhJpVtph4DOF5XnFA_k8U1jxEZ4swq6uCfk7W7z6TiZlXA0xkVt3nJNDJkk6mC7fB5jPm8tZ7O3CvIesWPEpHo94WOGuwRnPzgoWHuMeVw8mCRw9Nuh6mpJubmyBgBbq86MbKhbsK1r1Se470UVsBep6_AU9JLjKy4QMakw/s600/2.jpg"/></a></div>
I recently came across two Renaissance altarpiece paintings representing the Virgin and the Child, the one above by a Florentine master in the early 14th century, and the one below by a Mantuan master in the 16th century. Despite the two centuries that separate these works, and the differences in painterly approach and technique that are apparent, the one key feature that is common to both is the enigmatic presence of a goldfinch. Although I had seen these beautiful birds as details or conversely the main subject of a piece of art, I had never associated them with any specific religious significance.
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Of course, I am referring to the rather menacing giant finch in <i>Hieronymus Bosch</i>'s <i>Garden of Earthly Delights</i> (circa 1400), with its glinting eye and pointed beak near the vulnerable, nude forms of carnal pleasure-seekers, followed by <i>The Goldfinch</i> of 1654 by another Dutch painter, <i>Carel Fabritius</i> (image: Wikimedia Commons). Both birds are striking with their boldly-coloured plumage and are intriguing too as they lead us to puzzle over their significance or perhaps lack of one... Was there a shared meaning at work, over the centuries, in these pieces and furthermore how does this tie in with the altarpieces?
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Apparently, the goldfinch is not cited in the Bible, and yet this particular bird is repeatedly portrayed in Renaissance religious paintings, for the large part of Italian origin or influence. In most cases, the goldfinch is held in the hand of the child Jesus, or is held out to Him by his mother, Mary. In this manner, the bird thus symbolizes Christ's Passion (derived from the Latin <i>passus</i> "to suffer"), since like the red-breasted robin, the goldfinch is stained by the blood of the Saviour with its distinctive scarlet facial markings. These wounds were earned as the valiant songbirds attempted to pluck away the spines from the crown of thorns. Along with suffering and death, there is also the image of ressurrection, with the finch's golden flight feathers, offset by dramatic black, as symbols of hope and salvation. Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, Zurbaran and Tiepolo all included the finch in their Madonna and Child works; below is da Vinci's <i>Madonna Litta</i> (circa 1490).
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The goldfinch was also considered to be a protection against illness, acting as a <i>caladrius</i>; a bird with restorative and healing powers, should the sick person stare into its eyes. Even in Ancient Greece, the yellow eyes of a bird were held to possess curative qualities, especially in the case of jaundice. Since the Black Death had decimated a large proportion of the inhabitants across Europe in the mid 14th century, individuals were prepared to cling to any remedy, however implausible (or unsavioury)! Leonardi de Vinci observed "<i>The gold-finch is a bird of which it is related that, when it is carried into the presence of a sick person, if the sick man is going to die, the bird turns away its head and never looks at him; but if the sick man is to be saved the bird never loses sight of him but is the cause of curing him of all his sickness"</i>. Thistles - the vegetation of predilection for the goldfinch - were believed to combat the plague and were largely considered to be sacred plants.
Apart from these presumed attributes, the goldfinch has always been valued as household pet - not merely for its appearance and captivating bird song, but also its ability to perform tricks... such as filling up a thimble of water. As such, the goldfinch was kept in a cage or attached by a string, as was the case of Carel Fabritius' fine specimen, and as an imprisioned being, deprived of free flight, was the subject of many poems, perhaps the most famous of which is <i>The Caged Goldfinch</i> by Thomas Hardy.
Finally, although I live in a rather ugly street that accommodates a tramline, I am graced with the presence of many goldfinches each spring, all gathering in the scrubby trees that punctuate the pavement below my flat. The first time I made out the birdsong above the constant noise of road traffic and trams, I wondered which hardy little creature could sing like that, until I saw the elusive goldfinches, hidden away in the branches. It just goes to show how the beauty and enchantment of Nature can be found anywhere...
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-51917331502162448412023-12-30T20:12:00.005+01:002023-12-31T20:07:31.925+01:00Art Nouveau Hair Adornment...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQm2W1e7ldpct2QyxJTk8uDkvsTYhKgbijpCzvk1SxxXi8VdrL_sw9ChkKLsbKScWPX7kebjbJZVQH4NrYKdxBSuvybxEP7v9BbFLQ4hv4_cZfydxD7AzXfGZs7poW9hZjmQZzglFBDFGkSGkZKoxsLcPwU9nU2qw_J6QdM4Q-sjAfFL2MMco-0WYYgjM/s2003/PEIGNE%20GUI%20VEVER.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="2003" data-original-width="1346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQm2W1e7ldpct2QyxJTk8uDkvsTYhKgbijpCzvk1SxxXi8VdrL_sw9ChkKLsbKScWPX7kebjbJZVQH4NrYKdxBSuvybxEP7v9BbFLQ4hv4_cZfydxD7AzXfGZs7poW9hZjmQZzglFBDFGkSGkZKoxsLcPwU9nU2qw_J6QdM4Q-sjAfFL2MMco-0WYYgjM/s600/PEIGNE%20GUI%20VEVER.jpg"/></a></div>
This little sprig of <i>Art Nouveau</i> mistletoe that is beautifully intertwined around the carved horn of the hair comb above is not, as I had assumed, by the hand of <i>René Lalique</i> (1860-1945) but is in fact one of the creations of the <i>Vever</i> brothers; Paul and Henri. Having taken over the family business in 1881, they went on to experiment in new materials for their creations, exploring the possibilities afforded by horn, ivory, <i>pâte de verre</i>, enamel and semi-precious stones as opposed to the more standard approach offered by noble gold, silver and fine gems .
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As many <i>Art Nouveau</i> artists, the <i>Vever</i> brothers were inspired by the Japanese themes and techniques that were visible in France in the latter part of the 19th century. The influence of <i>Japonisme </i> is clear in the delicate studies of the three 'F's which were key to their work; <i>la Femme</i>, <i>la Flore</i> and <i>La Faune</i>. The furled petals of the Cyclamen hair comb above (1900) are offset by the fine opal facettes that catch the light with their bright colours in a way that is stunning, yet not gaudy or vulgar.
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Similarly, the Owl comb (1900)is bright and bold yet the intricate <i>cloisonné</i> feather features create another level of delicateness, whilst the curved forms, piercing emerald-green eyes and prominent beak provide an edginess to the whole. The <i>Vevers </i>met with success in the <i>Expositions Universelles</i> of 1889 and 1900 and their clients included emperesses, tsars and actresses...
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The troubling beauty of natural forms that swirl, curl and engulf us in the process in a rather hypnotic manner are characteristic of Art Nouveau. Similar features are to be found in this Sycamore comb (1906) by <i>Lucien Gaillard</i> (1861-1942), where the papery, feather-like samaras are in contrast to the slightly menacing wood-like spines of the structure.
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The same qualities can be found in <i>Gaillard</i>'s Honesty pod hairpin and the Bee comb below.<i> Gaillard</i> was a contemporary of Lalique and was likewise linked to <i>Japonisme</i> and the experimentation of new materials, technical approaches and later, different objects acting as supports for his art, with walking stick handles and perfume bottles, for example. He too was lauded at the <i>Exposition Universelle </i>of 1900...
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Many of the <i>Art Nouveau</i> artists, whatever their medium, would rely on similar subject material. Birds, insects, beetles, flowers and foliage emerge in varying beautiful forms, with a slightly different slant but with a common essence of disquiet, animated by a strange energy.
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<i>Henri Hamm</i>'s Butterfly pin (1906), offers a rather menacing representation in all its simplicity with an almost palpable tension in the wings, leading to spiked tips. Even <i>Lalique</i>'s Lily-of-the-valley comb possesses the same unnerving qualities...
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<i>René Lalique</i> is of course the best known of the <i>Art Nouveau</i> artists - principally for his pendants, brooches and necklaces. <i>Emile Gallé</i> – the French glassmaker, ceramist and cabinetmaker - referred to him as “the inventor of modern jewellery”. The same approach was employed in his hair combs and pins but it was interesting to see his work set alongside that of the others; <i>Gaillard</i> and the <i>Vever</i> brothers being just a few of the names.
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Naturally, the peacock (here by <i>René Lalique</i>) is closely associated with Art Nouveau, but another typical symbol of the style is the dragonfly, as seen below in the comb by <i>Paul Frédéric Follot</i> (1877-1942).
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And of course, the moth, here below by <i>Gaillard</i>... The combs were all on display alongside many items of jewellery, timepieces and equipages (<i>chatelaines</i>) from different periods of history up to relatively recent times in the <i>Musée des Arts Décoratifs</i> in Paris. Looking at the great beauty of these hair adornments dating back to over a hundred years ago, and glancing at what is coveted by many people today in terms of attire, accessories, jewellery etc, I cannot help but lament what has gone.
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-27124020742437215532023-11-29T18:09:00.007+01:002023-12-29T18:15:47.261+01:00Sambourne; a Victorian House and Home...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNukB2TDEhtOCAHDkE2tmqTQ6Q431eohAym-BSIegKanY9-HFkHVdTVIN5r7VZBSSZ5F_Y7JJY4pWhFnAM5nHZo-ztGiJnodE51nPPFvyWksX-mLRJkRDv1GVt-iLAWKccwS9cVo9b0WzhGAfO0-25wz_EgZFJ1xAcmqB5fokL2CDLyFNPaaWBWIh5BI/s4032/20231102_110035.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="1816" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNukB2TDEhtOCAHDkE2tmqTQ6Q431eohAym-BSIegKanY9-HFkHVdTVIN5r7VZBSSZ5F_Y7JJY4pWhFnAM5nHZo-ztGiJnodE51nPPFvyWksX-mLRJkRDv1GVt-iLAWKccwS9cVo9b0WzhGAfO0-25wz_EgZFJ1xAcmqB5fokL2CDLyFNPaaWBWIh5BI/s600/20231102_110035.jpg"/></a></div>
Although unable to remember how I actually first learnt of <i>18 Stafford Terrace</i>, the mere description of a museum in a High Victorian home would have been enough to catch my attention and incite me to track it down in London.
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I did however find it a little difficult to find the exact location on my recent visit there, due to a shortage of street signs which meant that it was somewhat hidden in plain sight. However, wandering off the busy thoroughfares in Kensington I soon found myself in the calm and tranquility of the side streets and in front of <i>Sambourne House</i> itself.
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<i>Punch</i> draughtsman Edward Linley Sambourne (1844-1910) married the daughter of a wealthy stockbroker, Marion Herapath (1851-1914), in 1874 and purchased their terraced house the following year. This acquisition was realised with a helpful handout from the father-in-law since the princely purchase price of £2,000 was still beyond the means of the newly-wed couple.
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Indeed, despite its majestic Classical Italianate façade, the home was in fact rather more modest in its stature than other townhouses in the area which were beyond their financial capacities. Following the publication of some of his drawings in the weekly satirical magazine Punch in 1867, Linley had gone on to obtain a permanent position as Junior Cartoonist a few years later.
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By the time he married and moved to Stafford Terrace, he had therefore gained a certain notoriety thanks to his cartoon interpretations of political events and current affairs. This naturally brought him a comfortable financial set-up although not the substantial affluence conspicuously displayed through some of the neighbouring piles.
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Marion’s life, as was the norm in the upper classes of Victorian society, was centred solely on all matters domestic; governing the household affairs of a home with staff and focusing her attention on her husband and children as opposed to occupying a paid job.
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Set alongside Kensington High Street, Stafford Terrace was one of the last of many speculative street developments built on the Phillimore Estate from the late 18th century onwards. The street was somewhat conventional, inhabited by professionals such as civil servants, retired officers and tradesmen and did not possess the same aesthetic cachet and grandiose proportions as the nearby artists’ colony in the Holland Park Circle with its studio-houses that would inspire Linley Sambourne.
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The imposing studio-home of the widely acclaimed artist Frederick Leighton had been built a few years earlier and reflected the status and wealth of its owner through its architectural design (obeying his specifications), its exotic interiors, rich furnishings and art work. As a ‘black-and-white’ artist, Linley did not have the same financial clout as his Royal Academician acquaintance but was determined to make of his home <i>Sambourne House</i> albeit on a smaller scale to <i>Leighton House</i>.
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This desire likewise drove the couple to painstakingly decorate and furnish their home for more than thirty years so that it would epitomize their own version of the ‘<i>Aesthetic interior</i>' or '<i>House Beautiful</i>' style of the latter part of the 19th century.
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Whilst eager to incorporate fashionable tastes such as William Morris wallpaper and Minton tiles in the decoration of their home, the Sambournes also enjoyed adding personal touches through their careful choice of stained-glass windows and panels, frequently reflecting the family heritage with their intertwined initials.
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Linley largely led this fascination for interior design and would introduce new pieces in line with his evolving aesthetic vision with wallpaper, paintings, ceramics and furniture. The characteristic shades of green, gold and burgundy that represent House Beautiful can be seen in Sambourne House today and create a warm, enveloping atmosphere that is offset by blue-and-white china, Japanese ceramics and Oriental objects.
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Such was the obsession to deck the home in appropriate household objects and ornamentation that in the space of two years, there were already fifty vases and some seventy chairs, ready to receive guests. Paintings were hung from every wall, along with countless illustrations and photographs, many of which were from Linley’s own work as cartoonist and illustrator.
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It should be said that Linley and Marion were very much Victorian maximalists in their own right – no wall, floor, ceiling was left unadorned – although to describe it as cluttered would be unfair.
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However, as much as I love a feast for the eye, the final effect here was not what I expected; I did not feel that flight of imagination whereby you wish you could just spend one day living in this space, drawn into its mesmerizing past, as I certainly did when I visited Dennis Severs’ House.
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I am not quite sure why that was, but it was certainly not due to a failing on the part of the house experience itself and I would hate to discourage any visitors…
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From my visit, I did retain a certain admiration for Linley Sambourne and his devotion to family, professional obligations and the house itself, of course. Working from home to tight deadlines set by the weekly <i>Punch</i> publications, Linley adapted the living space accordingly, since he did not benefit from a purpose-built studio as his contemporary artist acquaintances did.
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As you wander around Sambourne House today, it is difficult to imagine how Linley actually managed to work, even if art equipment such as easels are on display. The drawing room, set across the whole first floor, include his work surfaces and a camera, and demonstrate how his work was carried out in the heart of family life before later occupying a former nursery on the top floor.
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Given the intricate nature of his drawings and the extremely short delays (two days!) in which to accomplish these, you cannot help but wonder how he remained focused and how he was able to perform from a purely practical point of view. Part solution to this pressure, and one which involved family, friends and household servants, was the use of staged photographs which would form the basis of his sketching process following the purchase of a camera in 1883.
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The bathroom was used for the development of the photos, with the bathtub adapted to prepare the required chemical agents, leading Marion to take her baths in the marital bedroom instead!
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In this manner, home life and the professional were interlinked as his wife, children and even Linley himself would strike poses and pull facial expressions as artists’ models, dressed in costume.
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I like to think that the atmosphere in the house must have been fairly jovial despite the deadline constraints and it is touching to see the Sambourne children represented in the illustrations for the children’s books that were another professional sideline that Linley pursued. The best-known of those was probably Charles Kingsley’s book <i>The Water-Babies</i> but there were also freelance commissions for advertisements and other illustrated works.
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Interestingly, even though his renown during his lifetime stemmed from his cartoons for Punch – with a career spanning 42 years – and his great illustration for the diploma award for the 1883 <i>International Exhibition of Fisheries</i>, these mean very little to us today. <i>Punch</i> stopped circulation in 2002 after over 150 years of publication and I imagine its satirical humour would be deemed highly inappropriate in current times.
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The beautiful diploma card, with its myriad of aquatic creatures presented in incredibly intricate detail, is overlooked today, not least due to the now-controversial figure of Queen Victoria reigning central in its design. And so in fact today, Linley Sambourne’s lasting mark on culture (capital C) is Sambourne House itself. That it should still be in its original state is wholly down to the determination of his direct descendants to maintain it as such.
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Of their two children, Maud and Mawdley (Roy), the daughter clearly inherited Linley’s artistic skills, with early work even published in Punch, yet marriage at the age of 23 meant that she largely abandoned her artistic pursuits. Married into the Messel family, Maud found herself in a wealthier upper-middle class society that must have made her family background and Sambourne House seem modest in comparison.
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Of the three children born from this ‘socially successful’ marriage, it was the daughter, Anne (1902-1992), who would eventually play a crucial role in the preservation of Sambourne House. Anne, later to become mother-in-law to Princess Margaret and finally Countess of Rosse, founded the Victorian Society in 1958 and went on to oversee the sale of house and contents to the Greater London Council for transformation into a museum for the general public in 1980. In 1989, Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea took possession of the house.
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Directly after the death of Linley in 1910, followed by that of Marion in 1914, it was in fact Roy their son who took over the maintenance of the house that was to be his home throughout his whole life. His studies at Eton College and University College Oxford were academically fruitless, and his career in the city in a trading partnership was apparently pursued without great enthusiasm.
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Although he kept his bachelor status to the end of his life, Roy appears to have had more than a passing interest for the ladies, and actresses in the world of theatre proved to be a huge distraction from his more serious endeavours. He later refused to take over the parental bedroom and kept his childhood room, surrounded by signed photos from adoring Edwardian female acquaintances as if trapped in perpetual adolescence.
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You cannot help but wonder what his life would have been, had he inherited and followed his father’s artistic leanings instead of dissipating his energies. However, due to Roy’s life choices, Sambourne House went on as it had prior to his parents’ death and very little was changed overall, and for that we can be grateful. The preservation of Sambourne House was perhaps to be Roy’s greatest life achievement, and through this the name of Linley Sambourne is stiil remembered today, inextricably associated with the home he was so proud of.
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-200600631833341402023-11-19T20:55:00.007+01:002023-11-21T16:08:00.981+01:00Autumnal Gold...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7UVdP9J6K_L0ULqk714GqFSvzug9r0lquAumJ3VyQCdqeqxBUcWlRmvKwNkEqW2xaZmMwE_pl2Lck64bOFGhpzU3uKcMU0z9lqb57BhJXhxhjHui0MLZaoKslYafTMAkaOBKy4xNyiv5dDLxXMqPJ4_SL8Wxe8t0gGLF7tJRGDgZMDmz70xdpkY9pT0Y/s4032/20230225_111851.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7UVdP9J6K_L0ULqk714GqFSvzug9r0lquAumJ3VyQCdqeqxBUcWlRmvKwNkEqW2xaZmMwE_pl2Lck64bOFGhpzU3uKcMU0z9lqb57BhJXhxhjHui0MLZaoKslYafTMAkaOBKy4xNyiv5dDLxXMqPJ4_SL8Wxe8t0gGLF7tJRGDgZMDmz70xdpkY9pT0Y/s600/20230225_111851.jpg"/></a></div>
This beautiful Burne-Jones work represents the legend of the <i>Garden of the Hesperides</i>, and the beauty of this piece, with its rich gold relief is even more apparent now in the autumn with all the golden tones. In fact this is just a detail of the original full work which is a large frieze representing eight nymphs - the daughters of the evening and 'golden light of sunsets'; the Hesperides.
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The same theme was taken up by the Victorian artist Frederick Leighton in the work <i>The Garden of the Hesperides</i> (1892), with similar rich, glowing autumnal tones.
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The apples and the flowing gowns of these maiden guards reminded me of the dried pomegranites that I seem to have gathered over the years, inadvertently adding another specimen to the unintended collection every time I simply forget to eat the fruit before it proceeds to harden! As regrettable (and wasteful) as that may be, I do get the pleasure of seeing their rich colours turn deeper and darker with time.
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And the gold of the Burne- Jones relief brought to mind some of my favourite jewellery; rings and a bracelet representing simple ivy leaves, while outside the vineyards of the region are turning towards a ragged golden russet to great visual effect.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Fvh_8Pf2olIQuRxq4bW5VH6yqCrVMUhzpjSaYwiKQsFRWi4lI_wMWMoMZLl7e3Qny18GQR44tNxdz5HDkS2MN1UjDCCxMe40ZGFaXKSvM1MwdL8QGP9aClwaUQduYj4f3NffbhKRG-LLYJZvLSxp8No-KLYo8-JvqdElu6KRxysD4q_vB7Pslp7TakM/s994/SS.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="994" data-original-width="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Fvh_8Pf2olIQuRxq4bW5VH6yqCrVMUhzpjSaYwiKQsFRWi4lI_wMWMoMZLl7e3Qny18GQR44tNxdz5HDkS2MN1UjDCCxMe40ZGFaXKSvM1MwdL8QGP9aClwaUQduYj4f3NffbhKRG-LLYJZvLSxp8No-KLYo8-JvqdElu6KRxysD4q_vB7Pslp7TakM/s600/SS.jpg"/></a></div>Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-21020850808953398872023-11-06T22:23:00.009+01:002023-11-21T16:07:19.196+01:00Submerged Forests... The Rain it Raineth Everyday.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0fJGmXvqHyIcOCblbWhF7Sx6OF2J6sqzuNcP0wZdTWlr7LeUBUnr1Vz2fjtgk6FnSpve4CZaO_f5_P_IKtvxuHr-q4ovGbMe1obm4wvPlUGy45MhABI6uwk1tIWebl8TxEhOIyvjqnCrqO9WmkDV8ypAyIljlSRqIN2fBsqemWiB3Ib1Aa6zo7G8xLhM/s640/DSCN6494.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0fJGmXvqHyIcOCblbWhF7Sx6OF2J6sqzuNcP0wZdTWlr7LeUBUnr1Vz2fjtgk6FnSpve4CZaO_f5_P_IKtvxuHr-q4ovGbMe1obm4wvPlUGy45MhABI6uwk1tIWebl8TxEhOIyvjqnCrqO9WmkDV8ypAyIljlSRqIN2fBsqemWiB3Ib1Aa6zo7G8xLhM/s600/DSCN6494.JPG"/></a></div>
Emerging from the sandy beds that have enshrouded them in the Mount's Bay for thousands of years are the remnants of pre-historic tree trunks, roots and stumps. Due to shifting sands as a result of relentless pounding waves in stormy weather, coupled with exceptionally low tides, the gnarled remains of ancient forests have arisen from their watery resting place to appear before us in the 21st century. This eerie presence offers a glimpse into another unfathomable world situated in the site of the one before us today - so familiar and seemingly dependable.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvpi8oUh7jjzBYKgI8hY-HgJr2mM20vyeIM5Iu7O-xk0afUtY9QZdcVuU3gedka8SyhyyGaEl42ilShQWktTeOua0X98hGO6moKp3mTh0UGytn6ikF5zHGRMIAZEzWWisoW1WFLztvyDvFHIyA4IIh5np9A8MdTmZIcA4FVd4xozoBQ_c-EVt394DVx0/s1080/11.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvpi8oUh7jjzBYKgI8hY-HgJr2mM20vyeIM5Iu7O-xk0afUtY9QZdcVuU3gedka8SyhyyGaEl42ilShQWktTeOua0X98hGO6moKp3mTh0UGytn6ikF5zHGRMIAZEzWWisoW1WFLztvyDvFHIyA4IIh5np9A8MdTmZIcA4FVd4xozoBQ_c-EVt394DVx0/s600/11.jpg"/></a></div>
Catching sight of battered, wizened wood just by Newlyn Green, I was delighted to believe that these were part of this elusive, mysterious landscape, when St Michael's Mount was not the island as we know it today, cut off by the daily tides, but rather a vast rocky outcrop in the midst of forests. Indeed, the original Cornish name for the Mount is <i>Karrek Loos yn Koos</i>, meaning ‘Grey Rock in the Wood’ and studies of the peaty soil in the sands using radiocarbon dating has confirmed that that woodland covered this extensive area some 5000 years ago, until it too was covered... by the sea.
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Sadly, I am no longer sure that my weather-worn wood is part of this petrified forest that is said to be etched with traces of shipworms and gnawed by piddocks. Although not far from Wherry Town, where traces of the ancient pines and oak have been located, mine must have been either the skeletal frame of a wrecked ship from early centuries or perhaps part of an original wooden structure in the building of the former seafront.
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Regardless, they still provide a link back to the maritime history of a coastline that has always lived with and through the unquestioned, unequalled power of the sea and the extremes of Cornish weather, the wettest of which are reflected in Norman Garstin's painting of Penzance seafront <i>The Rain it Raineth Everyday</i> (1889). Below is a detail of this work, now in Penlee House & Museum Penzance, having spent a number of years hidden away in the town hall since it was feared it would give a negative image of the town!
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWOEmHFoU6ISeN54SHHyBh_ctpZd2pUcj4PCoG5S6zgZq8d_qGwbSGNhSih7L2ITEJHS4AwRjgLgGLCjTEbPOud04YvLXvvWoe-1QMgA2fFrMatObU8QwiJ72WNB5kYfT__3Gg4GDgx0RmeW5nKbCEuiQBqWV7eLv17tg_YEgPootLvW49FzoIYVEvL4Y/s644/27.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="644" data-original-width="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWOEmHFoU6ISeN54SHHyBh_ctpZd2pUcj4PCoG5S6zgZq8d_qGwbSGNhSih7L2ITEJHS4AwRjgLgGLCjTEbPOud04YvLXvvWoe-1QMgA2fFrMatObU8QwiJ72WNB5kYfT__3Gg4GDgx0RmeW5nKbCEuiQBqWV7eLv17tg_YEgPootLvW49FzoIYVEvL4Y/s600/27.jpg"/></a></div>
Whilst these traces of a prehistoric past may be intriguing to us from our present-day vantage point, with the comforts of a civilized life, the causes of those ancient floods can only be unsettling, to say the least. For indeed, such past surges and tsunamis were the consequences of an activity that is still ongoing, as the Earth’s tectonic plates continue to grind, slip and collapse, giving rise to earthquakes and volcanos, thus affecting tidal movement. Although the Mount’s Bay region is not on a fault line, it has fallen victim to the devastation caused by seismic phenomena elsewhere. It is said that a tsunami engulfed the region in 709 AD, and then in 1014 the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle recorded that extensive sea-floods had obliterated villages and settlements, affecting “an innumerable multitude of people", although this was supposedly the result of a vast asteroid hitting the coast. Towards the end of the 11th century, in 1099, another tsunami hit, so that St Michael’s Mount was no longer land-locked at a distance of around 10kms from the sea but formed part of Mount’s Bay.
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Catastrophic seismic activity led to the Lisbon earthquake of 1755 with shock waves building up a monstrous tidal force that travelled the 1600 km distance to reach the Cornish coast, wreaking havoc on All Saints’ Day. Further sea surges were experienced in Cornwall, in March and July 1761, again linked to earthquake activity in Lisbon. Although unlikely that tsunamis linked to Portuguese seisms will occur again, sea surges and seiches (freak waves) have been observed as recently as 2011 and further events cannot be excluded; quite the contrary given climate change and the rise in sea level. How strange to look at land and seascapes that are, to me, so familiar and 'safe', and understand that even these are but part of a process of never-ending change and evolution.
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-54169183079545837282023-10-26T05:55:00.008+02:002023-11-01T15:10:08.372+01:00Cast Courts at the V&A...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKltOxe73C6ZdmINdsFBAMmWqcm0bwW69il1YNXDoAJtRenU4y5OFJZ83wv34WhXQLfbUdw6KR8xw2yzjxOtLxmEIeiBBRIBgBh6j43h0t0Z29qhQyZYJk-WONKgwk-kC53tK-zd9ieZy5qqSsMedyjAkDyrYv1XHR8yQ94ztnXnirsraYMP9aB5KuAa4/s3783/20230713_153122.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="3783" data-original-width="1816" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKltOxe73C6ZdmINdsFBAMmWqcm0bwW69il1YNXDoAJtRenU4y5OFJZ83wv34WhXQLfbUdw6KR8xw2yzjxOtLxmEIeiBBRIBgBh6j43h0t0Z29qhQyZYJk-WONKgwk-kC53tK-zd9ieZy5qqSsMedyjAkDyrYv1XHR8yQ94ztnXnirsraYMP9aB5KuAa4/s600/20230713_153122.jpg"/></a></div>
Over the summer I discovered the Cast Courts at the V & A and whilst I must have visited these lofty exhibit rooms in the past, I had never really considered what was actually on display. As I went around the courts, I was stunned by the size of some of these works, towering above the visitors, and the number of these collection piece, all gathered together to great effect.
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I could only imagine how Victorian counterparts must have felt when they entered these spaces - then known as the Architectural Courts - that were open to the public from 1873. It is said that the encounter was comparable to the first sighting of the <i>Mont Blanc</i> mountain in the Alps, leading to "impressions that can scarcely be effaced".
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Since the majority of such 19th century visitors were unlikely to have been on a Grand Tour of Europe, with its majestic sights and scenery, they had likewise never had the opportunity to see the great works of art and architects from which the casts were taken.
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The courts were initially conceived as part of the <i>Governmental School of Design</i> in 1837, with a collection of casts of ornamental art from across the ages and countries. This was largely in response to a report issued by The <i>Select Committee on Arts & Manufactures</i> in 1835. Therein, significant questions were posed concerning the nation's art, its importance to the individual and usefulness to country as a whole, with regard to the increasingly industrialized manufacturing industry, and more relevantly here, the role art education could play.
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Indeed, from the early decades of the 1800s it had been recognized that English manufacturing, although deemed superior to that of other nations, was somewhat 'deficient in taste' in its forms and decoration and that, according to one article in the <i>Illustrated London News </i>, from 1843 "This national inferiority has arisen from our neglect of nature in the education of our ornamental designers, and from a mercenary habit of leaving the invention of our putterns to the accidental, unpaid, and uncultivated imaginations of the poor foremen of factories".
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Hence, a number of Governmental schools were established in the great industrial cities of Britain. Whilst the economic success of the land was proven and showcased to international acclaim in the Grand Exhibition of 1851, more discretely perhaps, the School of the Design had marked a milestone in art education and appreciation. Casts were studied in their full dimensions - as opposed to drawings with their obvious limitations - enabling both male and female students to learn from their unique ornamental architectural details replicated from original works dating back centuries to the Renaissance and beyond.
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In 1852, the <i>Museum of Manufactures</i> was set up, taking over the cast acquisitions of the School of Design and enlarging the collection since it was now a vital educational tool in the study of art and design. One of its aims was to improve public taste in matters of design and, like William Morris in the <i>Arts and Craft Movement</i> later, to lead the 'application of fine art to objects of utility'.
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The collection grew significantly over the ensuing years to include figurative sculpture, with its volume and the size of certain reproductions requiring new rooms for display. When the <i>South Kensington Museum</i> (today's <i>V&A</i>) was created, the museum director, Henry Cole, ensured that the monumental casts were finally placed in the purpose-build rooms that we can enjoy today in their recently-renovated form. The original glazed roofs, ceiling, walls have now been returned to their former stature; the ceramic floor tiles created by Victorian female prison inmates - ironically refered to as an 'opus criminale' by Cole, bring together the whole space.
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From 1873, the Architectural Courts displayed the cast collection to great dramatic effect so that pieces could be shown fully assembled rather than laid out in dismembered parts throughout the galleries and corridors. Hence the Spanish 12th century <i>Portico de la Gloria</i> from the cathedral at Santiago de Compostella greets us, as visitors past, to take our breath away by its sheer size and beauty. The spaces were likewise specifically designed to house the vast full-size plaster reproductions of <i>Trajan's Column</i>, towering to 25 metres.
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One of the main exhibits in the collection is predictably the cast of Michelangelo's <i>David</i>, his gaze looming over admirers from a 5-metre vantage point. Drawing in the crowds eager for a selfie, with a similar type of hyped fame as the <i>Mona Lisa</i> in the <i>Louvre</i>, David stands proud in all his glory today. Since his arrival in the mid 19th century, he has earned somewhat of a <i>succès de scandale</i> following Queen Victoria's disapproval of his nude form and demand for modesty. An aptly-placed sculpted fig leaf was obligingly positioned to conceal the offending parts from public view...
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The skill with which the casts were created largely beggars belief and the fact that these monumental, architectural, ornamental and figurative works are 'mere' reproductions takes nothing away from their artistry. How could such vast pieces be carried out in Victorian times when means were supposedly far more rudimentary than anything we have today? But then that is a question that frequently arises when considering Victorian achievements in almost every field.
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The casts were intended to inspire and educate their public, leading Great Britain to attain even greater accomplishments, using the most impressive artwork from other ages and areas across Europe to further jewel the crown of the British Empire. The reproductions reflect the same driving force behind much of the Victorian thirst for culture and knowledge in every possible domain.
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Through the quasi-religious study and, above all, collection of artifacts and facts themselves, the Victorians sought to understand and thus master the world around them. In this manner, the very limits of the world were conquered, often using methods and means that demonstrated the very best and worst of human undertakings.
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The collection was not, however, safe from the vagaries of time and certainly taste. Already, concern was raised during the acquisiton of the casts in the 19th century, with the fear that the original works would be damaged in the complex casting process of reproduction. Furthermore, changes to the academic study of art - drawing and sculpture - meant that the casts were considered redundant to educational purposes in the early 1920s and were even at risk of being dismantled entirely.
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Fortunately, the cast court was maintained and has even gained in importance over time as the original pieces were often destroyed in wartime hostilities, or damaged by the ageing process and the impact of weather extremes, pollution and shoddy or clumsy restoration work.
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Finally, the fact that these are 'fake' pieces is irrelevant since they are genuine works of art in their own right and a testimony to the skill and mastery of the Victorian age, which, for all its ills, was capable of marvels.
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-39453111405454401192023-10-22T19:23:00.001+02:002023-10-23T22:12:31.028+02:00Genteel Pleasure; Observing the Tea-drinking Conversation Piece...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKWuRzXBJLxLZnOihCiGu1cTSxxjJ1lpiGgPXESMz8E3MoHRdBJDLHzUxw4CksTdAr1zLmfO5gzsfNJAwfiNYA_YMV28XoCvu9k2sB_GWPWS__KTAVtF9Oa9FhtEO5zreDWsvV5bQzq5QTA78B0Jw2wPH4IKQanyvPg2m-ByBCQ2MrxWB6nFsaVKbNl8/s3389/20230713_171036.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1816" data-original-width="3389" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKWuRzXBJLxLZnOihCiGu1cTSxxjJ1lpiGgPXESMz8E3MoHRdBJDLHzUxw4CksTdAr1zLmfO5gzsfNJAwfiNYA_YMV28XoCvu9k2sB_GWPWS__KTAVtF9Oa9FhtEO5zreDWsvV5bQzq5QTA78B0Jw2wPH4IKQanyvPg2m-ByBCQ2MrxWB6nFsaVKbNl8/s600/20230713_171036.jpg"/></a></div>
On this year’s trips to the <i>V & A </i>and the <i>Tate London</i>, amongst the vast collections of paintings I was drawn to the conversation pieces in their various forms, largely from the 18th century British collection. Characterized by the simple anecdotal quality of their domestic or landscape scenes, with sitters conversing together in small social groups as they share in common activities, these works have a certain intimacy. Whether the individuals portrayed are from the same family, or are friends or members of some group, we catch them in collective gatherings such as tea parties, meals, card games; musical events or hunting. Yet, just as much as we observe them and remark on the often-strange dynamics of the scene, they too look out on us, watching us quizzically or avoiding our gaze defiantly.
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This unsettling eye contact, or lack of it, seems to bring another dimension to these works through this odd connection and silent exchange with these figures. Some family members have the same watchful expression, with similar, eerily beady eyes staring out, whatever the age of the individual! Even the horse studies of George Stubbs present magnificent beasts with solitary riders who stare out at us directly in an indefinable manner.
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William Hogarth worked in the same genre, and even though his pieces largely pointed to the satire of the given situation and its hapless actors who fell prey to their own shortcomings, this particular eye contact is still present, as seen in his <i>Strode family</i> below. The conversation piece, as indeed the genre of the fictional novel itself, departed from the epic classical themes and forms to focus on the daily existence of the rising mercantile class. Although Joshua Reynolds worked in the Grand Manner, he would do conversation pieces, albeit with vast proportions featuring life-size figures. Meanwhile in France, Antoine Watteau in some ways perpetuated the conversation piece in his <i>fêtes galantes</i> but his characters are typically so engrossed in their amourous antics and caught up in the bucolic scenery that they have little time to waste engaging with us, the viewer! In England, the commissioned conversation piece enabled the rising moneyed classes to indulge in their self-satisfaction at their social position and impress society likewise; the ultimate ostentatious consumption! In the place of the aristocracy’s allegorical allusions to Classical antiquity and its values, was the reflection of genteel contemporary pleasures, focusing above all on those enjoying these activities.
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Playing a key role in the conversation piece was the social etiquette that surrounded the ritual of tea drinking. As a genteel social activity, the consumption of tea en famille or preferably with guests was a means of demonstrating social manners, and of course displaying status in society and economic standing. Tea was first introduced to Europe in 1606, when the Dutch established their trade routes to Asia, and a shipment was sent to Amsterdam. In Britain, the rise of the <i>East India Company</i> led to greater imports of such exotic goods and the marriage of the tea-drinking Portuguese Catherine to Charles II in 1662 assured the success of this drink.
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By the mid-17th century, tea was thus establishing itself as a genteel beverage in the upper classes. Indeed, Samuel Pepys mentioned it in his diary on Tuesday 25 September 1660, when he was offered a '<i>Cupp of Tee (a China drink) of which I never had drank before</i>'. As an apparent avid coffee drinker, Pepys was not won over by this foreign import that proved to cost 10 times the price of coffee, although he did laud its reputed medicinal properties. When Thomas Twining, famous tea purveyor expanded his existing store to create the <i>Golden Lyon Tea and Coffee House</i>, he helped change conventions and the role of women. Whilst social taboos prevented the fair sex from entering the typically male domain of the coffee house, women were allowed to shop for the high- quality dry tea offered by Twining. Eager to purchase this fashionable, elitist drink, ladies not only led the craze for social tea-drinking but were at the heart of the tea ritual in the home, when receiving and thus entertaining guests with tea and pretty conversation.
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Serving tea was the female prerogative and much importance was attached to the preparation, pouring and ceremony of tea-drinking for this was the perfect way to demonstrate the hostess’s impeccable savoir-faire and enviable social position. As she In turn reflected the power and influence of her husband, only the best would do. Tea was indeed a costly commodity to purchase, and one which also required considerable paraphernalia – tea '<i>equipage</i>' – in order to serve and drink it in the most fitting manner. The indispensable teapot and tea service had to reflect the excellent taste and limitless means of the lady of the house and therefore, porcelain was <i>de rigueur</i> for elegant cups (bowls) and saucers whilst the teaspoons and sugar tongs would of course have been in silver, perhaps with original designs. Again, women were often given the right to select the family tea equipage and thus expressed their identity through their preferences. All this is apparent in Joseph van Aken’s '<i>An English Family at Tea</i>' (1720).
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To up the ante, a genuine Chinese redware teapot would be used in place of a silver one, alongside a blue-white porcelain tea service whilst the tea caddy, kept under lock and key by the mistress, was typically made of mahogany or leather-covered wood with silver inlay or details in mother-of-pearl or tortoiseshell. In many of the conversation pieces, the caddy has pride of place, in the foreground of the painting, near the hostess... A silver sugar bowl would complete the set and give a final cachet to the whole, all the more so as sugar was likewise an expensive good. The tea table itself was extremely expensive as it was a key statement piece to highlight wealth and taste; usually made of exotic hardwood with carefully crafted legs and inlays designed to impress the guests.
Finally, what I found most fascinating in the tea-drinking conversation pieces is that they are almost a <i>mise en abîme</i>; the image of an image of self-glorification coupled with a certain need for validation, in which we play a role too, at a remove of around 300 years! Just take a look again at those enigmatic stares!
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNmDwGR3KiO0G7YjW3tuiiucqS_hNWGBkT3SFLiClQ28c4Oq9Jqz9shte_93aK03NiqNQb9KpM5KSHYBTD1LjfaNV0nEmI2auMVkCoE5a860PsqZ5DyBf8VzOBIALDC9bfiJBe9ADFKzcKZzjIDRK5WUnlu6thQlMbCd2YUu94hDztt_0mW8fpD-K-JZ8/s3342/20230713_171442.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1816" data-original-width="3342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNmDwGR3KiO0G7YjW3tuiiucqS_hNWGBkT3SFLiClQ28c4Oq9Jqz9shte_93aK03NiqNQb9KpM5KSHYBTD1LjfaNV0nEmI2auMVkCoE5a860PsqZ5DyBf8VzOBIALDC9bfiJBe9ADFKzcKZzjIDRK5WUnlu6thQlMbCd2YUu94hDztt_0mW8fpD-K-JZ8/s600/20230713_171442.jpg"/></a></div>Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-32806976017669498802023-10-13T22:20:00.006+02:002023-10-22T19:25:13.937+02:00Elegant Arms and Engageantes...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVnGIawFundhyXn0dlXEjHb2XldhDoYb8MwpiAYVPLm9miMeyArCRFTurCXjEBGSzvpkHCe5KJU13p7n0kyhJHDuxTOLMjNhJL0jc4UdpBJDoZ_NB82JJIgcM3jE0rXKMxKGI_uuSInnJ14EcgMy2S3d6ynfsyOuuCOxrJFZATGYWGiYleyjMg7hr8_JE/s1778/20230713_100805%20%282%29.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1240" data-original-width="1778" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVnGIawFundhyXn0dlXEjHb2XldhDoYb8MwpiAYVPLm9miMeyArCRFTurCXjEBGSzvpkHCe5KJU13p7n0kyhJHDuxTOLMjNhJL0jc4UdpBJDoZ_NB82JJIgcM3jE0rXKMxKGI_uuSInnJ14EcgMy2S3d6ynfsyOuuCOxrJFZATGYWGiYleyjMg7hr8_JE/s600/20230713_100805%20%282%29.jpg"/></a></div>
In the <a href="https://beach-combingmagpie.blogspot.com/2023/09/blog-post.html" target="_blank">Georgian exhibition </a>in the Queen's Gallery at Buckingham Palace, I loved looking at the sumptious silks, satins and taffetas on display, either on the actual garments on show or portrayed in the paintings representing the period.
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The silk industry was lead by the French city of Lyon, however the <a href="https://beach-combingmagpie.blogspot.com/2021/12/doors-to-past-and-their-future.html" target="_blank">silk-weaving district of Spitalfields</a>, London held its own too, producing increasingly rich, detailed fabrics that were coveted more than the finished items of clothing they were used for. The floral and botanic details on the gown worn by the duchess above were woven onto a background of silver threads and the lustre of the silk flowers is complemented by the metallic glint, all of which is captured in the painting.
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Sometimes the mastery of the artist in portraying the unique sheen and silken aspects of the clothing seems to surpass the skill of lifelike portraiture, the exception to that being animal studies with their incredible rendition of fur not to mention those expressive eyes!
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Lace, flounces, frills and here, ermine trimmings, all seem to have appealed to the artist as a means to demonstrate his great talent as much as to the largely affluent individuals - male and female - who sought to show off their vast wealth and status through such richly decorated garments. You almost want to touch the surface of the painting, so realistic are the textures - look at this gentleman's incredible velvet jacket!
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Along with silk, lace was extremely costly since its production was unbelievably long and arduous, demanding great skill. You can sense the pride such lavish, frothy lace details must have inspired in the garment-wearer and their portraitist. And just look at the elegance of the hands with their delicate, expressive fingers, with or without jewellery to highlight their grace.
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Beautifully poised fingers and gently intertwined hands are framed by folds and flounces of lace and the purity of skin, untainted by sunlight or indeed a day's work, is highlighted by pearls.
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To emphasise the elegance of slender wrists and dainty hands - on both ladies <i>and</i> gentlemen it should be said - there was widespread use of <i>engageantes</i> throughout most of the 18th century. These generally took the form of extended decorative flounces of lace or (another fabric) that were worn underneath existing sleeves of either a dress or bodice if not a man's coat.
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The word <i>engageante</i> derives from an old French adjective <i>engageant</i>, meaning 'attractive' or 'seductive'. Certainly, these delicate layers of ruffled lace or linen offset the beauty of the rich material of the main garment in a glorious manner.
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These were not false sleeves as such, nor were they loose cuffs or indeed part of any lighter undergarment. They were independant articles used to enhance and embellish outfits already richly decorated with bows, ribbons and embroidery, from the reign of Louis XIV onwards.
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Engageantes could be sewn or tied onto the underside of garment sleeves that generally reached elbow-level. They could be removed at will, in order to be cleaned or otherwise exchanged for other styles, in other materials, thus enabling the wearer greater possibilities to adapt clothing to circumstances.
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In this manner, elaborate, highly decorative engageantes could give way to plainer, more practical versions for daily routines. Whilst the more ostentatious ones could have up to five layers of ornate lace, the simpler variety were far less voluminous.
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Generally speaking, they were longer behind the elbow than in the crook of the arm and thus could hang in a fluid manner.
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Gradually, engageantes assumed more modest proportions in accordance with changes in fashion and fell out of use towards the end of the century due to the rise in Neoclassicism with its purity of lines which made excessive detail and decoration redundant.
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-17869588260360315432023-09-30T21:00:00.012+02:002023-10-22T19:26:08.649+02:00Glorious Georgian Gowns...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyr262FgWRewNcQ7EcGL7OUPgBGADMu67_m5-tAF0l890oKVRvVlw6ZSJ6KMIlYXy_mifn4H3FhR_4BJFROxX__MzIgi6Y487XQudvOa3SCLgjKfsOYyg2Z2nr04iXRqORPQDZ6TNIYGUjy9EnYTZ8Q9KlDDZnifKr4xo6HC7GP1ZEKL-vyNFNxaRjzQ/s2052/20230713_102829.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="2052" data-original-width="1816" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyr262FgWRewNcQ7EcGL7OUPgBGADMu67_m5-tAF0l890oKVRvVlw6ZSJ6KMIlYXy_mifn4H3FhR_4BJFROxX__MzIgi6Y487XQudvOa3SCLgjKfsOYyg2Z2nr04iXRqORPQDZ6TNIYGUjy9EnYTZ8Q9KlDDZnifKr4xo6HC7GP1ZEKL-vyNFNxaRjzQ/s600/20230713_102829.jpg"/></a></div>
In the summer, I eagerly queued up to visit the exhibition at The Queen's Gallery, Buckingham Palace; <i>Style and Society: Dressing the Georgians</i>. Looking at the exhibition poster (sadly not on sale), I thought how well the painting by the British School - <i>St James's Park and the Mall </i>- seemed to capture my perception of this period of history. In this work, an animated, joyous throng of individuals of all class and character goes about its social business in this grand setting, unperturbed by the presence of those from wildly different circles with whom they rub shoulders, almost literally. On the contrary, each being, however humble or illustrious their origin and demeanor, wishes to take part in this extraordinary living fresco, to exchange words, parade, preen, pose in public. Meantime, rather lacking in deference to the human counterparts they somehow seem to mirror are the dogs and cows that likewise occupy themselves and the centre stage with a certain insouciance. This strange combination of extremes, contrasts and likenesses is fascinating.
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As I gazed at the exquisite clothing, jewellery and elegant footwear of the exhibition, I wondered how articles and artifacts of such intricate beauty and craftsmanship were made (and indeed worn) when the means to do so were limited, relatively speaking, and lives were hard, with or without affluence to ease hardship. Supply was naturally buoyed up on a regiment of ill-paid and poorly-treated workers with deft fingers and so I suppose that the real question that I actually asked myself is what happened to our demand or desire for goods of comparable elegance and originality today, means permitting? I am frequently left choking in dismay and disbelief at the sight of today's vulgar, limited vestimentary selections, all variations of the same trends, coveted by all, regardless of status or wealth. Most of these seem to me dull and unoriginal and I am sadly unable to unsee the very worst modern-day monstrosities, visually fatigued by the sight of all these logos that are branded onto each individual to form a globalized uniform mass. Anyway, an antidote to all that dross clothing and footware were above all these incredible gowns.
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Having already seen samples of silk designed and woven in the <a href="https://beach-combingmagpie.blogspot.com/2021/12/doors-to-past-and-their-future.html">silk-weavers’ district in Spitalfields</a>, East London, it was marvelous to see more types of garment this was used for in the 18th century. Created at a time when precious fabrics were more valuable than finished gowns, sadly few of these gowns have survived to the present day in their initial state. Many were indeed taken apart, the silk recovered to create further dresses in line with changing fashions over the decades, whilst others with their brocade, taffeta, glossy lustring and damask were used in home furnishing and upholstering. Peering through the display cabinet, I had the impression that the decoration of the fabric was due to embroidered motifs but in fact it was simply down to the rich working of the silk. The delicate botanical patterns and floral details, so characteristic of Spitalfields work, were one of the specialities of <a href="https://beach-combingmagpie.blogspot.com/2022/02/from-spitalfields-silkweavers-to-silk.html">Anna Maria Garthwaite</a>, who was a pioneering female textile designer, producing silks from the 1720s. until her death in 1763.
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By their very composition and design, these grand ‘statement’ clothes were a powerful reflection of the wearer’s social status, affluence and aesthetic taste. They were worn to enable the privileged woman in question to set herself apart from the others, all likewise vying for the centre stage through the sheer size and splendour of their attire. The stunning piece in the Queen’s Gallery was the magnificent <i>Mantua dress</i> with its intricate floral details displayed across the vast dimensions of this dress unlike any other! With its incredible volume and the perfection of its details, down to the dainty silk slipper shoes that accompany it, this gown is simply spectacular. Possibly named after the Italian city of Mantova, renowned for its silk production, or in reference to the French <i>manteau</i>, the mantua gown represented a significant move away from the restrictive bodice that was a key element in the grands habits in court until around 1670. Indeed, this new form of dress towards the end of the 17th century was in fact more like a coat with its fabric draped and pleated to display the silk and numerous trimmings to their full advantage. Unlike typical formal garments that required careful structuring, the mantua, with its loose coat-like form was cut from one piece of fabric alone with a visible separate petticoat.
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In many respects, the mantua was a variation of the <i>banyan</i> worn by men as a form of 'undress'; casual wear. Pleats hung from the shoulders and draped material was bundled up to form a bustle at the back of the gown. Initially, the informal nature of such garments met with disapproval; they could not be worn in the royal courts. Gradually, however, the mantua gown came to be accepted as its style evolved. Indeed, the pleated material at the front of the gown was decreased in size to form <i>robings</i>, and the bodice was opened to insert a <i>stomacher</i> – a richly decorated panel in an inverted triangular shape that gave a more elegant form to the whole. The stomacher was pinned onto the <i>stays</i> beneath the bodice and the robings on each side. The considerable size of the dresses and the fact that the stomacher was not sewn in but merely secured by pins meant that achieving unhampered, pain-free movement must have been quite a feat for the wearer! Not only was the unstructured mantua gown revolutionary for such women, it also radically changed the lot of many female seamstresses (known as mantua-makers) who were able to undertake the sewing of such garments, at a time when tailoring was the domain of men alone. It should perhaps be remembered that all sewing (and indeed tailoring) was performed by hand since no sewing machine would exist until the end of the 18th century..
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With time, the mantua gave way to the <i>sack-back gown</i> that was imported from France. Although not as wide as the mantua, this <i>robe à la française</i> was initally voluminous with long box pleats on the back of the neck that led to a train which was obligatory in court. These were famously captured in the paintings of Watteau, hence the name commonly applied to refer to them; <i>Watteau pleats</i>. Gradually these pleats grew narrower and tighter whilst great importance was attached to the trimmings and embellishments of the robe.
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Flounces, <i>falbellas</i> or <i>furbelows</i> and fly braiding– were sewn on the front of the dress, and likewise lace, bows and embroidery would decorate the robe or the visible petticoat below. To the long robings at the front of the robe were attached ornate <i>quilles</i>. Similarly, to the elbow-length sleeves would be sewn 3 tiers of scalloped ruffles and separate frills with separate lace cuff details – known as <i>engageantes</i>. Naturally, a pannier or hoops would be worn below the robe to provide characteristic form and volume. Of course, as with the mantua, the effect was stunning but as the Neo-classical movement began to take precedence in the latter part of the 18th century, the sack-back went out of fashion as waistlines grew higher, hoops and stays were discarded and therefore the full, highly decorated robes lost their popularity.
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-30987201153406416112023-09-30T21:00:00.011+02:002023-10-09T20:31:42.000+02:00Strange Fruit and Faces...
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Autumn again, not that you would truly notice that the seasons had changed if you based your impressions solely on the astoundingly high temperatures that are actually quite alarming. Nevertheless, the leaves are slowly starting to turn and will surely begin to fall in the days to come.
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Meanwhile, with a more predictable and reassuring regularity, the ornamental gourds have made their appearance. Known as <i>coloquintes </i>here, these are striking for their vivid, contrasting colours but above all their curiously textured forms and extraordinary shapes. Almost as if Nature were amusing itself, strange horned growths, speckled ridges and weirdly irregular blisters emerge from otherwise smooth surfaces.
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Wondering if these could be described as beautiful or somewhat ugly, or rather a mixture of the two, I remembered the unsettling, unparalleled portraits of Italian artist, <i>Guiseppe Arcimboldo</i> (1526 – 1593).
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Known for his symbolical paintings of heads, composed largely of flora, flauna and of course vegetables, he created work that specialized in the grotesque presented with great beauty and detail; the inversion of aesthetic norms.
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It seems odd that he should have been court portraitist under the Habsburgs but his ability to link nature and mankind, whilst highlighting the emperor’s power over all, surely gained him respect and a unique reputation. Naturally, this same obsessive fascination with the human form composed of elements from the natural world has also led to questions over his sanity ever since, but ultimately that makes his art even more enigmatic.
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-11182357781538945492023-09-17T20:17:00.001+02:002023-09-25T21:08:34.413+02:00Pansies, Pensées; A Penny for Your Thoughts...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCcOCwiaOmRTejYGcXIO93uzJ34fk9TQJGURPsD-jbGe-9Ijd0H1e7lGtk8-mkBI_2-GJyCNCjGKNLre7X0YNFd_bZHlXCjBOBuwAW25Yp5CAXFbBQUUKsmeFzkCufoRvcDdBQMLrp3xmp2nYcPxrZJkKYkxCOKYYpYatxb_CUsBC-cFAVcNlqers-SU/s509/4.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="509" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCcOCwiaOmRTejYGcXIO93uzJ34fk9TQJGURPsD-jbGe-9Ijd0H1e7lGtk8-mkBI_2-GJyCNCjGKNLre7X0YNFd_bZHlXCjBOBuwAW25Yp5CAXFbBQUUKsmeFzkCufoRvcDdBQMLrp3xmp2nYcPxrZJkKYkxCOKYYpYatxb_CUsBC-cFAVcNlqers-SU/s600/4.jpg"/></a></div>
The jaunty pansies are out for the harvest season and their strangely cheerful faces never fail to brighten up any mood, chasing away shadows and troublesome thoughts with their delicate simplicity...
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The warm, sugary colours here look like something from a <i>pâtisserie</i> window, gently guiding us away from the overbearing (and unbearable) heat and blazing sunshine over the last weeks towards a more autumnal period.
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The rounded flowers, gently ruffled, offer up their petals with veins leading to the mysterious depth of the head, or perhaps on the contrary these etched lines burst out from the golden centre, like ink bleeding across wet paper...
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Peering up close, a white fringed border is visible just above the heart of each head - the stamen - like a whiskery moustache... Although the pansy does not strike us as a highly-scented flower, its perfume is discrete yet evident when the plants are grouped together and the scent of violet can clearly be picked up.
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In French, the pansy is <i>la pensée</i>, and so what are my thoughts on this Sunday evening? My penny's worth; if only the weekend could stretch itself out longer and the working week postponed, but that's life, I suppose!
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And finally, one of my favourite pansy paintings; part of one of <a href="https://beach-combingmagpie.blogspot.com/2011/07/society-cats-lodestars-symptoms-of.html">Louis Wain</a>'s cat portraits...
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-76174817849209019362023-08-21T21:54:00.011+02:002023-08-22T21:44:18.327+02:00Open Door to the Past...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPXdQhPq8B-PTUKDsz9GEs-LaEB6THIkHCrBJs_EXlWp_Z3H6bqHBw-KmP6lSMI27cUPVh_HZ54qk5n9Aq0E3LcsHla05H0IdySFgY4qmfYjPmFlv-GaFDMua1_5ZEExjbyfAL3FkCn_FvEE6hPnpEaFKkVhEcb4QL6EU8wNubdByHBXIyfnb9CuFdtSU/s4032/20230610_165146.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="1816" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPXdQhPq8B-PTUKDsz9GEs-LaEB6THIkHCrBJs_EXlWp_Z3H6bqHBw-KmP6lSMI27cUPVh_HZ54qk5n9Aq0E3LcsHla05H0IdySFgY4qmfYjPmFlv-GaFDMua1_5ZEExjbyfAL3FkCn_FvEE6hPnpEaFKkVhEcb4QL6EU8wNubdByHBXIyfnb9CuFdtSU/s600/20230610_165146.jpg"/></a></div>
As I was walking along my street, I peered into the doorway of one of the impressive late 19th century buildings that has long been carved up into student lets. Just by chance, the door had been left open, offering a glimpse of an unexpected fragment of the past. Given the style of architecture, this must be one of the very few edifices to have survived the assault on the city in the Great War of 1914-1918.
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Although still beautiful, albeit with facade tarnished with urban grime and graffiti, the whole has naturally lost some of its former grandeur over the decades. I was taken aback to see just how elegant the hallway was, with the figure newel post at the end of the staircase, the decorative wood panelling and the tiled floor.
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I wonder who lived here when the property was its prime. In what manner was it divided up when first built? Were there separate appartments on each floor or was this a vast family town house? Not sure how to arrive at any answers, but I do wish that I had the ability to write a book about the (imagined) past lives of this building and those who inhabited it before it was all given over to today's transcient tenancy which cloaks everything with anonymity and a certain indifference.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtKcdZmFYj1-HED6-Abs_HADA1PIad1WbDC7Vgi7u_ziN1vP2aCYJ5ZNJ8U2dSXs0rZScgcEMY3J8KcrUc2ki2ZRue8caR6EtKI0KhDj1ygVmG6458Jd1TannYn6BF-eYDB8qcDXC2G5m7qxFFe2h4urANRdbB_4UekSXX3xKK6fE0fRqYIgEvvT7JpU/s2116/20230610_165150%20%282%29.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="2116" data-original-width="1382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCtKcdZmFYj1-HED6-Abs_HADA1PIad1WbDC7Vgi7u_ziN1vP2aCYJ5ZNJ8U2dSXs0rZScgcEMY3J8KcrUc2ki2ZRue8caR6EtKI0KhDj1ygVmG6458Jd1TannYn6BF-eYDB8qcDXC2G5m7qxFFe2h4urANRdbB_4UekSXX3xKK6fE0fRqYIgEvvT7JpU/s600/20230610_165150%20%282%29.jpg"/></a></div>Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-64518866185987339752023-08-21T21:44:00.006+02:002023-08-23T18:02:05.843+02:00Cemetery in Heavenly Sun...<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZCDf5-vKC_2IFBfU6sUzrBIFoGqL3JrvX_rBlA_CR2BT6Op_PB_i8WuVfGQiTIvz-ySds75P5cYBjL4Of1oV72QbFOil-odQRC-Z61POeWL2PhF3S3UBqkCK9BLGkvu26AS-EC39WO0TKOtGw1Yp-JlvGdpXPJkVzs5otgCN_I0GVivvxIaz9mERsHM/s1816/20230721_111434.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1396" data-original-width="1816" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOZCDf5-vKC_2IFBfU6sUzrBIFoGqL3JrvX_rBlA_CR2BT6Op_PB_i8WuVfGQiTIvz-ySds75P5cYBjL4Of1oV72QbFOil-odQRC-Z61POeWL2PhF3S3UBqkCK9BLGkvu26AS-EC39WO0TKOtGw1Yp-JlvGdpXPJkVzs5otgCN_I0GVivvxIaz9mERsHM/s600/20230721_111434.jpg"/></a></div>
Climbing up a series of steep steps from the centre of St Etienne towards the perpendicular, aptly named <i>Rue de L'Eternité</i>, I finally arrived at <i>Cimetière du Crêt-de-Roc</i>. Whilst in my mind cemeteries are usually synonymous with rather shrouded, secluded areas of town, surrounded by trees and generally secured by imposing walls, this site was somewhat different.
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Firstly, the sunlight was radiant, throwing bright beams across the greenery and in between the monuments and headstones in a magical way, blazing on the stonework. Meanwhile, the searing midday heat grew in intensity as I meandered along the pathways without any particular direction, just intent on discovering the beauty of what is known locally as <i>Le Père-Lachaise stéphanois</i>.
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What is immediately striking here is this dramatic geographical position; high above the hustle and bustle of the city below, yet surrounded too by mountains in the distance, creating an impression of exposure yet protection.
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Row upon row of tombstones of varied size and stature crisscross the flanks of the hill side, and I loved wandering around the oldest of these...
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The grounds were enlarged several times following the consecration and inauguration of the site in 1819 and indeed some of the older plots are squeezed together...
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Looking at the detailed sculpture and inscribed names led me, as always, to wonder who these individuals were, what kind of life they lived. Many of the traditional symbolic features were included; shrouded urns...
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Winged hourglasses, representing passing time and hence our mortality, clasped hands for reunion in eternity, upturned torches for life extinguished...
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Naturally, angels towered over their charges...
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Whilst mourning figures in their austere, draped clothing covered their grief-stricken faces...
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Ivy cloaked itself across the monumental stonework, its bright green setting off the blazing blue skies above...
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Even the deteriorated monuments seemed all the more mysterious...
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And with their own grandeur and grace...
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And even a certain elegance...
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Some a little sad in their decline...
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Others majestic...
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And finally, a tantalizing glipse of the deceased in photographic image, their likenesses caught forever on stone, a 'modern' addition that reflects how this was indeed a mid-19th century cemetery.
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Throughout a large part of my visit, I was honoured by the presence of a private guide who weaved himself between the graves, guardian of the peace and tranquility of the cemetery in heavenly sunlight!
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt4MqzbEw3cyJT89mhzj-Q8XWLSOcKQzRvr1F2daWF02VsQgbPbq8ni5MLbJcFT1ELCVQYaa5vrZuEMNPnEPEThk_Ev6D2vkzYKOmrFMgHavCJW_OvklaDmwqdLTuXSsnuiu_35LGQ3V6tmesQFLsubfDLYEdb9Z_SLFzbMR2pyNVTB1RSOuTqqTAIvJI/s2805/20230721_110204.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="2805" data-original-width="1815" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt4MqzbEw3cyJT89mhzj-Q8XWLSOcKQzRvr1F2daWF02VsQgbPbq8ni5MLbJcFT1ELCVQYaa5vrZuEMNPnEPEThk_Ev6D2vkzYKOmrFMgHavCJW_OvklaDmwqdLTuXSsnuiu_35LGQ3V6tmesQFLsubfDLYEdb9Z_SLFzbMR2pyNVTB1RSOuTqqTAIvJI/s600/20230721_110204.jpg"/></a></div>Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-86129242714716653262023-08-16T18:53:00.002+02:002023-08-16T18:53:22.125+02:00Blazing Blue and Purple.... Larkspur.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5tXPHQLmvob5vcfvrgTHj4FdvqT9GjNWKIJaLjKHJSbpsZ7b0SsAi8NOxKG5d631MW006Snm9dYIqmja694P6YXnTyyTEHWOmXX6EtoZAAZOUiy6CQGVOx8mptWBnLj7qDx9jUMk9YrpdwZ8btUilz0e7nWc0r2QqTTBrC-lCnivpVOD8sifv7KMz7A/s486/5%20%282%29.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5tXPHQLmvob5vcfvrgTHj4FdvqT9GjNWKIJaLjKHJSbpsZ7b0SsAi8NOxKG5d631MW006Snm9dYIqmja694P6YXnTyyTEHWOmXX6EtoZAAZOUiy6CQGVOx8mptWBnLj7qDx9jUMk9YrpdwZ8btUilz0e7nWc0r2QqTTBrC-lCnivpVOD8sifv7KMz7A/s600/5%20%282%29.jpg"/></a></div>
The labels <i>Larkspur</i> and <i>Delphinium</i> are used interchangeably to describe the beautiful tall flowers that belong to the butterfly (Ranunculaceae) family.
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The resemblance of the flower buds to a lark's claw or spur obviously gave rise to the former name back in Tudor times - and it is the same in French '<i>Pied d'alouette</i>'.
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Meanwhile for others, the flower buds brought to mind the shape of a dolphin - hence the Greek <i>delphínion</i> - Delphinium - and again the French equivalent; <i>Dauphinelle.</i> Whichever association made, and whatever name is used, the colours of the flowers are just magical whether they are soft pink, mauve or blue. No wonder this flower is a symbol of positivity and was used to ward off evil !
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRLZ9KivoDAj6TseOCahmw6lNUjDAkI_KrGHERqrXUtnpSgwu0P5xEvbogkjPwyRcScR3BcCxMDf17FPWGw3h7qxCxVqAOqDFv_prYnGOcrY1_371evujEreEU7O27qGliq5zSmRa6EAPEGWBPPPpiqe1507xPWY23cA7bjIJKXYKZoMacEH6CsnOL1L8/s442/2%20%283%29.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="343" data-original-width="442" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRLZ9KivoDAj6TseOCahmw6lNUjDAkI_KrGHERqrXUtnpSgwu0P5xEvbogkjPwyRcScR3BcCxMDf17FPWGw3h7qxCxVqAOqDFv_prYnGOcrY1_371evujEreEU7O27qGliq5zSmRa6EAPEGWBPPPpiqe1507xPWY23cA7bjIJKXYKZoMacEH6CsnOL1L8/s600/2%20%283%29.jpg"/></a></div>Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-32365069343488274542023-07-28T21:47:00.007+02:002023-08-02T19:28:58.652+02:00The Branwell family to the Brontës... from Penzance to Haworth<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-o8SRjjoM3FASi9wadJX4GctOPugyrCtLPhAv38jgkwA1xv303m7I8n2NO-ca-Z3xLwy04npF9lR3efoOCobWexc7R7RVs--bXWi9B1tkoTX0IXqi_J4y0KNK6qeeV8sGQH0R2v_e-2J1M7-cmeOlXg7eeN_oZiG4WBWHw9H-JKxpMTWyua50UmOKGXk/s3808/Branwellhome.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="3808" data-original-width="1816" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-o8SRjjoM3FASi9wadJX4GctOPugyrCtLPhAv38jgkwA1xv303m7I8n2NO-ca-Z3xLwy04npF9lR3efoOCobWexc7R7RVs--bXWi9B1tkoTX0IXqi_J4y0KNK6qeeV8sGQH0R2v_e-2J1M7-cmeOlXg7eeN_oZiG4WBWHw9H-JKxpMTWyua50UmOKGXk/s600/Branwellhome.jpg"/></a></div>
Unlike the granite-faced buildings that surround it, the Branwell home stands out, a little austere and rather enigmatic with its distinctive redbrick facade and imposing door. Such brickwork was indeed a sign of means and status in late 18th century Penzance, with these 'Rotterdam' bricks having been procured from the Dutch by local privateers.
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Situated towards the end of Chapel Street, with a view over Penzance quay and Mount's Bay, and later to be overshadowed by St Mary's church built in 1835, the house would have witnessed great day-to-day activity and perhaps a number or illicit or illegal affairs such as smuggling. The house, however, reveals few secrets itself. It does not offer the same quaint charm or meet any of our modern-day notions of cosiness as the other houses here do, but that makes it all the more intriguing.
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Set a little higher on the pavement, with steps leading up to the front door, it is impossible to peer inside, try as I might. Yet the plaque on the facade opened a door to a world of ideas and imagination from the moment I read <i>Wuthering Heights</i> as a young teenager. For here was the home of the Branwell family, notably Maria and Elizabeth who were to be mother and aunt respectively of Charlotte, Anne, Emily and Branwell Brontë. From this house would spring the future monumental works of English literature, in northern regions far away from south-west. What would have happened if Maria and her future husband, Patrick Brontë,had settled in Penzance and their children had taken to roaming its magnificent landscape and breathtaking coast instead of exploring the dramatic Yorkshire moorland around Haworth?
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One thing is almost certain, without the nurturing administrations of Elizabeth - 'Aunt Branwell' - the publication of the literary works of the Brontë sisters would have been severely thwarted or perhaps never have taken place at all. Alongside the care and love she provided throughout their childhood years and beyond as 'second mother' to the orphaned children, Elizabeth Branwell offered financial support at a key moment, when none was to be found elsewhere.
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In fact, much of the information concerning 'Aunt Branwell' comes from the book above that I found in Penzance this summer, and which enabled me to track down the other homes and sites linked to the Cornish relatives of the Brontës around the town. Although I was, of course, fully acquainted with many of these places as part and parcel of Penzance such as I have always known it, the notion that this was the case for the Branwells too is quite strange.
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As popular pubs, my teenage memories of <i>The Union Hotel</i>, <i>The Turk's Head Inn </i> and <i>The Admiral Benbow</i> in Chapel Street surely differ greatly to those of Elizabeth Branwell, who would never have frequented such places in that capacity! However, their pasts are linked to historic moments such as the announcement of Nelson's death in 1805 for <i>The Union</i> and <i>The Turk's</i> and then a wild and racy role in smuggling in the case of <i>The Benbow.</i> The latter is even said to have inspired Robert Louis Stevenson in his writing of <i>Treasure Island</i>...
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Born in 1776, Elizabeth grew up in certain comfort within a relatively prosperous merchant family that owned property. In the century prior to her birth, the fortune of Penzance had grown as had its population, largely due to its status as coinage town from the 1660s, thus playing a vital role in the copper and tin industry. Fishing and farming continued to flourish but it was the Industrial Revolution that would fuel the town's ascension. Sir Humphry Davy, Penzance chemist and inventor of the miners' safety lamp was born in the same period as Elizabeth and his experiments opened the way for the advances in chemistry and physics that would transform science. He attended the grammar school in the town, and I went to <i>Humphry Davy Grammar School</i> some two centuries later!
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Socially aware of the lack of education and thus the means for moral and social betterment, Thomas Branwell, father to Elizabeth, set up a school room at the back of the family home in Chapel Street as a philanthropic act. Referred to as The Penny School due to its cheap rate, it offered local children education, alongside the Branwell children, several of whom would later teach there. Unfortunately the school was destroyed by a bomb in WW2...
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Despite economic growth, no family was safe from hardship or loss and the Branwells were no exception, with the majority of their twelve children failing to survive their infant years. Thus the parish church of <a href="http://beach-combingmagpie.blogspot.com/2023/07/a-place-of-peace-madron-church.html"><i>St Maddern </i></a>in Madron was witness to a succession of christenings and subsequent deaths. Yet Jane, Elizabeth and Maria Branwell, born in 1773, 1776 and 1783 respectively, would go on to change literature indirectly by their fates, whilst the eldest daughter, Jane, would be the only Branwell offspring to perpetuate the family name.
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Despite attending the church at Madron, the Branwells turned towards the Methodist Movement for prayer and not only were they involved in the establishment of the Wesleyan Methodist chapel in Chapel Street, but it was the family's Methodist faith that was instrumental in bringing Maria and Patrick Brontë together in Yorkshire. Incidently, the <i>Girls Grammar School</i> used to hold Speech Day at the chapel each year until the 1980s...
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Following the marriage of Maria to Patrick in 1812, Elizabeth visited the couple in happy times that would prove to be relatively short-lived. Having borne six children between 1814 and 1820, Maria fell ill after the birth of the last child in 1820, Anne, and died of suspected uterine infection. And so it was that Elizabeth's stay at Haworth extended indefinitely so that she never returned to Penzance again. And yet her vital role in the development of her charges, with her far-reaching, albeit discreet influence, ensured that she lived on through the writings of her nieces with references to events, deeds and thoughts that found their source in 'Aunt Branwell'.
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As for the elder sister of Elizabeth and Maria - Jane Branwell - following a failed marriage to a disgraced Methodist missionary, reverend John Kingston, she was obliged to flee to Penzance, living in Morrab Place with one of their children. Her husband remained in America with the other offspring who would prove to be the last remaining strains of the Branwell family.
Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-55994729362970947962023-07-27T19:59:00.002+02:002023-07-27T19:59:57.138+02:00Cast Creatures - Medieval Footrests at the V & A...
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Recently wandering around the marvelous 19th century Cast Courts at the V & A, I saw more examples of<a href="https://beach-combingmagpie.blogspot.com/2014/05/medieval-bestial-footrests_2453.html" target="_blank"> footrests </a>on sculpted Medieval tomb monuments, from the original pieces copied around Europe.
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The <i>gisant</i> figures of the departed lie fully clothed in all their worldly or spiritual finery, with apparel that reflects their rank, religion, wealth and worth.
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On the voluminous folds of their clothing rest both hands, joined in prayer on the chest or clutching some spiritual, social, chivalric artifact, or simply crossed on the body.
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These notable beings appear to sleep peacefully and in great dignity. Noble husbands and wives repose next to each other yet apart; religious individuals lie alone, clasping a holy script or ecclesiastical object. Knights proudly grasp their sword and shield, their bodies twisted as if ready to spring to action.
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Some figures are shown lying on crib-like structures that are richly decorated with sculpted draped cloth, and several are represented in the bright colours that were wildly employed on the stonework of churches and cathedrals alike.
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With the exception of a few figures, the majority of the departed are accompanied by a beast, symbolic of their standing; be it a lion, bear, dragon, dog, or unicorn.
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Rare are the individuals who have no creature crouched or nestled at their feet or nothing on which to rest their often impressive footwear.
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It is more customary to see one or two creatures that look up to their masters with devotion and obedience either from a high-relief sculpted plaque or a 3-dimensional sculptured piece.
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The lion, symbol of power and pride, frequently appears next to venerable male figures although not always gazing at the <i>gisant</i> or postioned at foot level.
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The king of the beasts is not exclusively reserved for men-folk as women too could be accompanied by the regal lion although in that case the ferocity appears somewhat toned down to the point of docility!
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Likewise the dog – representing loyalty – could be shown lovingly guarding over his mistress...
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... Or fiercely watching over his master...
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In the case of a married couple, both lion and dog would be appear together.
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Sometimes the interaction between the beasts is one of domination but at other moments is rather comic...
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... Or quite strange...
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And finally you have some departed who simply refuse to lie down and sleep, with or without an accompanying animal!
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-80633105473297674012023-07-19T20:04:00.002+02:002023-07-31T19:27:44.881+02:00A Place of Peace... Madron Church.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-mTb3DTxEoKUoPkXa_CRW8jNiiMfH76xKzSm_op5jJ-jMhTov8MdnK5X73Z5ZshwRZu68ic8ktofvty3l327t7m3wWv0yg9uKFOUoaCCvAwYDkI2j3Az0y8-ePMW_3hEUgL7_Kb6RVVob0w4Sy0LC9i0dqNvyzNfpMbXSQAaeNltEhKJmltiYsoD-6vg/s4032/20230711_161537.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="600" data-original-height="1816" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-mTb3DTxEoKUoPkXa_CRW8jNiiMfH76xKzSm_op5jJ-jMhTov8MdnK5X73Z5ZshwRZu68ic8ktofvty3l327t7m3wWv0yg9uKFOUoaCCvAwYDkI2j3Az0y8-ePMW_3hEUgL7_Kb6RVVob0w4Sy0LC9i0dqNvyzNfpMbXSQAaeNltEhKJmltiYsoD-6vg/s600/20230711_161537.jpg"/></a></div>
Set against one of the walls in picturesque Madron Church, itself set in spectacular Cornish countryside with sweeping views over Mount's Bay, is this beautiful tombstone, dating back to the early 17th century.
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Gazing at the quaint couple who kneel in devotion, you cannot help but feel a sense of peace and calm, along with the notion that their God-fearing existence in this breathtaking setting must surely have been one of tranquil simplicity, without the frenzied tech-led lifestyles we have opted for in the 21st century.
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I wonder what kind of life this gentleman led until his demise in 1621, some 400 years ago? His fine Cornish surname - <i> Maddern</i> - has crossed the centuries, as have indeed many of the other names on the tombstones here, just as in other cemeteries around Cornwall.
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<i>Tonkin</i>, <i>Eddy</i>,<i> Rowe</i>, <i>Trembath</i>, <i>Hoskin</i>, <i>Penrose</i>, <i>Nichols</i>, <i>Trelawny</i>, <i>Cargeeg,</i> <i>Nankervis</i>... So familiar are such family names that they remind me of the daily roll call from my schooldays, down the road from Madron, in Penzance!
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The graveyard around the church here is well maintained yet naturally inhabited and sometimes invaded by the usual wild plants, bushes and lichen typical of the rather mild climate of Cornwall to preserve a timeless, organic essence...
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Some of the greenery seems vibrant and exotic, while other forms appear old, wizened and commonplace...
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Many of the gravestones, lean and lilt, as if huddling together to brave the frequent winds that sculpt trees and hedgerows alike into odd, hunched silhouettes on the skyline...
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Others appear partially obscured from view, hidden under bows, bushes and shadows...
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Celtic forms are visible, carved into the granite in stark designs...
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Some of which assume an almost pagan aspect, leading back to the ancient Celtic origins of the land itself and those who inhabited it...
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The lands of <i>Landithy</i> - with <i>lan</i> signifying 'sacred enclosure' and <i>dithy</i> referring to a 'celtic holy man' - were given to the <i>Knights Hospitallers</i> in the 12th century. The estate bore an early church which finally lead to what is now known as the <i>Church of Saint Maddern</i>, consecrated in 1336.
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The stout tower and squat, sturdy walls of the building before us today date back to the 15th century and are a world away from the soaring heights and architectural feats that were characteristic of the Gothic churches some two hundred years earlier.
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Despite the drastic changes in architectural styles over time, the number of relatively early deaths commemorated here make it clear that lives were still brutish and short for a significant proportion of the population and it is hardly surprising that religion provided support when there was precious little else.
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The idyllic Cornish landscapes and promoted picture-perfect lifestyles to go with these today lead most of us to assume that lives in centuries past must somehow have been healthy and hearty in these rural settings, far-removed from the hardships associated with the dark, satanic mills of industrial England. And yet the mining and fishing industries offered little but a dangerous, dirty and dismal existence, whilst farming was hardly better.
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Coastal existence bore its own challenges, with the treachery of the seas bringing in tow shipwrecks, drowning and flooding - most dramatically perhaps in the latter case with a tsunami recorded in Penzance in 1855 in the wake of the Lisbon earthquake. The sea also enabled marauding of all sorts, with pirates, smugglars and even Spanish invaders at the end of the 16th century. I wonder if our Gentleman John Maddern, as mentioned above, experienced that invasion?
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Several artifacts in the church predate our gentleman - notably some of the carved wooden benchends. Did he ever sit on these very benches in prayer?
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If so, what did he think as he sat there? Was he accompanied by his wife?
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The vaulted barrel ceiling above the nave is decorated with ribs and purloins which creates a spectacular view leading towards the altar, behind the wooden rood screen.
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The original rood screen was taken down in the 18th century but was restored in 1880 to dramatic effect - so intricate and yet not overbearing.
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Around the church are Tudor roses to demonstrate allegiance to Henry VII following a revolt that led the vicar of the church to feel a certain eagerness to express his loyalty.
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Alabaster angels are grouped together in one sculpted work...
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Whilst solitary wood-carved greenmen stand guard at the end of benches in the chapel...
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Large plaques with their Latin inscriptions look down on the nave passage below, making me regret I can't read their message...
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Also on display are the plaques devoted to Lord Nelson whose death in 1808 was heralded by the bells at Madron church, making Penzance the first town in England to learn of his demise. I was more interested in finding traces of the Branwell family (of the Brontës) but more about that another day... In the meantime, here's the view from my walk back home to Penzance!
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Beach-Combing Magpiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13020396792408524201noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2063102372115760035.post-35299386686178673562023-06-30T20:28:00.007+02:002023-08-01T22:17:42.697+02:00Brilliant Skies in Brum... St Martin's Church.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFo4Pm2c6yzCLE8scRj9fCwDZBwekjJx7ZNNvrwjW6YjzaKYrmJjQoQRnYgog6JBOduUlSMf74mpByFheiByORq_9O2BwHzhksX6YCtQ_pqfc1BlmDZ6zLgpPatACUdWSnKylx3piy5KEeVqUHdmq6Vhut3QFkvb9TLxt6NhI8HjNVXQp8ic4zy_Ol3A8/s775/12.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="600" data-original-height="775" data-original-width="486" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFo4Pm2c6yzCLE8scRj9fCwDZBwekjJx7ZNNvrwjW6YjzaKYrmJjQoQRnYgog6JBOduUlSMf74mpByFheiByORq_9O2BwHzhksX6YCtQ_pqfc1BlmDZ6zLgpPatACUdWSnKylx3piy5KEeVqUHdmq6Vhut3QFkvb9TLxt6NhI8HjNVXQp8ic4zy_Ol3A8/s600/12.jpg"/></a></div>
A recent trip to Birmingham city centre took me back to gaze up at the facade of <a href="https://beach-combingmagpie.blogspot.com/2020/01/greenery-in-black-country-st-martins.html">St Martin's church</a>. As a Victorian building, dating back to 1873 when the original 13th century edifice was demolished, it lacks that unique Medieval stature and strange quirkiness.
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However, many of its details catch our attention and the whole offers such a striking contrast with the surrounding 21st century urban landscape that the effect cannot go unnoticed...
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The church as it stands today is encircled by the ultra-modern shopping complex - the Selfridges Building - and the older, more traditional retail market of the Bull Ring....
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The curious blob-shaped structure of the shopping centre with its futuristic silver hubs contrasts with the stonework of the dignified spires of the church which in turn stand out against a horizon punctuated with the latest contructions.
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Looking up at the sculpted heads, grimacing faces and expressive gestures on the facade, you wonder when and why we lost interest in such detail...
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That said, our screen-fueled existences mean that we rarely lift our eyes up and beyond, to observe what or who is directly in front of us in the present moment...
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And our thoughts are consumed by consumerism; how and when to purchase the next actively trending item or ticket to some 'experience' as seen on social media, as if we were trapped on a frenetic merry-go-round that spins us round and round...
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How would those who attended St Martin's at the end of the 19th century view our 21st century take on the path to fulfilment, I wonder? Blue skies or storms ahead?
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