(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
The V-Cut can be thought of as a cheap edition of the standard Rose Cut. Unlike Roses, which are considerably higher, V-Cuts were never considered worth refashioning except into Portrait Cuts and Half Brilliants (the true history of which has not yet been completed). They only existed in order to turn very thin cleavages into showy, faceted diamonds displaying a certain amount of glitter. In their simplest forms they had fourteen facets. By splitting some of these, they could be given as many as twenty facets. They are easily recognizable in drawings, having large interlaced and inverted Vs instead of the triangles found in crowned Rose Cuts.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
After The Boom Comes The Gloom
Economists writes about the astonishing sales of art in 2007 by the auction houses + the dealers concern towards the credit crunch on the financial arrangements made by auction houses to ease a big sale + the impact in 2008 + other viewpoints @ http://www.economist.com/daily/columns/artview/displaystory.cfm?story_id=10345385
What Makes A Great Painting Great?
Katie Clifford writes about the evaluation process of a modern masterpiece by experts + other viewpoints @ http://www.artnewsonline.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=780
The Pride Of Flanders
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
2
Of all the many followers of Rubens, the two most famous were Van Dyck and Jacob Jordaens (1593-1678), another exuberant Fleming, who though greatly influenced by Rubens was never actually his pupil. The ‘Riches of Autumn’ in the Wallace Collection is a fine example of the bacchanalian opulence of Jordaens. The fruit, vegetables, and most of the foliage in this picture are painted by Frans Snyders (1579-1657), a noted painter of ‘still-life’ who frequently collaborated with Rubens and other painters. The skill of Jordaens as a portrait-painter may be seen in his ‘Baron Waha de Linter of Namur’ in the National Gallery, but though a capable and skillful painter of whatever was before him, Jordaens had no imagination and added little of his own to the art of Rubens.
Antony Van Dyck, who was born at Antwerp in 1599, was supposed to have entered the studio of Rubens as a boy of thirteen, but recent research has shown he was originally a pupil of Hendrick van Balen and did not enter the studio of Rubens till about 1618. He was the favorite as well as the most famous of his master’s pupils, and yet temperamentally he was miles apart from Rubens. Where Rubens made all his sitters robust and lusty, Van Dyck made his refined and spiritual. From Rubens he learnt how to use his tools, but as soon as he had mastered them he obtained widely different results. The English Ambassador at The Hague persuaded Van Dyck to visit England in 1620 when he was only just of age, but at that time he made only a short stay, and after his return to Antwerp Rubens urged him to visit Italy. It was good advice. The dreamy, poetic-looking youth, whose charming painting of himself at this time we may see in the National Portrait Gallery, London, was spiritually nearer akin to the Italian than to the Flemish painters. What he learnt from them, especially from Titian, may be seen in ‘The Artist as a Shepherd’ in the Wallace Collection, painted about 1625-6, and from the still more splendid portraits in the National Gallery of the Marchese and Marchesa Cattaneo, both painted during the artist’s second stay in Genoa.
Strengthened and polished by his knowledge of Italian art, Van Dyck returned to Antwerp, there to paint among many other fine things two of his outstanding achievements in portraiture, the paintings of Philippe Le Roy and his wife which now hang in the Wallace Collection. These portraits of the Governor of the Netherlands and his wife were painted in 1630 and 1631, when the artist was little over thirty years of age, and in the following year the young painter was invited by Charles I to visit England, where he became Sir Antony Van Dyck, Principal Painter in Ordinary to His Majesty.
His great equestrian portrait ‘Charles I on Horseback,’ passed through several hands before it found a permanent home in the National Gallery. When King Charles’s art collection was sold by the Puritans in 1649, this picture passed into the collection of the Elector of Bavaria. Afterwards it was purchased at Munich by the great Duke of Marlborough, from whose descendant it was bought in 1885 for the National Gallery, the price given for this and Raphael’s ‘Ansidei Madonna’ being £87500.
After he had established himself in England Van Dyck slightly altered his manner, creating a style of portraiture which was slavishly followed by his successors, Sir Peter Lely and Sir Godfrey Kneller.
To speak of the elegance of Van Dyck’s portraits is to repeat a commonplace, but what the causal observer is apt to overlook is that this elegance penetrates below externals to the mind and spirit of the sitter. Of his powers in both directions an exquisite example is the portrait group of ‘Lords John and Bernard Stuart’, one of the most beautiful pictures he ever painted in England, and a work which proves Van Dyck to have been not only a supremely fluent master of the brush, but also a profound and penetrating psychologist.
Had he lived longer no one can say what other masterpieces he might have achieved: but unfortunately, with all his other great qualities as a painter, Van Dyck lacked the health and strength of his master Rubens. How good-looking he was in his youth, we can see by the charming portrait of himself which hangs in the National Portrait Gallery, but this refined, almost girlish face suggests delicacy and weakness. Weak in a way, he was; though not spoiled by success, he could not stand the social whirl and dissipation on which a Rubens could thrive. Very superstitious, he was a victim to quacks and spent much time and money in endeavoring to discover the philosopher’s stone. It is said that his failure to find this precious fable of the alchemists preyed on his mind and contributed to his collapse in 1641, when, though no more than forty two, his frail body was worn out with gout and excesses. On the death of Rubens in 1640 Van Dyck went over to Antwerp. It was his last journey, and soon after his return to London he joined his great compatriot among the ranks of the illustrious dead.
Van Dyck established a style in portraiture which succeeding generations of painters have endeavored to imitate; but none has surpassed, few have approached him, and when we look among his predecessors we have to go back to Botticelli before we find another poet-painter who with equal, though different, exquisiteness mirrored not merely the bodies but the very souls of humanity.
After Van Dyck’s death, numerous imitators, both British and Flemish, endeavored to copy his style of portraiture, but the next great impetus art was to receive after Rubens came, not from England nor from Flanders, but from Spain. It is to the contrary of Velazquez and Murillo, therefore, that we must next turn our attention.
2
Of all the many followers of Rubens, the two most famous were Van Dyck and Jacob Jordaens (1593-1678), another exuberant Fleming, who though greatly influenced by Rubens was never actually his pupil. The ‘Riches of Autumn’ in the Wallace Collection is a fine example of the bacchanalian opulence of Jordaens. The fruit, vegetables, and most of the foliage in this picture are painted by Frans Snyders (1579-1657), a noted painter of ‘still-life’ who frequently collaborated with Rubens and other painters. The skill of Jordaens as a portrait-painter may be seen in his ‘Baron Waha de Linter of Namur’ in the National Gallery, but though a capable and skillful painter of whatever was before him, Jordaens had no imagination and added little of his own to the art of Rubens.
Antony Van Dyck, who was born at Antwerp in 1599, was supposed to have entered the studio of Rubens as a boy of thirteen, but recent research has shown he was originally a pupil of Hendrick van Balen and did not enter the studio of Rubens till about 1618. He was the favorite as well as the most famous of his master’s pupils, and yet temperamentally he was miles apart from Rubens. Where Rubens made all his sitters robust and lusty, Van Dyck made his refined and spiritual. From Rubens he learnt how to use his tools, but as soon as he had mastered them he obtained widely different results. The English Ambassador at The Hague persuaded Van Dyck to visit England in 1620 when he was only just of age, but at that time he made only a short stay, and after his return to Antwerp Rubens urged him to visit Italy. It was good advice. The dreamy, poetic-looking youth, whose charming painting of himself at this time we may see in the National Portrait Gallery, London, was spiritually nearer akin to the Italian than to the Flemish painters. What he learnt from them, especially from Titian, may be seen in ‘The Artist as a Shepherd’ in the Wallace Collection, painted about 1625-6, and from the still more splendid portraits in the National Gallery of the Marchese and Marchesa Cattaneo, both painted during the artist’s second stay in Genoa.
Strengthened and polished by his knowledge of Italian art, Van Dyck returned to Antwerp, there to paint among many other fine things two of his outstanding achievements in portraiture, the paintings of Philippe Le Roy and his wife which now hang in the Wallace Collection. These portraits of the Governor of the Netherlands and his wife were painted in 1630 and 1631, when the artist was little over thirty years of age, and in the following year the young painter was invited by Charles I to visit England, where he became Sir Antony Van Dyck, Principal Painter in Ordinary to His Majesty.
His great equestrian portrait ‘Charles I on Horseback,’ passed through several hands before it found a permanent home in the National Gallery. When King Charles’s art collection was sold by the Puritans in 1649, this picture passed into the collection of the Elector of Bavaria. Afterwards it was purchased at Munich by the great Duke of Marlborough, from whose descendant it was bought in 1885 for the National Gallery, the price given for this and Raphael’s ‘Ansidei Madonna’ being £87500.
After he had established himself in England Van Dyck slightly altered his manner, creating a style of portraiture which was slavishly followed by his successors, Sir Peter Lely and Sir Godfrey Kneller.
To speak of the elegance of Van Dyck’s portraits is to repeat a commonplace, but what the causal observer is apt to overlook is that this elegance penetrates below externals to the mind and spirit of the sitter. Of his powers in both directions an exquisite example is the portrait group of ‘Lords John and Bernard Stuart’, one of the most beautiful pictures he ever painted in England, and a work which proves Van Dyck to have been not only a supremely fluent master of the brush, but also a profound and penetrating psychologist.
Had he lived longer no one can say what other masterpieces he might have achieved: but unfortunately, with all his other great qualities as a painter, Van Dyck lacked the health and strength of his master Rubens. How good-looking he was in his youth, we can see by the charming portrait of himself which hangs in the National Portrait Gallery, but this refined, almost girlish face suggests delicacy and weakness. Weak in a way, he was; though not spoiled by success, he could not stand the social whirl and dissipation on which a Rubens could thrive. Very superstitious, he was a victim to quacks and spent much time and money in endeavoring to discover the philosopher’s stone. It is said that his failure to find this precious fable of the alchemists preyed on his mind and contributed to his collapse in 1641, when, though no more than forty two, his frail body was worn out with gout and excesses. On the death of Rubens in 1640 Van Dyck went over to Antwerp. It was his last journey, and soon after his return to London he joined his great compatriot among the ranks of the illustrious dead.
Van Dyck established a style in portraiture which succeeding generations of painters have endeavored to imitate; but none has surpassed, few have approached him, and when we look among his predecessors we have to go back to Botticelli before we find another poet-painter who with equal, though different, exquisiteness mirrored not merely the bodies but the very souls of humanity.
After Van Dyck’s death, numerous imitators, both British and Flemish, endeavored to copy his style of portraiture, but the next great impetus art was to receive after Rubens came, not from England nor from Flanders, but from Spain. It is to the contrary of Velazquez and Murillo, therefore, that we must next turn our attention.
I Pass From Paris To London: ‘Malacoot’
Louis Kornitzer's book, Gem Trader, is partly autobiographical and partly woven round the lore of pearls. It's educational + explains the distribution chain of gems, as they pass from hand to hand, from miner to cutter, from merchant to millionaire, from courtesan to receiver of stolen goods, shaping human lives as they go + the unique characters in the gem industry.
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
I had had more than the usual share of reverses as a broker in Paris, for which I had had only myself to blame. However, I thought that my ‘luck’ would change if I changed my surroundings. Where should I go? America? Australia? England? I had learned English; it seemed about time that I should practise it in an English-speaking country. It was no toss of the coin that decided me to go to London. The fare there was less than to Perth in Western Australia, or New York. I packed my few belongings without regret. ‘England is the place for me,’ I said.
Jet is the stone associated with that Channel crossing. I do not remember if it was rough or smooth, only that no less than five of the lady passengers wore complete sets of jet ornaments. They were all Englishwomen. Although this fashion may at that time have prevailed in France also, I never noticed it until I came to England.
Anxious to improve my accent, I got into conversation with the husband of one of the jet-wearers. Discreetly questioned, he was rather pleased to enlighten me with the information that this kind of stone came from Whitby in Yorkshire and that it was greatly prized in England for mourning jewelry.
He insisted that jet was a gemstone. ‘The decrees of fashion,’ I remember declaiming at him, ‘may raise a green cheese to the status of a planet, but the textbooks still lay it down that this black substance is a fossil wood, a king of immature coal, and not very hard at that—‘
‘Please do not let my wife hear you say that,’ he said in a frigid tone, ‘for she is excessively proud of her jet ornaments.’ Thereupon he left me abruptly and I saw him no more.
As I gazed intently at the rapidly approaching white cliffs of Dover, a voice spoke in inner ear. It said” ‘There are many ways of putting people against you. But the most sure way of all is to insist on telling them the unpalatable truth.’
After a day or two I found myself in a typical Bloomsbury boarding-house, dining in the company of four Indian law students, a City solicitor, an unfrocked Catholic priest, a newly arrived Capetown stockbroker and his wife, and the divorcée of a brilliant barrister who within the year took silk. The table was presided over by Mrs Francis, the landlady, a tall passée blonde with, as I discovered later, a kind heart. At first I had some difficulty in following the animated conversation, for I was still rather rocky in my knowledge of English, to say the least of it. But presently I realized that the conversation was turning on a green stone in the ring of the South African lady which she described as a ‘malacoot’.
A ‘malacoot’? I had never heard of such a stone. My professional curiosity was aroused. I begged for a sight of the stone. With the greatest of pride and affability she had it passed down to me. In indifferent English, but with the greatest complacency in the world I pronounced it (in a double sense) to be a ‘malachite’, a mineral found in great abundance in the Ural Mountains, which is sometimes used for ornamental tables, mural inlays and decorations.
The South African lady was not greatly impressed. Her stone, she said, was a ‘malacoot’, guaranteed to be nothing else by the reputable Capetown jeweler who had sold it to her. What did I know about South African gems?
At this point tact belatedly overtook me and I allowed her to make her point. But later on, when the ladies and most of the men had adjourned to the drawing-room (this was still the custom even in Bloomsbury boarding-houses), those who had remained, suspecting that I knew what I was talking about, drew me out on the subject of ‘malachite’.
I was only too eager to shine. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Malachite is a very common substance. I don’t think it occurs in South Africa at all. It is a gemstone only by courtesy. Mineralogically speaking it is just a copper carbonate. I have handled large plaques of it and beads by the bushel, I assure you, gentlemen.’
For further information of those who want to be able to distinguish malachite from any other green stone, I may here state that it is a bright green, grained with black, and is a stone which takes on a good polish.
Among the number of less well-known semi-precious stones which at one period kept the family pot boiling was the peridot.
I must confess here that although I had long known the stone by name and had seen it included in lists of potential gem material, I was not at all acquainted with its appearance until some time in 1903 when a German lapidary paid me a visit. I had been recommended to him as one likely to prove of considerable assistance to him, but to my disappointment he revealed that his entire stock-in-trade consisted of peridots, several pounds weight of them, of every size and shape.
‘And what do you expect to do with a stock of that kind in London?’ I asked.
‘Sell it for good English money,’ he replied with an assurance that was rather disconcerting, for I had no doubt whatsoever that a German lapidary on his first visit to London had nothing to teach me about the class of gems saleable in that city.
‘I am sorry to disillusion you,’ I said, ‘but candidly we shall only be wasting our time.’
‘Before the day is out you will think differently,’ he replied. ‘Will you be my broker for the day?’
As my new acquaintance was a good-natured twenty-one stone Teuton with a single-track mind, I did not wish him to feel that he must return to Germany without having had at least a chance of showing his goods to the trade. He would discover for himself fast enough that London was not peridot-minded.
Yet, before the week was out, my German friend had to send an urgent message home for fresh supplies. So much for my cocksureness. We managed to cash in on a short-lived fashion, however. The wave of popularity that had raised the olive-green transparent lustrous stone, despite its softness, into general favor soon subsided. This is usually the way with the lesser semi-precious stones; unlike the aristocrats, which always have a world-market, the small fry among gems depend very greatly upon the vagaries of fashion.
There are several localities where peridots are mined. Burma is one of these, and New Mexico and Queensland are others, but in the opinion of those best-informed the Egyptian peridot excels all others. In these latter days the stone is little seen in jeweler’s shops, but no doubt sooner or later they will be on view again.
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
I had had more than the usual share of reverses as a broker in Paris, for which I had had only myself to blame. However, I thought that my ‘luck’ would change if I changed my surroundings. Where should I go? America? Australia? England? I had learned English; it seemed about time that I should practise it in an English-speaking country. It was no toss of the coin that decided me to go to London. The fare there was less than to Perth in Western Australia, or New York. I packed my few belongings without regret. ‘England is the place for me,’ I said.
Jet is the stone associated with that Channel crossing. I do not remember if it was rough or smooth, only that no less than five of the lady passengers wore complete sets of jet ornaments. They were all Englishwomen. Although this fashion may at that time have prevailed in France also, I never noticed it until I came to England.
Anxious to improve my accent, I got into conversation with the husband of one of the jet-wearers. Discreetly questioned, he was rather pleased to enlighten me with the information that this kind of stone came from Whitby in Yorkshire and that it was greatly prized in England for mourning jewelry.
He insisted that jet was a gemstone. ‘The decrees of fashion,’ I remember declaiming at him, ‘may raise a green cheese to the status of a planet, but the textbooks still lay it down that this black substance is a fossil wood, a king of immature coal, and not very hard at that—‘
‘Please do not let my wife hear you say that,’ he said in a frigid tone, ‘for she is excessively proud of her jet ornaments.’ Thereupon he left me abruptly and I saw him no more.
As I gazed intently at the rapidly approaching white cliffs of Dover, a voice spoke in inner ear. It said” ‘There are many ways of putting people against you. But the most sure way of all is to insist on telling them the unpalatable truth.’
After a day or two I found myself in a typical Bloomsbury boarding-house, dining in the company of four Indian law students, a City solicitor, an unfrocked Catholic priest, a newly arrived Capetown stockbroker and his wife, and the divorcée of a brilliant barrister who within the year took silk. The table was presided over by Mrs Francis, the landlady, a tall passée blonde with, as I discovered later, a kind heart. At first I had some difficulty in following the animated conversation, for I was still rather rocky in my knowledge of English, to say the least of it. But presently I realized that the conversation was turning on a green stone in the ring of the South African lady which she described as a ‘malacoot’.
A ‘malacoot’? I had never heard of such a stone. My professional curiosity was aroused. I begged for a sight of the stone. With the greatest of pride and affability she had it passed down to me. In indifferent English, but with the greatest complacency in the world I pronounced it (in a double sense) to be a ‘malachite’, a mineral found in great abundance in the Ural Mountains, which is sometimes used for ornamental tables, mural inlays and decorations.
The South African lady was not greatly impressed. Her stone, she said, was a ‘malacoot’, guaranteed to be nothing else by the reputable Capetown jeweler who had sold it to her. What did I know about South African gems?
At this point tact belatedly overtook me and I allowed her to make her point. But later on, when the ladies and most of the men had adjourned to the drawing-room (this was still the custom even in Bloomsbury boarding-houses), those who had remained, suspecting that I knew what I was talking about, drew me out on the subject of ‘malachite’.
I was only too eager to shine. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Malachite is a very common substance. I don’t think it occurs in South Africa at all. It is a gemstone only by courtesy. Mineralogically speaking it is just a copper carbonate. I have handled large plaques of it and beads by the bushel, I assure you, gentlemen.’
For further information of those who want to be able to distinguish malachite from any other green stone, I may here state that it is a bright green, grained with black, and is a stone which takes on a good polish.
Among the number of less well-known semi-precious stones which at one period kept the family pot boiling was the peridot.
I must confess here that although I had long known the stone by name and had seen it included in lists of potential gem material, I was not at all acquainted with its appearance until some time in 1903 when a German lapidary paid me a visit. I had been recommended to him as one likely to prove of considerable assistance to him, but to my disappointment he revealed that his entire stock-in-trade consisted of peridots, several pounds weight of them, of every size and shape.
‘And what do you expect to do with a stock of that kind in London?’ I asked.
‘Sell it for good English money,’ he replied with an assurance that was rather disconcerting, for I had no doubt whatsoever that a German lapidary on his first visit to London had nothing to teach me about the class of gems saleable in that city.
‘I am sorry to disillusion you,’ I said, ‘but candidly we shall only be wasting our time.’
‘Before the day is out you will think differently,’ he replied. ‘Will you be my broker for the day?’
As my new acquaintance was a good-natured twenty-one stone Teuton with a single-track mind, I did not wish him to feel that he must return to Germany without having had at least a chance of showing his goods to the trade. He would discover for himself fast enough that London was not peridot-minded.
Yet, before the week was out, my German friend had to send an urgent message home for fresh supplies. So much for my cocksureness. We managed to cash in on a short-lived fashion, however. The wave of popularity that had raised the olive-green transparent lustrous stone, despite its softness, into general favor soon subsided. This is usually the way with the lesser semi-precious stones; unlike the aristocrats, which always have a world-market, the small fry among gems depend very greatly upon the vagaries of fashion.
There are several localities where peridots are mined. Burma is one of these, and New Mexico and Queensland are others, but in the opinion of those best-informed the Egyptian peridot excels all others. In these latter days the stone is little seen in jeweler’s shops, but no doubt sooner or later they will be on view again.
Hallmarking Act Implementation In India
According to the Gems and Jewellery Federation (GJF) in India, the government intends to make gold hallmarking compulsory from January 2008. The proposed amended Act requires every jewelry outlet to obtain a licence to sell hallmarked jewelry. The federation is concerned by the move because they believe the infrastructure for the practical implementation of the Act is inadequate in the country.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Top 10 Startups Worth Watching in 2008
(via Wired): Top 10 Startups Worth Watching in 2008
1. www.23andme.com
2. www.37signals.com
3. www.admob.com
4. www.bittorrent.com
5. www.dash.net
6. www.fon.com
7. www.linkedin.com
8. www.powerset.com
9. www.slide.com
10. www.spock.com
1. www.23andme.com
2. www.37signals.com
3. www.admob.com
4. www.bittorrent.com
5. www.dash.net
6. www.fon.com
7. www.linkedin.com
8. www.powerset.com
9. www.slide.com
10. www.spock.com
Beautiful Microscope Art
(via Wired): The images via Materials Research Society art competition was really interesting. It's beautiful. Link
Useful links:
http://blog.wired.com/wiredscience/2007/12/beautiful-mic-1.html
www.mrs.org
Useful links:
http://blog.wired.com/wiredscience/2007/12/beautiful-mic-1.html
www.mrs.org
Incandescent Light Bulb
The incandescent light bulb will be phased off the U.S. market beginning in 2012 under the new energy law just approved by Congress + this will reduce electricity costs and minimize new bulb purchases in every household in America + earlier this year, Australia became the first country to announce an outright ban by 2010 on incandescent bulbs + The Energy Star website has a good FAQ (frequently asked questions) on CFLs (the compact fluorescent).
Kind Hearts And Coronets
Kind Hearts And Coronets (1949)
Directed by: Robert Hamer
Screenplay: Roy Horniman (novel Israel Rank); Robert Hamer, John Dighton
Cast: Dennis Price, Valerie Hobson, Joan Greenwood, Alec Guinness
(via YouTube): Trailer: Kind Hearts and Coronets (Robert Hamer, 1949)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOGbnECf7NI
Kind Hearts and Coronets clip
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DAA41TwZz1w
A Robert Hamer classic + it's fun noir. I enjoyed it.
Directed by: Robert Hamer
Screenplay: Roy Horniman (novel Israel Rank); Robert Hamer, John Dighton
Cast: Dennis Price, Valerie Hobson, Joan Greenwood, Alec Guinness
(via YouTube): Trailer: Kind Hearts and Coronets (Robert Hamer, 1949)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOGbnECf7NI
Kind Hearts and Coronets clip
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DAA41TwZz1w
A Robert Hamer classic + it's fun noir. I enjoyed it.
Station Masters
(via Guardian Unlimited) Jonathan Glancey writes about SNCF's anniversary exhibition celebrating the love affair between French art and trains + other viewpoints @ http://arts.guardian.co.uk/art/visualart/story/0,,2231149,00.html
Useful link:
SNCF website
Useful link:
SNCF website
Baffled, Bewildered—And Smitten
Hilarie M. Sheets writes about the 'I-Don't-Get-It Aesthetic' phenomenon when looking at contemporary art + other viewpoints @ http://www.artnewsonline.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=766
The Pride Of Flanders
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
The tact of the courtier, as well as the splendid powers of the painter, may be seen of a famous Rubens at the National Gallery, ‘The Blessings of Peace,’ which shows Minerva, goddess of Wisdom, pushing back War, while Peace receives Wealth and Happiness and their smiling children. This picture was presented to the English kind by Rubens soon after his arrival in London as a delicate hint of the advantages to be derived from concluding peace with Spain.
It is said that while he was painting this picture in London an English courtier asked Rubens, ‘Does the Ambassador of his Catholic Majesty amuse himself with painting?’ ‘No,’ replied Rubens, ‘I amuse myself sometimes with being an ambassador.’
On February 21, 1630, Charles I knighted the painter, and soon afterwards Sir Peter Paul Rubens returned to the Continent and again settled in Antwerp. Isabella Brant had been dead about four years, and in December Rubens married Helen Fourment, whom he must have known from childhood. She was one of the seven daughters of Daniel Fourment, a widower, who had married the sister of Ruben’s first wife. Helen was only sixteen when she married.
The last seven years of his life were devoted by Rubens to domestic happiness and his art rather than to politics, which he practically abandoned after 1633. He had a fine country estate near Malines, the Château de Steen, of which we may see a picture in the National Gallery, and there for the most part he lived quietly, happy with his girl-wife and only troubled by attacks of gout. During these last years Rubens produced a quantity of fine pictures; in one year (1638), for example, he dispatched a cargo of 112 pictures by himself and his pupils to the King of Spain. The rapidity of the master’s execution is well illustrated by a story that, having received a repeat order from Philip (after he had received the 112 pictures), and being pressed by the monarch’s brother Ferdinand to deliver the new pictures as quickly as possible, Rubens said he would do them all with his own hand ‘to gain time’.
Among these new pictures, sent off in February 1639, were the ‘The Judgment of Paris’ and ‘The Three Graces,’ both now at the Prado, and generally held to be the finest as well as the latest of the painter’s many pictures of these subjects. But still the King of Spain wanted more pictures by Rubens. Further commissions arrived, and in May 1640 the great master died in harness, working almost to the last on four large canvases.
Excelling in every branch of painting, and prolific in production, Rubens is a master of whose art only a brief summary can be given. A final word, however, must be said on the landscapes which form a conspicuous feature among his later works, and of which we possess so splendid an example in ‘The Rainbow Landscape’ in the Wallace Collection. The healthy and contented sense of physical well-being, which radiates from every landscape by Rubens, has been expressed in a criticism of this picture by Dr Richard Muther: ‘The struggle of the elements is past, everything glitters with moisture, and the trees rejoice like fat children who have just had their breakfast.’
It has been said that there are landscapes which soothe and calm our spirits, and landscapes which exhilarate. Those by Rubens come under the latter category. He was no mystic in his attitude towards Nature; he approached her without awe, with the friendly arrogance of a strong man who respects strength. Most of his landscapes were painted in the neighborhood of his country seat, and in them we may trace not only the painter’s love of the beauty in Nature, but something also of the landowner’s pride in a handsome and well-ordered estate.
The heir of the great Venetians in his painted decorations, Rubens was a pioneer in all other directions. His portraits were the inspiration of Van Dyck and the English painters of the eighteenth century, his landscapes were the prelude to Hobbema and the ‘natural painters’ of England and Holland; while in pictures like ‘Le Jardin ď Amour’ and ‘The Dance of Villagers’ he invented a new style of pastoral with small figures which Watteau and other later artists delightfully exploited.
The Pride Of Flanders (continued)
The tact of the courtier, as well as the splendid powers of the painter, may be seen of a famous Rubens at the National Gallery, ‘The Blessings of Peace,’ which shows Minerva, goddess of Wisdom, pushing back War, while Peace receives Wealth and Happiness and their smiling children. This picture was presented to the English kind by Rubens soon after his arrival in London as a delicate hint of the advantages to be derived from concluding peace with Spain.
It is said that while he was painting this picture in London an English courtier asked Rubens, ‘Does the Ambassador of his Catholic Majesty amuse himself with painting?’ ‘No,’ replied Rubens, ‘I amuse myself sometimes with being an ambassador.’
On February 21, 1630, Charles I knighted the painter, and soon afterwards Sir Peter Paul Rubens returned to the Continent and again settled in Antwerp. Isabella Brant had been dead about four years, and in December Rubens married Helen Fourment, whom he must have known from childhood. She was one of the seven daughters of Daniel Fourment, a widower, who had married the sister of Ruben’s first wife. Helen was only sixteen when she married.
The last seven years of his life were devoted by Rubens to domestic happiness and his art rather than to politics, which he practically abandoned after 1633. He had a fine country estate near Malines, the Château de Steen, of which we may see a picture in the National Gallery, and there for the most part he lived quietly, happy with his girl-wife and only troubled by attacks of gout. During these last years Rubens produced a quantity of fine pictures; in one year (1638), for example, he dispatched a cargo of 112 pictures by himself and his pupils to the King of Spain. The rapidity of the master’s execution is well illustrated by a story that, having received a repeat order from Philip (after he had received the 112 pictures), and being pressed by the monarch’s brother Ferdinand to deliver the new pictures as quickly as possible, Rubens said he would do them all with his own hand ‘to gain time’.
Among these new pictures, sent off in February 1639, were the ‘The Judgment of Paris’ and ‘The Three Graces,’ both now at the Prado, and generally held to be the finest as well as the latest of the painter’s many pictures of these subjects. But still the King of Spain wanted more pictures by Rubens. Further commissions arrived, and in May 1640 the great master died in harness, working almost to the last on four large canvases.
Excelling in every branch of painting, and prolific in production, Rubens is a master of whose art only a brief summary can be given. A final word, however, must be said on the landscapes which form a conspicuous feature among his later works, and of which we possess so splendid an example in ‘The Rainbow Landscape’ in the Wallace Collection. The healthy and contented sense of physical well-being, which radiates from every landscape by Rubens, has been expressed in a criticism of this picture by Dr Richard Muther: ‘The struggle of the elements is past, everything glitters with moisture, and the trees rejoice like fat children who have just had their breakfast.’
It has been said that there are landscapes which soothe and calm our spirits, and landscapes which exhilarate. Those by Rubens come under the latter category. He was no mystic in his attitude towards Nature; he approached her without awe, with the friendly arrogance of a strong man who respects strength. Most of his landscapes were painted in the neighborhood of his country seat, and in them we may trace not only the painter’s love of the beauty in Nature, but something also of the landowner’s pride in a handsome and well-ordered estate.
The heir of the great Venetians in his painted decorations, Rubens was a pioneer in all other directions. His portraits were the inspiration of Van Dyck and the English painters of the eighteenth century, his landscapes were the prelude to Hobbema and the ‘natural painters’ of England and Holland; while in pictures like ‘Le Jardin ď Amour’ and ‘The Dance of Villagers’ he invented a new style of pastoral with small figures which Watteau and other later artists delightfully exploited.
The Pride Of Flanders (continued)
Rose-Cut Triplets
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
It is not known for certain to what extend normal Rose Cuts were fastened base to base for a specific purpose; perhaps this was merely an attempt to increase the light effects of thin Roses. One striking example is to be found in the crown made in 1722 for the coronation of Louis XV. The famous Grand Sancy diamond formed the head of the fleur-de-lis on the top of the crown. Six pairs of Roses represented the petals of the emblem, which was three-dimensional. In order to balance the heavy Grand Sancy, each pair of flat Roses was assembled and mounted together with an intervening plate (possibly a flat diamond), the three parts forming a triplet. The eight triplets were then thick enough to match the weight of the Sancy.
By 1729 the crown (now in the Musée du Louvre) had been stripped of all its gems, which were returned to the French Treasury and reset in their original jewels. However, they were replaced with cleverly fashioned paste replicas which, most fortunately, show the exact faceting of the original gems in the crown.
It is not known for certain to what extend normal Rose Cuts were fastened base to base for a specific purpose; perhaps this was merely an attempt to increase the light effects of thin Roses. One striking example is to be found in the crown made in 1722 for the coronation of Louis XV. The famous Grand Sancy diamond formed the head of the fleur-de-lis on the top of the crown. Six pairs of Roses represented the petals of the emblem, which was three-dimensional. In order to balance the heavy Grand Sancy, each pair of flat Roses was assembled and mounted together with an intervening plate (possibly a flat diamond), the three parts forming a triplet. The eight triplets were then thick enough to match the weight of the Sancy.
By 1729 the crown (now in the Musée du Louvre) had been stripped of all its gems, which were returned to the French Treasury and reset in their original jewels. However, they were replaced with cleverly fashioned paste replicas which, most fortunately, show the exact faceting of the original gems in the crown.
I Pass From Paris To London: ‘Malacoot’
Louis Kornitzer's book, Gem Trader, is partly autobiographical and partly woven round the lore of pearls. It's educational + explains the distribution chain of gems, as they pass from hand to hand, from miner to cutter, from merchant to millionaire, from courtesan to receiver of stolen goods, shaping human lives as they go + the unique characters in the gem industry.
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
There was no doubt that he was ready to carry out his threat with interest. The other man sat for a moment and weighed up his chances.
‘Curse you,’ he said, glaring with rage. ‘If you had only telephoned to ask me if the stone had got inadvertently into one of my parcels when I was comparing quality, I should have taken no offence.’
‘You compared nothing,’ I broke in.
‘Where is the stone?’ demanded my client inexorably.
Well, we did not come away without it, anyhow. When my client had it safely in his wallet he turned to the thief and said: ‘Our silence respecting this matter can be bought by a donation of five hundred francs to such and such charity.’
The other went to his safe, and as though it were the most ordinary transaction in the world, laid five notes on the table. Then he sat down at his desk and wrote in a steady, clear and precise hand a receipt worded thus: ‘We, the undersigned (here our names were inserted), in consideration of Blank’s have contributed five hundred francs in cash to a certain charity, undertake solemnly to preserve an unbroken silence during the lifetime of Blank concerning an affair of honor touching him closely. May the good Lord preserve us from all temptation.’
We duly signed, marvelling. Nor have we broken our promise, though Blank has been in the spirit world for many years.
One dealer for whom I often did business was M Roeder, an illiterate self-made man who was an acknowledged expert in rubies and sapphires of the finest grades. He never bought his stones fully cut, but either in the rough (for preference), or Indian cut; that is, indifferently shaped and faceted. M Roeder taught me that it is never wise to send a large parcel of goods to the lapidary, however reputable.
‘There is too much temptation,’ he used to say, ‘to slip in what does not belong. Besides, why give an opportunity to suspect the lapidary if a parcel does not turn out as well as expected?’ It may be necessary to explain that however well graded, a parcel of gems in the rough will often give unpredictable results when the stones have been ground and polished. They may either disappoint or turn out like Cinderella in the fairy tale.
When Roeder gave out his goods he weighed each stone separately, noted its weight, drew its contour and finally immersed it in a glass of water to ascertain in which corner of it lay the concentrated coloring matter. His clerk wrote all these particulars down and the parcel was then divided into five or more parts and distributed among as many lapidaries, some in London, some in Paris, some in the French Jura. When they came back faceted he could thus check up pretty well on every stone. If the returns from one or the other of his lapidaries proved repeatedly and startlingly inadequate, he withdrew his custom.
On one occasion he gave out a stone from which he had reason to expect a fine finished specimen, but it was returned apparently a failure of no great quality. He suspected the lapidary, and without telling me why, he instructed me to find him a ruby—the gem was a ruby—of approximately the size and quality he had expected from his own rough stone. He suggested that one of the lapidaries might have such a stone; he mentioned the suspected lapidary by name. I was not to ask point-blank about the required stone, but to make the inquiry vague and not to disclose that it was wanted for a dealer.
I executed the commission and brought back a fine ruby.
‘This is my stone,’ said Roeder as soon as he saw it. According to custom, since I would not leave it with him, he sealed it up and returned it to me. A few hours later the lapidary sent for me and asked me to deliver the stone to Roeder, who had himself settled the account.
How it was settled I learned from Roeder. He had charged the lapidary outright with theft, and when the latter had denied it angrily and threatened legal proceedings, Roeder said calmly: ‘You can take what action you choose. I am going to attach the stone which is now under my seal in the broker’s hands. If you bring an action, I shall challenge you to produce your books and disclose from whom you bought the stone cut, or if in the rough, whether it was in the opinion of the man who sold it to you likely to turn out as well as the stone under dispute. I shall break you and you will be hounded out of the trade. Choose. Give me the stone and you shall still have some of my work, for you are a master of your craft and I do not believe you will deceive me again. Ca y est? Donnez-moi la main, monsieur.’
I Pass From Paris To London: ‘Malacoot’ (continued)
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
There was no doubt that he was ready to carry out his threat with interest. The other man sat for a moment and weighed up his chances.
‘Curse you,’ he said, glaring with rage. ‘If you had only telephoned to ask me if the stone had got inadvertently into one of my parcels when I was comparing quality, I should have taken no offence.’
‘You compared nothing,’ I broke in.
‘Where is the stone?’ demanded my client inexorably.
Well, we did not come away without it, anyhow. When my client had it safely in his wallet he turned to the thief and said: ‘Our silence respecting this matter can be bought by a donation of five hundred francs to such and such charity.’
The other went to his safe, and as though it were the most ordinary transaction in the world, laid five notes on the table. Then he sat down at his desk and wrote in a steady, clear and precise hand a receipt worded thus: ‘We, the undersigned (here our names were inserted), in consideration of Blank’s have contributed five hundred francs in cash to a certain charity, undertake solemnly to preserve an unbroken silence during the lifetime of Blank concerning an affair of honor touching him closely. May the good Lord preserve us from all temptation.’
We duly signed, marvelling. Nor have we broken our promise, though Blank has been in the spirit world for many years.
One dealer for whom I often did business was M Roeder, an illiterate self-made man who was an acknowledged expert in rubies and sapphires of the finest grades. He never bought his stones fully cut, but either in the rough (for preference), or Indian cut; that is, indifferently shaped and faceted. M Roeder taught me that it is never wise to send a large parcel of goods to the lapidary, however reputable.
‘There is too much temptation,’ he used to say, ‘to slip in what does not belong. Besides, why give an opportunity to suspect the lapidary if a parcel does not turn out as well as expected?’ It may be necessary to explain that however well graded, a parcel of gems in the rough will often give unpredictable results when the stones have been ground and polished. They may either disappoint or turn out like Cinderella in the fairy tale.
When Roeder gave out his goods he weighed each stone separately, noted its weight, drew its contour and finally immersed it in a glass of water to ascertain in which corner of it lay the concentrated coloring matter. His clerk wrote all these particulars down and the parcel was then divided into five or more parts and distributed among as many lapidaries, some in London, some in Paris, some in the French Jura. When they came back faceted he could thus check up pretty well on every stone. If the returns from one or the other of his lapidaries proved repeatedly and startlingly inadequate, he withdrew his custom.
On one occasion he gave out a stone from which he had reason to expect a fine finished specimen, but it was returned apparently a failure of no great quality. He suspected the lapidary, and without telling me why, he instructed me to find him a ruby—the gem was a ruby—of approximately the size and quality he had expected from his own rough stone. He suggested that one of the lapidaries might have such a stone; he mentioned the suspected lapidary by name. I was not to ask point-blank about the required stone, but to make the inquiry vague and not to disclose that it was wanted for a dealer.
I executed the commission and brought back a fine ruby.
‘This is my stone,’ said Roeder as soon as he saw it. According to custom, since I would not leave it with him, he sealed it up and returned it to me. A few hours later the lapidary sent for me and asked me to deliver the stone to Roeder, who had himself settled the account.
How it was settled I learned from Roeder. He had charged the lapidary outright with theft, and when the latter had denied it angrily and threatened legal proceedings, Roeder said calmly: ‘You can take what action you choose. I am going to attach the stone which is now under my seal in the broker’s hands. If you bring an action, I shall challenge you to produce your books and disclose from whom you bought the stone cut, or if in the rough, whether it was in the opinion of the man who sold it to you likely to turn out as well as the stone under dispute. I shall break you and you will be hounded out of the trade. Choose. Give me the stone and you shall still have some of my work, for you are a master of your craft and I do not believe you will deceive me again. Ca y est? Donnez-moi la main, monsieur.’
I Pass From Paris To London: ‘Malacoot’ (continued)
Monday, December 24, 2007
Thai Gem and Jewelry News
Here is what Mr Vichai Assarasakorn of the Thai Gem and Jewellery Traders Association has to say about the state of the industry: "Currently, we do not have our own raw materials, making us reliant solely on imports. Without steady and sustainable raw material supplies, over one million skilled craftsmen will be hard hit in the future.The association sees it as necessary to push forward all efforts to convince the new government to waive existing value-added tax (VAT) on raw-material imports to streamline and promote the free flow of trade in raw materials such as precious stones, diamonds and processed precious stones to the Thai market.
A zero-rate VAT would draw more raw material suppliers to Thailand, improving the competitive edge of Thai producers and providing greater access to raw materials. Thailand has more than 10,000 gem and jewellery businesses but 90% of them are small and medium-sized enterprises. In addition to a raw material shortage, local firms face rising competition, notably in the US and Japan, particularly in the low-end segment, from Chinese and Indian producers. Gems and jewelry are among Thailand's key exports, with 20% growth this year to 170 billion baht. In dollar terms, the figure is expected to grow 30% to about $4.8 billion.’
He cites the success of Dubai, which has become a global gold trading centre due to tax waivers. Last year Dubai's gold trade rose 37% year-on-year to $14.75 billion.
I think the Thai gem and jewelry sector will have to innovate with new concepts and attitudes to compete in the emerging markets.
A zero-rate VAT would draw more raw material suppliers to Thailand, improving the competitive edge of Thai producers and providing greater access to raw materials. Thailand has more than 10,000 gem and jewellery businesses but 90% of them are small and medium-sized enterprises. In addition to a raw material shortage, local firms face rising competition, notably in the US and Japan, particularly in the low-end segment, from Chinese and Indian producers. Gems and jewelry are among Thailand's key exports, with 20% growth this year to 170 billion baht. In dollar terms, the figure is expected to grow 30% to about $4.8 billion.’
He cites the success of Dubai, which has become a global gold trading centre due to tax waivers. Last year Dubai's gold trade rose 37% year-on-year to $14.75 billion.
I think the Thai gem and jewelry sector will have to innovate with new concepts and attitudes to compete in the emerging markets.
Good Books
The Science of Success: How Market-Based Management Built the World's Largest Private Company, by Charles Koch
Radicals for Capitalism: A Freewheeling History of the Modern American Libertarian Movement, by Brian Doherty
His Excellency George Washington, by Joseph Ellis
The Island at the Center of the World, by Russell Shorto
I think the lessons you learn will stay with you forever.
Radicals for Capitalism: A Freewheeling History of the Modern American Libertarian Movement, by Brian Doherty
His Excellency George Washington, by Joseph Ellis
The Island at the Center of the World, by Russell Shorto
I think the lessons you learn will stay with you forever.
DTC Sightholders List: Who's On And What Now?
(via IdexOnline): IdexOnline writes about the newly-named Sightholders + the verification process/reality + the list @ http://www.idexonline.com/portal_FullNews.asp?SID=&id=29129
World's Ultimate Jewels
(via Forbes): World's Ultimate Jewels
1. Chopard
Blue Diamond Ring
www.chopard.com
2. Garrard
Heart of the Kingdom Ruby
www.garrard.com
3. Neil Lane
Diamond Necklace
www.neillanejewelry.com
4. DeBeers
Marie Antoinette Necklace
www.debeers.com
5. H. Stern
Venus Necklace
www.hstern.net
6. Chopard
Emerald Ring
www.chopard.com
7. Tiffany
Novo Yellow Diamond Ring
www.tiffany.com
8. Van Cleef and Arpels
Zip Necklace
www.vancleef-arpels.com
9. Oscar Heyman
Sapphire Ring
www.oscarheyman.com
10. Bulgari
Elisia Sapphire and Diamond Necklace
www.bulgari.com
1. Chopard
Blue Diamond Ring
www.chopard.com
2. Garrard
Heart of the Kingdom Ruby
www.garrard.com
3. Neil Lane
Diamond Necklace
www.neillanejewelry.com
4. DeBeers
Marie Antoinette Necklace
www.debeers.com
5. H. Stern
Venus Necklace
www.hstern.net
6. Chopard
Emerald Ring
www.chopard.com
7. Tiffany
Novo Yellow Diamond Ring
www.tiffany.com
8. Van Cleef and Arpels
Zip Necklace
www.vancleef-arpels.com
9. Oscar Heyman
Sapphire Ring
www.oscarheyman.com
10. Bulgari
Elisia Sapphire and Diamond Necklace
www.bulgari.com
Beyond The Clouds
(via The Guardian) Zaha Hadid's magnificent designs + other viewpoints @ http://arts.guardian.co.uk/art/architecture/story/0,,2229161,00.html
Useful link:
www.zaha-hadid.com
Useful link:
www.zaha-hadid.com
Invasion Of The Body Snatchers
Invasion Of The Body Snatchers (1956)
Directed by: Don Siegel Screenplay: Richard Collins (uncredited); Jack Finney (novel); Daniel Mainwaring, Sam Peckinpah (uncredited)
Cast: Kevin McCarthy, Dana Wynter
(via YouTube): Invasion of the Body Snatchers – Trailer
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-jzblCbsuA
A nightmare kiss: "Invasion of the body snatchers" (1956)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPl8G5cvdNw
One of the best science fiction movies + suspenseful. I enjoyed it.
Directed by: Don Siegel Screenplay: Richard Collins (uncredited); Jack Finney (novel); Daniel Mainwaring, Sam Peckinpah (uncredited)
Cast: Kevin McCarthy, Dana Wynter
(via YouTube): Invasion of the Body Snatchers – Trailer
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-jzblCbsuA
A nightmare kiss: "Invasion of the body snatchers" (1956)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HPl8G5cvdNw
One of the best science fiction movies + suspenseful. I enjoyed it.
Da Vinci Drawings Affected By Mold
Colleen Barry writes about the state of Leonardo da Vinci's Codex Atlanticus, the largest collection of drawings and writings by the Renaissance master + other viewpoints @
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071221/ap_en_ot/da_vinci_codex
Useful links:
www.ambrosiana.it
www.opificio.arti.beniculturali.it
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071221/ap_en_ot/da_vinci_codex
Useful links:
www.ambrosiana.it
www.opificio.arti.beniculturali.it
The So-Called Van Goghs
Timothy W. Ryback writes about Vincent van Gogh fakes + provenance issues/endless debates + van Gogh authenticators + other viewpoints @ http://www.artnewsonline.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=751
The Pride Of Flanders
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
A story is told that the Dean of Malines Cathedral was furious when, having ordered a ‘Last Supper’ from Rubens, a young man named Justus van Egmont came down to begin the work. Later on
The great man appeared with his fine calm presence and the urbane manner that was a bulwark against offence or misappreciation. As Rubens corrected the work, enlivened the color or action of the figures, and swept the whole composition with his unerring brushwork towards a beautiful unity of effect, the churchman acknowledged the wisdom of the master, and admitted that the money of the chapter had been safely invested.
Even the beautiful portrait of ‘Susanne Fourment’, known as the ‘Chapeau de Poil,’ a canvas of 1620, which shows Rubens second manner merging into his third—in which the pigment is less solid and fusion of color more subtle—even this work has been thought by some critics to be not altogether the work of Rubens. The late R A M Stevenson considered that ‘the comparatively rude folds of the dress and the trivial details of the feather’ betrayed another hand at work.
The fame of the Flemish master had spread all over Europe, and in January 1622 Rubens was summoned to Paris by the Queen Mother, Marie dé Medici, who wished him to decorate her favorite Luxembourg Palace. ‘The great series of wall paintings, which were the result of this commission, are now one of the glories of the Louvre. These pictures were designed to emphasize the greatness of the Medicis and the splendor resulting from the marriage of Marie dé Medici to King Henri IV of France. How cleverly Rubens fulfilled his double role of courtier and decorator may be seen in ‘Henri IV Receiving the Portrait of Marie dé Medici.’ Here, in a wonderful blending of fable with reality, the artist idealizes the King as monarch and lover, and turns a marriage dictated by reasons of state into a romantic love-match in which Cupid and all the deities of Olympus are deeply concerned.
Endowed by nature with a splendid presence, tactful in disposition and charming in manners, Rubens was a man to win the confidence of any Court. After the death of the Archduke Albert in 1621, his widow the Regent Isabella took Rubens into her inner counsels and employed him in semi-official visits to foreign courts. The great object of the rulers of Flanders was to keep England and Holland friendly with Spain and apart from France. One of the first missions which Rubens received was to secure a renewal of the treaty between Holland and Flanders, a task which took him to The Hague in 1623. It was at this time that he was ennobled by the King of Spain.
When visiting Paris the painter had made the acquaintance of the Duke of Buckingham, the virtual ruler of England under Charles I, and this nobleman had been greatly taken by the talents of the Fleming both as artist and diplomatist. It was Buckingham himself who suggested that Rubens should be sent to Spain in the summer of 1628 to ascertain the real feelings of Philip IV in the war which Buckingham planned against France through hatred of Richelieu, who had separated him from Anne of Austria.
Rubens arrived at Madrid in the course of the summer, bringing with him eight pictures as a present to Philip; but the assassination of Buckingham on September 2nd, 1628, changed the political aspect of affairs and enabled Rubens to give his whole attention to art. An important event in the history of painting was the meeting in Spain of Rubens, now fifty two, with Velazquez, then a man of thirty; the two became great friends, that the younger man was considerably influenced by his elder.
Politically the great result of the Fleming’s stay in Spain was that Philip IV consented to Rubens going as his official representative to King Charles I of England. The artist-diplomat arrived in London on May 25, 1629, and not only arranged the terms of peace between England and Spain but gave a new direction to English painting. Charles commissioned him to paint the ceiling which may still be seen in the Banqueting Saloon in Whitehall, now the United Services Museum, and many of his pictures were bought by the Royal Family and nobility of England.
The Pride Of Flanders (continued)
A story is told that the Dean of Malines Cathedral was furious when, having ordered a ‘Last Supper’ from Rubens, a young man named Justus van Egmont came down to begin the work. Later on
The great man appeared with his fine calm presence and the urbane manner that was a bulwark against offence or misappreciation. As Rubens corrected the work, enlivened the color or action of the figures, and swept the whole composition with his unerring brushwork towards a beautiful unity of effect, the churchman acknowledged the wisdom of the master, and admitted that the money of the chapter had been safely invested.
Even the beautiful portrait of ‘Susanne Fourment’, known as the ‘Chapeau de Poil,’ a canvas of 1620, which shows Rubens second manner merging into his third—in which the pigment is less solid and fusion of color more subtle—even this work has been thought by some critics to be not altogether the work of Rubens. The late R A M Stevenson considered that ‘the comparatively rude folds of the dress and the trivial details of the feather’ betrayed another hand at work.
The fame of the Flemish master had spread all over Europe, and in January 1622 Rubens was summoned to Paris by the Queen Mother, Marie dé Medici, who wished him to decorate her favorite Luxembourg Palace. ‘The great series of wall paintings, which were the result of this commission, are now one of the glories of the Louvre. These pictures were designed to emphasize the greatness of the Medicis and the splendor resulting from the marriage of Marie dé Medici to King Henri IV of France. How cleverly Rubens fulfilled his double role of courtier and decorator may be seen in ‘Henri IV Receiving the Portrait of Marie dé Medici.’ Here, in a wonderful blending of fable with reality, the artist idealizes the King as monarch and lover, and turns a marriage dictated by reasons of state into a romantic love-match in which Cupid and all the deities of Olympus are deeply concerned.
Endowed by nature with a splendid presence, tactful in disposition and charming in manners, Rubens was a man to win the confidence of any Court. After the death of the Archduke Albert in 1621, his widow the Regent Isabella took Rubens into her inner counsels and employed him in semi-official visits to foreign courts. The great object of the rulers of Flanders was to keep England and Holland friendly with Spain and apart from France. One of the first missions which Rubens received was to secure a renewal of the treaty between Holland and Flanders, a task which took him to The Hague in 1623. It was at this time that he was ennobled by the King of Spain.
When visiting Paris the painter had made the acquaintance of the Duke of Buckingham, the virtual ruler of England under Charles I, and this nobleman had been greatly taken by the talents of the Fleming both as artist and diplomatist. It was Buckingham himself who suggested that Rubens should be sent to Spain in the summer of 1628 to ascertain the real feelings of Philip IV in the war which Buckingham planned against France through hatred of Richelieu, who had separated him from Anne of Austria.
Rubens arrived at Madrid in the course of the summer, bringing with him eight pictures as a present to Philip; but the assassination of Buckingham on September 2nd, 1628, changed the political aspect of affairs and enabled Rubens to give his whole attention to art. An important event in the history of painting was the meeting in Spain of Rubens, now fifty two, with Velazquez, then a man of thirty; the two became great friends, that the younger man was considerably influenced by his elder.
Politically the great result of the Fleming’s stay in Spain was that Philip IV consented to Rubens going as his official representative to King Charles I of England. The artist-diplomat arrived in London on May 25, 1629, and not only arranged the terms of peace between England and Spain but gave a new direction to English painting. Charles commissioned him to paint the ceiling which may still be seen in the Banqueting Saloon in Whitehall, now the United Services Museum, and many of his pictures were bought by the Royal Family and nobility of England.
The Pride Of Flanders (continued)
I Pass From Paris To London: ‘Malacoot’
Louis Kornitzer's book, Gem Trader, is partly autobiographical and partly woven round the lore of pearls. It's educational + explains the distribution chain of gems, as they pass from hand to hand, from miner to cutter, from merchant to millionaire, from courtesan to receiver of stolen goods, shaping human lives as they go + the unique characters in the gem industry.
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
One of my experiences at that time of my apprenticeship I mention, because it shows something of the way in which the trade regulates its business morals from within. A firm had given me a parcel of gems with instructions to sell in the open market at a price they had fixed as their lowest. Speed was the essence of the transaction, and they wanted results, and cash, the same day.
The instructions were verbal and unfortunately I had misheard the price; and being a novice, I did not realize that I was going to quote an exceptionally low figure, several hundred francs per carat below normal. I took the parcel to a certain M Behrens, to whom my people had been very kind when he was in Vienna. He was a sort of family friend, and when he had seen my goods he at once bought them with great goodwill and paid in cash, asking no questions. Back I went to hand over the money to my principals, who forcefully pointed out my mistake. I returned to M. Behrens, whose bonhomie had now somewhat abated, and who flatly refused to rectify the trouble, although he knew perfectly well what he was taking advantage of my inexperience, and that I was losing more than I could hope to make in a year.
At this point I thought to appeal to the good offices of the chairman of the Diamond Club, which is to the trade what the Jockey Club is to racing. Monsieur Behrens was cited before the committee, and it was pointed out to him in no equivocal terms that in the ordinary way he could not have hoped for such a bargain except with stolen goods. He was unusually tenacious. The opinion of his fellows appeared to leave him unmoved and he refused to obey the Club’s ruling. I only got out of my stupid mess by consenting to be mulcted of a penalty sum heavy enough to cripple a beginner.
A second early adventure is pleasing at this distance of time, because it displays one of those curiosities of human nature which constantly astound the most experienced students of that strange phenomenon.
A certain man in Paris was a personage of considerable means, a gem expert, and so big a buyer that his business connections in several continental centres made him a power to be reckoned with. He was also a notorious liar and thief, and everyone knew his reputation. I had been warned against him, but as he went out of his way to be friendly to me, I thought I knew better, particularly as he himself took pains to warn me against the very people who had impeached his character. Unfortunately I had been warned in vague terms and had not been told that he was no better than a common thief and that no broker or dealer would go near him without first counting the stones in each parcel and the number of parcels in his wallet. They would even watch his hands while he was examining the goods and count the stones before leaving.
He began by letting me make a safe profit in several small transactions. Then one day he asked to see a large parcel of jagers (Jagersfontein brilliants). I obtained the goods from a client, he looked them over, found fault with the price, and finally refused to make an offer. I came away disappointed and was presently thrown into great perturbation by the discovery that the largest and best stone in the parcel was missing. Its value was not less than £250 (today such a stone would easily fetch £900 in the open market). I was near collapse. My clients demanded to know the name of the potential customer. I mentioned it. Without a word the principal took his hat from the peg and motioned to me to follow him. We returned to the office whence I had come, and were received immediately.
At once my client stated in a menacing tone that the stone was missing. The suspect, not pretending to misunderstand the veiled accusation, became at once abusive and threatened to have us thrown out.
‘Sit down!’ thundered my client. ‘You are accusing yourself of I don’t know what. It is, after all, not uncommon when a man shows goods that he leaves a stone behind by mistake. But your attitude forces me to remind you, monsieur, that I know your reputation as well you know mine. If you do not produce the stone at once I shall knock you down and turn the place upside down until I find my property. And you know that I am a man of my word.’
I Pass From Paris To London: ‘Malacoot’ (continued)
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
One of my experiences at that time of my apprenticeship I mention, because it shows something of the way in which the trade regulates its business morals from within. A firm had given me a parcel of gems with instructions to sell in the open market at a price they had fixed as their lowest. Speed was the essence of the transaction, and they wanted results, and cash, the same day.
The instructions were verbal and unfortunately I had misheard the price; and being a novice, I did not realize that I was going to quote an exceptionally low figure, several hundred francs per carat below normal. I took the parcel to a certain M Behrens, to whom my people had been very kind when he was in Vienna. He was a sort of family friend, and when he had seen my goods he at once bought them with great goodwill and paid in cash, asking no questions. Back I went to hand over the money to my principals, who forcefully pointed out my mistake. I returned to M. Behrens, whose bonhomie had now somewhat abated, and who flatly refused to rectify the trouble, although he knew perfectly well what he was taking advantage of my inexperience, and that I was losing more than I could hope to make in a year.
At this point I thought to appeal to the good offices of the chairman of the Diamond Club, which is to the trade what the Jockey Club is to racing. Monsieur Behrens was cited before the committee, and it was pointed out to him in no equivocal terms that in the ordinary way he could not have hoped for such a bargain except with stolen goods. He was unusually tenacious. The opinion of his fellows appeared to leave him unmoved and he refused to obey the Club’s ruling. I only got out of my stupid mess by consenting to be mulcted of a penalty sum heavy enough to cripple a beginner.
A second early adventure is pleasing at this distance of time, because it displays one of those curiosities of human nature which constantly astound the most experienced students of that strange phenomenon.
A certain man in Paris was a personage of considerable means, a gem expert, and so big a buyer that his business connections in several continental centres made him a power to be reckoned with. He was also a notorious liar and thief, and everyone knew his reputation. I had been warned against him, but as he went out of his way to be friendly to me, I thought I knew better, particularly as he himself took pains to warn me against the very people who had impeached his character. Unfortunately I had been warned in vague terms and had not been told that he was no better than a common thief and that no broker or dealer would go near him without first counting the stones in each parcel and the number of parcels in his wallet. They would even watch his hands while he was examining the goods and count the stones before leaving.
He began by letting me make a safe profit in several small transactions. Then one day he asked to see a large parcel of jagers (Jagersfontein brilliants). I obtained the goods from a client, he looked them over, found fault with the price, and finally refused to make an offer. I came away disappointed and was presently thrown into great perturbation by the discovery that the largest and best stone in the parcel was missing. Its value was not less than £250 (today such a stone would easily fetch £900 in the open market). I was near collapse. My clients demanded to know the name of the potential customer. I mentioned it. Without a word the principal took his hat from the peg and motioned to me to follow him. We returned to the office whence I had come, and were received immediately.
At once my client stated in a menacing tone that the stone was missing. The suspect, not pretending to misunderstand the veiled accusation, became at once abusive and threatened to have us thrown out.
‘Sit down!’ thundered my client. ‘You are accusing yourself of I don’t know what. It is, after all, not uncommon when a man shows goods that he leaves a stone behind by mistake. But your attitude forces me to remind you, monsieur, that I know your reputation as well you know mine. If you do not produce the stone at once I shall knock you down and turn the place upside down until I find my property. And you know that I am a man of my word.’
I Pass From Paris To London: ‘Malacoot’ (continued)
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Heard On The Street
Most people are not innately positive or optimistic + they are surrounded by people + their negative destructive attitudes + the markets are cyclical + the markets we have today is because of the skills and mind set of very few men/women + they actually create something of value in this world.
Travel
Travel: Some good advice from one who knows: Take twice the cash and half the clothes.
- Anonymous
- Anonymous
Unleash The War On Terroir
Economist writes about the beleaguered winemakers of France + the advent of genetically modified wine + the impact + other viewpoints @ http://www.economist.com/opinion/displaystory.cfm?story_id=10328977
Wish List-Worthy Jewelry
(via Forbes) Wish List-Worthy Jewelry
1. Joan Hornig Georgette Earrings
www.joanhornig.com
2. DeBeers Mace Cuff Links
www.debeers.com
3. Garrard Cocktail Ring
www.garrard.com
4. Chopard Emerald Necklace
www.chopard.com
5. J.Crew Hand-Painted Enamel Carousel Ring
www.jcrew.com
6. A. Lange & Söhne Saxonia Men's Watch
www.alange-soehne.com
7. Tiffany Men's Coin-Edge Ring
www.tiffany.com
8. Cathy Waterman Coral Charm
www.barneys.com
9. Bamboo Sterling Silver Tie Clip
www.mannatahiti.com
1. Joan Hornig Georgette Earrings
www.joanhornig.com
2. DeBeers Mace Cuff Links
www.debeers.com
3. Garrard Cocktail Ring
www.garrard.com
4. Chopard Emerald Necklace
www.chopard.com
5. J.Crew Hand-Painted Enamel Carousel Ring
www.jcrew.com
6. A. Lange & Söhne Saxonia Men's Watch
www.alange-soehne.com
7. Tiffany Men's Coin-Edge Ring
www.tiffany.com
8. Cathy Waterman Coral Charm
www.barneys.com
9. Bamboo Sterling Silver Tie Clip
www.mannatahiti.com
Azim Premji + Nandan Nilekani
(via YouTube): Charlie Rose - Azim Premji / Nandan Nilekani
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6SLRBLDgqmo&feature=related
A lesson for all + I think Azim Premji/Nandan Nilekani are the new business models of the world.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6SLRBLDgqmo&feature=related
A lesson for all + I think Azim Premji/Nandan Nilekani are the new business models of the world.
In A Lonely Place
In A Lonely Place (1950)
Directed by: Nicholas Ray
Screenplay: Dorothy B. Hughes (novel); Edmund H. North (adaptation); Andrew Solt
Cast: Humphrey Bogart, Gloria Grahame
(via YouTube): In a Lonely Place
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fu8E3LooDZo
In a Lonely Place (1950) 1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5rL9H7spsPc
In a Lonely Place (1950) 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CW5HyBapntA
Humphrey Bogart is a great actor + I loved every minute of this movie.
Directed by: Nicholas Ray
Screenplay: Dorothy B. Hughes (novel); Edmund H. North (adaptation); Andrew Solt
Cast: Humphrey Bogart, Gloria Grahame
(via YouTube): In a Lonely Place
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fu8E3LooDZo
In a Lonely Place (1950) 1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5rL9H7spsPc
In a Lonely Place (1950) 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CW5HyBapntA
Humphrey Bogart is a great actor + I loved every minute of this movie.
The ARTnews 200
Milton Esterow writes about the 'wow' factor when buying a work of art + the contemporary sales + an upsurge of realistic and representational art + other viewpoints @ http://www.artnewsonline.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=745
The Pride Of Flanders
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
Rubens remained little more than six months with his cousin, who was a landscape artist. His next teacher, Adam van Noort, was a figure-painter, but it is unlikely he learnt much from this morose and often drunken boor. In 1590 he found a more congenial master in Otto Vaenius (1558-1629), who was a gentleman, a scholar, and a man of the world, though as a painter he was even duller and stiffer than his own master, the Venetian Zucchero (c. 1543-1616), well-known in England by his numerous portraits of Queen Elizabeth. One thing that Vaenius did was to fire his pupil with enthusiasm for Italian art, and two years after he had come of age and had been admitted a member of the Guild of St. Luke, Peter Paul Rubens arrived in Venice. Here the admirable copies he made of paintings by Titian and Veronese attracted the attention of Vincenzo I, Duke of Mantua, into whose service Rubens almost immediately entered. With the Duke he was at Florence for the marriage of Marie dé Medici to Henri IV (by proxy), and in 1603—after he had visited Rome, Padua, and other Italian cities—Rubens was sent by Vincenzo I on a mission with presents of horses and pictures to Philip III of Spain.
Though not then entrusted with any work for the Spanish monarch, Rubens painted several pictures for his prime minister the Duke of Lerma before he returned to Italy. After working for his patron at Mantua, Rome, and Genoa, Rubens in 1608 was recalled to Antwerp by news of his mother’s serious illness. Too late to see her alive when he reached his native city, the grief-stricken painter remained for several months in strict seclusion, when he was drawn by the rulers of Flanders, the Stadt-holders Albert and Isabella, who, conscious of his growing reputation, persuaded Rubens to leave the Mantuan service and become their Court Painter. In accepting this position Rubens was permitted to live at Antwerp instead of with the Court at Brussels.
His brother Philippe had already married the daughter of his chief, the Secretary of Antwerp, and it was probably at their house that Rubens saw his sister-in-law’s niece Isabella, daughter of John Brant, whom he married in 1609. The following year the artist designed a palatial residence in the Italian style, and had it built on the thoroughfare now known as Rue de Rubens: there he took his young and beautiful wife, and there he settled down to found the School of Antwerp. The ensuing ten or twelve years were the most tranquil and probably the happiest in life of Rubens. An example of Ruben’s first manner is the portrait of ‘Rubens and his First Wife,’ painted when he was about thirty two and his newly married wife Isabella Brant little over eighteen. During this period he executed the works on which his fame most securely rests, notably his supreme masterpiece, ‘The Descent from the Cross,’ in Antwerp Cathedral. This work, executed in 1612, marks the beginning of Ruben’s second manner, just as his ‘Elevation of the Cross,’ also in Antwerp and painted in 1609-10, concludes his first or Italian manner.
The late R A M Stevenson, a most penetrating critic, has pointed out how much more original and softer is the later pictures:
It started the Antwerp School, and beyond its ideal scarce any contemporary advanced. The forms are less muscular, the gestures less exaggerated, the transitions suaver, the light and shade less contrasted than in the first period, but the pigment is still solid, and the colors are treated as large, unfused blocks of decorative effect.
The growth of Rubens was gradual, but the extraordinary number of his collaborators makes the tracing of that growth a task of infinite difficulty. Apart from other contemporary evidence, the letters of Rubens himself show the number of artists he employed to work from his designs. The truth is he established a picture-factory at Antwerp, and not only engaged assistants to help him carry out gigantic decorations for churches and palaces, but also farmed out commissions for easel-pictures, landscapes, and portraits. In addition to ‘Velvet’ Brueughel, his collaborators and pupils at one time or another included Snyders (1579-1657), Jordaens (1593-1678), Cornelius de Vos (1585-1651), Antony Van Dyck (1599-1641), David Teniers (1610-90), Jan Fyt (1609-61), and score of others. A good example of the ‘teamwork’ accomplished in the Rubens studio is ‘Christ in the House of Martha and Mary’. In this picture, now in the Irish National Gallery at Dublin, the figures are by Rubens, the landscape by ‘Velvet’ Breughel, the architecture by Van Delen, and the accessories by Jan van Kessel. Yet all is so controlled by the master hand that to any but an expert the whole appears to be the work of one man.
The Pride Of Flanders (continued)
Rubens remained little more than six months with his cousin, who was a landscape artist. His next teacher, Adam van Noort, was a figure-painter, but it is unlikely he learnt much from this morose and often drunken boor. In 1590 he found a more congenial master in Otto Vaenius (1558-1629), who was a gentleman, a scholar, and a man of the world, though as a painter he was even duller and stiffer than his own master, the Venetian Zucchero (c. 1543-1616), well-known in England by his numerous portraits of Queen Elizabeth. One thing that Vaenius did was to fire his pupil with enthusiasm for Italian art, and two years after he had come of age and had been admitted a member of the Guild of St. Luke, Peter Paul Rubens arrived in Venice. Here the admirable copies he made of paintings by Titian and Veronese attracted the attention of Vincenzo I, Duke of Mantua, into whose service Rubens almost immediately entered. With the Duke he was at Florence for the marriage of Marie dé Medici to Henri IV (by proxy), and in 1603—after he had visited Rome, Padua, and other Italian cities—Rubens was sent by Vincenzo I on a mission with presents of horses and pictures to Philip III of Spain.
Though not then entrusted with any work for the Spanish monarch, Rubens painted several pictures for his prime minister the Duke of Lerma before he returned to Italy. After working for his patron at Mantua, Rome, and Genoa, Rubens in 1608 was recalled to Antwerp by news of his mother’s serious illness. Too late to see her alive when he reached his native city, the grief-stricken painter remained for several months in strict seclusion, when he was drawn by the rulers of Flanders, the Stadt-holders Albert and Isabella, who, conscious of his growing reputation, persuaded Rubens to leave the Mantuan service and become their Court Painter. In accepting this position Rubens was permitted to live at Antwerp instead of with the Court at Brussels.
His brother Philippe had already married the daughter of his chief, the Secretary of Antwerp, and it was probably at their house that Rubens saw his sister-in-law’s niece Isabella, daughter of John Brant, whom he married in 1609. The following year the artist designed a palatial residence in the Italian style, and had it built on the thoroughfare now known as Rue de Rubens: there he took his young and beautiful wife, and there he settled down to found the School of Antwerp. The ensuing ten or twelve years were the most tranquil and probably the happiest in life of Rubens. An example of Ruben’s first manner is the portrait of ‘Rubens and his First Wife,’ painted when he was about thirty two and his newly married wife Isabella Brant little over eighteen. During this period he executed the works on which his fame most securely rests, notably his supreme masterpiece, ‘The Descent from the Cross,’ in Antwerp Cathedral. This work, executed in 1612, marks the beginning of Ruben’s second manner, just as his ‘Elevation of the Cross,’ also in Antwerp and painted in 1609-10, concludes his first or Italian manner.
The late R A M Stevenson, a most penetrating critic, has pointed out how much more original and softer is the later pictures:
It started the Antwerp School, and beyond its ideal scarce any contemporary advanced. The forms are less muscular, the gestures less exaggerated, the transitions suaver, the light and shade less contrasted than in the first period, but the pigment is still solid, and the colors are treated as large, unfused blocks of decorative effect.
The growth of Rubens was gradual, but the extraordinary number of his collaborators makes the tracing of that growth a task of infinite difficulty. Apart from other contemporary evidence, the letters of Rubens himself show the number of artists he employed to work from his designs. The truth is he established a picture-factory at Antwerp, and not only engaged assistants to help him carry out gigantic decorations for churches and palaces, but also farmed out commissions for easel-pictures, landscapes, and portraits. In addition to ‘Velvet’ Brueughel, his collaborators and pupils at one time or another included Snyders (1579-1657), Jordaens (1593-1678), Cornelius de Vos (1585-1651), Antony Van Dyck (1599-1641), David Teniers (1610-90), Jan Fyt (1609-61), and score of others. A good example of the ‘teamwork’ accomplished in the Rubens studio is ‘Christ in the House of Martha and Mary’. In this picture, now in the Irish National Gallery at Dublin, the figures are by Rubens, the landscape by ‘Velvet’ Breughel, the architecture by Van Delen, and the accessories by Jan van Kessel. Yet all is so controlled by the master hand that to any but an expert the whole appears to be the work of one man.
The Pride Of Flanders (continued)
I Pass From Paris To London: ‘Malacoot’
Louis Kornitzer's book, Gem Trader, is partly autobiographical and partly woven round the lore of pearls. It's educational + explains the distribution chain of gems, as they pass from hand to hand, from miner to cutter, from merchant to millionaire, from courtesan to receiver of stolen goods, shaping human lives as they go + the unique characters in the gem industry.
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
My principal in Paris was only six years older than I. At the time of which I write, that is, he was twenty eight. At the early age of sixteen he had been pitchforked into Spain by a Spartan father with nothing more than a letter of introduction to a friend’s on who was in a small way of business as a dealer in antiques, or pseudo-antiques, in Madrid.
The young man had what is termed ‘his head screwed on the right way’. In other words, he started making money from the word ‘Go’. He was taken into the Madrid business and within a short time became a full partner. One day he happened to attend a public sale of an Estremaduran hidalgo’s effects. An ancient chest took his fancy and he bid successfully for it. When he got it home its extraordinarily heavy weight made him look it over very carefully, with the result that he found a number of secret drawers crammed with gold doubloons.
Being naturally of an aggressive nature, his early success in life had made him even more self-confident, and it was one of his patent maxims that treading on other people’s toes before they have a chance to tread on yours is one of the secrets of success, and moreover, saves the possessor of big feet a lot of pain. He was not particularly to save my feelings, at any rate, and was over-fond of calling me the French equivalent of ‘bloody fool’. One day he said it once too often and I picked up a heavy inkstand with intention of slinging it at him. Fortunately someone seized my arm, but, of course, the affair left me with no alternative other than handing in my resignation. In fact, I was just able to say very quickly: ‘I’m getting out of here,’ before he could utter: ‘You’re fired.’
Now, I had saved nothing out of my small pay, for I had been helping a younger brother who was serving his apprenticeship to a goldsmith in Paris. There was nothing for me back in Vienna and in any case I had too much pride to return there a failure. I decided to become a gem broker in Paris on my own account.
There are two kinds of broker, the broker attitré and the freelance broker, in Paris. The first is attached to one firm as a kind of commercial traveler working on a commission basis only, but he is usually permitted to have a drawing account which tides him over bad patches. The freelance, on the other hand, works for any firm that will entrust him with goods. He has no drawing account to fall back on.
Before casting myself on the turbulent and shark-infested waters of Paris gem trade, I sought to secure for myself a raft. I asked my ex-principal if I might be one of his accredited brokers with a drawing account. But although he permitted me to to so attach myself, there was no drawing account, and various incidents thereafter forced me to conclude that he had no intention of forgetting the inkstand episode. I cast myself off into complete independence and have remained in that state ever since.
Life as a freelance broker taught me much and I do not regret the bitter lessons of those days. There is no better schooling for one who intends to blossom into a trader on his own account than a long apprenticeship as a broker to the trade. It is always the buyer who is the professor, for he is ever alert to point out what is undesirable in the merchandise you submit for his considerations and to compare your prices with those of your competitors. It is the buyer who puts you on your mettle; it is the buyer you must study if you want to be a success. Please him and you have pleased yourself. From my buyers I have learned to discriminate between the bad, the middling, the good and the exquisite, and from the seller—how to make the most of the least.
I Pass From Paris To London: ‘Malacoot’ (continued)
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
My principal in Paris was only six years older than I. At the time of which I write, that is, he was twenty eight. At the early age of sixteen he had been pitchforked into Spain by a Spartan father with nothing more than a letter of introduction to a friend’s on who was in a small way of business as a dealer in antiques, or pseudo-antiques, in Madrid.
The young man had what is termed ‘his head screwed on the right way’. In other words, he started making money from the word ‘Go’. He was taken into the Madrid business and within a short time became a full partner. One day he happened to attend a public sale of an Estremaduran hidalgo’s effects. An ancient chest took his fancy and he bid successfully for it. When he got it home its extraordinarily heavy weight made him look it over very carefully, with the result that he found a number of secret drawers crammed with gold doubloons.
Being naturally of an aggressive nature, his early success in life had made him even more self-confident, and it was one of his patent maxims that treading on other people’s toes before they have a chance to tread on yours is one of the secrets of success, and moreover, saves the possessor of big feet a lot of pain. He was not particularly to save my feelings, at any rate, and was over-fond of calling me the French equivalent of ‘bloody fool’. One day he said it once too often and I picked up a heavy inkstand with intention of slinging it at him. Fortunately someone seized my arm, but, of course, the affair left me with no alternative other than handing in my resignation. In fact, I was just able to say very quickly: ‘I’m getting out of here,’ before he could utter: ‘You’re fired.’
Now, I had saved nothing out of my small pay, for I had been helping a younger brother who was serving his apprenticeship to a goldsmith in Paris. There was nothing for me back in Vienna and in any case I had too much pride to return there a failure. I decided to become a gem broker in Paris on my own account.
There are two kinds of broker, the broker attitré and the freelance broker, in Paris. The first is attached to one firm as a kind of commercial traveler working on a commission basis only, but he is usually permitted to have a drawing account which tides him over bad patches. The freelance, on the other hand, works for any firm that will entrust him with goods. He has no drawing account to fall back on.
Before casting myself on the turbulent and shark-infested waters of Paris gem trade, I sought to secure for myself a raft. I asked my ex-principal if I might be one of his accredited brokers with a drawing account. But although he permitted me to to so attach myself, there was no drawing account, and various incidents thereafter forced me to conclude that he had no intention of forgetting the inkstand episode. I cast myself off into complete independence and have remained in that state ever since.
Life as a freelance broker taught me much and I do not regret the bitter lessons of those days. There is no better schooling for one who intends to blossom into a trader on his own account than a long apprenticeship as a broker to the trade. It is always the buyer who is the professor, for he is ever alert to point out what is undesirable in the merchandise you submit for his considerations and to compare your prices with those of your competitors. It is the buyer who puts you on your mettle; it is the buyer you must study if you want to be a success. Please him and you have pleased yourself. From my buyers I have learned to discriminate between the bad, the middling, the good and the exquisite, and from the seller—how to make the most of the least.
I Pass From Paris To London: ‘Malacoot’ (continued)
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Travel-inspiring Movies 2007
(via Budget Travel): Travel-inspiring Movies 2007
1. The Bourne Ultimatum
2. Elizabeth: The Golden Age
3. Ratatouille
4. The Assasination of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford
5. Into The Wild
6. The Darjeeling Limited
7. Atonement
8. Enchanted
9. Lust, Caution
10. Once
Useful link:
www.budgettravel.com
1. The Bourne Ultimatum
2. Elizabeth: The Golden Age
3. Ratatouille
4. The Assasination of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford
5. Into The Wild
6. The Darjeeling Limited
7. Atonement
8. Enchanted
9. Lust, Caution
10. Once
Useful link:
www.budgettravel.com
Fabergé
It has been reported that Fabergé, owned by Pallinghurst Resources will be venturing into top-quality colored stones + it is perceived that the famous Fabergé name will add value to the gemstones, with each stone laser-engraved to ensure authenticity + the company is in a situation to emulate De Beers' mine-to-market model + they also plan to extend the Fabergé name into the luxury goods sector.
Useful links:
www.faberge.de
www.faberge.com
www.pallinghurst.com
Useful links:
www.faberge.de
www.faberge.com
www.pallinghurst.com
Exotic Procedures in Far Places: Aged, Monsooned And Luwaked Coffees
Kenneth Davids writes about the world's more exotic coffee types + differences between better and poorer samples of monsooned and aged coffees + authenticity issues + other viewpoints @
http://www.coffeereview.com/article.cfm?ID=139
I see intriguing parallels between coffee classification + authenticity issues with colored stone, diamond, wine, chocolate, and tea grading + it's technically complex/subjective.
http://www.coffeereview.com/article.cfm?ID=139
I see intriguing parallels between coffee classification + authenticity issues with colored stone, diamond, wine, chocolate, and tea grading + it's technically complex/subjective.
U2
Paul David Hewson known as Bono, is the lead singer and principal lyricist of the Irish rock band U2 + U2 has collaborated and recorded with numerous artists + almost all U2 lyrics were written by Bono with political, social and religious themes + Bono is also widely known for his activism concerning Africa, including the AIDS pandemic + he co-founded DATA (Debt, AIDS, Trade, Africa) + he is perceived as someone who has been making a difference in the world + I love his music.
Useful links:
www.u2.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bono
Useful links:
www.u2.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bono
His Girl Friday
His Girl Friday (1940)
Directed by: Howard Hawks
Screenplay: Ben Hecht, Charles MacArthur (play The Front Page); Charles Lederer (screenplay)
Cast: Cary Grant, Rosalind Russell, Ralph Bellamy
(via YouTube): His Girl Friday Trailer
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-Rx6FrjX5k
His Girl Friday 1/11 (1940)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ApDSNJ-yZQY
His Girl Friday
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgfhbHw6gXY
His Girl Friday 3/11 (1940)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZxsn_U6ymw
A romantic comedy. I enjoyed it.
Directed by: Howard Hawks
Screenplay: Ben Hecht, Charles MacArthur (play The Front Page); Charles Lederer (screenplay)
Cast: Cary Grant, Rosalind Russell, Ralph Bellamy
(via YouTube): His Girl Friday Trailer
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-Rx6FrjX5k
His Girl Friday 1/11 (1940)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ApDSNJ-yZQY
His Girl Friday
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IgfhbHw6gXY
His Girl Friday 3/11 (1940)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rZxsn_U6ymw
A romantic comedy. I enjoyed it.
Chronicler Of A Floating World
(via The Guardian) Adrian Searle writes about Hiroshige's masterful prints of 19th-century Japan + other viewpoints @ http://arts.guardian.co.uk/art/visualart/story/0,,2229609,00.html
Joy In Mudville
Ira Berkow writes about LeRoy Neiman's colorful paintings and screen prints + other viewpoints @ http://www.artnewsonline.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=726
The Pride Of Flanders
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
The Art Of Rubens, Van Dyck, And The Flemish Portrait-Painters
Painter, courtier, scholar, and diplomatist, Peter Paul Rubens is one of the most picturesque figures in European history. In origin he belonged to the upper middle class, for though his grandfather had been a tanner of Antwerp, his father John Rubens (1530-87) had taken his degree at an Italian university and subsequently attained considerable civic importance in Antwerp. At that time Flanders was under Spanish rule, and trouble with the authorities over political and religious matters drove the Protestant John Rubens and his family into exile at Cologne. There he became the intimate counselor of William the Silent, and unfortunately, too intimate with his patron’s wife, the Princess of Orange. Their love affair was discovered and Dr John Rubens was thrown into prison, from which he was only released after the Prince had divorced his wife. He did not long survive his imprisonment, and died at Cologne in 1587.
All this had its influence on young Peter Paul, who was born at Siegen, Westphalia, in 1577, one year after the death of Titian. Political complications had already driven his father from Antwerp, and so the boy spent his early childhood in exile. He was only ten years old when his father died, and then his mother returned to Antwerp, taking her three children with her, Blandina the eldest, a young woman of twenty-three, Philippe a boy of thirteen, and Peter Paul the youngest. By a curious coincidence, just as only one year separated the birth of Peter Paul Rubens from the death of Titian, so again one year divided the death of John Rubens from that of Paul Veronese (1588), whose art his son was destined to develop and glorify.
After her daughter’s marriage in 1590, the widow Rubens was able to say in a letter that both her sons were earning their living—so we know that their schooldays in Antwerp were short: Philippe obtained a place in the office of a town councillor of Brussels, while Peter Paul was Page of Honor to the Princess Margaret de Ligne-Aremberg. This gave the future diplomatist his first experience of court life; but it was short one, for already he felt art to be his true vocation, and in 1591 the lad of fourteen was allowed to begin his training as a painter in the studio of his cousin Tobias Verhaeght.
Here it may be well to recall that since the death of Mabuse in 1533 there had been no painter of the first rank in Flanders. Lucas da Heere (1534-84), a capable portrait-painter, though born at Ghent, worked chiefly in France and England. Returning to Flanders he could get little employment, and he died in poverty at Paris. A more successful portrait-painter, Antonio Moro (1519-78), better known as Sir Anthony More, also began his career in Ghent, but found more appreciation of his art in England and Spain. The most important of the immediate predecessors of Rubens were two families of artists, the Pourbus and the Breughels. Peter Pourbus (1510-84), a Bruges painter of portraits and religious subjects, had a son Frans Pourbus (1545-81), who settled in Antwerp. He in turn had a still more famous son, Frans Pourbus the Younger (1570-1622) who painted portraits not only in Antwerp but also at the Court of Henri IV in Paris. Young Pourbus, seven years older than Rubens, was one of the few of his contemporaries in Antwerp who not only never worked for Rubens but may have had some influence on his early style.
The founder of the Breughel family was Peter Breughel (c. 1525-69), whose dramatic ‘Adoration of the Magi’ was secured for the National Gallery in 1921. Another interesting example of his forcible but primitive style, ‘Sacking a Village’ is at Hampton Court. This painter had two sons, Peter, known as ‘Hell’ Breughel (1564-1638), because of his choice of subjects, and a younger, Jan, nicknamed ‘Velvet’ Breughel (1568-1625), on account of the softness of his painting. The father made Brussels his headquarters, but the sons settled in Antwerp, where, notwithstanding his seniority, Jan Breughel eventually became an assistant to Rubens.
The Pride Of Flanders (continued)
The Art Of Rubens, Van Dyck, And The Flemish Portrait-Painters
Painter, courtier, scholar, and diplomatist, Peter Paul Rubens is one of the most picturesque figures in European history. In origin he belonged to the upper middle class, for though his grandfather had been a tanner of Antwerp, his father John Rubens (1530-87) had taken his degree at an Italian university and subsequently attained considerable civic importance in Antwerp. At that time Flanders was under Spanish rule, and trouble with the authorities over political and religious matters drove the Protestant John Rubens and his family into exile at Cologne. There he became the intimate counselor of William the Silent, and unfortunately, too intimate with his patron’s wife, the Princess of Orange. Their love affair was discovered and Dr John Rubens was thrown into prison, from which he was only released after the Prince had divorced his wife. He did not long survive his imprisonment, and died at Cologne in 1587.
All this had its influence on young Peter Paul, who was born at Siegen, Westphalia, in 1577, one year after the death of Titian. Political complications had already driven his father from Antwerp, and so the boy spent his early childhood in exile. He was only ten years old when his father died, and then his mother returned to Antwerp, taking her three children with her, Blandina the eldest, a young woman of twenty-three, Philippe a boy of thirteen, and Peter Paul the youngest. By a curious coincidence, just as only one year separated the birth of Peter Paul Rubens from the death of Titian, so again one year divided the death of John Rubens from that of Paul Veronese (1588), whose art his son was destined to develop and glorify.
After her daughter’s marriage in 1590, the widow Rubens was able to say in a letter that both her sons were earning their living—so we know that their schooldays in Antwerp were short: Philippe obtained a place in the office of a town councillor of Brussels, while Peter Paul was Page of Honor to the Princess Margaret de Ligne-Aremberg. This gave the future diplomatist his first experience of court life; but it was short one, for already he felt art to be his true vocation, and in 1591 the lad of fourteen was allowed to begin his training as a painter in the studio of his cousin Tobias Verhaeght.
Here it may be well to recall that since the death of Mabuse in 1533 there had been no painter of the first rank in Flanders. Lucas da Heere (1534-84), a capable portrait-painter, though born at Ghent, worked chiefly in France and England. Returning to Flanders he could get little employment, and he died in poverty at Paris. A more successful portrait-painter, Antonio Moro (1519-78), better known as Sir Anthony More, also began his career in Ghent, but found more appreciation of his art in England and Spain. The most important of the immediate predecessors of Rubens were two families of artists, the Pourbus and the Breughels. Peter Pourbus (1510-84), a Bruges painter of portraits and religious subjects, had a son Frans Pourbus (1545-81), who settled in Antwerp. He in turn had a still more famous son, Frans Pourbus the Younger (1570-1622) who painted portraits not only in Antwerp but also at the Court of Henri IV in Paris. Young Pourbus, seven years older than Rubens, was one of the few of his contemporaries in Antwerp who not only never worked for Rubens but may have had some influence on his early style.
The founder of the Breughel family was Peter Breughel (c. 1525-69), whose dramatic ‘Adoration of the Magi’ was secured for the National Gallery in 1921. Another interesting example of his forcible but primitive style, ‘Sacking a Village’ is at Hampton Court. This painter had two sons, Peter, known as ‘Hell’ Breughel (1564-1638), because of his choice of subjects, and a younger, Jan, nicknamed ‘Velvet’ Breughel (1568-1625), on account of the softness of his painting. The father made Brussels his headquarters, but the sons settled in Antwerp, where, notwithstanding his seniority, Jan Breughel eventually became an assistant to Rubens.
The Pride Of Flanders (continued)
From Gothic To Baroque Rose Cuts
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
The early Gothic types of flat-bottomed diamonds gradually gave way to a new design inspired by the Baroque style in art and architecture. The early type was simply called ‘faceted’. The new style was described as Rose Cut, a term which was then applied to both the Gothic and the Baroque flat-bottomed diamond. The name “Rose’ was used, confusingly, both for these flat-bottomed single gems and for the combinations of pave-set small diamonds. My suggestions for updating the terminology of the sequence from basic forms to full-cut designs are as follows:
1. Chips or Splinters: These were used only for the most primitive, poor quality, flat-bottomed gems. Because of their flatness and the small number of irregular, randomly distributed facets, they lacked the fascination demanded of a diamond and consequently seldom found a market. During the Gothic period they were usually rejected altogether and often simply ground into powder.
2. Chiffres: These are still used for inexpensive jewelry, but only in small sizes. Slight polishing gives them the form of a flattish triangular pyramid with rounded edges. If thick enough, they can be rounded by bruting into three-facet Roses. This form is also still in use.
3. Six-facet Roses: If these had hexagonal outlines they kept the same form as they had in earlier days. If they were very flat they were often called mode-roses (vlakke or vlake Moderoozen in Dutch). Like the Chiffres, they were occasionally rounded. More often they were crowned, becoming, in fact, kruinige Moderoozen, an intermediate step on the way to full cut Crowned Rose Cuts.
4. Crowned or Twelve-facet Roses: The twelve-facet Rose represents the initial stage of the Baroque Rose, an innovation which radically changed the design of flat-bottomed diamonds. This basic shape was found to produce some brilliance but, like the modern single-cut diamond, there are only sufficient facets if the stone is very small. The facets are stepped to produce a Crowned Rose with a brilliance superior to that of trihedral Roses, but with no fire.
The great center for the manufacture of this type of diamond was Antwerp, but it was also produced in Brabant, where cutters who had left Antwerp to escape taxation had established themselves. Another center was Charleroi, to the south of Antwerp. Twelve-facet Roses were often named after Antwerp or Brabant, and occasionally after Charleroi.
Twelve-facet Roses were usually further fashioned into:
5. Eighteen-facet Roses: These were originally produced in Amsterdam and were fairly popular during the nineteenth century but are now considered to be incomplete Rose Cuts, comparable to the old ‘double-cut’ diamonds defined under Complementary Cuts.
6. Twenty-four facet Angular and Regular Full Rose Cuts: The former are called ‘angular’ because no rounding has been done, so that they retain a twelve-sided outline with a knife-sharp girdle. In other words, they are completely fashioned apart from rounding. Since Roses are hardly ever absolutely circular and their outline is, in any case, hidden by the setting, the angular type is included only to indicate that Full Rose Cuts are not always properly finished.
The earliest documented piece of jewelry which contains Full Rose Cuts is the ‘Fellowship Pendant’ in the Grϋnes Gewölbe, Dresden. Originally there were three pendants belonging to the ‘Fellowship of Fraternal Love and Friendship’. Established in 1594 by Frederick William, Duke of Saxe-Altenburg, Administrator of the Electoral House of Saxony for the three youngest sons of Christian I. The only surviving pendant (the other two were probably handed over to the Wettinian family in 1924) is in such perfect condition that it looks as if it has never been worn. The Full Rose Cut diamonds are certainly not later replacements and therefore probably date from as early as the end of the sixteenth century. There are three Roses, one at the top and one on each side of the frame. The square-cut diamond below the pendant is a Mirror Cut. The diamond close to the eyelet is simply a fragment of what might have been a basically faceted Gothic Rose. Thomas Cletscher (c. 1625) reproduced an enormous number of illustrations of these ‘modern’ Full Rose Cuts, undoubtedly achieved by cleaving. The earliest reference to cleaving, however, as Eric Bruton says, appears to have been made by Tavernier in the original French edition of his book published in 1676.
At first, full Rose Cuts tended to be rather flat, because thicker rough was fashioned into the contemporary Taille en Seize. Only when the latter went out of fashion did Rose Cuts become higher, often very high. Examples can be seen on the crown of Queen Louisa Ulrica of Sweden, dating from 1751 and all set with Regular Full Rose Cuts; on the epaulette of the French King Louis XV, and on the shoulder knot of Augustus the Strong.
In the nineteenth century most of these high Roses were refashioned into Brilliants. Rose Cuts as principal gems lost their great popularity, but the demand for small, flat and therefore inexpensive Roses increased enormously. These were mainly designed to embellish informal jewels.
The early Gothic types of flat-bottomed diamonds gradually gave way to a new design inspired by the Baroque style in art and architecture. The early type was simply called ‘faceted’. The new style was described as Rose Cut, a term which was then applied to both the Gothic and the Baroque flat-bottomed diamond. The name “Rose’ was used, confusingly, both for these flat-bottomed single gems and for the combinations of pave-set small diamonds. My suggestions for updating the terminology of the sequence from basic forms to full-cut designs are as follows:
1. Chips or Splinters: These were used only for the most primitive, poor quality, flat-bottomed gems. Because of their flatness and the small number of irregular, randomly distributed facets, they lacked the fascination demanded of a diamond and consequently seldom found a market. During the Gothic period they were usually rejected altogether and often simply ground into powder.
2. Chiffres: These are still used for inexpensive jewelry, but only in small sizes. Slight polishing gives them the form of a flattish triangular pyramid with rounded edges. If thick enough, they can be rounded by bruting into three-facet Roses. This form is also still in use.
3. Six-facet Roses: If these had hexagonal outlines they kept the same form as they had in earlier days. If they were very flat they were often called mode-roses (vlakke or vlake Moderoozen in Dutch). Like the Chiffres, they were occasionally rounded. More often they were crowned, becoming, in fact, kruinige Moderoozen, an intermediate step on the way to full cut Crowned Rose Cuts.
4. Crowned or Twelve-facet Roses: The twelve-facet Rose represents the initial stage of the Baroque Rose, an innovation which radically changed the design of flat-bottomed diamonds. This basic shape was found to produce some brilliance but, like the modern single-cut diamond, there are only sufficient facets if the stone is very small. The facets are stepped to produce a Crowned Rose with a brilliance superior to that of trihedral Roses, but with no fire.
The great center for the manufacture of this type of diamond was Antwerp, but it was also produced in Brabant, where cutters who had left Antwerp to escape taxation had established themselves. Another center was Charleroi, to the south of Antwerp. Twelve-facet Roses were often named after Antwerp or Brabant, and occasionally after Charleroi.
Twelve-facet Roses were usually further fashioned into:
5. Eighteen-facet Roses: These were originally produced in Amsterdam and were fairly popular during the nineteenth century but are now considered to be incomplete Rose Cuts, comparable to the old ‘double-cut’ diamonds defined under Complementary Cuts.
6. Twenty-four facet Angular and Regular Full Rose Cuts: The former are called ‘angular’ because no rounding has been done, so that they retain a twelve-sided outline with a knife-sharp girdle. In other words, they are completely fashioned apart from rounding. Since Roses are hardly ever absolutely circular and their outline is, in any case, hidden by the setting, the angular type is included only to indicate that Full Rose Cuts are not always properly finished.
The earliest documented piece of jewelry which contains Full Rose Cuts is the ‘Fellowship Pendant’ in the Grϋnes Gewölbe, Dresden. Originally there were three pendants belonging to the ‘Fellowship of Fraternal Love and Friendship’. Established in 1594 by Frederick William, Duke of Saxe-Altenburg, Administrator of the Electoral House of Saxony for the three youngest sons of Christian I. The only surviving pendant (the other two were probably handed over to the Wettinian family in 1924) is in such perfect condition that it looks as if it has never been worn. The Full Rose Cut diamonds are certainly not later replacements and therefore probably date from as early as the end of the sixteenth century. There are three Roses, one at the top and one on each side of the frame. The square-cut diamond below the pendant is a Mirror Cut. The diamond close to the eyelet is simply a fragment of what might have been a basically faceted Gothic Rose. Thomas Cletscher (c. 1625) reproduced an enormous number of illustrations of these ‘modern’ Full Rose Cuts, undoubtedly achieved by cleaving. The earliest reference to cleaving, however, as Eric Bruton says, appears to have been made by Tavernier in the original French edition of his book published in 1676.
At first, full Rose Cuts tended to be rather flat, because thicker rough was fashioned into the contemporary Taille en Seize. Only when the latter went out of fashion did Rose Cuts become higher, often very high. Examples can be seen on the crown of Queen Louisa Ulrica of Sweden, dating from 1751 and all set with Regular Full Rose Cuts; on the epaulette of the French King Louis XV, and on the shoulder knot of Augustus the Strong.
In the nineteenth century most of these high Roses were refashioned into Brilliants. Rose Cuts as principal gems lost their great popularity, but the demand for small, flat and therefore inexpensive Roses increased enormously. These were mainly designed to embellish informal jewels.
The Beautiful Blonde Liked Emeralds
Louis Kornitzer's book, Gem Trader, is partly autobiographical and partly woven round the lore of pearls. It's educational + explains the distribution chain of gems, as they pass from hand to hand, from miner to cutter, from merchant to millionaire, from courtesan to receiver of stolen goods, shaping human lives as they go + the unique characters in the industry.
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
But modern prospectors have failed to rediscover the emerald mines of the Incas. It is known that before the conquest of Peru by the Incas the people of that country obtained huge quantities of emeralds; and even long after they had lost their independence they were still able to obtain the precious gems by some means. In Prescott’s Conquest of Peru there is an account of how the Spaniards under Pizarro came to the province of Quito and found ‘the fair River of Emeralds, so called from the quarries of the beautiful gem on its borders, from which the Indian monarchs enriched their treasury.’ But modern adventurers have not found those quarries, though the emerald deposits from which in our own day the best stones come are also in South America, near Bogota, capital of the Republic of Colombia.
Siberia also produces emeralds. Comparatively recently they were discovered—in company with aquamarines and alexandrites—in the Ural mountains, on the River Takovaya, some sixty miles N.E from Ekaterinburg. Other localities in which the gem has been found—not always of anything like first-rate quality, however—are the Salzburg Alps (Habachthal), and in Norway and New South Wales. In the U.S.A they are found in the hiddenite workings at Stonypoint, Alexander County, N.C.
Hernando Cortes, conqueror of Mexico, was given, or otherwise obtained from Montezuma, large quantities of emeralds which he dispatched to the Spanish Court. But there were certain gems which he reserved as a gift for his bride, notably several emeralds carved in the shape of a fish, a hunting horn, a bell and a small cup.
These gems excited the admiration of the Court ladies, says Prescott again (this time in his Conquest of Mexico), and, perhaps unfortunately for Cortes, the desire of his queen, Isabella. ‘The queen of Charles the Fifth, it is said—it may be the idle gossip of a Court—had intimated a willingness to become proprietor of some of these magnificent baubles; and the preference which Cortes gave to his fair bride caused some feelings of estrangement in the royal bosom, which had an unfavorable influence on the future fortunes of the marquess.’
Feelings of estrangement are easily produced in royal bosoms, and it is therefore not impossible that emeralds brought about the downfall of the conqueror of Mexico, just as in his time they lured on the conqueror of Peru.
There is a footnote to this mention of Pizarro in Peru. The morning after I had written the foregoing passage I opened my morning paper and read this letter from a correspondent:
‘Sir,
Your correspondent is wrong in believing that the Inca treasure designated ‘Big Fish’ is buried beneath Cuzco. In 1575 a direct descendant, or cacique, of the Chimu dynasty, which was destroyed by the Inca conquerors 200 years before, still lived in the ancient Chimu capital near to what is now known as Trujillo on the coast. A young Spaniard, trading as a pedlar between Lima and Trujillo, became so attached to the cacique that he became godfather to two of the cacique’s children.
‘The cacique took him one day to a cave among the ruins of the ancient city and showed him an immense wealth of idols and other articles of gold. In the center of the room was a table of silver, upon which was a model of a fish, the body of gold and the eyes formed by two splendid emeralds.
‘The Spaniard was stupefied at the sight and the cacique said; ‘This is all yours. Today I give you the Peche Chico or Little Fish. If you fulfil the vows you have made to me to devote one-fourth to the Church and look after the poor, I will one day take you the Peche Grande, or Big Fish.’
‘The amount realized on the Peche Chico must have been enormous, because the fifth which went to the Royal Treasury of Spain, according to the old records, was 85000 castellanos of gold. The young Spaniard went to Lima and in a few years dissipated his wealth in luxurious living. He returned to the old cacique for the Peche Grande, but met with stern refusal for not having kept his vow. Many efforts have been made, and seven syndicates have been formed, to explore the ruins, but with no result.’
Daily Telegraph, April 22nd, 1938.
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
But modern prospectors have failed to rediscover the emerald mines of the Incas. It is known that before the conquest of Peru by the Incas the people of that country obtained huge quantities of emeralds; and even long after they had lost their independence they were still able to obtain the precious gems by some means. In Prescott’s Conquest of Peru there is an account of how the Spaniards under Pizarro came to the province of Quito and found ‘the fair River of Emeralds, so called from the quarries of the beautiful gem on its borders, from which the Indian monarchs enriched their treasury.’ But modern adventurers have not found those quarries, though the emerald deposits from which in our own day the best stones come are also in South America, near Bogota, capital of the Republic of Colombia.
Siberia also produces emeralds. Comparatively recently they were discovered—in company with aquamarines and alexandrites—in the Ural mountains, on the River Takovaya, some sixty miles N.E from Ekaterinburg. Other localities in which the gem has been found—not always of anything like first-rate quality, however—are the Salzburg Alps (Habachthal), and in Norway and New South Wales. In the U.S.A they are found in the hiddenite workings at Stonypoint, Alexander County, N.C.
Hernando Cortes, conqueror of Mexico, was given, or otherwise obtained from Montezuma, large quantities of emeralds which he dispatched to the Spanish Court. But there were certain gems which he reserved as a gift for his bride, notably several emeralds carved in the shape of a fish, a hunting horn, a bell and a small cup.
These gems excited the admiration of the Court ladies, says Prescott again (this time in his Conquest of Mexico), and, perhaps unfortunately for Cortes, the desire of his queen, Isabella. ‘The queen of Charles the Fifth, it is said—it may be the idle gossip of a Court—had intimated a willingness to become proprietor of some of these magnificent baubles; and the preference which Cortes gave to his fair bride caused some feelings of estrangement in the royal bosom, which had an unfavorable influence on the future fortunes of the marquess.’
Feelings of estrangement are easily produced in royal bosoms, and it is therefore not impossible that emeralds brought about the downfall of the conqueror of Mexico, just as in his time they lured on the conqueror of Peru.
There is a footnote to this mention of Pizarro in Peru. The morning after I had written the foregoing passage I opened my morning paper and read this letter from a correspondent:
‘Sir,
Your correspondent is wrong in believing that the Inca treasure designated ‘Big Fish’ is buried beneath Cuzco. In 1575 a direct descendant, or cacique, of the Chimu dynasty, which was destroyed by the Inca conquerors 200 years before, still lived in the ancient Chimu capital near to what is now known as Trujillo on the coast. A young Spaniard, trading as a pedlar between Lima and Trujillo, became so attached to the cacique that he became godfather to two of the cacique’s children.
‘The cacique took him one day to a cave among the ruins of the ancient city and showed him an immense wealth of idols and other articles of gold. In the center of the room was a table of silver, upon which was a model of a fish, the body of gold and the eyes formed by two splendid emeralds.
‘The Spaniard was stupefied at the sight and the cacique said; ‘This is all yours. Today I give you the Peche Chico or Little Fish. If you fulfil the vows you have made to me to devote one-fourth to the Church and look after the poor, I will one day take you the Peche Grande, or Big Fish.’
‘The amount realized on the Peche Chico must have been enormous, because the fifth which went to the Royal Treasury of Spain, according to the old records, was 85000 castellanos of gold. The young Spaniard went to Lima and in a few years dissipated his wealth in luxurious living. He returned to the old cacique for the Peche Grande, but met with stern refusal for not having kept his vow. Many efforts have been made, and seven syndicates have been formed, to explore the ruins, but with no result.’
Daily Telegraph, April 22nd, 1938.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Burmese Ruby Vs Consumers
This is the real story. Many consumers don't see the link between Burmese rubies and human rights abuses in Burma. Those who are aware of the problems in Burma can't make up their mind, especially the gem trade, because rubies are special and more than 90% come from Burma, with treatments done in Thailand, at an affordable cost. Consumers love cheap but beautiful rubies.
Many consumers are even confused with gem lab reports on origin and treatments. What's surprising to me is that there are many gem schools + labs at all major cities in the world + the internet provides free info on gemstones, treatments, synthetics, human rights issues, mining, child labor and so on, and yet when you talk to consumers on important issues related to high value gems such as rubies, especially Burmese, you see 'momentary autism'. They just go blank--inert. Sometimes it's yes yes, no no situation. It looks like no one knows how to connect the dots.
What do you think?
Many consumers are even confused with gem lab reports on origin and treatments. What's surprising to me is that there are many gem schools + labs at all major cities in the world + the internet provides free info on gemstones, treatments, synthetics, human rights issues, mining, child labor and so on, and yet when you talk to consumers on important issues related to high value gems such as rubies, especially Burmese, you see 'momentary autism'. They just go blank--inert. Sometimes it's yes yes, no no situation. It looks like no one knows how to connect the dots.
What do you think?
King Christian’s Crown
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
A masterpiece in gold and colored enamel, the crown was made for the coronation in 1596 of Christian IV of Denmark by Dirk Fyring and Corvinianus Sauer. It was set with pearls and with 294 diamonds—large Table Cuts, numerous Gothic Roses with both basic and trihedral faceting, and two diamond Rosettes.
Sauer, a well-known creative goldsmith, was born in Augsburg but learned his trade in France and Venice. He was employed by Fyring, a master goldsmith from north Germany, and came to Odense some time before 1581 to work for the Danish royal family. A number of his drawings are incorporated in a book of designs by Jacob Moore, now in the Hamburg City Library. Moore redesigned Sauer’s creations and therefore the diamonds may not all be correctly reproduced in his book.
A masterpiece in gold and colored enamel, the crown was made for the coronation in 1596 of Christian IV of Denmark by Dirk Fyring and Corvinianus Sauer. It was set with pearls and with 294 diamonds—large Table Cuts, numerous Gothic Roses with both basic and trihedral faceting, and two diamond Rosettes.
Sauer, a well-known creative goldsmith, was born in Augsburg but learned his trade in France and Venice. He was employed by Fyring, a master goldsmith from north Germany, and came to Odense some time before 1581 to work for the Danish royal family. A number of his drawings are incorporated in a book of designs by Jacob Moore, now in the Hamburg City Library. Moore redesigned Sauer’s creations and therefore the diamonds may not all be correctly reproduced in his book.
Venom
(via New Yorker): In my view, the New Yorker magazine article titled 'Spider Woman' (March 5, 2007 issue, "A Reporter at Large" segment) provides a interesting 'blink' when you analyze the concept in the gem/art market perspective. I have heard gem/art dealers describing 'Venom Syndrome' with various interpretations. Then I came across the article + it makes sense. 'A single spider can inject its victims with as many as two hundred compounds: proteases that dissolve flesh, gelatinases that dissolve connective tissues, neurotoxins that short-circuit nerves, slow the heart, and freeze the limbs. A spider's venom offers a window onto its evolution, Bindford says — a chemical record of its most successful experiments at killing prey.'
The World's 10 Most Polluted Places 2007
(via Forbes): The World's 10 Most Polluted Places 2007
1. Summit, Azerbaijan
2. Lin-fen, China
3. Tianjin, China
4. Sukinda, India
5. Vapi, India
6. La Oroya, Peru
7. Dzerzinsk, Russia
8. Norilsk, Russia
9. Chernobyl, Ukraine
10. Kabwe, Zambia
1. Summit, Azerbaijan
2. Lin-fen, China
3. Tianjin, China
4. Sukinda, India
5. Vapi, India
6. La Oroya, Peru
7. Dzerzinsk, Russia
8. Norilsk, Russia
9. Chernobyl, Ukraine
10. Kabwe, Zambia
A Hard Day's Night
A Hard Day's Night (1964)
Directed by: Richard Lester
Screenplay: Alun Owen
Cast: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Ringo Starr
(via YouTube): The Beatles - A Hard Days Night Trailer Film
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XVCCiix7So
A Hard Day's Night Part One
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XkKra3_pfBY
A Hard Day's Night Part 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42toNH3W_hA
A unique pop musical + funny + joyous + good songs. I enjoyed it.
Directed by: Richard Lester
Screenplay: Alun Owen
Cast: John Lennon, Paul McCartney, George Harrison, Ringo Starr
(via YouTube): The Beatles - A Hard Days Night Trailer Film
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4XVCCiix7So
A Hard Day's Night Part One
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XkKra3_pfBY
A Hard Day's Night Part 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=42toNH3W_hA
A unique pop musical + funny + joyous + good songs. I enjoyed it.
Great Paper
Economist writes about a Magna Carta, the most famous document in history, which was originally issued by Britain’s King John in 1215 + this comment (David Redden, a resident scholar at Sotheby's): 'This is a very deep market with very deep pockets. I'd say that the estimate of $20m-30m for Magna Carta is, if anything, conservative' + other viewpoints @ http://www.economist.com/daily/columns/artview/displaystory.cfm?story_id=10312722
(via BBC) Charting Out The Magna Carta
The latest chapter in the history of the Magna Carta is the sale of one example of it, sealed by King Edward I and dating from 1297, which has been sold at Sotheby's in New York for £10.6m ($21.3m).
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/7150403.stm
(via BBC) Charting Out The Magna Carta
The latest chapter in the history of the Magna Carta is the sale of one example of it, sealed by King Edward I and dating from 1297, which has been sold at Sotheby's in New York for £10.6m ($21.3m).
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/7150403.stm
Art 2.0: A Mashup Of Techniques
Art 2.0: A Mashup Of Techniques
http://fastcompany.com/multimedia/slideshows/content/alex-ostroy.html
Brilliant!
http://fastcompany.com/multimedia/slideshows/content/alex-ostroy.html
Brilliant!
Making Waves
Rosa Lowinger writes about Kcho, the quintessential Cuban artist of the 'special period' + the concept of travel and migration in the context of his country's recent history in his work + other viewpoints @ http://www.artnewsonline.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=725
The Dawn Of The Reformation
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
Never did that sovereign do a wiser or a better thing for himself than when he made Holbein his painter. Not only did the artist present that king to posterity in a manner that mitigates our judgement of his cruelties, but he has made the whole history of that period live for us, as no previous period in English history lives, by his series of portraits and portrait drawings of the English Court. Mr Ford Madox Hueffer has pointedly observed:
How comparatively cold we are left by the name, say of Edward III, a great king surrounded by great men in a stirring period. No visual image comes to the mind’s eye: at most we see, imaginatively, coins and the seals that depend from charters.
Mr Hueffer truly argues that Henry VIII and his men would be just as lifeless without Holbein, and the way he has made them live in our imagination is a tribute not only to Holbein but also to the preserving power of art.
While preparing the way for his advancement in England, Holbein did not neglect the connection he already had on the Continent, and three years before his appointment as Court Painter he sought to widen and enhance his foreign custom by painting another show piece: ‘The Ambassadors’ was painted deliberately to force an entry into diplomatic circles as the ‘George Gisze’ had been to secure him the custom of the men of commerce. This remarkable group of Jean de Dinteville, Lord of Polisy, on the left, wearing the French Order of S. Michel, and of Georges de Selve, Bishop of Lavaur, in doctor’s cap and gown, on the right, fascinates all beholders by the brilliance with which the accessories are painted, the globe, the turkey rug, the tiling, the mandoline, the astronomical instruments and in the foreground the anamorphosis (or distorted representation) of a human skull. Many keen imaginations have set their wits to work to find an inner meaning to this curiously elongated death’s-head, but the most plausible explanation is found in the fact that Holbein’s own name means ‘skull’ in his native language, and this devise may consequently be regarded as a fanciful way of putting his seal or cipher on his work. Another interpretation is that here, as in other portraits by Holbein, the skull is introduced to reinforce the lesson of the ‘Dance of Death’, that to this all must come. Whatever the painter’s original idea may have been, his work is a complete success; he painted it to create a sensation, and it has created a sensation for centuries. It may be added that this elongated skull completes the design, by paralleling the line from the one ambassador’s hand (holding the dagger) to the head of the other ambassador.
After the death of Jane Seymour, when Europe was searched for marriageable princesses to console the royal widower, Holbein in February 1538 was sent to Brussels to paint his matchless portrait of King Christian’s daughter ‘Christina of Denmark’, who, fortunately for herself, escaped Henry VIII and afterwards married the Duke of Lorraine as her second husband. One of Holbein’s last works, this is by many accounted his greatest. Here he has painted no show-piece, but set forth with divine simplicity the grace and dignity of meditative girlhood.
From Brussels Holbein went to Burgundy, where he painted other portraits, and in December of the same year he returned to London. Almost exactly five years later he caught the plague. In November 1543 Holbein died in London, a victim of the same disease that had already killed Giorgione in his youth and was destined, thirty-three years later, to carry off Titian in his old age.
Just as Durer and Holbein had no great forerunners, so they had no great successors, and Europe had to wait thirty-four years before another great master of art was born, outside Italy, in the person of Peter Paul Rubens.
Never did that sovereign do a wiser or a better thing for himself than when he made Holbein his painter. Not only did the artist present that king to posterity in a manner that mitigates our judgement of his cruelties, but he has made the whole history of that period live for us, as no previous period in English history lives, by his series of portraits and portrait drawings of the English Court. Mr Ford Madox Hueffer has pointedly observed:
How comparatively cold we are left by the name, say of Edward III, a great king surrounded by great men in a stirring period. No visual image comes to the mind’s eye: at most we see, imaginatively, coins and the seals that depend from charters.
Mr Hueffer truly argues that Henry VIII and his men would be just as lifeless without Holbein, and the way he has made them live in our imagination is a tribute not only to Holbein but also to the preserving power of art.
While preparing the way for his advancement in England, Holbein did not neglect the connection he already had on the Continent, and three years before his appointment as Court Painter he sought to widen and enhance his foreign custom by painting another show piece: ‘The Ambassadors’ was painted deliberately to force an entry into diplomatic circles as the ‘George Gisze’ had been to secure him the custom of the men of commerce. This remarkable group of Jean de Dinteville, Lord of Polisy, on the left, wearing the French Order of S. Michel, and of Georges de Selve, Bishop of Lavaur, in doctor’s cap and gown, on the right, fascinates all beholders by the brilliance with which the accessories are painted, the globe, the turkey rug, the tiling, the mandoline, the astronomical instruments and in the foreground the anamorphosis (or distorted representation) of a human skull. Many keen imaginations have set their wits to work to find an inner meaning to this curiously elongated death’s-head, but the most plausible explanation is found in the fact that Holbein’s own name means ‘skull’ in his native language, and this devise may consequently be regarded as a fanciful way of putting his seal or cipher on his work. Another interpretation is that here, as in other portraits by Holbein, the skull is introduced to reinforce the lesson of the ‘Dance of Death’, that to this all must come. Whatever the painter’s original idea may have been, his work is a complete success; he painted it to create a sensation, and it has created a sensation for centuries. It may be added that this elongated skull completes the design, by paralleling the line from the one ambassador’s hand (holding the dagger) to the head of the other ambassador.
After the death of Jane Seymour, when Europe was searched for marriageable princesses to console the royal widower, Holbein in February 1538 was sent to Brussels to paint his matchless portrait of King Christian’s daughter ‘Christina of Denmark’, who, fortunately for herself, escaped Henry VIII and afterwards married the Duke of Lorraine as her second husband. One of Holbein’s last works, this is by many accounted his greatest. Here he has painted no show-piece, but set forth with divine simplicity the grace and dignity of meditative girlhood.
From Brussels Holbein went to Burgundy, where he painted other portraits, and in December of the same year he returned to London. Almost exactly five years later he caught the plague. In November 1543 Holbein died in London, a victim of the same disease that had already killed Giorgione in his youth and was destined, thirty-three years later, to carry off Titian in his old age.
Just as Durer and Holbein had no great forerunners, so they had no great successors, and Europe had to wait thirty-four years before another great master of art was born, outside Italy, in the person of Peter Paul Rubens.
The Beautiful Blonde Liked Emeralds
Louis Kornitzer's book, Gem Trader, is partly autobiographical and partly woven round the lore of pearls. It's educational + explains the distribution chain of gems, as they pass from hand to hand, from miner to cutter, from merchant to millionaire, from courtesan to receiver of stolen goods, shaping human lives as they go + the unique characters in the industry.
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
I soon discovered that my employer had not been guided by altruism. For this office contained a safe, and the safe often contained gems worth many millions of francs. Such a fortune could not be left unattended for many hours at a time and so he had been constrained to stay at home in the evenings to look after it. This did not suit his natural habits. As my bed was placed flush with the thin partition separating me from the safe, once I was installed I became automatically the guardian of all his treasures, and my boss no doubt assumed that any attempt at tampering with the safe would awaken me and at once bring me rushing to its defence.
He was soon undeceived. One night he came home rather sick because of some exotic food he had eaten, and wanting either sympathy or help from me, he tried to wake me up. He found that short of breaking down my door he could not disturb my sweet slumbers. So another night he determined to give me a scare. He came home on tiptoe, went straight to the office and fumbled noisily with the combination of the safe. It woke me up and I called him by name. No answer. I called again. A raucous voice answered this time and told me to keep quiet if I valued my life. I did value my life.
Next morning my principal reproached me bitterly for not reacting to his trick. I retorted that his joke was in bad taste, and that if he wanted me to work by day and be on sentry go at night, he might at least provide me with an alarm bell and a pistol. He might even raise my salary, too. He merely sneered and invited me to feel his biceps.
A few weeks later he found fault with me again on another account. I woke up and heard him come in in the small of hours of the morning—with a lady. Instead of retiring quietly like respectable people, he and his companion carried on a lively conversation in the drawing room, and presently I heard the popping of champagne corks. Then I heard footsteps outside my door, followed by a loud insistent knock. I got out of bed and opened to him. There he stood, holding out a brimming glass of wine.
‘Drink that to my health,’ said he. ‘It’s my birthday. And get into your dressing gown and join us in the drawing room.’
Orders is orders. When I had splashed the sleep out of my eyes and put on a dressing gown, I went into the drawing room and found that my boss’s friend was Margot, of the Casino de Paris. She was a tactful girl in the ordinary way, and if she had not dined and wined a little too lavishly she would instinctively have sized up the situation and not let it be known that we had already met. Certainly she would not have followed her impulse. She would not have drawn me up tenderly to her and kissed me with a fervor which roused the anger of my boss.
But I will draw a veil over the scene that followed. There resulted one of those piquant little affairs, now that Margot knew where I lived, in which woman is all the huntress and man the hunted. She was not content to leave me alone. Somehow, because I was simply not interested in her, she became more and more determined. She wrote me little billets-doux and bribed the concierge to act as go-between. But it wasn’t any use, and to this day I marvel that such a charming creature should have bothered over a poor awkward cold youth like myself.
Yet, though I never became her customer, she was to be mine in the end. Some years after my Paris days, when all memory of her had faded from my mind, I met her again. No, not in rags in the gutter, but as radiantly beautiful as ever and ‘settle down’—that is, she was being kept by a wealthy and generous Argentinian and had quite make up her mind to be true to him, because she was tired of the gay life. She was after more emeralds and had heard that I had exceedingly fine Colombian emerald for sale. I sold it to her, and as we parted, I with a bow, she put on a hand and laid it on my arm. ‘You know, mon ami, that my grand passion was and is for one who scorned me. I should hate you for it. But no, I remain your friend. I will even pray for you when I come to my second childhood and take no religion.’
But if I had been Margot’s grand passion, I at least shared her heart with emeralds. When I think of that strange unruly woman I think of the green stones, and whether for this or another reason they are by far my favorites among gems. From the point of view of hardness it is inferior to the ruby (8.5) and the sapphire (9), being only 7.5. It is therefore much softer than either of the other two precious stones, but I do not consider that this in itself is sufficient to assign the emerald to third place. And if you consider beauty and rarity, it is second to none.
The emerald is a variety of beryl. All beryls have the approximate hardness of 8, but they vary somewhat, some being much softer than others. Both the aquamarine and the euclase belong to this family of stones. But whereas the aquamarine, as its name reveals, is sea-green and the euclase varies from yellow to something like sea-green, due to the presence of small quantities of oxide of iron, the color of the emerald is a bright lustrous green, derived from its chromium content.
Speaking historically, emeralds were already being mined in Upper Egypt in 1650 B.C and the Greeks, in the days of Alexander the Great, were still tapping the same source of supply. Cleopatra, extravagant queen and lover of the exquisite, reveled in the emeralds of Egypt, and some of her famous gems were dug from Egyptian soil.
The name for emerald in many languages is a mispronunciation of the Arab ‘Zummurud’. Spanish ‘Esmeralda,’ French ‘Emeraude’, German ‘Smargd’, English ‘Emerald,’ are all lovely variations on a name that is pure music. Emeralds have been loved and prized throughout medieval and modern times as much as in the ancient days, but it was only in 1817 that a Frenchman named Caillioud rediscovered the remains of the extensive emerald workings of Egypt in Northern Etbai. Cleopatra’s mines are located in Jebel Sikait and Jebel Zabra, near the Red Sea coast east of Aswan, and the emerald crystals found there were embedded in mica and talc schists. In nine cases out of ten all the beryls, emerald, aquamarine and euclase, are to be found in schists of this character.
The Beautiful Blonde Liked Emeralds (continued)
(via Gem Trader) Louis Kornitzer writes:
I soon discovered that my employer had not been guided by altruism. For this office contained a safe, and the safe often contained gems worth many millions of francs. Such a fortune could not be left unattended for many hours at a time and so he had been constrained to stay at home in the evenings to look after it. This did not suit his natural habits. As my bed was placed flush with the thin partition separating me from the safe, once I was installed I became automatically the guardian of all his treasures, and my boss no doubt assumed that any attempt at tampering with the safe would awaken me and at once bring me rushing to its defence.
He was soon undeceived. One night he came home rather sick because of some exotic food he had eaten, and wanting either sympathy or help from me, he tried to wake me up. He found that short of breaking down my door he could not disturb my sweet slumbers. So another night he determined to give me a scare. He came home on tiptoe, went straight to the office and fumbled noisily with the combination of the safe. It woke me up and I called him by name. No answer. I called again. A raucous voice answered this time and told me to keep quiet if I valued my life. I did value my life.
Next morning my principal reproached me bitterly for not reacting to his trick. I retorted that his joke was in bad taste, and that if he wanted me to work by day and be on sentry go at night, he might at least provide me with an alarm bell and a pistol. He might even raise my salary, too. He merely sneered and invited me to feel his biceps.
A few weeks later he found fault with me again on another account. I woke up and heard him come in in the small of hours of the morning—with a lady. Instead of retiring quietly like respectable people, he and his companion carried on a lively conversation in the drawing room, and presently I heard the popping of champagne corks. Then I heard footsteps outside my door, followed by a loud insistent knock. I got out of bed and opened to him. There he stood, holding out a brimming glass of wine.
‘Drink that to my health,’ said he. ‘It’s my birthday. And get into your dressing gown and join us in the drawing room.’
Orders is orders. When I had splashed the sleep out of my eyes and put on a dressing gown, I went into the drawing room and found that my boss’s friend was Margot, of the Casino de Paris. She was a tactful girl in the ordinary way, and if she had not dined and wined a little too lavishly she would instinctively have sized up the situation and not let it be known that we had already met. Certainly she would not have followed her impulse. She would not have drawn me up tenderly to her and kissed me with a fervor which roused the anger of my boss.
But I will draw a veil over the scene that followed. There resulted one of those piquant little affairs, now that Margot knew where I lived, in which woman is all the huntress and man the hunted. She was not content to leave me alone. Somehow, because I was simply not interested in her, she became more and more determined. She wrote me little billets-doux and bribed the concierge to act as go-between. But it wasn’t any use, and to this day I marvel that such a charming creature should have bothered over a poor awkward cold youth like myself.
Yet, though I never became her customer, she was to be mine in the end. Some years after my Paris days, when all memory of her had faded from my mind, I met her again. No, not in rags in the gutter, but as radiantly beautiful as ever and ‘settle down’—that is, she was being kept by a wealthy and generous Argentinian and had quite make up her mind to be true to him, because she was tired of the gay life. She was after more emeralds and had heard that I had exceedingly fine Colombian emerald for sale. I sold it to her, and as we parted, I with a bow, she put on a hand and laid it on my arm. ‘You know, mon ami, that my grand passion was and is for one who scorned me. I should hate you for it. But no, I remain your friend. I will even pray for you when I come to my second childhood and take no religion.’
But if I had been Margot’s grand passion, I at least shared her heart with emeralds. When I think of that strange unruly woman I think of the green stones, and whether for this or another reason they are by far my favorites among gems. From the point of view of hardness it is inferior to the ruby (8.5) and the sapphire (9), being only 7.5. It is therefore much softer than either of the other two precious stones, but I do not consider that this in itself is sufficient to assign the emerald to third place. And if you consider beauty and rarity, it is second to none.
The emerald is a variety of beryl. All beryls have the approximate hardness of 8, but they vary somewhat, some being much softer than others. Both the aquamarine and the euclase belong to this family of stones. But whereas the aquamarine, as its name reveals, is sea-green and the euclase varies from yellow to something like sea-green, due to the presence of small quantities of oxide of iron, the color of the emerald is a bright lustrous green, derived from its chromium content.
Speaking historically, emeralds were already being mined in Upper Egypt in 1650 B.C and the Greeks, in the days of Alexander the Great, were still tapping the same source of supply. Cleopatra, extravagant queen and lover of the exquisite, reveled in the emeralds of Egypt, and some of her famous gems were dug from Egyptian soil.
The name for emerald in many languages is a mispronunciation of the Arab ‘Zummurud’. Spanish ‘Esmeralda,’ French ‘Emeraude’, German ‘Smargd’, English ‘Emerald,’ are all lovely variations on a name that is pure music. Emeralds have been loved and prized throughout medieval and modern times as much as in the ancient days, but it was only in 1817 that a Frenchman named Caillioud rediscovered the remains of the extensive emerald workings of Egypt in Northern Etbai. Cleopatra’s mines are located in Jebel Sikait and Jebel Zabra, near the Red Sea coast east of Aswan, and the emerald crystals found there were embedded in mica and talc schists. In nine cases out of ten all the beryls, emerald, aquamarine and euclase, are to be found in schists of this character.
The Beautiful Blonde Liked Emeralds (continued)
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Heard On The Street
When it comes to buying gems/art, feeling counts every bit as much and often more than thought. Passions overwhelm reason time and again. Practice impulse control + persistence.
Italians Crack Open DNA Secrets Of Pinot Noir
Ben Hirschler writes about breakthrough in the genetic make-up of Pinot Noir by Italian scientists (hardier vines/cheaper fine wines) + other viewpoints @ http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20071219/sc_nm/genetics_wine_dc
Useful link:
http://www.plosone.org/doi/pone.0001326
Useful link:
http://www.plosone.org/doi/pone.0001326
It's A Gift
It's A Gift (1934)
Directed by: Norman Z. McLeod
Cast: W.C. Fields, Kathleen Howard
(via YouTube): It's A Gift--Carl LaFong Part 1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBFLn8zvsjY
It's A Gift--Carl LaFong Part 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCg9Lr6G8VE
It's A Gift Clip 3
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5C8XnZ8qwI
A W C Fields classic + comic. I enjoyed it.
Directed by: Norman Z. McLeod
Cast: W.C. Fields, Kathleen Howard
(via YouTube): It's A Gift--Carl LaFong Part 1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBFLn8zvsjY
It's A Gift--Carl LaFong Part 2
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCg9Lr6G8VE
It's A Gift Clip 3
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5C8XnZ8qwI
A W C Fields classic + comic. I enjoyed it.
The 20 Most Earthquake-Vulnerable Cities 2007
(via Forbes) The 20 Most Earthquake-Vulnerable Cities 2007
1. Kathmandu, Nepal
2. Istanbul, Turkey
3. Delhi, India
4. Quito, Ecuador
5. Manila, Philippines
6. Islambad/Rawalpindi, Pakistan
7. San Salvador, El Salvador
8. Mexico City, Mexico
9. Izmir, Turkey
10. Jakarta, Indonesia
11. Tokyo, Japan
12. Mumbai, India
13. Guayaquil, Ecuador
14. Bandung, Indonesia
15. Santiago, Chile
16. Tashkent, Uzbekistan
17. Tijuana, Mexico
18. Nagoya, Japan
19. Antofagasta, Chile
20. Kobe, Japan
1. Kathmandu, Nepal
2. Istanbul, Turkey
3. Delhi, India
4. Quito, Ecuador
5. Manila, Philippines
6. Islambad/Rawalpindi, Pakistan
7. San Salvador, El Salvador
8. Mexico City, Mexico
9. Izmir, Turkey
10. Jakarta, Indonesia
11. Tokyo, Japan
12. Mumbai, India
13. Guayaquil, Ecuador
14. Bandung, Indonesia
15. Santiago, Chile
16. Tashkent, Uzbekistan
17. Tijuana, Mexico
18. Nagoya, Japan
19. Antofagasta, Chile
20. Kobe, Japan
Catch Some Rays
(via The Guardian) Anthony McCall's 'solid light' projections @ http://arts.guardian.co.uk/art/visualart/story/0,,2226665,00.html
It's brilliant.
Useful link:
serpentinegallery.org
It's brilliant.
Useful link:
serpentinegallery.org
Beauty & The Bimbo
David Kirby writes about John Currin's style: a combination of Renaissance grace + kitsch quality + an emerging painter + other viewpoints @ http://www.artnewsonline.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=702
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