(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
1. The Goldsmith-Monk
The introduction of Christianity gave a fresh impetus and spread new fields for arts. There were churches to be built and decorated. A demand arose for architects, sculptors, painters, embroiderers, glassmen, woodcarvers, goldsmiths and a host of other skilled artists and craftsmen to create a building worthy to be called the House of God. It seems fitting that the men with the widest knowledge of the work required should be the artist-monks. Many of them were traveling missionaries.
In the eleventh century there lived one of these monks known as Theophilus, who not only traveled far and wide, but thoughtfully jotted down in his notebook whatever he found of interest concerning the arts of different countries. His manuscripts, preserved in numerous ancient copies, have become invaluable as a faithful record of the methods of work employed by craftsmen who lived nine hundred years ago.
Theophilus, in his preface, charges the reader to ‘covet with greedy looks this (his) Book of Various Arts, read it thoroughly with a tenacious memory, embrace it with ardent love,’ and:
Should you carefully peruse this, you will find out whatever Greece possesses in kinds and mixtures of various colors, whatever Tuscany knows on in mosaic work, or in variety of enamel; whatever Arabia shows forth in work of fusion, ductility, or chasing; whatever Italy ornaments with gold, in diversity of vases and sculpture of gems or ivory; whatever France loves in a costly variety of windows; whatever industrious Germany approves in work of gold, silver, copper and iron, of woods and of stones.
Then follows a detailed description of the goldsmith’s workshop, his bellows, anvil, hammers and other tools, which include ‘an instrument through which wires are drawn.’
Like the jewelers of the Pharaohs, the jeweler of medieval times was expected to be goldsmith, designer, sculptor, smelter, enameler inlay-worker, and an expert in the cutting and mounting of gemstones. As you read Theophilus you are impressed anew with the versatility of the jewelry-maker of past ages.
It must be admitted, however, that although the ancient goldsmiths achieved results and the good Theophilus tells how they did it, yet their practices were at times fraught with certain customs which smack of something akin to quackery. Not that they did not themselves profoundly believe in the efficacy of such practices. They did. But a certain amount of hocus-pocus was inevitably mixed with all the learning of that day. When the twentieth century becomes ‘ancient times’ will anything like that be said of our science and learning?
We are allowed a glimpse of Theophilus’ innocent necromancy, when swelling with pride he discloses a trade secret:
Who should desire to cut with iron the rare stones—which the rulers of Rome, who formerly sustained the noble arts, much delighted in, upon gold, let him know the invention, which I with profound thought have discovered, which is very precious. I procure urinam with the fresh blood of a lusty goat, fed for a short time upon ivy, which being done, I cut the gems in the warm blood, as the author Pliny has pointed out, who wrote upon the arts, which the Roman people put to proof, and who likewise well described the virtue of stones; he who knows the powers of which favors them the more.
Concerning rock crystal, Theophilus advises the lapidary:
But should you wish to sculp crystal, take a goat of two or three years and, binding his feet, cut an opening between his breast and stomach in the position of the heart, and lay in the crystal, so that it may lie in its blood until it grows warm. Taking it out directly, cut what you please in it as long as the heat lasts, and when it has begun to grow cold and to harden, replace it again in the blood of goat....
And so on until you have completed the work of art and are ready to polish it ‘with a linen cloth’. Needless to say, there was no S.P.C.A in those days.
During the Middle Ages, although the glyptic art was saved from entire extinction—largely by the monk-craftsman—still it sank so far into oblivion that generally speaking it is said to have been lost. Indeed, so little was the art understood, that some men, even men of intelligence, supposed the engraving on an ancient gem to be the work of nature—like the pattern on a butterfly’s wing.
Many pages of Theophilus’ manuscript are given over to recipes for making glass gems and colorful enamels. He even tells how to make ornamental finger rings of colored glass, set with glass gems.
Naturally whatever art a monk practised he used for the glory of his church. Therefore the goldsmith lavished his most elaborate art on ecclesiastical jewels. But he also worked for private patrons. Both the craftsman’s and the layman’s ideas of beauty were strongly influenced by the sumptuous objects designed for religious purposes.
The very center and focusing point of art was the Church. Paintings, statues, textiles, stained glass, and jeweled metalwork—in fact the major works of almost all the artists in Christendom—gravitated toward the Church, or were related to religious ideas.
Between the eleventh and the fifteenth centuries the link binding craftsman and church together was strenghtened by demands for the building and decoration of great cathedrals. The architect left space in the walls for picture windows of gorgeous jewel-like glass. Altars were profusely decorated, panels were painted and encrusted with gems, images occupied niches canopied by stone, carved with the delicate intricacy of lace. To the marvelous cathedral of Chartres came pilgrims by the thousands, bringing as offerings the richest of silks and embroideries, and splendid jewels with which to deck the images of saints or the vestments of priests, or to be set as ornament on any object used in the ritual of worship.
Certain patterns and styles of design employed for the decoration of churches were mirrored in the things of everyday life. Even the costumes of the period reflected the Gothic art. The head-dresses of women resembled architectural structures; the patterns on their gowns imitated those on stained-glass windows; and as for the jewelry, that more than anything else fell under the prevailing influence. Even the images of saints, stone canopies and all, were wrought in miniatures of gold and worn as brooches or pendants.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continue)
Monday, January 28, 2008
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
2
The third great English portrait-painter of the eighteenth century was George Romney, who never exhibited at the Royal Academy, and all his life was hostile to that institution and to its president, Sir Joshua Reynolds. Romney was born at Dalton-in-Furness, Lancashire, in 1734, when Reynolds was a boy of eleven and Gainsborough a child of seven. He was one of eleven children, and his father was a man of many occupations—farmer, builder, cabinet-maker, and dealer—and little prosperous in anything he undertook. George Romney consequently had his education neglected: at eleven years old he was helping his father in the workshop, and there he displayed precocious ability in drawing portraits of the workmen and other people. When he was twenty he made acquaintance of a vagabond artist named Christopher Steele, who journeyed from place to place making portraits, and in 1755 this man secured Romney as his pupil and took him with him on his travels. In the following year Romney fell ill with a fever and was tenderly nursed by his landlady’s daughter, a domestic servant named Mary Abbott, and being a highly-strung romantic youth Romney married this girl in the first burst of his gratitude, and later found her utterly unsuited to be his mate. Steele meanwhile had settled at York and summoned Romney to join him there as soon as he was well enough, and since he was not earning enough to keep a wife Mrs Romney had to go back to service when her husband rejoined the man to whom he was apprenticed.
There was little good that Steele, a mediocre artist and a loose liver, could teach Romney, and their association was more profitable to the older than the younger man, and after a year or two in bondage at York, Romney managed to purchase his freedom, and he then made a home for his wife at Kendal. With this town as his headquarters, he rambled about the Lake Country painting heads at £2 2s. each and small full lengths at £6 6s., till in 1762 he had at last managed to save a hundred pounds.
Romney was now twenty eight, and he felt that if ever he was to make his fortune by his art he must seek it in London. So giving £70 to his wife, with the remaining £30 he came to the capital, where he at once competed for a prize offered by the Society of Arts for an historical picture on ‘The Death of Wolfe.’ Romney was at first awarded a prize of fifty guineas for his version of this theme, but later the judges reversed their verdict and awarded the fifty guineas to John Hamilton Mortimer (1741-79), a young friend of Richard Wilson and Reynolds, and gave Romney only a consolation prize of twenty five guineas. Romney, not unnaturally, believed this reversal of the first judgment to be the result of favoritism, and to to the end of his life he thought that it had been brought about by Reynolds, who had been actuated by fear of a rival. In 1766 Romney again gained a premium for his ‘Death of King Edward’ from the Society of Arts, to which he was now admitted a member, and henceforward he exhibited regularly at the Society’s exhibitions, but always held aloof from the Academy. In 1767 he paid a visit to his wife and two daughters at Kendal, and returning alone to London soon established himself in public favor, and in the early ‘seventies he was making over a thousand a year by his profession. He thought the time had now come when he should visit Italy, and in March 1773 he set off for that country in the company of a brother artist, Ozias Humphrey (1742-1810), who afterwards became a famous miniature-painter. At Rome, Romney separated himself from his fellow traveler and led a hermit’s life, shunning the society of his compatriots, and giving his whole time to work and study. In 1775 he made his way back to England via Venice and Parma, studying with advantage the work of Correggio in the latter city, and reaching London in the month of July. Greatly improved now in his coloring and confident in his increased knowledge and power, Romney boldly took the house and studio of Francis Cotes, R.A (1725-70), who had been one of the chief of the older portrait-painters, at 32 Cavendish Square, and there seriously entered into competition with Reynolds. Gainsborough, it will be remembered, did not come to London till 1779, so that Romney, though the younger man, was the first formidable rival that Reynolds had to endure. Charging £15 15s. for head life-size, Romney soon found himself surrounded by sitters, and Reynolds was alarmed at the way in which his practice for a time was diminished by the painter to whom he contemptuously referred as ‘the man in Cavendish Square’. Later Romney had so many commissions that he was able to put up his prices, but even so he received only about 80 guineas for the full-length portraits which now fetch many thousands of pounds when they are sold by auction at Christie’s. When Reynolds died he left a fortune of £80000 earned by his brush, and though Romney was not successful to this extent he made a good living, his income in the year 1785 being £3635.
But Romney was never a mere money-grubber, and when at the age of forty-eight he first met his most famous sitter, the dazzlingly beautiful Emma Lyon, known to history as Lady Hamilton, he was so fascinated by her extraordinary personality, that time after time he refused all kinds of wealthy sitters in order that he might continue uninterruptedly to paint the lovely Emma. In 1882 the future Lady Hamilton was a mere girl of twenty or twenty one, living under the protection of Charles Grevile, who four years later—when he was in money difficulties—heartlessly handed her over to his uncle, Sir William Hamilton, who treated her more kindly and honorably. For five years Romney painted this fascinating creature continually in a variety of characters, and though gossip soon busied itself making scandal out of their relations, there is no evidence that the painter’s affection for her was anything but platonic. Of his many paintings of her, one of the most charming, the ‘Lady Hamilton’ is in the National Portrait Gallery.
In the art of George Romney there is a peculiar feminine quality which gives an extraordinary winsomeness, almost a pathos, to his paintings of frail women. There is a paternal tenderness rather than the passion of a lover in his paintings of Emma Hamilton and of another famous beauty, Mrs Robinson, known as ‘Perdita’. Romney’s beautiful portrait of the last in the Wallace Collection was done while this gifted actress was under the protection of the Prince of Wales, afterwards George IV. But that royal rascal soon tired of her, and at the age of twenty four she had already been abandoned by ‘the first gentleman in Europe’. When he sent her away the Prince gave her a bond for £20000; but he never paid it, and ‘Perdita’ Robinson died in 1800, poor and paralysed.
Nobody has yet discovered who was the original of Romney’s most famous masterpiece, ‘The Parson’s Daughter’, but we may imagine that his beautiful creature, with a gentle melancholy behind her smile, was also one of the frail sisterhood to which both Lady Hamilton and Mrs Robinson belonged. The extraordinary sweetness and simplicity of Romney’s portraiture of women has the same tender reverence for the sex that we find in ‘The Vicar of Wakefield,’ and the peculiar winningness of Romney is perhaps best described by placing him as the Goldsmith of English painting.
Though he never brought his wife and family to London—where it is probable that they would have felt ill at ease in a sphere to which they were not accustomed—Romney supported them in comfort, and when after years of hard work in London his health broke down, he went back to his wife at Kendal. She received him without reproaches, and under her affectionate care the tired, worn-out genius ‘sank gently into second childhood and the grave’. He died at Kendal on November 15, 1802.
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continue)
2
The third great English portrait-painter of the eighteenth century was George Romney, who never exhibited at the Royal Academy, and all his life was hostile to that institution and to its president, Sir Joshua Reynolds. Romney was born at Dalton-in-Furness, Lancashire, in 1734, when Reynolds was a boy of eleven and Gainsborough a child of seven. He was one of eleven children, and his father was a man of many occupations—farmer, builder, cabinet-maker, and dealer—and little prosperous in anything he undertook. George Romney consequently had his education neglected: at eleven years old he was helping his father in the workshop, and there he displayed precocious ability in drawing portraits of the workmen and other people. When he was twenty he made acquaintance of a vagabond artist named Christopher Steele, who journeyed from place to place making portraits, and in 1755 this man secured Romney as his pupil and took him with him on his travels. In the following year Romney fell ill with a fever and was tenderly nursed by his landlady’s daughter, a domestic servant named Mary Abbott, and being a highly-strung romantic youth Romney married this girl in the first burst of his gratitude, and later found her utterly unsuited to be his mate. Steele meanwhile had settled at York and summoned Romney to join him there as soon as he was well enough, and since he was not earning enough to keep a wife Mrs Romney had to go back to service when her husband rejoined the man to whom he was apprenticed.
There was little good that Steele, a mediocre artist and a loose liver, could teach Romney, and their association was more profitable to the older than the younger man, and after a year or two in bondage at York, Romney managed to purchase his freedom, and he then made a home for his wife at Kendal. With this town as his headquarters, he rambled about the Lake Country painting heads at £2 2s. each and small full lengths at £6 6s., till in 1762 he had at last managed to save a hundred pounds.
Romney was now twenty eight, and he felt that if ever he was to make his fortune by his art he must seek it in London. So giving £70 to his wife, with the remaining £30 he came to the capital, where he at once competed for a prize offered by the Society of Arts for an historical picture on ‘The Death of Wolfe.’ Romney was at first awarded a prize of fifty guineas for his version of this theme, but later the judges reversed their verdict and awarded the fifty guineas to John Hamilton Mortimer (1741-79), a young friend of Richard Wilson and Reynolds, and gave Romney only a consolation prize of twenty five guineas. Romney, not unnaturally, believed this reversal of the first judgment to be the result of favoritism, and to to the end of his life he thought that it had been brought about by Reynolds, who had been actuated by fear of a rival. In 1766 Romney again gained a premium for his ‘Death of King Edward’ from the Society of Arts, to which he was now admitted a member, and henceforward he exhibited regularly at the Society’s exhibitions, but always held aloof from the Academy. In 1767 he paid a visit to his wife and two daughters at Kendal, and returning alone to London soon established himself in public favor, and in the early ‘seventies he was making over a thousand a year by his profession. He thought the time had now come when he should visit Italy, and in March 1773 he set off for that country in the company of a brother artist, Ozias Humphrey (1742-1810), who afterwards became a famous miniature-painter. At Rome, Romney separated himself from his fellow traveler and led a hermit’s life, shunning the society of his compatriots, and giving his whole time to work and study. In 1775 he made his way back to England via Venice and Parma, studying with advantage the work of Correggio in the latter city, and reaching London in the month of July. Greatly improved now in his coloring and confident in his increased knowledge and power, Romney boldly took the house and studio of Francis Cotes, R.A (1725-70), who had been one of the chief of the older portrait-painters, at 32 Cavendish Square, and there seriously entered into competition with Reynolds. Gainsborough, it will be remembered, did not come to London till 1779, so that Romney, though the younger man, was the first formidable rival that Reynolds had to endure. Charging £15 15s. for head life-size, Romney soon found himself surrounded by sitters, and Reynolds was alarmed at the way in which his practice for a time was diminished by the painter to whom he contemptuously referred as ‘the man in Cavendish Square’. Later Romney had so many commissions that he was able to put up his prices, but even so he received only about 80 guineas for the full-length portraits which now fetch many thousands of pounds when they are sold by auction at Christie’s. When Reynolds died he left a fortune of £80000 earned by his brush, and though Romney was not successful to this extent he made a good living, his income in the year 1785 being £3635.
But Romney was never a mere money-grubber, and when at the age of forty-eight he first met his most famous sitter, the dazzlingly beautiful Emma Lyon, known to history as Lady Hamilton, he was so fascinated by her extraordinary personality, that time after time he refused all kinds of wealthy sitters in order that he might continue uninterruptedly to paint the lovely Emma. In 1882 the future Lady Hamilton was a mere girl of twenty or twenty one, living under the protection of Charles Grevile, who four years later—when he was in money difficulties—heartlessly handed her over to his uncle, Sir William Hamilton, who treated her more kindly and honorably. For five years Romney painted this fascinating creature continually in a variety of characters, and though gossip soon busied itself making scandal out of their relations, there is no evidence that the painter’s affection for her was anything but platonic. Of his many paintings of her, one of the most charming, the ‘Lady Hamilton’ is in the National Portrait Gallery.
In the art of George Romney there is a peculiar feminine quality which gives an extraordinary winsomeness, almost a pathos, to his paintings of frail women. There is a paternal tenderness rather than the passion of a lover in his paintings of Emma Hamilton and of another famous beauty, Mrs Robinson, known as ‘Perdita’. Romney’s beautiful portrait of the last in the Wallace Collection was done while this gifted actress was under the protection of the Prince of Wales, afterwards George IV. But that royal rascal soon tired of her, and at the age of twenty four she had already been abandoned by ‘the first gentleman in Europe’. When he sent her away the Prince gave her a bond for £20000; but he never paid it, and ‘Perdita’ Robinson died in 1800, poor and paralysed.
Nobody has yet discovered who was the original of Romney’s most famous masterpiece, ‘The Parson’s Daughter’, but we may imagine that his beautiful creature, with a gentle melancholy behind her smile, was also one of the frail sisterhood to which both Lady Hamilton and Mrs Robinson belonged. The extraordinary sweetness and simplicity of Romney’s portraiture of women has the same tender reverence for the sex that we find in ‘The Vicar of Wakefield,’ and the peculiar winningness of Romney is perhaps best described by placing him as the Goldsmith of English painting.
Though he never brought his wife and family to London—where it is probable that they would have felt ill at ease in a sphere to which they were not accustomed—Romney supported them in comfort, and when after years of hard work in London his health broke down, he went back to his wife at Kendal. She received him without reproaches, and under her affectionate care the tired, worn-out genius ‘sank gently into second childhood and the grave’. He died at Kendal on November 15, 1802.
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continue)
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Heard On The Street
Many gemstone/jewelry/art buyer (s) don't have the expertise needed to determine what something is worth + it makes sense to turn to professionals for advice + information from someone knowledgeable in the industry can level the information playing field.
The Facebook Facescape
I found the CNN Money.com article on the Facebook Economy (the social networking site) interesting + the article's authors provides some insights on the operating system (s) + other viewpoints on opportunities for new business models.
The Reasons Why People Like Synthetic Gemstones
I think lab-grown gemstone industry is evolving + it hasn’t impacted the natural colored gemstone and diamond market + many believe its threat has been greatly exaggerated + most synthetic gem materials are detectable via standard / advanced gemological tests + they are affordable + some people love technology, so like the product + consumers tend to like the stones if they are properly disclosed with less technical jargons + they are popular in fashion pieces + some buy it for themselves.
Peter Doig
Peter Doig is a Scottish painter + he's one of Europe's most expensive living painters + his pictures are landscapes + he uses unusual colour combinations + depicts scenes from unexpected angles giving his work a magic realist feel + I like it because they simulate inclusion-landscapes in gemstones + they are beautiful.
Useful links:
http://www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk/artists/peter_doig.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Doig
www.michaelwerner.com
www.victoria-miro.com
Useful links:
http://www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk/artists/peter_doig.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Doig
www.michaelwerner.com
www.victoria-miro.com
Bottle Shock
The film, Bottle Shock, by director Randall Miller revisits a 1976 blind tasting in which French experts hailed California wines over some of France's finest vintages + the movie was shown at the Sundance film festival this week + expect more fireworks from the French wine sector.
Useful links:
www.sundance.org
www.bottleshockthemovie.com
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0914797
Useful links:
www.sundance.org
www.bottleshockthemovie.com
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0914797
Smart Money Decisions
In a great book Smart Money Decisions by Max H. Bazerman, there are some insights on why some people lose at auctions + the examples deal with important decision problems everyone of us is confronted with at least once in her/his lifetime + I think gem dealers, jewelers, and art dealers should read it because it contains wealth of insights.
Here is what the description of Smart Money Decisions has to say (via Amazon):
When it comes to money matters, even the smartest of us can make some pretty dumb decisions. From falling in love at first sight with a house and hastily negotiating a price to blindly following the pack in investment dealings, life is fraught with financial choices that are settled on with gut instinct rather than a level head—moves that can, and often do, lead to costly mistakes. In order to sidestep major money blunders, resisting first impulses, though not easy to do, is absolutely crucial. This groundbreaking book gives you the tools necessary to think through fiscal issues practically so you don't continue making decisions rashly.
Written by Max Bazerman, a renowned expert in the field of decision making and negotiation, Smart Money Decisions illustrates both how and why we make the decisions we do. Offering an intriguing mental audit of people's psychological relationship with money, it provides the essential understanding you need to identify your own approach to finances, recognize any inherent problems, and determine ways to overcome them.
Bazerman guides you through these basic steps with the goal of permanently improving your financial decisions in a wide range of real-life scenarios, such as buying and selling a home or a car, making investments, and choosing careers. Highlighting the errors too often made in these and other situations, Smart Money Decisions presents the 10 most important money mistakes, including:
- Overconfidence—the engine that fuels other monetary missteps
- Being unprepared —'winging it' leads to mishaps that could easily be avoided
- Focusing on beating the other side—coming out on top shouldn't overshadow making a decision that will help you in the long run
- Ignoring alternatives—having your heart set on only one option isn't always the wisest strategy
Packed with sound advice and expert recommendations on how to make more reasoned monetary decisions, Smart Money Decisions is essential reading for anyone who wants to stop making costly financial errors.
Here is what the description of Smart Money Decisions has to say (via Amazon):
When it comes to money matters, even the smartest of us can make some pretty dumb decisions. From falling in love at first sight with a house and hastily negotiating a price to blindly following the pack in investment dealings, life is fraught with financial choices that are settled on with gut instinct rather than a level head—moves that can, and often do, lead to costly mistakes. In order to sidestep major money blunders, resisting first impulses, though not easy to do, is absolutely crucial. This groundbreaking book gives you the tools necessary to think through fiscal issues practically so you don't continue making decisions rashly.
Written by Max Bazerman, a renowned expert in the field of decision making and negotiation, Smart Money Decisions illustrates both how and why we make the decisions we do. Offering an intriguing mental audit of people's psychological relationship with money, it provides the essential understanding you need to identify your own approach to finances, recognize any inherent problems, and determine ways to overcome them.
Bazerman guides you through these basic steps with the goal of permanently improving your financial decisions in a wide range of real-life scenarios, such as buying and selling a home or a car, making investments, and choosing careers. Highlighting the errors too often made in these and other situations, Smart Money Decisions presents the 10 most important money mistakes, including:
- Overconfidence—the engine that fuels other monetary missteps
- Being unprepared —'winging it' leads to mishaps that could easily be avoided
- Focusing on beating the other side—coming out on top shouldn't overshadow making a decision that will help you in the long run
- Ignoring alternatives—having your heart set on only one option isn't always the wisest strategy
Packed with sound advice and expert recommendations on how to make more reasoned monetary decisions, Smart Money Decisions is essential reading for anyone who wants to stop making costly financial errors.
Seeing Snowflakes
This is what I found interesting from Ken Libbrecht's website @ SnowCrystals.com + Ken Libbrecht is the chairman of the physics department @ the California Institute of Technology + he studies the physics of snow crystals.
Here is what he has to say about snowflakes:
A snow crystal forms up in the atmosphere + it starts with, say, a small water droplet which freezes into a very tiny piece of ice and then that grows and gets this hexagonal shape + then, as it gets larger, these corners of the hexagon sprout branches and they can become very elaborate as it grows larger + one thing you can do, as a physicist, is you can try to calculate how many ways there are to make a snowflake, and I've done that + it's a very large number + The number of ways to make a complex snowflake is far greater than the total number of atoms in the universe + with such large numbers, you can say fairly confidently that if you looked at all the snowflakes that grew on earth, you would never see one that looked exactly the same.
Here is what he has to say about snowflakes:
A snow crystal forms up in the atmosphere + it starts with, say, a small water droplet which freezes into a very tiny piece of ice and then that grows and gets this hexagonal shape + then, as it gets larger, these corners of the hexagon sprout branches and they can become very elaborate as it grows larger + one thing you can do, as a physicist, is you can try to calculate how many ways there are to make a snowflake, and I've done that + it's a very large number + The number of ways to make a complex snowflake is far greater than the total number of atoms in the universe + with such large numbers, you can say fairly confidently that if you looked at all the snowflakes that grew on earth, you would never see one that looked exactly the same.
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
The Great Cross of Francis I, of about 1540, contained five Table Cut diamonds, one Burgundian Point Cut and three faceted Gothic Roses. In 1988, Morel presented a wrong faceting design of the three drop-shaped gems: the quasi rond diamond alone was a Burgandian Point Cut whereas the drops, described as taillés en face—i.e flat-bottomed—can only have been Gothic, trihedrally faceted Rose Cuts. Bapst, writing in 1888, simply indicated that the diamonds were faceted. The 1559 Crown inventory gave the following description: ‘Une grande croix composée de neuf grands dyamans, c’est a scavoir cinq grandes tables faisant la croix au plus hault , au dessoubs ung dyaman quasi rond et trois aultres dyamans en larmes ou fers de lances taillés en face faisant le pied de la croix auquel pied pend une perle en poire.’ The Cross was pawned several times before disappearing completely.
The ‘Elephant with a Tower’ pendant is one of the central pieces in the Schatzkammer der Residenz, Munich. It dates from between 1557 and 1559, and was made in Munich, probably by Hans Reimer; it is 5.6 cm high. The jewel is still in the former Royal Collection, though no longer in its original state. The fine large Table Cut diamond has unfortunately been replaced by a cheap Blister pearl, the suberb ruby by a spinel, and the exquisite pearl which originally hung from the pendant has disappeared and not been replaced. It was possible to reproduce, from a portrait of Duchess Anne among the miniatures painted by Hans Mielich, the cut of the original diamond, which was found to be perfectly fashioned High Table, 22.3 x 15.9 mm in size, with a table facet of ideal size. The small diamonds which now fill the corners round the Blister pearl are eighteenth century Rose Cuts.
The sitter in the portrait of Christine of Lorraine, Grand Duchess of Tuscany, by Scipione Pulzone, 1590 (Museo degli Argenti, Palazoo Pitti, Florence) is wearing jewels worthy of the wife of the powerful and wealthy Medici Grand Duke Ferdinand I. In contrast to those of other contemporary Florentine princesses, the Duchess Christine’s larger diamonds are all High Table and Mirror Cuts. Some are square and others rectangular, but they are all appear to be very well proportioned.
A three-dimensional St George pendant, with both the front and the back worked in great detail, is the best known, and artistically the finest, of all the Renaissance pendants in the Grϋnes Gewölbe. Here, we shall concentrate on the diamonds in the pedestal. Either the master goldsmith could not find a perfect set of gems, or the jewel was made to order and the jeweler was given only a very limited selection of Table Cut diamonds to work with. The stones themselves are of three types: in the center, blending with red cabochons, are two oblong Table Cuts; next to these are two well-matched Mirror Cuts, one on either side; at the ends, placed vertically because they are smaller than the other stones, are two more Table Cuts. These may have been all the jeweler had at his disposal, but it is also possible that he chose them and positioned them deliberately because they marked so clearly the end of the pedestal while maintaining the height of the rest of the diamonds in the row.
As long as the settings remained clean and the underlying foiling still reflected the incident light, the pedestal formed a bright base for the rest of the jewel. The fact that the cuts were mixed was noticeable only on close examination and did not disturb the integrity of the jewel as a whole. Today, the light entering the jewel is not reflected back at the viewer and the table facets themselves appear disturbingly dark, even black.
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners (continued)
The Great Cross of Francis I, of about 1540, contained five Table Cut diamonds, one Burgundian Point Cut and three faceted Gothic Roses. In 1988, Morel presented a wrong faceting design of the three drop-shaped gems: the quasi rond diamond alone was a Burgandian Point Cut whereas the drops, described as taillés en face—i.e flat-bottomed—can only have been Gothic, trihedrally faceted Rose Cuts. Bapst, writing in 1888, simply indicated that the diamonds were faceted. The 1559 Crown inventory gave the following description: ‘Une grande croix composée de neuf grands dyamans, c’est a scavoir cinq grandes tables faisant la croix au plus hault , au dessoubs ung dyaman quasi rond et trois aultres dyamans en larmes ou fers de lances taillés en face faisant le pied de la croix auquel pied pend une perle en poire.’ The Cross was pawned several times before disappearing completely.
The ‘Elephant with a Tower’ pendant is one of the central pieces in the Schatzkammer der Residenz, Munich. It dates from between 1557 and 1559, and was made in Munich, probably by Hans Reimer; it is 5.6 cm high. The jewel is still in the former Royal Collection, though no longer in its original state. The fine large Table Cut diamond has unfortunately been replaced by a cheap Blister pearl, the suberb ruby by a spinel, and the exquisite pearl which originally hung from the pendant has disappeared and not been replaced. It was possible to reproduce, from a portrait of Duchess Anne among the miniatures painted by Hans Mielich, the cut of the original diamond, which was found to be perfectly fashioned High Table, 22.3 x 15.9 mm in size, with a table facet of ideal size. The small diamonds which now fill the corners round the Blister pearl are eighteenth century Rose Cuts.
The sitter in the portrait of Christine of Lorraine, Grand Duchess of Tuscany, by Scipione Pulzone, 1590 (Museo degli Argenti, Palazoo Pitti, Florence) is wearing jewels worthy of the wife of the powerful and wealthy Medici Grand Duke Ferdinand I. In contrast to those of other contemporary Florentine princesses, the Duchess Christine’s larger diamonds are all High Table and Mirror Cuts. Some are square and others rectangular, but they are all appear to be very well proportioned.
A three-dimensional St George pendant, with both the front and the back worked in great detail, is the best known, and artistically the finest, of all the Renaissance pendants in the Grϋnes Gewölbe. Here, we shall concentrate on the diamonds in the pedestal. Either the master goldsmith could not find a perfect set of gems, or the jewel was made to order and the jeweler was given only a very limited selection of Table Cut diamonds to work with. The stones themselves are of three types: in the center, blending with red cabochons, are two oblong Table Cuts; next to these are two well-matched Mirror Cuts, one on either side; at the ends, placed vertically because they are smaller than the other stones, are two more Table Cuts. These may have been all the jeweler had at his disposal, but it is also possible that he chose them and positioned them deliberately because they marked so clearly the end of the pedestal while maintaining the height of the rest of the diamonds in the row.
As long as the settings remained clean and the underlying foiling still reflected the incident light, the pedestal formed a bright base for the rest of the jewel. The fact that the cuts were mixed was noticeable only on close examination and did not disturb the integrity of the jewel as a whole. Today, the light entering the jewel is not reflected back at the viewer and the table facets themselves appear disturbingly dark, even black.
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners (continued)
Early Jewelry Of The British Isles
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
2. Anglo Saxon Jewelry
It would seem that whatever a conquered people might feel toward the Romans who came as victors to settle in their country, they were always ready enough to do as the Romans did—in respect to jewelry. For more than three hundred years after the Roman invasion, British jewelry followed, to a great extent, the fashions set by Italy.
With the invading Teutonic tribes in the fifth century there came a new wave of influence, which was, of course, reflected in personal ornaments. Nevertheless, the established traditions of the Roman and Celtic arts were too deeprooted to be easily overthrown, and the work of the Anglo-Saxon goldsmith was never entirely free from their influence.
Both the skill and originality of the goldsmith-jeweler was stimulated by the constant demand for personal ornaments. He was called upon to fashion rings and bracelets intended to be given as rewards of valor; he made amulets of amber and necklaces of precious stones in settings of twisted gold. He made clever use of thin slices of garnet or millefiori glass or pastes of various colors, employing them like bits of mosaic in representations of birds, flowers, or geometrical designs. Many brooches were shaped like birds whose feathers and colorful markings were wrought in bright inlays of glass set within partitions of tiny wires soldered to a metal base.
Following the introduction of Christian art from Rome and Byzantium, Anglo-Saxon jewels took on new forms and character. The Byzantine school sought to combine exquisite treatment of detail with the Oriental love of color. Under this influence the Saxon goldsmith became a master in the use of colorful translucent cloisonńe enamel and delicate gold work.
The ring worn by the Anglo-Saxon at an earlier period had been very primitive indeed, usually a bit of wire twisted into a hoop or spiral. But the rings of the later period show considerable technical skill, especially in the use of neillo, a bluish black metallic inlay which was used extensively on both gold and silver. There can scarcely be a better description of its nature than that given in an ancient manuscript. Probably the author was one of those earnest monks bent on disseminating knowledge of the arts. Says he:
When you wish to make niello, take equal parts of quick-silver, copper and lead and put them in a vessel that they may cook together. Then take of sulphur, as much as is the total of the metals, mix it with them and stir it. When it has calcined, cast it anywhere, where there is clean water, mix it with borax and paint what you wish in the circles. The ‘circles’ are the design carved on the metal base, thus forming grooves to retain the niello inlay.
One of the finest examples of a ring enriched with niello is the massive Anglo-Saxon ring of the ninth century, now belonging to the Victoria and Albert Museum. It is thought to have been made for Alhstan, Bishop of Sherborne, and is composed of four circular and four lozenge-shaped pieces. The latter are ornamented with conventionalized animals, and on the roundels are the letters of the Bishop’s name. The most famous of all English rings belongs to the same period. It is also decorated with niello and bears the name Ethelwulf.
Often niello, enamel work, and inlaid stones were used in combination on a single piece of jewelry such as a brooch. A magnificent example is the Tara Brooch, found on the seashore about a hundred years ago near Bettystown, Cape Louth, Ireland. Aside from its interest as a beautiful and world-famous jewel, it is a fine example of the goldsmith’s art. The while bronze metal is hammered, chased, engraved and thickly gilded. In addition to niello, granulation and filigree, the brooch is further enriched with glass, amber, and blue and red enamels mounted like gems.
Counted among the most famous relics of England is the Alfred Jewel, believed to have been made under the personal direction of King Alfred himself. It was found at Newton Park near Somerset, in 1693, and was later presented to the Ashmoleon Museum at Oxford. No one is certain what the jewel was intended for. Possibly it formed the central ornament in a crown, or it may have been worn as a pendant. In general shape it is an oval elongated at the lower end, somewhat like a hand glass with a wide handle. The design represents a man, supposed by some to be Christ, holding a scepter in each hand; by others it is thought to be the figure of a saint. Legend has it that St Cuthbert appeared to the Saxon King during his stay on the Isle of Althelney, where, in 878, Alfred sought refuge from the Danes—hence the saint’s effigy on the jewel.
The combined arts of the goldsmith were lavished on that jewel. It is decorated with colorful semi-translucent enamels, filigree, and granular goldworks; and around its sloping sides, in letters of gold, runs the legend: Aelfred Mec Heht Gewyrcan (Alfred ordered me to be made).
The ancient practice of burying weapons and personal ornaments with the dead continued well into the eighth century, and to this custom is due the fact that many beautiful specimens of jewelry of that period are still preserved.
But with the coming of Charlemagne a new attitude toward articles of value was introduced. The Emperor forbade the burying of jewels. He considered it a pagan custom, out of keeping with Christian ideology. Furthermore, it was wasteful.
No doubt Charlemagne’s law was wise in its time, nevertheless jewels kept in circulation have far less chance of survival than those stowed safely underground, and we of today are the losers by reason of that law. A conspicuous dearth of surviving jewels marks the period from the reign of Charlemagne onward for some centuries.
However, we are not entirely without knowledge concerning the methods and techniques of the day because certain meticulous records of the goldsmith’s craft were made at the time and still exist.
2. Anglo Saxon Jewelry
It would seem that whatever a conquered people might feel toward the Romans who came as victors to settle in their country, they were always ready enough to do as the Romans did—in respect to jewelry. For more than three hundred years after the Roman invasion, British jewelry followed, to a great extent, the fashions set by Italy.
With the invading Teutonic tribes in the fifth century there came a new wave of influence, which was, of course, reflected in personal ornaments. Nevertheless, the established traditions of the Roman and Celtic arts were too deeprooted to be easily overthrown, and the work of the Anglo-Saxon goldsmith was never entirely free from their influence.
Both the skill and originality of the goldsmith-jeweler was stimulated by the constant demand for personal ornaments. He was called upon to fashion rings and bracelets intended to be given as rewards of valor; he made amulets of amber and necklaces of precious stones in settings of twisted gold. He made clever use of thin slices of garnet or millefiori glass or pastes of various colors, employing them like bits of mosaic in representations of birds, flowers, or geometrical designs. Many brooches were shaped like birds whose feathers and colorful markings were wrought in bright inlays of glass set within partitions of tiny wires soldered to a metal base.
Following the introduction of Christian art from Rome and Byzantium, Anglo-Saxon jewels took on new forms and character. The Byzantine school sought to combine exquisite treatment of detail with the Oriental love of color. Under this influence the Saxon goldsmith became a master in the use of colorful translucent cloisonńe enamel and delicate gold work.
The ring worn by the Anglo-Saxon at an earlier period had been very primitive indeed, usually a bit of wire twisted into a hoop or spiral. But the rings of the later period show considerable technical skill, especially in the use of neillo, a bluish black metallic inlay which was used extensively on both gold and silver. There can scarcely be a better description of its nature than that given in an ancient manuscript. Probably the author was one of those earnest monks bent on disseminating knowledge of the arts. Says he:
When you wish to make niello, take equal parts of quick-silver, copper and lead and put them in a vessel that they may cook together. Then take of sulphur, as much as is the total of the metals, mix it with them and stir it. When it has calcined, cast it anywhere, where there is clean water, mix it with borax and paint what you wish in the circles. The ‘circles’ are the design carved on the metal base, thus forming grooves to retain the niello inlay.
One of the finest examples of a ring enriched with niello is the massive Anglo-Saxon ring of the ninth century, now belonging to the Victoria and Albert Museum. It is thought to have been made for Alhstan, Bishop of Sherborne, and is composed of four circular and four lozenge-shaped pieces. The latter are ornamented with conventionalized animals, and on the roundels are the letters of the Bishop’s name. The most famous of all English rings belongs to the same period. It is also decorated with niello and bears the name Ethelwulf.
Often niello, enamel work, and inlaid stones were used in combination on a single piece of jewelry such as a brooch. A magnificent example is the Tara Brooch, found on the seashore about a hundred years ago near Bettystown, Cape Louth, Ireland. Aside from its interest as a beautiful and world-famous jewel, it is a fine example of the goldsmith’s art. The while bronze metal is hammered, chased, engraved and thickly gilded. In addition to niello, granulation and filigree, the brooch is further enriched with glass, amber, and blue and red enamels mounted like gems.
Counted among the most famous relics of England is the Alfred Jewel, believed to have been made under the personal direction of King Alfred himself. It was found at Newton Park near Somerset, in 1693, and was later presented to the Ashmoleon Museum at Oxford. No one is certain what the jewel was intended for. Possibly it formed the central ornament in a crown, or it may have been worn as a pendant. In general shape it is an oval elongated at the lower end, somewhat like a hand glass with a wide handle. The design represents a man, supposed by some to be Christ, holding a scepter in each hand; by others it is thought to be the figure of a saint. Legend has it that St Cuthbert appeared to the Saxon King during his stay on the Isle of Althelney, where, in 878, Alfred sought refuge from the Danes—hence the saint’s effigy on the jewel.
The combined arts of the goldsmith were lavished on that jewel. It is decorated with colorful semi-translucent enamels, filigree, and granular goldworks; and around its sloping sides, in letters of gold, runs the legend: Aelfred Mec Heht Gewyrcan (Alfred ordered me to be made).
The ancient practice of burying weapons and personal ornaments with the dead continued well into the eighth century, and to this custom is due the fact that many beautiful specimens of jewelry of that period are still preserved.
But with the coming of Charlemagne a new attitude toward articles of value was introduced. The Emperor forbade the burying of jewels. He considered it a pagan custom, out of keeping with Christian ideology. Furthermore, it was wasteful.
No doubt Charlemagne’s law was wise in its time, nevertheless jewels kept in circulation have far less chance of survival than those stowed safely underground, and we of today are the losers by reason of that law. A conspicuous dearth of surviving jewels marks the period from the reign of Charlemagne onward for some centuries.
However, we are not entirely without knowledge concerning the methods and techniques of the day because certain meticulous records of the goldsmith’s craft were made at the time and still exist.
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
In his discourse to the Academy students in 1778, Reynolds observed that blue should not be massed together in a picture, whereupon Gainsborough proceeded subsequently to paint his famous ‘Blue Boy’ and, by his brilliant success with the boy’s blue dress, put Reynolds in the wrong. It is highly probably that the blues which figure so prominently in his beautiful portrait of ‘Mrs Siddons’ are another expression of Gainsborough’s disapproval of Sir Joshua’s dogmatic teaching. We have only to compare this Gainsborough portrait with Reynolds’s painting of the same actress as ‘The Tragic Muse’ to realize the difference between the two artists. Reynolds painted his picture in 1783, Gainsborough his in 1784, when Mrs Siddons was twenty eight; but, though actually a year younger, everyone will agree that the actress looks years older in Sir Joshua’s picture. Reynolds emphasized the intellectual qualities of the great tragedienne, his endeavor was to show the sublimity of her mind; Gainsborough was content to show the charm and vivacity of her person, and that is why Mrs Siddons looks younger in his portrait. Another temperamental difference between the two artists is shown in their hobbies; while Sir Joshua was interested in literature and delighted in conversing with the learned, Gainsborough’s ruling passion was music. He was not only a good musician himself but was completely carried away by the playing of others. Once when a talented amateur, a Colonel Hamilton, was playing the violin at his house, Gainsborough called out, ‘Go on, go on, and I will give the picture of ‘The Boy at the Stile’ which you have so often wished to buy of me.’ The Colonel ‘went on’ and eventually returned home with the coveted picture of his reward. This love of music makes itself felt in Gainsborough’s pictures, which are lyrical, the paintings of an artist who sings, while those of Reynolds are more philosophical, the pictures of a man who thinks in paint.
Of all the English eighteenth century portraitists Gainsborough is the lightest and airiest, and in freshness of color and in gracefulness without affectation his portraits more than rival those of Reynolds. His ‘Miss Haverfield’ is more of little lady than any of Sir Joshua’s children, and though her gentility may not be accounted of virtue, and while we must admit that Reynold’s ‘Age of Innocence’ has more psychological profundity, ye we cannot find another portrait in the world which excels this Gainsborough in rendering the flower-like charm of childhood.
Though by his portraits Gainsborough acquired so considerable a fortune that he could afford to have country houses at Richmond and in Hampshire as well as his town house, his landscapes rarely found buyers, and remained ‘admired and unsold till they stood ranged in long lines from his hall to his painting room.’ At his death his house was filled with his own landscapes. The end came with some suddenness. A pain in the neck, to which he had paid little attention, turned out to be due to a cancer, and when the physicians pronounced his case hopeless, he settled his affairs with composure and prepared to meet death. He was particularly anxious to be reconciled with Sir Joshua and begged him to visit him on his death bed. When Reynolds came an affecting reconciliation took place: ‘We are all going to heaven,’ said Gainsborough, ‘and Vandyck is of the party.’ Thomas Gainsborough died on August 2, 1788, and by his own desire was buried as privately as possible in Kew Churchyard. Sir Joshua Reynolds was one of the pall-bearers, and in his presidential address to the Academy in the following year he paid an eloquent tribute to the memory of his former rival.
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)
In his discourse to the Academy students in 1778, Reynolds observed that blue should not be massed together in a picture, whereupon Gainsborough proceeded subsequently to paint his famous ‘Blue Boy’ and, by his brilliant success with the boy’s blue dress, put Reynolds in the wrong. It is highly probably that the blues which figure so prominently in his beautiful portrait of ‘Mrs Siddons’ are another expression of Gainsborough’s disapproval of Sir Joshua’s dogmatic teaching. We have only to compare this Gainsborough portrait with Reynolds’s painting of the same actress as ‘The Tragic Muse’ to realize the difference between the two artists. Reynolds painted his picture in 1783, Gainsborough his in 1784, when Mrs Siddons was twenty eight; but, though actually a year younger, everyone will agree that the actress looks years older in Sir Joshua’s picture. Reynolds emphasized the intellectual qualities of the great tragedienne, his endeavor was to show the sublimity of her mind; Gainsborough was content to show the charm and vivacity of her person, and that is why Mrs Siddons looks younger in his portrait. Another temperamental difference between the two artists is shown in their hobbies; while Sir Joshua was interested in literature and delighted in conversing with the learned, Gainsborough’s ruling passion was music. He was not only a good musician himself but was completely carried away by the playing of others. Once when a talented amateur, a Colonel Hamilton, was playing the violin at his house, Gainsborough called out, ‘Go on, go on, and I will give the picture of ‘The Boy at the Stile’ which you have so often wished to buy of me.’ The Colonel ‘went on’ and eventually returned home with the coveted picture of his reward. This love of music makes itself felt in Gainsborough’s pictures, which are lyrical, the paintings of an artist who sings, while those of Reynolds are more philosophical, the pictures of a man who thinks in paint.
Of all the English eighteenth century portraitists Gainsborough is the lightest and airiest, and in freshness of color and in gracefulness without affectation his portraits more than rival those of Reynolds. His ‘Miss Haverfield’ is more of little lady than any of Sir Joshua’s children, and though her gentility may not be accounted of virtue, and while we must admit that Reynold’s ‘Age of Innocence’ has more psychological profundity, ye we cannot find another portrait in the world which excels this Gainsborough in rendering the flower-like charm of childhood.
Though by his portraits Gainsborough acquired so considerable a fortune that he could afford to have country houses at Richmond and in Hampshire as well as his town house, his landscapes rarely found buyers, and remained ‘admired and unsold till they stood ranged in long lines from his hall to his painting room.’ At his death his house was filled with his own landscapes. The end came with some suddenness. A pain in the neck, to which he had paid little attention, turned out to be due to a cancer, and when the physicians pronounced his case hopeless, he settled his affairs with composure and prepared to meet death. He was particularly anxious to be reconciled with Sir Joshua and begged him to visit him on his death bed. When Reynolds came an affecting reconciliation took place: ‘We are all going to heaven,’ said Gainsborough, ‘and Vandyck is of the party.’ Thomas Gainsborough died on August 2, 1788, and by his own desire was buried as privately as possible in Kew Churchyard. Sir Joshua Reynolds was one of the pall-bearers, and in his presidential address to the Academy in the following year he paid an eloquent tribute to the memory of his former rival.
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Travel Updates
I found Schmap with local listings + zoomable city maps interesting + the guides were useful for planning out a day's itinerary + I would also recommend Trip It.
Useful links:
www.schmap.com
www.tripit.com
Useful links:
www.schmap.com
www.tripit.com
Battle At Kruger
Watching the Battle At Kruger video (what a lucky shot) is amazing + it's the difference in speed and resolve of predator vs prey + it all happens in the blink of an eye + there is a lesson for all.
Useful links:
Battle At Kruger: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU8DDYz68kM
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_at_Kruger
Useful links:
Battle At Kruger: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU8DDYz68kM
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_at_Kruger
Barbarians At The Gate
Barbarians At The Gate: The Fall Of RJR Nabisco by Bryan Burrough + John Helyar covers the management buy out of RJR and all the financial moves that took place to get it done + secret deals + stock market manipulation + flouting of laws + surprise plot twists + all of it almost unbelievable, but all of it true + it's well worth your time, effort, and energy.
Here is what the description of Barbarians At The Gate says (via Amazon):
Over six months on the New York Times bestseller list, Barbarians at the Gate is the definitive account of the largest takeover in Wall Street history. Bryan Burrough and John Helyar's gripping record of the frenzy that overtook Wall Street in October and November of 1988 is the story of deal makers and pulicity flaks, of strategy meetings and society dinners, of boardrooms and bedrooms, giving us not only an unprecedentedly detailed look at how financial operations at the highest levels are conducted but also a richly textured social history of wealth at the twilight of the Reagan era. As compelling as a novel, Barbarians at the Gate is must reading for everyone interested in the way today's world really works.
Color Association Of The United States
The Color Association of the United States (CAUS) is an independent color trend forecasting and color consulting service to the business community.
Useful links:
www.colorassociation.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Color_Association_of_the_United_States
Useful links:
www.colorassociation.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Color_Association_of_the_United_States
Coskata
According to the company officials, Coskata uses existing gasification technology to convert almost any organic material into synthesis gas + rather than fermenting that gas or using thermo-chemical catalysts to produce ethanol, Coskata pumps it into a reactor containing bacteria that consume the gas and excrete ethanol + the process yields 99.7 percent pure ethanol + Coskata's method generates more ethanol per ton of feedstock than corn-based ethanol + requires far less water, heat and pressure + those cost savings allow it to turn, say, two bales of hay into five gallons of ethanol for less than $1 a gallon + I think with proper distribution infrastructure + luck the business venture should succeed.
Useful links:
www.coskataenergy.com
www.ucsusa.org
www.nrdc.org
www.ethanolrfa.org
www.anl.gov
Useful links:
www.coskataenergy.com
www.ucsusa.org
www.nrdc.org
www.ethanolrfa.org
www.anl.gov
R E M
R E M is an American rock band formed in Athens, Georgia, in 1980 by Michael Stipe (lead vocals) + Peter Buck (guitar) + Mike Mills (bass guitar) + Bill Berry (drums and percussion) + their music is mid-tempo + enigmatic + semi-folk-rock-balladish + experimental + especially, Michael Stipe's distinctive metallic/vitreous voice + they were pivotal in the creation and development of the alternative rock genre + its members have sought to highlight social and political issues + I enjoy their music.
Useful links:
www.remhq.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R.E.M._(band)
Useful links:
www.remhq.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R.E.M._(band)
The Garibaldi Panorama
Brown University is bringing the 19th-century artwork, painted on a 136-foot paper canvas, fragile and large, into the 21st century, putting the painting online so that the Internet-viewing public can view it with a simple mouse click + the project allows historians and others access to a unique art form that was once used to convey current events to the public + according to the experts the watercolor panorama was painted on both sides of the 41/2 foot-tall canvas, and spans 273 feet + painted in either 1860 or 1861 + it chronicles the life of Giuseppe Garibaldi, a patriot regarded as one of modern Italy's founding fathers + at the time, panoramas were a popular art form, particularly in Europe + The Garibaldi Panorama is perceived as a 'moving' artwork.
Useful links:
http://dl.lib.brown.edu/garibaldi
Digital Initiatives: http://dl.lib.brown.edu
http://www.brown.edu/Administration/News_Bureau/2007-08/07-038.html
Useful links:
http://dl.lib.brown.edu/garibaldi
Digital Initiatives: http://dl.lib.brown.edu
http://www.brown.edu/Administration/News_Bureau/2007-08/07-038.html
Lifting Sightholder Suspensions In The Best Interest Of All
Chaim Even Zohar writes about DTC Sightholder issues + DTC's past/present practices + the impact + the importance of good governance + other viewpoints @ http://www.idexonline.com/portal_FullEditorial.asp
Early Jewelry Of The British Isles
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
1. Celtic Ornaments
The recorded history of England may be said to begin with the invasions of the Romans, and very little jewelry made before the Roman conquest has come to light. Such specimens as have been found consist of pins, rings, neck ornaments, discs and bracelets, made of bronze or gold, never of silver.
There were also beads. First, last and always there are beads in all ages and among all peoples, civilized or savage. The prehistoric beads of the British Isles were made of bone, amber, jet or glass. The latter probably supplied by Phœnician trading ships, since glass-making was unknown to the early inhabitants of England.
The gold they used was often so pure that it was quite flexible, and a small gold bar would be bent until its two ends all but touched. The ring thus formed was easily opened and a number of them could be linked together to make an ornamental chain. It is supposed that the rings were used as a medium of barter, therefore they are usually called ‘ring money’.
Many of the ancient ornaments were torques. A torque is an inflexible, rather massive ring of twisted gold which was usually worn as a neck ring. Any number of them have been unearthed in Ireland and one of these torques is so huge that it could not have been worn about the throat, but must have been hung over one shoulder to rest diagonally across the chest. It measures more than five feet in length.
The Emerald Isle is famed for the fine collection of ancient relics of pure gold that have been discovered there during the last few centuries. Among them are many dress-fasteners in the form of brooches.
As for the dress-fastener, one of the problems met by the first man who appropriated the pelt of an animal and tried wearing it on his own back, was how to keep if from falling off. A history of the varied inventions of mankind for the fastening of clothes would in itself fill a volume, which might bear the title, From Thorns to Zippers, for the first fun ‘coat’ ever worn by man was very likely pinned together with a thorn. Buttons with buttonholes, hooks and eyes, snappers and zippers were rather a long time coming to our aid.
The pin has been through many stages of evolution. At a very early period it was made of gold wire bent into a form somewhat resembling our safety pin of today. A later development of the simple pin with a catch was the Roman fibula, a two piece brooch consisting of a pin on a hinge and a bow.
The characteristic Celtic brooch was composed of a long pin an an incomplete ring. Untold numbers of these ancient ornaments were, in former years, sold by the men who found them for whatever the yellow metal would fetch.
Archeology is not a science that appeals to the man with a hoe. If the hoe chances to turn up some priceless piece of ancient jewelry the important thing to him is the intrinsic worth of the metal; so into the melting pot it goes, and, losing all those incalculable values given it by the history of its period and the hand of the goldsmith, becomes once again a soulless lump of metal.
However, this sad fate does not always fall to the lot of ancient Celtic ornaments of gold found by accident, as the following instance goes to prove.
One day in the year 1896 (as near to the present as that) a peasant was plowing a field. As the plow cut its way through a furrow of brown earth it met with some slight obstruction which, on examination, turned out to be nothing less than the now-famous Limavaday Treasure. It would be interesting to know what the man thought when first he saw the yellow gleam of gold, but we have only the statement of bald facts. At any rate, from that plowed field in the county of Londonderry, Ireland, was taken a little golden hoard such as one reads of in a romance of buried treasure. There were chains of gold, a torque made of thick twisted strands of rich yellow gold, and there was a collar of remarkable workmanship ornamented with repousśe work, which marks the period of its making as sometime about the first century A.D.
The year following their discovery the ornaments were sold to the British Museum, whereupon Ireland set up a violent protest. She claimed that the relics, having been found in Irish soil were treasure-trove and therefore belonged to Ireland. The British Museum authorities pointed out that the National Museum at Dublin had had a chance to buy them and had failed to do so. And further, they said that nobody could prove that the jewelry was made in Ireland—it might originally have come from England. The Press fanned the flames is dispute, and the matter was taken into the Court of Law. It took some six years before the law got around to deciding which contestant was right. And then, with the wisdom of Solomon, it favored neither one side or the other. Judgment was given that the jewelry was indeed treasure trove and therefore by virtue of the Prerogative Royal belonged to the King. Whereupon His Majesty, after receiving the treasure, tactfully turned about and presented it to the Irish National Museum. Altogether, it seems to have been a merry puss-in-the-corner game played in recent times by ornaments of precious metal that for centuries had lain untouched where they had been hidden in the ground, perhaps by some rich and important owner when the alarm of invasion rang through the land.
Early Jewelry Of The British Isles (continued)
1. Celtic Ornaments
The recorded history of England may be said to begin with the invasions of the Romans, and very little jewelry made before the Roman conquest has come to light. Such specimens as have been found consist of pins, rings, neck ornaments, discs and bracelets, made of bronze or gold, never of silver.
There were also beads. First, last and always there are beads in all ages and among all peoples, civilized or savage. The prehistoric beads of the British Isles were made of bone, amber, jet or glass. The latter probably supplied by Phœnician trading ships, since glass-making was unknown to the early inhabitants of England.
The gold they used was often so pure that it was quite flexible, and a small gold bar would be bent until its two ends all but touched. The ring thus formed was easily opened and a number of them could be linked together to make an ornamental chain. It is supposed that the rings were used as a medium of barter, therefore they are usually called ‘ring money’.
Many of the ancient ornaments were torques. A torque is an inflexible, rather massive ring of twisted gold which was usually worn as a neck ring. Any number of them have been unearthed in Ireland and one of these torques is so huge that it could not have been worn about the throat, but must have been hung over one shoulder to rest diagonally across the chest. It measures more than five feet in length.
The Emerald Isle is famed for the fine collection of ancient relics of pure gold that have been discovered there during the last few centuries. Among them are many dress-fasteners in the form of brooches.
As for the dress-fastener, one of the problems met by the first man who appropriated the pelt of an animal and tried wearing it on his own back, was how to keep if from falling off. A history of the varied inventions of mankind for the fastening of clothes would in itself fill a volume, which might bear the title, From Thorns to Zippers, for the first fun ‘coat’ ever worn by man was very likely pinned together with a thorn. Buttons with buttonholes, hooks and eyes, snappers and zippers were rather a long time coming to our aid.
The pin has been through many stages of evolution. At a very early period it was made of gold wire bent into a form somewhat resembling our safety pin of today. A later development of the simple pin with a catch was the Roman fibula, a two piece brooch consisting of a pin on a hinge and a bow.
The characteristic Celtic brooch was composed of a long pin an an incomplete ring. Untold numbers of these ancient ornaments were, in former years, sold by the men who found them for whatever the yellow metal would fetch.
Archeology is not a science that appeals to the man with a hoe. If the hoe chances to turn up some priceless piece of ancient jewelry the important thing to him is the intrinsic worth of the metal; so into the melting pot it goes, and, losing all those incalculable values given it by the history of its period and the hand of the goldsmith, becomes once again a soulless lump of metal.
However, this sad fate does not always fall to the lot of ancient Celtic ornaments of gold found by accident, as the following instance goes to prove.
One day in the year 1896 (as near to the present as that) a peasant was plowing a field. As the plow cut its way through a furrow of brown earth it met with some slight obstruction which, on examination, turned out to be nothing less than the now-famous Limavaday Treasure. It would be interesting to know what the man thought when first he saw the yellow gleam of gold, but we have only the statement of bald facts. At any rate, from that plowed field in the county of Londonderry, Ireland, was taken a little golden hoard such as one reads of in a romance of buried treasure. There were chains of gold, a torque made of thick twisted strands of rich yellow gold, and there was a collar of remarkable workmanship ornamented with repousśe work, which marks the period of its making as sometime about the first century A.D.
The year following their discovery the ornaments were sold to the British Museum, whereupon Ireland set up a violent protest. She claimed that the relics, having been found in Irish soil were treasure-trove and therefore belonged to Ireland. The British Museum authorities pointed out that the National Museum at Dublin had had a chance to buy them and had failed to do so. And further, they said that nobody could prove that the jewelry was made in Ireland—it might originally have come from England. The Press fanned the flames is dispute, and the matter was taken into the Court of Law. It took some six years before the law got around to deciding which contestant was right. And then, with the wisdom of Solomon, it favored neither one side or the other. Judgment was given that the jewelry was indeed treasure trove and therefore by virtue of the Prerogative Royal belonged to the King. Whereupon His Majesty, after receiving the treasure, tactfully turned about and presented it to the Irish National Museum. Altogether, it seems to have been a merry puss-in-the-corner game played in recent times by ornaments of precious metal that for centuries had lain untouched where they had been hidden in the ground, perhaps by some rich and important owner when the alarm of invasion rang through the land.
Early Jewelry Of The British Isles (continued)
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
The Art Of Gainsborough, Romney, Raeburn, Hoppner, And Lawrence
1
Shortly before little Joshua Reynolds celebrated his fourth birthday in the West of England, there was born in the Eastern Counties a babe destined to become his greatest rival in life and death. Thomas Gainsborough was born in 1727 at Sudbury, in Suffolk. He was one of a large family, his father being a wool manufacturer and clothier of moderate means, while his mother was a woman of education, the sister of a schoolmaster and herself a skillful painter of flowers. Thomas inherited his mother’s love of nature and her talent for art, and spend his boyhood rambling about the countryside and sketching the scenery round Sudbery. His gift for catching a likeness revealed itself early. One day, having seen a man robbing an orchard, he made a quick sketch of him, with the result that the robber was recognized from Gainsborough’s drawing and arrested. The boy’s faculty for copying, however, was not always exercised in the interests of law and order; and on another occasion, when he desired to play truant, he forged his father’s handwriting in a letter to the schoolmaster, asking for a day’s holiday. The ruse succeeded, but was subsequently found out, and seeing clearly that the boy would work at nothing but his drawing and sketching, the father wisely sent his son at the age of fifteen to London to study art under the French engraver Henri Gravelot. Young Gainsborough also studied at the St Martin’s Lane Academy, and later became the pupil of the portrait-painter Francis Hayman (1708-76), with whom he continued nearly four years. In 1745 he returned to his native town of Sudbury, where he began practice as a portrait painter and occasionally painted a small landscape for his own pleasure.
Unlike Reynolds, who was ‘wedded to his art,’ Gainsborough married when he was only nineteen. He fell in love with Margaret Burr, a beautiful girl of eighteen, who fortunately possessed an income of £200 a year of her own, and as no obstacles were raised to their wedding the boy-and-girl couple settled down at Ipswich, where Gainsborough soon acquired a considerable local reputation as a portrait painter. Here his two daughters were born and the painter led a happy domestic life, sketching in the country between the intervals of his professional portraiture and spending his evenings playing the violin—for he was devoted to music—either in his own home or in the houses of some of his friends.
In 1760 he was tempted to leave this simple life at Ipswich and moved to Bath, a fashionable center to which everyone who was anyone in London society came sooner of later. From a professional point of view this move was the beginning of Gainsborough’s fortune, for the fashionable world soon flocked to the studio of this ‘new man’ who made his sitters look so august and distinguished, and the modest provincial, who had begun painting three quarter lengths at five guineas apiece, now asked eight guineas, and was soon able to increase his figure to something nearer London prices. But while his fortune waxed, his happiness waned, and having now secured the entry into the fashionable world, Gainsborough began to pay attention to other ladies and so excite his wife’s jealousy. His home life was no longer simple or happy, and as time went on his private troubles increased, for both Mrs Gainsborough and his two daughters became subject to mental derangement. To the world, however, he continued to show a cheerful face, and his sprightly conversation and humor made Gainsborough a welcome favorite in all society.
In time the fame of the Bath painter spread to London, where Gainsborough occasionally exhibited at the Society of Artists, but though in 1768 he was chosen as one of the foundation members of the Royal Academy, he did not immediately leave Bath. He came there when he was thirty three; and it was not till he was forty seven that he was persuaded to move to London. In 1774 he took a part of Schomberg House in Pall Mall, and his success was immediate. ‘The King sent for him and Duchesses besieged his studio.’ Society was rent in twain, divided into a Reynold faction and a Gainsborough faction, and under these circumstances it is not altogether surprising that Sir Joshua’s jealousy did not allow him to be quite fair to his rival, whose power of securing a likeness he once formally denied.
Many stories are told of the rivalry between the two painters, and they have mostly increased with the telling in the course of years. As an example of the growth of legends, we may cite the widely circulated story that Reynolds at an Academy banquet once proposed the health of ‘Mr Gainsborough, the landscape-painter of the day,’ whereupon Richard Wilson is said to have retorted, ‘Ay, and the greatest portrait-painter too.’
The original version of this incident is told by Thomas Wright in his Life of Richard Wilson, published in 1824, and here we learn that the dialogue took place, not at an Academy banquet, but a the Turk’s Head in Gerrard Street, shortly after Gainsborough had arrived in London from Bath. Meeting Richard Wilson there, Reynolds in a bantering spirit said, ‘Have you heard sir, that our greatest landscape-painter has come to town?’
‘Nay, Sir Joshua,’ retorted Wilson, ‘you mean our greatest portrait-painter.’ Thus what was originally a piece of good humored chaff between two great artists has been twisted by inaccurate repetition into a display of maliciousness on both sides.
Nevertheless it must be admitted that there was a decided coolness between Reynolds and Gainsborough, and this was natural enough, for not only were the two men competitors for the patronage of Society, they were also temperamentally too far apart to understand one another completely. ‘With Reynolds,’ Sir Walter Armstrong has said, ‘deliberation counted for much; Gainsborough’s good things are impromptus.’ The seriousness and slight pomposity of Reynolds could not mix easily with the free-and-easy gaiety of Gainsborough. To Gainsborough, Reynolds seemed something of a pedant; to Reynolds, Gainsborough appeared rather a frivolous person. For many years neither missed many opportunities of getting a ‘dig’ at the other.
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)
The Art Of Gainsborough, Romney, Raeburn, Hoppner, And Lawrence
1
Shortly before little Joshua Reynolds celebrated his fourth birthday in the West of England, there was born in the Eastern Counties a babe destined to become his greatest rival in life and death. Thomas Gainsborough was born in 1727 at Sudbury, in Suffolk. He was one of a large family, his father being a wool manufacturer and clothier of moderate means, while his mother was a woman of education, the sister of a schoolmaster and herself a skillful painter of flowers. Thomas inherited his mother’s love of nature and her talent for art, and spend his boyhood rambling about the countryside and sketching the scenery round Sudbery. His gift for catching a likeness revealed itself early. One day, having seen a man robbing an orchard, he made a quick sketch of him, with the result that the robber was recognized from Gainsborough’s drawing and arrested. The boy’s faculty for copying, however, was not always exercised in the interests of law and order; and on another occasion, when he desired to play truant, he forged his father’s handwriting in a letter to the schoolmaster, asking for a day’s holiday. The ruse succeeded, but was subsequently found out, and seeing clearly that the boy would work at nothing but his drawing and sketching, the father wisely sent his son at the age of fifteen to London to study art under the French engraver Henri Gravelot. Young Gainsborough also studied at the St Martin’s Lane Academy, and later became the pupil of the portrait-painter Francis Hayman (1708-76), with whom he continued nearly four years. In 1745 he returned to his native town of Sudbury, where he began practice as a portrait painter and occasionally painted a small landscape for his own pleasure.
Unlike Reynolds, who was ‘wedded to his art,’ Gainsborough married when he was only nineteen. He fell in love with Margaret Burr, a beautiful girl of eighteen, who fortunately possessed an income of £200 a year of her own, and as no obstacles were raised to their wedding the boy-and-girl couple settled down at Ipswich, where Gainsborough soon acquired a considerable local reputation as a portrait painter. Here his two daughters were born and the painter led a happy domestic life, sketching in the country between the intervals of his professional portraiture and spending his evenings playing the violin—for he was devoted to music—either in his own home or in the houses of some of his friends.
In 1760 he was tempted to leave this simple life at Ipswich and moved to Bath, a fashionable center to which everyone who was anyone in London society came sooner of later. From a professional point of view this move was the beginning of Gainsborough’s fortune, for the fashionable world soon flocked to the studio of this ‘new man’ who made his sitters look so august and distinguished, and the modest provincial, who had begun painting three quarter lengths at five guineas apiece, now asked eight guineas, and was soon able to increase his figure to something nearer London prices. But while his fortune waxed, his happiness waned, and having now secured the entry into the fashionable world, Gainsborough began to pay attention to other ladies and so excite his wife’s jealousy. His home life was no longer simple or happy, and as time went on his private troubles increased, for both Mrs Gainsborough and his two daughters became subject to mental derangement. To the world, however, he continued to show a cheerful face, and his sprightly conversation and humor made Gainsborough a welcome favorite in all society.
In time the fame of the Bath painter spread to London, where Gainsborough occasionally exhibited at the Society of Artists, but though in 1768 he was chosen as one of the foundation members of the Royal Academy, he did not immediately leave Bath. He came there when he was thirty three; and it was not till he was forty seven that he was persuaded to move to London. In 1774 he took a part of Schomberg House in Pall Mall, and his success was immediate. ‘The King sent for him and Duchesses besieged his studio.’ Society was rent in twain, divided into a Reynold faction and a Gainsborough faction, and under these circumstances it is not altogether surprising that Sir Joshua’s jealousy did not allow him to be quite fair to his rival, whose power of securing a likeness he once formally denied.
Many stories are told of the rivalry between the two painters, and they have mostly increased with the telling in the course of years. As an example of the growth of legends, we may cite the widely circulated story that Reynolds at an Academy banquet once proposed the health of ‘Mr Gainsborough, the landscape-painter of the day,’ whereupon Richard Wilson is said to have retorted, ‘Ay, and the greatest portrait-painter too.’
The original version of this incident is told by Thomas Wright in his Life of Richard Wilson, published in 1824, and here we learn that the dialogue took place, not at an Academy banquet, but a the Turk’s Head in Gerrard Street, shortly after Gainsborough had arrived in London from Bath. Meeting Richard Wilson there, Reynolds in a bantering spirit said, ‘Have you heard sir, that our greatest landscape-painter has come to town?’
‘Nay, Sir Joshua,’ retorted Wilson, ‘you mean our greatest portrait-painter.’ Thus what was originally a piece of good humored chaff between two great artists has been twisted by inaccurate repetition into a display of maliciousness on both sides.
Nevertheless it must be admitted that there was a decided coolness between Reynolds and Gainsborough, and this was natural enough, for not only were the two men competitors for the patronage of Society, they were also temperamentally too far apart to understand one another completely. ‘With Reynolds,’ Sir Walter Armstrong has said, ‘deliberation counted for much; Gainsborough’s good things are impromptus.’ The seriousness and slight pomposity of Reynolds could not mix easily with the free-and-easy gaiety of Gainsborough. To Gainsborough, Reynolds seemed something of a pedant; to Reynolds, Gainsborough appeared rather a frivolous person. For many years neither missed many opportunities of getting a ‘dig’ at the other.
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)
Friday, January 25, 2008
China's Economic Growth
China's National Bureau of Statistics on Thursday released an official data on country’s economic growth at 11.4 percent in 2007, the highest in 13 years + the inflation rate rose by 4.8 per cent in 2007, the highest level in more than a decade + the growth has brought China closer to edge past Germany as the world's third largest economy after the US and Japan because of its booming exports + pumping in of massive investment on infrastructure.
Useful link:
www.stats.gov.cn/english
Useful link:
www.stats.gov.cn/english
Solazyme
Solazyme, a California biotech firm is betting algae is a fuel of the future + the company says Soladiesel will work in any diesel engine, in almost any climate + they say their technology combines all the key components: low carbon footprint + environmental sustainability + certified compatability with existing vehicles + infrastructure and energy security + they hope to mass produce Soladiesel at a competitive price within three years.
Useful link:
www.solazyme.com
Useful link:
www.solazyme.com
The Color Compendium
The Color Compendium by Augustine Hope + Margaret Walch is one of the most straightforward resources on color symbolism + it's user-friendly.
Here is what the description of The Color Compendium says (via Amazon):
The Color Compendium is the first comprehensive, illustrated encyclopedia entirely devoted to color. This extraordinary reference covers the full range of color-related subjects, including their scientific, technical, artistic, and historical aspects.
The Color Compendium features:
-An A to Z encyclopedia, extensively cross-referenced for easy access to all information
-A section of color systems, explaining their development and use- Sections on color communication and symbolism
-Biographies of leading historical and contemporary color theorists, and commentaries on their ideas
-A fully illustrated section of historic and twentieth century palettes and their source artifacts
Here is what the description of The Color Compendium says (via Amazon):
The Color Compendium is the first comprehensive, illustrated encyclopedia entirely devoted to color. This extraordinary reference covers the full range of color-related subjects, including their scientific, technical, artistic, and historical aspects.
The Color Compendium features:
-An A to Z encyclopedia, extensively cross-referenced for easy access to all information
-A section of color systems, explaining their development and use- Sections on color communication and symbolism
-Biographies of leading historical and contemporary color theorists, and commentaries on their ideas
-A fully illustrated section of historic and twentieth century palettes and their source artifacts
A R Rahman
A. R. Rahman is an award-winning composer + record producer + musician from India + he is one of the world's top 25 all-time top selling recording artists + his interest and outlook in music is said to stem from his love of experimentation covering a variety of genres.
Useful links:
www.arrahman.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A._R._Rahman
Useful links:
www.arrahman.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A._R._Rahman
Jewelers Directory
Here is an interesting concept: the just-launched European Jewellers Directory (EJD) is the brain child of former HRD marketing director Filip Van Laere + it offers listings of jewelers broken down by location, city size, type of goods sold and even scope of business @ www.jewellersdirectory.eu
John Currin
John Currin is an American painter + he is best known for satirical figurative paintings which deal with provocative sexual and social themes in a technically skillful manner + his work shows a wide range of influences, including sources as diverse as the Renaissance + popular culture magazines + contemporary fashion models + he often distorts or exaggerates the erotic forms of the female body.
Useful links:
http://www.gagosian.com/artists/john-currin
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Currin
Raw Art
http://www.newyorker.com/online/2008/01/28/slideshow_080128_currin
Useful links:
http://www.gagosian.com/artists/john-currin
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Currin
Raw Art
http://www.newyorker.com/online/2008/01/28/slideshow_080128_currin
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
Blunt and missing corners usually resulted from the cutter’s efforts to achieve maximum show, and were accepted even though they reduced the value of the gems. Only very rarely was a corner broken through careless handling. French inventories include the following terms: ayant tous ses coings; escorné ďun coing; escorné de deux petits coings; escorné de trois coings; escorné des quatre coings.
There is a mid-sixteenth-century cross (in the Schmuckmuseum, Pforzheim) in enamelled gold set with a number of second-rate Table diamonds, with irregular outlines and haphazard faceting. This indicates that they originated in the early fifteenth century, if not in the fourteenth, and were handed down. Similar diamonds can be seen in a number of seventeenth-century jewels; they were not fit for recutting and eventually (since they were cheap) they found applications in later jewelry of lesser value.
When Francis I established the French Crown Jewels in 1530 he chose as one of the eight pieces for the Treasury a large Table Cut diamond valued at 25000 écus. No weight was recorded but according to Sancy’s price list and estimations it must have weighed 25-26 ct. Later the king bought another, much larger, Full Table Cut diamond which was only added to the Treasury in 1559, by Francis II. This second Grande Table was listed as ‘une fort grande table de dyaman carréè, without any estimated value. A year later it was listed in the inventory as ‘une fort grande table de dyaman à pleine fons un peu longuet que achepta le roy François 1er et lui cousta 65000 écuś. Again using Sancy’s calculations, it can be estimated that this second Grande Table weighed a little over 40 ct and measured more than 20mm in width: it is said to have been one of the largest and most beautiful diamonds in Europe. In 1570 the Crown inventory described te stone as ‘une fort grande table de dyaman á plein fons un peu longuette escornèe de deux coings’, still worth 65000 écus. Catherine de’ Medici tried to pawn it in 1568 but it was refused at her valuation of 75000 écus. It was successfully pawned in 1583 to a Florentine banker called Rucellai, who eventually disposed of it; no trace of it has ever been discovered. It is possible that these two Grandes Tables, refashioned into Brilliants, are still somewhere in existence.
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners (continued)
Blunt and missing corners usually resulted from the cutter’s efforts to achieve maximum show, and were accepted even though they reduced the value of the gems. Only very rarely was a corner broken through careless handling. French inventories include the following terms: ayant tous ses coings; escorné ďun coing; escorné de deux petits coings; escorné de trois coings; escorné des quatre coings.
There is a mid-sixteenth-century cross (in the Schmuckmuseum, Pforzheim) in enamelled gold set with a number of second-rate Table diamonds, with irregular outlines and haphazard faceting. This indicates that they originated in the early fifteenth century, if not in the fourteenth, and were handed down. Similar diamonds can be seen in a number of seventeenth-century jewels; they were not fit for recutting and eventually (since they were cheap) they found applications in later jewelry of lesser value.
When Francis I established the French Crown Jewels in 1530 he chose as one of the eight pieces for the Treasury a large Table Cut diamond valued at 25000 écus. No weight was recorded but according to Sancy’s price list and estimations it must have weighed 25-26 ct. Later the king bought another, much larger, Full Table Cut diamond which was only added to the Treasury in 1559, by Francis II. This second Grande Table was listed as ‘une fort grande table de dyaman carréè, without any estimated value. A year later it was listed in the inventory as ‘une fort grande table de dyaman à pleine fons un peu longuet que achepta le roy François 1er et lui cousta 65000 écuś. Again using Sancy’s calculations, it can be estimated that this second Grande Table weighed a little over 40 ct and measured more than 20mm in width: it is said to have been one of the largest and most beautiful diamonds in Europe. In 1570 the Crown inventory described te stone as ‘une fort grande table de dyaman á plein fons un peu longuette escornèe de deux coings’, still worth 65000 écus. Catherine de’ Medici tried to pawn it in 1568 but it was refused at her valuation of 75000 écus. It was successfully pawned in 1583 to a Florentine banker called Rucellai, who eventually disposed of it; no trace of it has ever been discovered. It is possible that these two Grandes Tables, refashioned into Brilliants, are still somewhere in existence.
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners (continued)
Jewelers Of Italy
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
8. Byzantine Jewelry
When Constantine the Great, in 330 A.D had transferred the center of imperial power to Constantinople, the jewelers of the Empire were brought into contact with the great wealth of material and opulence of Oriental ornament. They were strongly influenced by it. Greco-Roman jewelry now lost its classical character and comparative simplicity and took on gorgeous color and Oriental symbolism. From the combined influences of Europe and the Orient developed Byzantine jewelry, whose characteristics were destined to last through the greater part of the Middle Ages.
Every once in a while during various periods of history the work of the jeweler has impinged on that of the clothier. Jewelry has been worn not only as an accessory but in the form of gold embroidery and insets of precious stones as an integral part of the garment itself. Such a period came in the sixth century. Of course only the very rich might indulge in the luxury and the very questionable comfort of these bejeweled garments.
In the Roman court at Constantinople, Justinian and his wife, Theodora, wore robes stiff with jewels. In their gorgeous, heavily weighted costumes there was no trace left of the soft-flowing Greek and Roman garments of earlier times. Theodora wore an elaborate diadem hung with precious stones. Ropes of pearls and emeralds encircled her throat and lay weightily upon her shoulders; and Justinian himself was scarcely outdone in splendor of jewels by his wife.
‘By the sixth century,’ says H G Wells, ‘the population of Europe and North Africa had been stirred up like sediment.’ And even when, in the course of the next two centuries the ‘sediment’ was allowed to settle down enough for various peoples to take on national characteristics, their jewelry was slow to develop any strongly localized individuality. Wherever the East and the West had mingled, the splendor of the Orient, with its symbolic mysticism, had left its mark on the jewelry of the country.
As the fabulous wealth in jewels grew, it rose like sparkling bubbles in a boiling pot to the top ranges of society, while the daily life of the common man grew ever more poverty stricken.
During miserable Dark Ages, famine and plague, always close comrades, stalked the earth together. The seventh century was one of the blackest periods of history. Bands of robbers unchecked by authority added their quota to terror and misery and no man by himself was safe. The few goldsmiths and lapidaries who had escaped with their lives either sought the protection of some powerful lord or joined certain other men who, gathering together in groups for mutual protection, lived apart in monasteries, devoting their lives to the new religion, Christianity, and to the preservation of various arts. These men were the monks. Each one was required to practise an art or a handicraft, and many of them were expert goldsmith.
Thus, in small havens of peace and safety, many knowledges of technique and art were preserved which otherwise would have been lost in the black chaos of the Dark Ages.
In the eighth century, under a decree issued by the Byzantine Emperor Leo, the Isaurian, there began an orgy of destruction aimed chiefly at the sacred images so numerously set in in the Christian Churches. Man’s inherent lust for destruction seems unquenchable, and when backed and encouraged by authority the joy smashing knows no bounds. Unhappily similar periods of delight have been frequent in history and are in force even at the present time.
With such fervent zeal did the iconoclast crusaders carry on their mission that even the artists and goldsmiths who made the offending images were included in the general havoc and had to flee for their lives. ‘The woods and caves,’ says one old record, ‘were filled with them.’
Many of them fled to France and to Germany. In Rome, monasteries welcomed the refugees and straightway set them to work, each man according to his own craft. And so it was that throughout the various countries giving asylum to artists, the Byzantine influence was brought to bear upon the arts and crafts of those countries.
8. Byzantine Jewelry
When Constantine the Great, in 330 A.D had transferred the center of imperial power to Constantinople, the jewelers of the Empire were brought into contact with the great wealth of material and opulence of Oriental ornament. They were strongly influenced by it. Greco-Roman jewelry now lost its classical character and comparative simplicity and took on gorgeous color and Oriental symbolism. From the combined influences of Europe and the Orient developed Byzantine jewelry, whose characteristics were destined to last through the greater part of the Middle Ages.
Every once in a while during various periods of history the work of the jeweler has impinged on that of the clothier. Jewelry has been worn not only as an accessory but in the form of gold embroidery and insets of precious stones as an integral part of the garment itself. Such a period came in the sixth century. Of course only the very rich might indulge in the luxury and the very questionable comfort of these bejeweled garments.
In the Roman court at Constantinople, Justinian and his wife, Theodora, wore robes stiff with jewels. In their gorgeous, heavily weighted costumes there was no trace left of the soft-flowing Greek and Roman garments of earlier times. Theodora wore an elaborate diadem hung with precious stones. Ropes of pearls and emeralds encircled her throat and lay weightily upon her shoulders; and Justinian himself was scarcely outdone in splendor of jewels by his wife.
‘By the sixth century,’ says H G Wells, ‘the population of Europe and North Africa had been stirred up like sediment.’ And even when, in the course of the next two centuries the ‘sediment’ was allowed to settle down enough for various peoples to take on national characteristics, their jewelry was slow to develop any strongly localized individuality. Wherever the East and the West had mingled, the splendor of the Orient, with its symbolic mysticism, had left its mark on the jewelry of the country.
As the fabulous wealth in jewels grew, it rose like sparkling bubbles in a boiling pot to the top ranges of society, while the daily life of the common man grew ever more poverty stricken.
During miserable Dark Ages, famine and plague, always close comrades, stalked the earth together. The seventh century was one of the blackest periods of history. Bands of robbers unchecked by authority added their quota to terror and misery and no man by himself was safe. The few goldsmiths and lapidaries who had escaped with their lives either sought the protection of some powerful lord or joined certain other men who, gathering together in groups for mutual protection, lived apart in monasteries, devoting their lives to the new religion, Christianity, and to the preservation of various arts. These men were the monks. Each one was required to practise an art or a handicraft, and many of them were expert goldsmith.
Thus, in small havens of peace and safety, many knowledges of technique and art were preserved which otherwise would have been lost in the black chaos of the Dark Ages.
In the eighth century, under a decree issued by the Byzantine Emperor Leo, the Isaurian, there began an orgy of destruction aimed chiefly at the sacred images so numerously set in in the Christian Churches. Man’s inherent lust for destruction seems unquenchable, and when backed and encouraged by authority the joy smashing knows no bounds. Unhappily similar periods of delight have been frequent in history and are in force even at the present time.
With such fervent zeal did the iconoclast crusaders carry on their mission that even the artists and goldsmiths who made the offending images were included in the general havoc and had to flee for their lives. ‘The woods and caves,’ says one old record, ‘were filled with them.’
Many of them fled to France and to Germany. In Rome, monasteries welcomed the refugees and straightway set them to work, each man according to his own craft. And so it was that throughout the various countries giving asylum to artists, the Byzantine influence was brought to bear upon the arts and crafts of those countries.
English Masters Of The Eighteenth Century
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
3
When Richard Wilson was already learning the business of portrait-painting in London, Joshua Reynolds was a little boy of six. He also was the son of a clergyman, the Rev. Samuel Reynolds of Plympton Earl, near Plymouth, where Joshua, the seventh son, was born on July 16, 1723. Sir Godfrey Kneller died the same year.
Nature and Fortune were both kind to Reynolds; the first endowed him with courtly manners as well as talent, the second gave him opportunities to use these to the best advantage. Doubtless Reynolds would have made his way to the front, by one path if not by another, but it was a piece of good luck for him when the Commodore Keppel of the Centurion put in at Plymouth for repairs, and met the young painter at the house of Lord Mount –Edgcumbe. Keppel took a liking to the painter and offered him a free passage on his ship to the Mediterranean. Reynolds gladly accepted, and after a long stay with Keppel at Minorca, went on to Rome, where he gave himself up to that worship of Michael Angelo that he retained all his life. His well-known deafness dates from this early period, and was the result of a cold which he caught while copying at the Vatican.
From Rome, Reynolds went to Florence, Venice, and other Italian cities, returning to England in 1753, and then he settled in London, never to leave it again except for a holiday. His younger sister Frances kept house for him, and he never married; like Michael Angelo, the object of his worship, Reynolds said he was ‘wedded to his art.’ After living for a time at 104 St Martin’s Lane, and then at 5 Great Newport Street, he made his permanent home at 47 Leicester Square, and Messrs. Puttick & Simpson now hold their auctions in the room that was once his studio.
Reynolds did not capture the town at first assault; the deep richness of the coloring he had adopted from the Venetian masters, and the atmospheric contours of his forms, did not appeal to connoisseurs accustomed to the lighter color and harder outlines of Kneller; but supported by the influence of Lord Mount-Edgcumbe and Admiral Keppel, he gradually became acknowledged as the head of his profession. When the Royal Academy was founded, his appointment as President met with universal approbation, for it was felt that no painter could fill the office so well. Reynolds, as Mr E V Lucas points out, ‘was sought not only for his brush, but also for his company; and though he did not court high society, he was sensible of the advantages it gave him. Other and finer intellects also welcomed him—such as Dr Johnson, Burke, and Goldsmith—and his house became a center of good talk.’
Reynolds was not only a great painter, but a great gentleman, for long before the King knighted him in 1769, five days before the opening of the first Academy exhibition, he had shown court and society ‘that a painter could be a wise man and a considerable man as well.’
The story of Sir Joshua’s life is not dramatic; it is the placid, smoothly running story of his art, of well-chosen friendships, of kindly actions, occasional displays of professional jealousy—for he was human and not an angel—and of a happy domestic life. When his brother-in-law Mr Palmer died in 1770, Sir Joshua adopted his daughter Theophila, then thirteen, and later her sister Mary Palmer also came to live with him, so that though a bachelor Reynolds was not without young people in his house. Both his nieces remained with him till they married, and it was Theophila’s daughter, little Theophila Gwatkin, who was the original of one of Reynold’s most charming and popular paintings, ‘The Age of Innocence.’
His grand-niece was six years old when Reynolds, in 1788, painted her portrait, a work which in conception and in every touch proclaims that it was ‘a labor of love.’ Indeed, nowhere do the simplicity, the benevolence, and the affectionate nature of the man shine out more beautifully than in his paintings of children. Splendid and decorative in its color-scheme and open air setting, his ‘Mrs Richard Hoare with her Infant Son’ in the Wallace Collection has the same winning simplicity of intention; for it is much more than a mere portrait, it is a grave and tender expression of a mother’s love. The other side of Sir Joshua’s art, ‘the grand manner,’ is seen in the famous ‘Mrs Siddons as the Tragic Muse’ and in ‘Miss Emily Pott as Thais’. This was the side most admired by his contemporaries, and we must admit that Reynolds had a rare power of dramatic presentation, which found its happiest outlet when he was dealing with contemporary subjects. ‘The Tragic Muse’ is something of a wreck today, because in his desire to emulate the deep, rich coloring of the Venetians, Reynolds made use of bitumen, a pigment which gives brilliant immediate results but never dries, and in time trickles down a canvas in channels, ruining its surface. This pigment, which liquefies like asphalt when the sun is hot, is chiefly responsible for the poor condition today of many paintings by Reynolds, and it must be admitted that as a craftsman he was not so particular as Wilson and Hogarth, who were more careful in their choice of pigments.
When Sir Joshua was sixty six he lost the sight of his left eye and from this calamity and the dread of losing the other, which was threatened, he never recovered. For three years he lingered on, seeing his friends and bearing his infirmity with fortitude, but the will to live was gone when he could no longer practice his art with assurance. He died on February 23, 1792, and was buried in state at St Paul’s Cathedral.
‘I know of no man who has passed through life with more observation than Reynolds,’ said Dr Johnson; ‘when Reynolds tells me anything, I consider myself as possessed of an idea the more.’ Sir Joshua himself was distinguished by his literary abilities, and his ‘Discourses on Painting,’ which formed his yearly address to the students of the Royal Academy, are treasured and read today both for their literary merit and their instructive art teaching.
3
When Richard Wilson was already learning the business of portrait-painting in London, Joshua Reynolds was a little boy of six. He also was the son of a clergyman, the Rev. Samuel Reynolds of Plympton Earl, near Plymouth, where Joshua, the seventh son, was born on July 16, 1723. Sir Godfrey Kneller died the same year.
Nature and Fortune were both kind to Reynolds; the first endowed him with courtly manners as well as talent, the second gave him opportunities to use these to the best advantage. Doubtless Reynolds would have made his way to the front, by one path if not by another, but it was a piece of good luck for him when the Commodore Keppel of the Centurion put in at Plymouth for repairs, and met the young painter at the house of Lord Mount –Edgcumbe. Keppel took a liking to the painter and offered him a free passage on his ship to the Mediterranean. Reynolds gladly accepted, and after a long stay with Keppel at Minorca, went on to Rome, where he gave himself up to that worship of Michael Angelo that he retained all his life. His well-known deafness dates from this early period, and was the result of a cold which he caught while copying at the Vatican.
From Rome, Reynolds went to Florence, Venice, and other Italian cities, returning to England in 1753, and then he settled in London, never to leave it again except for a holiday. His younger sister Frances kept house for him, and he never married; like Michael Angelo, the object of his worship, Reynolds said he was ‘wedded to his art.’ After living for a time at 104 St Martin’s Lane, and then at 5 Great Newport Street, he made his permanent home at 47 Leicester Square, and Messrs. Puttick & Simpson now hold their auctions in the room that was once his studio.
Reynolds did not capture the town at first assault; the deep richness of the coloring he had adopted from the Venetian masters, and the atmospheric contours of his forms, did not appeal to connoisseurs accustomed to the lighter color and harder outlines of Kneller; but supported by the influence of Lord Mount-Edgcumbe and Admiral Keppel, he gradually became acknowledged as the head of his profession. When the Royal Academy was founded, his appointment as President met with universal approbation, for it was felt that no painter could fill the office so well. Reynolds, as Mr E V Lucas points out, ‘was sought not only for his brush, but also for his company; and though he did not court high society, he was sensible of the advantages it gave him. Other and finer intellects also welcomed him—such as Dr Johnson, Burke, and Goldsmith—and his house became a center of good talk.’
Reynolds was not only a great painter, but a great gentleman, for long before the King knighted him in 1769, five days before the opening of the first Academy exhibition, he had shown court and society ‘that a painter could be a wise man and a considerable man as well.’
The story of Sir Joshua’s life is not dramatic; it is the placid, smoothly running story of his art, of well-chosen friendships, of kindly actions, occasional displays of professional jealousy—for he was human and not an angel—and of a happy domestic life. When his brother-in-law Mr Palmer died in 1770, Sir Joshua adopted his daughter Theophila, then thirteen, and later her sister Mary Palmer also came to live with him, so that though a bachelor Reynolds was not without young people in his house. Both his nieces remained with him till they married, and it was Theophila’s daughter, little Theophila Gwatkin, who was the original of one of Reynold’s most charming and popular paintings, ‘The Age of Innocence.’
His grand-niece was six years old when Reynolds, in 1788, painted her portrait, a work which in conception and in every touch proclaims that it was ‘a labor of love.’ Indeed, nowhere do the simplicity, the benevolence, and the affectionate nature of the man shine out more beautifully than in his paintings of children. Splendid and decorative in its color-scheme and open air setting, his ‘Mrs Richard Hoare with her Infant Son’ in the Wallace Collection has the same winning simplicity of intention; for it is much more than a mere portrait, it is a grave and tender expression of a mother’s love. The other side of Sir Joshua’s art, ‘the grand manner,’ is seen in the famous ‘Mrs Siddons as the Tragic Muse’ and in ‘Miss Emily Pott as Thais’. This was the side most admired by his contemporaries, and we must admit that Reynolds had a rare power of dramatic presentation, which found its happiest outlet when he was dealing with contemporary subjects. ‘The Tragic Muse’ is something of a wreck today, because in his desire to emulate the deep, rich coloring of the Venetians, Reynolds made use of bitumen, a pigment which gives brilliant immediate results but never dries, and in time trickles down a canvas in channels, ruining its surface. This pigment, which liquefies like asphalt when the sun is hot, is chiefly responsible for the poor condition today of many paintings by Reynolds, and it must be admitted that as a craftsman he was not so particular as Wilson and Hogarth, who were more careful in their choice of pigments.
When Sir Joshua was sixty six he lost the sight of his left eye and from this calamity and the dread of losing the other, which was threatened, he never recovered. For three years he lingered on, seeing his friends and bearing his infirmity with fortitude, but the will to live was gone when he could no longer practice his art with assurance. He died on February 23, 1792, and was buried in state at St Paul’s Cathedral.
‘I know of no man who has passed through life with more observation than Reynolds,’ said Dr Johnson; ‘when Reynolds tells me anything, I consider myself as possessed of an idea the more.’ Sir Joshua himself was distinguished by his literary abilities, and his ‘Discourses on Painting,’ which formed his yearly address to the students of the Royal Academy, are treasured and read today both for their literary merit and their instructive art teaching.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Pachyrhynchus Argus
According to Andrew Parker, an evolutionary biologist at the University of Oxford in England, the weevil, Pachyrhynchus argus, has patches of scales on the top and sides of its body, some of which contain structures that resemble the spheres in opals + he believes that understanding how the beetle manufactures the tiny structures in its scales may benefit jewelers seeking a less expensive opal + the computer and telecommunications industries seeking to manufacture tiny electronics.
Useful links:
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2004/01/0112_040112_opalbeetle.html
http://www.nature.com/nature/journal/v426/n6968/full/426786a.html
Useful links:
http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2004/01/0112_040112_opalbeetle.html
http://www.nature.com/nature/journal/v426/n6968/full/426786a.html
Heard On The Street
There is a big lesson to be learnt from the current market meltdown + if you are greedy, there is always someone to exploit your greed + reflect on the past and you will know what a sucker you have been + Mark Twain said it first: 'A man who tries to carry a cat home by its tail will learn a lesson that can be learned in no other way.'
The Jura, France
Anne Glusker writes about the weekend festivities in the Jura mountains of eastern France + The Percée du Vin Jaune, the opening of the latest batch of this cult wine + the unique experience + other viewpoints @ http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/01/21/travel/jura.php
Social Entrepreneurs
The Economist writes about the extraordinarily diverse bunch of social entrepreneurs doing interesting things + finding inspiration from each other + their partnerships with governments + the impact + other viewpoints @ http://www.economist.com/daily/columns/businessview/displaystory.cfm?story_id=10555875
Useful link:
www.schwabfound.org
Useful link:
www.schwabfound.org
Boucheron's 150th: A Modern Take On Art Nouveau
Suzy Menkes writes about Boucheron's 150th anniversary celebration + the magic mix and match of gemstones with paintings and sculptures + the unique three-dimensional designs with that otherness + history and other viewpoints @ http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/01/21/style/rbouch.php
Useful link:
www.boucheron.com
Useful link:
www.boucheron.com
Effective Forecasting
Paul Saffo is a futurist + he believes that anyone can sharpen their predictive skills with a few key concepts - ranging from looking for odd trends to knowing when not to make a forecast + here is an article in the Harvard Business Review .
Useful links:
www.saffo.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Saffo
Useful links:
www.saffo.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Saffo
Color + Human Response
Color & Human Response: Aspects Of Light And Color Bearing On The Reactions Of Living Things And The Welfare Of Human Beings by Faber Birren is an excellent tool for gaining + understanding the broad implications of color's effects on humans + I think colored stone dealers + jewelers should go the extra mile to learn + practice the concept so that they are able to connect the dots with real people.
Here is what the description of Color & Human Response says (via Amazon):
Here is a major work by one of the best-known color authorities in the world. Faber Bitten pioneered in the field of 'functional' color, using color properties to promote human welfare psychologically, visually, and physiologically; in this volume he has assembled a wealth of information on the subject. Color and Human Response offers intriguing factual and hypothetical observations on the influences of color in life, supported by historical references and the latest scientific data. Birren explores the biological, visual, emotional, aesthetic, and psychic responses to color — referring both to ancient symbolic uses of color as well as its application in the modern environment. His specifications for color in homes, offices, hospitals, and schools are geared toward relieving modem tensions and anxieties. Complete with drawings, color photographs, and a chapter on the personal meaning of color preferences, Color and Human Response will fascinate anyone concerned with the human environment, including scientists and psychologists. It has become a basic reference for architects, teachers, and interior and industrial designers.
Here is what the description of Color & Human Response says (via Amazon):
Here is a major work by one of the best-known color authorities in the world. Faber Bitten pioneered in the field of 'functional' color, using color properties to promote human welfare psychologically, visually, and physiologically; in this volume he has assembled a wealth of information on the subject. Color and Human Response offers intriguing factual and hypothetical observations on the influences of color in life, supported by historical references and the latest scientific data. Birren explores the biological, visual, emotional, aesthetic, and psychic responses to color — referring both to ancient symbolic uses of color as well as its application in the modern environment. His specifications for color in homes, offices, hospitals, and schools are geared toward relieving modem tensions and anxieties. Complete with drawings, color photographs, and a chapter on the personal meaning of color preferences, Color and Human Response will fascinate anyone concerned with the human environment, including scientists and psychologists. It has become a basic reference for architects, teachers, and interior and industrial designers.
Karlheinz Stockhausen
Karlheinz Stockhausen was a German composer, widely acknowledged as one of the most important but also controversial composers of the 20th century + he is known for his ground-breaking work in electronic music and aleatory (controlled chance) in serial composition + he is perceived as one of the great visionaries of 20th-century music + I think the Licht project which purports to deal with life, death, man and salvation in a universal setting was unique + I enjoyed it.
Useful links:
www.stockhausen.org
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karlheinz_Stockhausen
Useful links:
www.stockhausen.org
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karlheinz_Stockhausen
Jewelers Of Italy
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
7. Decline Of The Glyptic Art
Scarcely more than one hundred years after the death of Pliny the Roman Empire was well on its way to the final crash. The arts, including glyptic art, were keeping pace downhill with the falling Empire.
Not that there was any lack of demand for engraved gems; wealthy Romans were spending exorbitant sums for them. But interest was centered not on excellence of design or technique but on the mystic significance and magical powers of the symbols engraved on the ring stones and beads. The rich man was not buying art. He was buying magic. In consequence, the work of the gem engraver grew careless and indifferent; speed in engraving the symbols was of more importance than quality of workmanship.
An uneasy sense of impending doom has a tendency to drive us, groping for escape, toward realms supernatural. The crystal-gazer and the astrologer did a thriving business in fortune-telling and prophecy. Zodiacal symbols invoking the influences of the stars were considered particularly potent. All classes, rich and poor, wore amulets of one sort or another.
In early times, what we call the ‘rank materialist’ was almost non-existent. Practically everybody believed in one or another of the many forms of superstition then current. Nevertheless there were those who craved some semblance at least of reasonable basis for belief.
There came into being a cult known as ‘Gnosticism,’ which means, knowledge of spiritual mysteries. The Gnostics believed that originally all things of the terrestrial and celestial universe had been created in an orderly harmony, that this true order had been destroyed but eventually would be restored. They sought control of occult influences through knowledge of the mystic powers of numbers, words, substances, and forms. In their quest for omniscience they impartially embraced mythology, both Greek and Oriental, the Christian and Jewish religions, philosophy, magic and as much science as was available.
Gnosticism spread fast and far. Naturally it was bound to find reflection in gems and the demand for stones engraved with the magic symbols of the Gnostics grew to such proportions that whole factories were devoted to their production. A favorite device was an image called Abraxas. The figure has the head of a cock, the body of a man, and legs which are serpents. In one hand is a shield and in the other a whip. So involved is the significance of any Gnostic symbol that authorities differ as to its meanings and we shall not attempt to unravel them here.
But to return to what was happening concerning gems in general. Silks and spices from China, furs from the forests of Scythia, and jewels from all parts of the Orient were eagerly bought up by the Romans. Says Gibbons: ‘The most remote countries of the ancient world were ransacked to supply the pomp and delicacy of Rome. Amber was brought overland from the shores of the Baltic to the Danube, and the barbarians were astonished at the price they received for so useless a commodity.’
Presently hordes of the barbarians from the North were themselves gravitating toward the Mediterranean, plundering as they went, and living on the country.
With the first great waves of Germanic tribes that swept the Roman Empire in the third century, there began a curious intermingling of the peoples of Europe which had a direct effect on all the arts of the time. And during the next few hundred years, owing to the diversity of influences brought about by warring nations and conflicting religions, the whole character of jewelry underwent a change.
Jewelers Of Italy (continued)
7. Decline Of The Glyptic Art
Scarcely more than one hundred years after the death of Pliny the Roman Empire was well on its way to the final crash. The arts, including glyptic art, were keeping pace downhill with the falling Empire.
Not that there was any lack of demand for engraved gems; wealthy Romans were spending exorbitant sums for them. But interest was centered not on excellence of design or technique but on the mystic significance and magical powers of the symbols engraved on the ring stones and beads. The rich man was not buying art. He was buying magic. In consequence, the work of the gem engraver grew careless and indifferent; speed in engraving the symbols was of more importance than quality of workmanship.
An uneasy sense of impending doom has a tendency to drive us, groping for escape, toward realms supernatural. The crystal-gazer and the astrologer did a thriving business in fortune-telling and prophecy. Zodiacal symbols invoking the influences of the stars were considered particularly potent. All classes, rich and poor, wore amulets of one sort or another.
In early times, what we call the ‘rank materialist’ was almost non-existent. Practically everybody believed in one or another of the many forms of superstition then current. Nevertheless there were those who craved some semblance at least of reasonable basis for belief.
There came into being a cult known as ‘Gnosticism,’ which means, knowledge of spiritual mysteries. The Gnostics believed that originally all things of the terrestrial and celestial universe had been created in an orderly harmony, that this true order had been destroyed but eventually would be restored. They sought control of occult influences through knowledge of the mystic powers of numbers, words, substances, and forms. In their quest for omniscience they impartially embraced mythology, both Greek and Oriental, the Christian and Jewish religions, philosophy, magic and as much science as was available.
Gnosticism spread fast and far. Naturally it was bound to find reflection in gems and the demand for stones engraved with the magic symbols of the Gnostics grew to such proportions that whole factories were devoted to their production. A favorite device was an image called Abraxas. The figure has the head of a cock, the body of a man, and legs which are serpents. In one hand is a shield and in the other a whip. So involved is the significance of any Gnostic symbol that authorities differ as to its meanings and we shall not attempt to unravel them here.
But to return to what was happening concerning gems in general. Silks and spices from China, furs from the forests of Scythia, and jewels from all parts of the Orient were eagerly bought up by the Romans. Says Gibbons: ‘The most remote countries of the ancient world were ransacked to supply the pomp and delicacy of Rome. Amber was brought overland from the shores of the Baltic to the Danube, and the barbarians were astonished at the price they received for so useless a commodity.’
Presently hordes of the barbarians from the North were themselves gravitating toward the Mediterranean, plundering as they went, and living on the country.
With the first great waves of Germanic tribes that swept the Roman Empire in the third century, there began a curious intermingling of the peoples of Europe which had a direct effect on all the arts of the time. And during the next few hundred years, owing to the diversity of influences brought about by warring nations and conflicting religions, the whole character of jewelry underwent a change.
Jewelers Of Italy (continued)
English Masters Of The Eighteenth Century
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
2
The greatest of Hogarth’s contemporaries, the link indeed between him and Sir Joshua Reynolds, was the artist known as ‘The Father of British Landscape,’ Richard Wilson. His is one of the saddest stories in British Art, for, though acknowledged to be one of the most eminent men of his day, and attaining a modest measure of success in middle life, fortune, through no fault of his own, turned her back on him, and his later years were spent in the direst poverty.
Richard Wilson was born at Penegoes in Montgomeryshire on August 1, 1744, the day Queen Anne died and George I ascended the throne. His father was a clergyman of limited means, but his mother was well connected, and one of her well-off relatives took sufficient interest in young Richard’s talent for drawing to have him sent to London to learn painting. Though it is by his landscapes that Wilson acquired lasting fame, he began life as a portrait-painter; one of his earlier portraits of himself is in the National Gallery, while a very much later portrait, is in the Diploma Gallery of the Royal Academy. This magnificent work which speaks for itself, is enough to prove that even in portrait-painting Wilson had, among his immediate predecessors, no equal saving Hogarth.
Like Hogarth, Wilson was a sturdy, independent disposition, little inclined to truckle to the conceit of fashionable sitters or to flatter their vanity, and consequently he was not the man to make it the staff of his professional practice, though in 1748 he had acquired a considerable practice, though in 1748 he had acquired a considerable eminence in this branch of art. IN this year he was commissioned to paint a group of the Prince of Wales and Duke of York with their tutor—a portion of which now hangs in the National Portrait Gallery—and with the money earned by this and other commissions he decided in the following year to carry out a long cherished wish to visit Italy.
Hitherto there has been a general belief that Wilson did not attempt landscape painting till he found himself in Italy, but it has recently been ascertained that he unquestionably painted landscapes before he left England.
In Italy Wilson devoted more and more of his time to landscape till he finally established himself in Rome as a landscape-painter, only doing an occasional portrait. His beautiful pictures of Italian landscapes, in which dignity of design was combined with atmospheric truth and loveliness of color, soon gained him a great reputation in that city, and his landscapes were bought by the Earl of Pembroke, the Earl of Thanet, the Earl of Essex, Lord Bolingbroke, Lord Dartmouth, and other Englishmen of high rank who were visiting Italy. Consequently, when he returned to England in 1756, his reputation preceded him and he enjoyed a considerable measure of success when he first established himself in London at Covent Garden. But unfortunately for Wilson, the taste of the eighteenth century was severely classical, and after the first novelty of his Italian landscapes wore off, only one or two enlightened patrons, like Sir Richard Ford, were capable of appreciating the originality and beauty of the landscapes he painted in England. Thanks to the discrimination of Sir Richard and Lady Ford, the best collection in the world of landscapes by Richard Wilson is still in the possession of the family. It is only in the Ford Collection that the full measure of Wilson’s greatness can be seen, for while the splendor of the flaming sunset sky in ‘The Tiber, with Rome in the Distance’ reveals how Wilson showed the way to Turner, the sweet simplicity and natural beauty of ‘The Thames near Twickenham’ proves him also to have been the artistic ancestor of Constable.
Wilson’s English landscapes went begging in his own day. His memorandum-book, preserved in the Victoria and Albert Museum, South Kensington, shows how he sent them out on approval and often had them returned. As his fortunes dwindled, Wilson despairingly set about painting replicas of the Italian landscapes which he had found more saleable, and these repetitions of his Italian scenes have done much harm to his reputation in succeeding years, for the later Italian pictures do not always attain the quality of the first version when the painter was freshly inspired by the original scenery.
Nevertheless, with the help of one or two unaffected lovers of art and Nature, who bought his English landscapes, and more who bought repetitions of his Italian scenes, and with the fees of his pupils—among whom was the diarist, Joseph Farington, R.A—Wilson managed for some years to make a tolerable living, and when the Royal Academy was established in 1768, George III—who in his boyhood had had his portrait done by this landscape painter—nominated Richard Wilson as one of the founder members of the Academy. At the Academy exhibitions Wilson with credit, if without much commercial success, and nothing serious happened till 1776, when he sent a picture of ‘Sion House from Kew Gardens,’ which the King thought of buying.
Unfortunately he sent Lord Bute to bargain with the artist, and this canny nobleman thought the price asked, sixty guineas, was ‘too dear’. ‘Tell His Majesty,’ said Wilson roguishly, ‘that he may pay for it by instalments.’ Had an Irish peer been the intermediary he might have seen the joke and have made Wilson’s fortune, but Lord Bute belonged to a race that is reputed to take money very seriously, and to be not too quick at grasping the English sense of humor. He was shocked and scandalized, deeming the answer insulting to royalty.
The harmless gibe cost Wilson what little Court favor he had, and proved to be his ruin. Fortunately, before this disastrous retort had been made, he had secured the Librarianship of the Royal Academy, and the salary of this post, fifty pounds a year, was all Wilson had to live on during his later years. His few patrons fell away from him, his brother Academicians—most of whom had been rather jealous—now shunned him, and he lived in a miserable garret in Tottenham Street, Tottenham Court Road, existing chiefly on bread and porter. He had always been fond of the last—‘though not to excess,’ said Beechey, R.A., who knew him intimately—and want of nourishment rather than excess of liquor wrought sad changes in his countenance, so that he became known as ‘red-nosed Dick.’
Just before the end he had a year or two of quiet and comfort, for he left London and made his home with his relatives in Wales, where he died, at Llanberis, in 1782. Wilson did not altogether abandon portrait-painting when he returned from Italy, and in addition to the noble portrait of himself, there is in the Academy’s Diploma Gallery a very beautiful full-length of the young artist Mortimer, whom he painted about the same time. A splendid portrait of Peg Woffington, very rich in color, which hangs in the Garrick Club, is another example of Wilson’s portraiture after his return from Italy.
Richard Wilson was the first English artist to show his countrymen not only the beauty of Nature but the beauty of their own country. He should not be judged by such large pictures as ‘Niobe’ and ‘The Villa of Mæcenas,’ which he painted ‘to order,’ but rather—so far as the National Gallery is concerned—by his exquisite ‘Italian Coast Scene’ and ‘On the Wye,’ which together show how beautifully and truly Wilson rendered the characteristic scenery of the two countries he so deeply loved.
English Masters Of The Eighteenth Century (continued)
2
The greatest of Hogarth’s contemporaries, the link indeed between him and Sir Joshua Reynolds, was the artist known as ‘The Father of British Landscape,’ Richard Wilson. His is one of the saddest stories in British Art, for, though acknowledged to be one of the most eminent men of his day, and attaining a modest measure of success in middle life, fortune, through no fault of his own, turned her back on him, and his later years were spent in the direst poverty.
Richard Wilson was born at Penegoes in Montgomeryshire on August 1, 1744, the day Queen Anne died and George I ascended the throne. His father was a clergyman of limited means, but his mother was well connected, and one of her well-off relatives took sufficient interest in young Richard’s talent for drawing to have him sent to London to learn painting. Though it is by his landscapes that Wilson acquired lasting fame, he began life as a portrait-painter; one of his earlier portraits of himself is in the National Gallery, while a very much later portrait, is in the Diploma Gallery of the Royal Academy. This magnificent work which speaks for itself, is enough to prove that even in portrait-painting Wilson had, among his immediate predecessors, no equal saving Hogarth.
Like Hogarth, Wilson was a sturdy, independent disposition, little inclined to truckle to the conceit of fashionable sitters or to flatter their vanity, and consequently he was not the man to make it the staff of his professional practice, though in 1748 he had acquired a considerable practice, though in 1748 he had acquired a considerable eminence in this branch of art. IN this year he was commissioned to paint a group of the Prince of Wales and Duke of York with their tutor—a portion of which now hangs in the National Portrait Gallery—and with the money earned by this and other commissions he decided in the following year to carry out a long cherished wish to visit Italy.
Hitherto there has been a general belief that Wilson did not attempt landscape painting till he found himself in Italy, but it has recently been ascertained that he unquestionably painted landscapes before he left England.
In Italy Wilson devoted more and more of his time to landscape till he finally established himself in Rome as a landscape-painter, only doing an occasional portrait. His beautiful pictures of Italian landscapes, in which dignity of design was combined with atmospheric truth and loveliness of color, soon gained him a great reputation in that city, and his landscapes were bought by the Earl of Pembroke, the Earl of Thanet, the Earl of Essex, Lord Bolingbroke, Lord Dartmouth, and other Englishmen of high rank who were visiting Italy. Consequently, when he returned to England in 1756, his reputation preceded him and he enjoyed a considerable measure of success when he first established himself in London at Covent Garden. But unfortunately for Wilson, the taste of the eighteenth century was severely classical, and after the first novelty of his Italian landscapes wore off, only one or two enlightened patrons, like Sir Richard Ford, were capable of appreciating the originality and beauty of the landscapes he painted in England. Thanks to the discrimination of Sir Richard and Lady Ford, the best collection in the world of landscapes by Richard Wilson is still in the possession of the family. It is only in the Ford Collection that the full measure of Wilson’s greatness can be seen, for while the splendor of the flaming sunset sky in ‘The Tiber, with Rome in the Distance’ reveals how Wilson showed the way to Turner, the sweet simplicity and natural beauty of ‘The Thames near Twickenham’ proves him also to have been the artistic ancestor of Constable.
Wilson’s English landscapes went begging in his own day. His memorandum-book, preserved in the Victoria and Albert Museum, South Kensington, shows how he sent them out on approval and often had them returned. As his fortunes dwindled, Wilson despairingly set about painting replicas of the Italian landscapes which he had found more saleable, and these repetitions of his Italian scenes have done much harm to his reputation in succeeding years, for the later Italian pictures do not always attain the quality of the first version when the painter was freshly inspired by the original scenery.
Nevertheless, with the help of one or two unaffected lovers of art and Nature, who bought his English landscapes, and more who bought repetitions of his Italian scenes, and with the fees of his pupils—among whom was the diarist, Joseph Farington, R.A—Wilson managed for some years to make a tolerable living, and when the Royal Academy was established in 1768, George III—who in his boyhood had had his portrait done by this landscape painter—nominated Richard Wilson as one of the founder members of the Academy. At the Academy exhibitions Wilson with credit, if without much commercial success, and nothing serious happened till 1776, when he sent a picture of ‘Sion House from Kew Gardens,’ which the King thought of buying.
Unfortunately he sent Lord Bute to bargain with the artist, and this canny nobleman thought the price asked, sixty guineas, was ‘too dear’. ‘Tell His Majesty,’ said Wilson roguishly, ‘that he may pay for it by instalments.’ Had an Irish peer been the intermediary he might have seen the joke and have made Wilson’s fortune, but Lord Bute belonged to a race that is reputed to take money very seriously, and to be not too quick at grasping the English sense of humor. He was shocked and scandalized, deeming the answer insulting to royalty.
The harmless gibe cost Wilson what little Court favor he had, and proved to be his ruin. Fortunately, before this disastrous retort had been made, he had secured the Librarianship of the Royal Academy, and the salary of this post, fifty pounds a year, was all Wilson had to live on during his later years. His few patrons fell away from him, his brother Academicians—most of whom had been rather jealous—now shunned him, and he lived in a miserable garret in Tottenham Street, Tottenham Court Road, existing chiefly on bread and porter. He had always been fond of the last—‘though not to excess,’ said Beechey, R.A., who knew him intimately—and want of nourishment rather than excess of liquor wrought sad changes in his countenance, so that he became known as ‘red-nosed Dick.’
Just before the end he had a year or two of quiet and comfort, for he left London and made his home with his relatives in Wales, where he died, at Llanberis, in 1782. Wilson did not altogether abandon portrait-painting when he returned from Italy, and in addition to the noble portrait of himself, there is in the Academy’s Diploma Gallery a very beautiful full-length of the young artist Mortimer, whom he painted about the same time. A splendid portrait of Peg Woffington, very rich in color, which hangs in the Garrick Club, is another example of Wilson’s portraiture after his return from Italy.
Richard Wilson was the first English artist to show his countrymen not only the beauty of Nature but the beauty of their own country. He should not be judged by such large pictures as ‘Niobe’ and ‘The Villa of Mæcenas,’ which he painted ‘to order,’ but rather—so far as the National Gallery is concerned—by his exquisite ‘Italian Coast Scene’ and ‘On the Wye,’ which together show how beautifully and truly Wilson rendered the characteristic scenery of the two countries he so deeply loved.
English Masters Of The Eighteenth Century (continued)
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
The Story Of Psychology
The Story of Psychology by Morton Hunt is a great book + gem dealers, jewelers + art dealers should read not only to bring people alive from the depth of ignorance but also to analyze their own behavior.
Here is what the description of The Story of Psychology says (via Amazon):
Socrates, Plato, Descartes, Spinoza, Mesmer, William James, Pavlov, Freud, Piaget, Erikson, and Skinner. Each of these thinkers recognized that human beings could examine, comprehend, and eventually guide or influence their own thought processes, emotions, and resulting behavior. The lives and accomplishments of these pillars of psychology, expertly assembled by Morton Hunt, are set against the times in which the subjects lived. Hunt skillfully presents dramatic and lucid accounts of the techniques and validity of centuries of psychological research, and of the methods and effectiveness of major forms of psychotherapy. Fully revised, and incorporating the dramatic developments of the last fifteen years, The Story of Psychology is a graceful and absorbing chronicle of one of the great human inquiries—the search for the true causes of our behavior.
Here is what the description of The Story of Psychology says (via Amazon):
Socrates, Plato, Descartes, Spinoza, Mesmer, William James, Pavlov, Freud, Piaget, Erikson, and Skinner. Each of these thinkers recognized that human beings could examine, comprehend, and eventually guide or influence their own thought processes, emotions, and resulting behavior. The lives and accomplishments of these pillars of psychology, expertly assembled by Morton Hunt, are set against the times in which the subjects lived. Hunt skillfully presents dramatic and lucid accounts of the techniques and validity of centuries of psychological research, and of the methods and effectiveness of major forms of psychotherapy. Fully revised, and incorporating the dramatic developments of the last fifteen years, The Story of Psychology is a graceful and absorbing chronicle of one of the great human inquiries—the search for the true causes of our behavior.
Fabulous Model Of Market Crashes
(via Commodityonline) Here is an interesting observation by MIT Professor Charles Kindleberger + it's amazing to see the patterns repeat endlessly and yet we forget to learn the lessons.
Anatomy Of A Market Crisis
- Displacement
Displacement happens when the economic outlook is altered by changing profit opportunities. (currently: China and India’ emergence is propelling commodities markets)
- A boom ensues
Bank credit and personal credit expands significantly. This results in Adam Smith’s 'overtrading': pure speculation, overestimation of profits and excessive gearing step forward. (currently: sub prime lending, ETFs based on air). Bubbles occur. Economists define bubbles as 'deviations from fundamentals'. Back to my Economic Clock: the only big market that has such a deviation from fundamentals is clearly the USA and Japan. However, the current mania (Greenspan’s irrational exuberance) will keep feeding on itself. We are in this boom phase now and, excluding America, there is no bubble – markets are in line with fundamentals, with the Economic Time.
- Distress sets in
The smart money starts selling. One event is the tripwire. Currently, I thought that the sub prime mortgage matter might be such a tripwire to crisis, but I was wrong, alas! 'Revulsion' rears its ugly head: revulsion against commodities or securities leads banks to stop lending on the collateral of such assets.
- Panic sets in
Everyone bolts for the exits. Then, one of three things happens. Either prices fall so lowly that people load back up (currently: that is what February was about), market 'circuit breakers' are established, i.e. trading is stopped if certain price limits are reached, or a lender of last resort stabilizes confidence.
Useful links:
http://web.mit.edu/newsoffice/2003/kindleberger.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_P._Kindleberger
Anatomy Of A Market Crisis
- Displacement
Displacement happens when the economic outlook is altered by changing profit opportunities. (currently: China and India’ emergence is propelling commodities markets)
- A boom ensues
Bank credit and personal credit expands significantly. This results in Adam Smith’s 'overtrading': pure speculation, overestimation of profits and excessive gearing step forward. (currently: sub prime lending, ETFs based on air). Bubbles occur. Economists define bubbles as 'deviations from fundamentals'. Back to my Economic Clock: the only big market that has such a deviation from fundamentals is clearly the USA and Japan. However, the current mania (Greenspan’s irrational exuberance) will keep feeding on itself. We are in this boom phase now and, excluding America, there is no bubble – markets are in line with fundamentals, with the Economic Time.
- Distress sets in
The smart money starts selling. One event is the tripwire. Currently, I thought that the sub prime mortgage matter might be such a tripwire to crisis, but I was wrong, alas! 'Revulsion' rears its ugly head: revulsion against commodities or securities leads banks to stop lending on the collateral of such assets.
- Panic sets in
Everyone bolts for the exits. Then, one of three things happens. Either prices fall so lowly that people load back up (currently: that is what February was about), market 'circuit breakers' are established, i.e. trading is stopped if certain price limits are reached, or a lender of last resort stabilizes confidence.
Useful links:
http://web.mit.edu/newsoffice/2003/kindleberger.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_P._Kindleberger
Revival Sale
Economist writes about Bonhams Egyptian Revival sale + other viewpoints @ http://www.economist.com/daily/columns/artview/displaystory.cfm?story_id=10552924
Georges Delerue
Georges Delerue was a renowned French film composer who composed over 350 scores for cinema and television + he won numerous important awards including Rome Prize (1949) + Emmy Award (1968 - Our World) + Genie Award (1986 - Sword Of Gideon) + ACE Award (1991 - The Josephine Baker Story) + Academy Award in 1979 for A Little Romance + 4 other Academy Nominations (1969 - Anne of the Thousand Days, 1973 - The Day of the Dolphin, 1977 - Julia and 1985 - Agnes of God) + Le Figaro Magazine (France, 1981) addressed him as 'Mozart of Cinema' + that otherness in his music encapsulated the spirit of the movies for which he collaborated + I always enjoyed his music.
Useful links:
www.georges-delerue.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Georges_Delerue
Useful links:
www.georges-delerue.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Georges_Delerue
GemeWizard Update
It has been reported that GemeWizard, the developer of a system for describing and communicating color in gems, has announced that it will be supplying an online version of its color communication application free of charge on its website @ www.gemewizard.com
Rio Tinto’s Argyle Diamond Mine And The Origin Of Champagne Diamonds
Rio Tinto Diamonds writes:
In Australia’s isolated outback, the world’s largest diamond producer excavates millions of tons of rock in search of its exquisite jewels. In a land of rugged mountain ranges, deep gorges and arid savannah, lies the Argyle Diamond Mine—where the red earth yields enough diamonds to pave set an entire tennis court—and among them are the world’s largest supply of natural champagne and cognac color diamonds.
The Argyle Diamond Mine, 100% owned by Rio Tinto, is located in the isolated East Kimberley region of Western Australia, 2500 km (app.1550 mi.) from Perth, the capital of Western Australia. AT 2 km long (app. 1.2 mi.), 1 km wide (app.0.6 mi.) and almost 1 km deep, the open pit Argyle mine redefines the word ‘big’. It has been worked continuously, around the clock, 365 days a year, since 1983, and its ancient volcanic pipe has yielded more than 670 carats of diamond, including the beautiful champagne and cognac gems.
The Australian Aborigines, who are the traditional owners of the land on which the Argyle mine has been built, believe the Argyle mine was formed when a barramundi fish escaped through a spinifix net. The colors of the Argyle diamonds are believed to have come from the different parts of the barramundi.
The scientific explanation for the origin of color in brown diamonds has to do with trace elements in the lattice structure. Tremendous pressure exerted on a diamond deep in the earth can abnormally compress and distort its structure, thus creating a red, pink, purple, or brown stone. Evidence of graining, which scientists attribute to extreme pressure under the earth, can be seen at 10x magnification in many Argyle natural color diamonds.
The formation of natural color diamonds is a process that requires the presence of not only the original magical formula for all diamond creation of unimaginable heat and pressure place on carbon crystals, but the presence of additional trace elements as well. If nitrogen, boron, hydrogen, or other elements interacts with carbon atoms during a diamond’s creation, the diamond’s color can change. Radiation during the creation process also can impact a diamond’s color.
The physical conditions necessary to color a diamond naturally occur very scarcely, making natural color diamonds extremely rare. How rare? For every natural color diamond, there are 10000 colorless diamonds that have made the arduous journey to the earth’s surface. It is this entirely natural process of geographical formation which ensures that each natural color diamond is one-of-a-kind.
Approximately $5 billion of champagne and cognac diamond jewelry is sold annually throughout the world—easily making these stones the most accessible of all natural color diamonds.
From collectors to royalty to Hollywood celebrities, champagne diamonds have always been in vogue. The popularity of these ‘new classics’ can be traced all the way back to the 17th century, when Cardinal Jules Mazarin, the chief minister of France, was an avid collector.
Today, some of the world’s most important diamonds are natural color champagnes. Case in point: The world’s largest cut natural diamond is a dark rich champagne stone, the Golden Jubilee, which possesses a magnificence and mystery all its own. The Golden Jubilee, at 545 carats, was offered to the King of Thailand in 1997 to celebrate the 50th anniversary of his ascension to the throne. Polishing the stone took no less than three years.
Useful links:
www.riotintodiamonds.com
www.ncdia.com
I was really fortunate to view + analyze The Golden Jubilee diamond in Bangkok, Thailand + it was an experience.
In Australia’s isolated outback, the world’s largest diamond producer excavates millions of tons of rock in search of its exquisite jewels. In a land of rugged mountain ranges, deep gorges and arid savannah, lies the Argyle Diamond Mine—where the red earth yields enough diamonds to pave set an entire tennis court—and among them are the world’s largest supply of natural champagne and cognac color diamonds.
The Argyle Diamond Mine, 100% owned by Rio Tinto, is located in the isolated East Kimberley region of Western Australia, 2500 km (app.1550 mi.) from Perth, the capital of Western Australia. AT 2 km long (app. 1.2 mi.), 1 km wide (app.0.6 mi.) and almost 1 km deep, the open pit Argyle mine redefines the word ‘big’. It has been worked continuously, around the clock, 365 days a year, since 1983, and its ancient volcanic pipe has yielded more than 670 carats of diamond, including the beautiful champagne and cognac gems.
The Australian Aborigines, who are the traditional owners of the land on which the Argyle mine has been built, believe the Argyle mine was formed when a barramundi fish escaped through a spinifix net. The colors of the Argyle diamonds are believed to have come from the different parts of the barramundi.
The scientific explanation for the origin of color in brown diamonds has to do with trace elements in the lattice structure. Tremendous pressure exerted on a diamond deep in the earth can abnormally compress and distort its structure, thus creating a red, pink, purple, or brown stone. Evidence of graining, which scientists attribute to extreme pressure under the earth, can be seen at 10x magnification in many Argyle natural color diamonds.
The formation of natural color diamonds is a process that requires the presence of not only the original magical formula for all diamond creation of unimaginable heat and pressure place on carbon crystals, but the presence of additional trace elements as well. If nitrogen, boron, hydrogen, or other elements interacts with carbon atoms during a diamond’s creation, the diamond’s color can change. Radiation during the creation process also can impact a diamond’s color.
The physical conditions necessary to color a diamond naturally occur very scarcely, making natural color diamonds extremely rare. How rare? For every natural color diamond, there are 10000 colorless diamonds that have made the arduous journey to the earth’s surface. It is this entirely natural process of geographical formation which ensures that each natural color diamond is one-of-a-kind.
Approximately $5 billion of champagne and cognac diamond jewelry is sold annually throughout the world—easily making these stones the most accessible of all natural color diamonds.
From collectors to royalty to Hollywood celebrities, champagne diamonds have always been in vogue. The popularity of these ‘new classics’ can be traced all the way back to the 17th century, when Cardinal Jules Mazarin, the chief minister of France, was an avid collector.
Today, some of the world’s most important diamonds are natural color champagnes. Case in point: The world’s largest cut natural diamond is a dark rich champagne stone, the Golden Jubilee, which possesses a magnificence and mystery all its own. The Golden Jubilee, at 545 carats, was offered to the King of Thailand in 1997 to celebrate the 50th anniversary of his ascension to the throne. Polishing the stone took no less than three years.
Useful links:
www.riotintodiamonds.com
www.ncdia.com
I was really fortunate to view + analyze The Golden Jubilee diamond in Bangkok, Thailand + it was an experience.
The Significance Of An Adequate Culet
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
When the imperfections of historical diamonds are commented on, the point of criticism is usually not that the proportions are wrong but that the culet is thought to be too large. In open settings the culet looks like a hole, and in closed settings like a black spot against the corroded foiling.
The late E F Eppler is the only person to have made a scientific study of the significance of a large culet. He writes of Brilliants with 45° angles, but everything he says applies equally well to Full Table Cuts: ‘For this particular cut the output of light is surprisingly high....and depends mostly on the large culet which therefore has a great importance.’ He calculates the output of light to be 18.9 percent of the incident light, and adds: ‘With an increase in the angle of incidence, the output rises at first until, at approximately 30°, a drastically sharp drop occurs. This first part of the curve, representing the output of light for the angles of incidence between 0° and 30°, is caused simply by the culet. Increased angles again cause a peak in output at 45°, which is followed by further reduction until zero is reached at 90°.’ Later in the same article Eppler comments: ‘It is astonishing that the diamond cutter of former time found an improvement in the brilliance by applying a culet not by calculation but by practice only. In reducing the angles in crown and pavilion the culet has less importance and in the modern fine cut...the absence of the culet is an absolute necessity, if it is not applied to minimize damage.’
When the imperfections of historical diamonds are commented on, the point of criticism is usually not that the proportions are wrong but that the culet is thought to be too large. In open settings the culet looks like a hole, and in closed settings like a black spot against the corroded foiling.
The late E F Eppler is the only person to have made a scientific study of the significance of a large culet. He writes of Brilliants with 45° angles, but everything he says applies equally well to Full Table Cuts: ‘For this particular cut the output of light is surprisingly high....and depends mostly on the large culet which therefore has a great importance.’ He calculates the output of light to be 18.9 percent of the incident light, and adds: ‘With an increase in the angle of incidence, the output rises at first until, at approximately 30°, a drastically sharp drop occurs. This first part of the curve, representing the output of light for the angles of incidence between 0° and 30°, is caused simply by the culet. Increased angles again cause a peak in output at 45°, which is followed by further reduction until zero is reached at 90°.’ Later in the same article Eppler comments: ‘It is astonishing that the diamond cutter of former time found an improvement in the brilliance by applying a culet not by calculation but by practice only. In reducing the angles in crown and pavilion the culet has less importance and in the modern fine cut...the absence of the culet is an absolute necessity, if it is not applied to minimize damage.’
Jewelers Of Italy
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
6. Ornaments And Artists
The Roman lady of fashion wore her hair most elaborately dressed. She was much addicted to fillets and diadems, as may be observed from various statues and pictures. Hairpins, in ancient Rome, were no inconsequent trifle bought by the package; each pin was the work of te jeweler. Often they were of solid gold and long enough to suggest a rather formidable weapon, should the lady be in need of one. There is one such hairpin in the British Museum. It is eight inches long and made of gold in the form of shaft topped with a Corinthian capital.
Bracelets were popular article of jewelry, for the upper arm as well as the wrist. Wrist bracelets, in general, were of two kinds, either in the same form as necklaces (without pendants) or made in two rounded halves connected by a hinge. Imperial gold coins were frequently introduced into almost any kind of jewelry, even into rings.
For their designs, gem engravers borrowed freely from the work of painters and sculptors. They would copy a figure from a painting or a whole statue, pedestal and all, translating picture or statue into a miniature design cut on the hard surface of red jasper. Many works of art, the originals of which were destroyed long since, have been preserved to us in the tiny form of engraved gems.
Sometimes a painter turnred the tables and chose for his subject the shop of the jeweler. A case in point still exists in the form of a mural decoration. But the artist was not minded to give a literal representation of the scene. In his painting he has visualized the craft of the goldsmith as a calling lifted to some fantastic level outside the confines of our workaday world. He painted the shop itself true to life with the usual furnishings and implements of furnace, anvil, blowpipes, hammers, scales, etc. But when it came to the workers he would have us believe that the shop is entirely taken over by a flock of chubby cupids with the traditional curly locks and little wings. Each cupid is busily engaged in one of the various tasks of the master goldsmith and his apprentices. Conspicuous among these infantile workers is the customer, a lady evidently about to purchase some precious stones which the small jeweler, standing before her, is weighing in the scales. Unlike the other characters, the lady is full grown, but like them she is blessed with a pair of decorative, though quite inadequate, wings.
In spite of the playful spirit of its representations this picture (barring the cupids) may be taken as a faithful portrait of the industry of jewelry making. The mural decoration was found in one of the rooms of the house of the Vetii at Pompeii.
On that fateful day in the year 79 A.D. when disaster came to Pompeii, the majority of its inhabitants fled in time. Among evidences of failure to escape have been found the little hoards of jewels which were so hurriedly snatched up and carried until death overtook their owners. Our old friend, Pliny, who might so well have written a graphic account of the calamity, leaves us no record of it; for in his effort to get near enough to give an eye witness report, he himself was suffocated by the poisonous fumes of Vesuvius.
Jewelers Of Italy (continued)
6. Ornaments And Artists
The Roman lady of fashion wore her hair most elaborately dressed. She was much addicted to fillets and diadems, as may be observed from various statues and pictures. Hairpins, in ancient Rome, were no inconsequent trifle bought by the package; each pin was the work of te jeweler. Often they were of solid gold and long enough to suggest a rather formidable weapon, should the lady be in need of one. There is one such hairpin in the British Museum. It is eight inches long and made of gold in the form of shaft topped with a Corinthian capital.
Bracelets were popular article of jewelry, for the upper arm as well as the wrist. Wrist bracelets, in general, were of two kinds, either in the same form as necklaces (without pendants) or made in two rounded halves connected by a hinge. Imperial gold coins were frequently introduced into almost any kind of jewelry, even into rings.
For their designs, gem engravers borrowed freely from the work of painters and sculptors. They would copy a figure from a painting or a whole statue, pedestal and all, translating picture or statue into a miniature design cut on the hard surface of red jasper. Many works of art, the originals of which were destroyed long since, have been preserved to us in the tiny form of engraved gems.
Sometimes a painter turnred the tables and chose for his subject the shop of the jeweler. A case in point still exists in the form of a mural decoration. But the artist was not minded to give a literal representation of the scene. In his painting he has visualized the craft of the goldsmith as a calling lifted to some fantastic level outside the confines of our workaday world. He painted the shop itself true to life with the usual furnishings and implements of furnace, anvil, blowpipes, hammers, scales, etc. But when it came to the workers he would have us believe that the shop is entirely taken over by a flock of chubby cupids with the traditional curly locks and little wings. Each cupid is busily engaged in one of the various tasks of the master goldsmith and his apprentices. Conspicuous among these infantile workers is the customer, a lady evidently about to purchase some precious stones which the small jeweler, standing before her, is weighing in the scales. Unlike the other characters, the lady is full grown, but like them she is blessed with a pair of decorative, though quite inadequate, wings.
In spite of the playful spirit of its representations this picture (barring the cupids) may be taken as a faithful portrait of the industry of jewelry making. The mural decoration was found in one of the rooms of the house of the Vetii at Pompeii.
On that fateful day in the year 79 A.D. when disaster came to Pompeii, the majority of its inhabitants fled in time. Among evidences of failure to escape have been found the little hoards of jewels which were so hurriedly snatched up and carried until death overtook their owners. Our old friend, Pliny, who might so well have written a graphic account of the calamity, leaves us no record of it; for in his effort to get near enough to give an eye witness report, he himself was suffocated by the poisonous fumes of Vesuvius.
Jewelers Of Italy (continued)
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