(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
3
How great was the influence of David on the painters of his generation is revealed by the tragic story of Antoine Jean Gros (1771-1835), who killed himself because he thought he was bringing disgrace on the tradition of his master. Gros entered David’s studio in 1785, and though he was unsuccessful when he tried for the Prix de Rome in 1792, in the following year his master helped him to get a passport for Italy, and so Gros got as far as Genoa, where in 1790 he made the acquaintance of Josephine, afterwards Empress. Josephine carried him off to Milan and presented him to Bonaparte, who took a liking to the young man, attached him to his staff, and allowed him to paint that wonderful portrait, now in the Louvre, of ‘Napolean at Arcole,’ which is the most haunting and poetic of all the many portraits of the Emperor.
Thenceforward the career of Gros was outwardly a series of triumphs. Owing to his experiences in Italy—where, in 1799, he was besieged with the French army at Genoa—he had a closer acquaintance with the realities of war than any of his artist contemporaries.
In Genoa and elsewhere Gros had made a particular study of the work of Rubens and Vandyck, and in his canvases he now endeavored to emulate the opulent color of the Flemish School. Consequently his battle-pictures were so informed with knowledge and inspired by feeling and fine color that they aroused high enthusiasm in Paris. When His picture ‘Les Pestiférés de Jaffa’ was shown in the Salon of 1804, all the young artists of the day combined to hand a wreath on the frame in honor of the life, truth, and color in the work of Gros.
Already there was a beginning of a reaction in Paris against the ascetic Classicism of David, and while Gros, as an old pupil of that master, still commanded the respect of the classicists, his spirited renderings of contemporary events pleased the younger generation who were later to give birth to the Romanticists. Thus, for a time, Gros pleased both camps in painting, and his position was unimpaired when Napoleon fell and the Bourbons were restored. In 1816 he was made a member of the Institute, he was commissioned to decorate the cupola of the Panthéon, and in 1824, on the completion of this work, he was created a Baron.
Meanwhile David, exciled in Brussels, was uneasy about the style of his former pupil, whom, on leaving Paris, he had left in charge of the Classical Movement. From Brussels he wrote constantly to Gros, begging him to cease painting ‘these futile subjects and circumstantial pictures’ and to devote his talent to ‘fine historical pictures’. By this David meant, not those paintings of the battles of Aboukir, Eylau, the Pyramids, etc., which were fine historical pictures, but paintings depicting some incident in the history of Greece or Rome. These alone, according to David, were the fit themes for a noble art, and he could not accept the renderings of events of his own times as true historical pictures. Unfortunately Gros, in his unbounded veneration for his old master, took David very seriously. He saw with alarm that the younger generation of painters were departing from the classical tradition and heading for Romanticism, and he blamed himself for leading them astray.
In the very year when he was made a Baron, his fellow pupil, Girodet (1767-1824), died, and at the funeral of this follower of David, Gros lamented the loss of a great classic artist, saying: ‘For myself, not only have I not enough authority to direct the school, but I must accuse myself of being one of the first who set the bad example others have followed.’
Conscience-stricken at falling away from his master’s ideals, and particularly so when David died in the following year, Baron Gros now did violence to his own talent by forcing himself to paint subjects of which David would have approved. While the truth of his war pictures had shocked the Classic School, the artificiality of his new classical pictures roused the mocking laughter of the young and increasingly powerful Romantic School. His ‘Hercules and Diomed’ in the Salon of 1835 was openly sneered at; the younger critics treated him as a ‘dead man,’ till, wearied out and depressed by the disgrace and shame which he thought he had brought on the school of David, poor Baron Gros, on the 25th June 1835, lay down on his face in three feet of water at Meudon, where on the following day two boatmem discovered his body.
That leadership of the Classic School, for which Baron Gros, both by his art and his temperament, was utterly unfitted, was eventually assumed with honor and credit by his junior, Jean Dominique Auguste Ingres (1780-1867). A pupil of David and the winner of the Prix de Rome in 1801, Ingres was not at first regarded as a ‘safe’ classic by the purists of that school. To these pedants, who worshipped hardly any art between the antique and Raphael, Ingres was suspicious because of his loudly proclaimed admiration of the Italian Primitives. On his way to Rome, Ingres had stopped at Pisa to study the frescoes by Benozzo Gozzoli and his contemporaries in the Campo Santo. ‘We ought to copy these men on our knees,’ said the young enthusiasts, and his words were repeated to David, who regarded them an ominous.
The French Revolution And Its Influence On Art (continued)
Monday, February 04, 2008
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Signs Of The Times
As the commodity price increases, organized gangs are raiding rural America, plundering commodities like wheat (according to a report by the Urban Institute in Washington, agricultural theft cost US farmers an estimated five billion dollars in 2006-7), almonds (stealing loaded containers), copper wires (stripping the copper from railway or electrical wires), hardwood trees (private forestlands/ national park forestlands/ industry forestlands) and off-loading to a buyer who is several hundred miles away from the scene of the original crime or to China / South Asia, where there is a market for stolen goods + it will be very difficult to monitor their operating systems because of the amorphous nature of the business.
Useful links:
www.urban.org
www.commodityonline.com
Useful links:
www.urban.org
www.commodityonline.com
Colored Stone News
Lightning Ride is the most famous locality in the world for black opal + opal was first discovered in the latter part of 1800s' and the first diggings began in 1901 + black opal is found in nodules (nobbies) + when these were first encountered they were considered to be of little value because no one had ever seen black opal before + today the black opal from Lightning Ridge is considered to be the best and most valuable opal in the world + The Lightning Ridge Opal Festival + International Opal Jewellery Design Awards are interesting events for opal lovers + it's a small show, but it's an experience.
Useful link:
www.iojdaa.com.au
I found www.ridgelightning.com interesting because of the collection of photographs they have got on lightning that gives Lightning Ridge its name + it's beautiful.
Useful link:
www.iojdaa.com.au
I found www.ridgelightning.com interesting because of the collection of photographs they have got on lightning that gives Lightning Ridge its name + it's beautiful.
Old Master Auctions
Souren Melikian writes about The Old Master auctions conducted last week at Sotheby's + beauty of the art market + the endless opportunities for those who know how to play the game + other viewpoints @ http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/02/01/arts/melik2.php
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
6. Rings And Magic
In medieval times and even during much of the Renaissance, religion, superstition and magic were all hugger-mugger. Ideas as well as gems were assembled in strangely ill-assorted companionship. For science was still not only an infant but the enfant terrible of the period, a thing to be suppressed as perilous both to the soul of man to the authority of the Church. Those who dared independently to seek knowledge first hand—either knowledge of natural phenomena or reasoning on the problems of the spirit—risked the accusation of heresy. Heretics were burned at the stake. Almost any one was liable to be dragged before the dread inquisitor, who tried the victim in secret without even letting him know which of his enemies had betrayed him.
Then there was the danger of witchcraft and the malevolent influence of the Evil Eye. But worse still (and this was no imaginary peril) there was the danger of being accused of practising witchcraft. If you were skeptical and did not believe in witchcraft, your disbelief was synonymous with atheism, and automatically you became a heretic.
Burning was the favorite method of exterminating both heretics and witches. After the advent of the Protestant Church, Catholics and Protestants vied with each other in witch-hunting. At this late date it is hard to say whether early records exaggerate the figures or not, but one writer boasts that in the course of one hundred and fifty years the Holy Office had burned at least 30000 witches ‘who if they had been left unpunished would easily have brought the whole world to destruction.’
With this glimpse of their background, it is not difficult to understand why our Christian forebears, whether or not they believed in magic, might have found it expedient to wear amulets and charms to protect themselves from suspicion of skepticism if nothing else.
Rings engraved with figures of saints were held in high regard, and particularly powerful was the magic of St Christopher, who could ‘give immunity from sudden death for the day to all who had looked at any representation of him.’
Another favorite ring was inscribed with the last words of Our Lord on the Cross in combination with a formula which cured epilepsy and toothache.
Belief in the medicinal properties of precious stones seems to have become more deeply rooted at this time than ever before, and the specific remedial efficacy of each stone was multiplied until practically any stone was a cure all—if you allowed the right train of superstition. A sapphire worn in a ring would cure diseases of the eye, and preserve the wearer from envy; was an antidote for poison; and, as if that were not enough for one gem to attend to, preserved the chastity of its wearer and prevented poverty, betrayal, and wrongful conviction. Besides which are told, ‘Also wytches love well this stone, for thtey wene that they may werke certen wondres by vertue of this stone.’
6. Rings And Magic
In medieval times and even during much of the Renaissance, religion, superstition and magic were all hugger-mugger. Ideas as well as gems were assembled in strangely ill-assorted companionship. For science was still not only an infant but the enfant terrible of the period, a thing to be suppressed as perilous both to the soul of man to the authority of the Church. Those who dared independently to seek knowledge first hand—either knowledge of natural phenomena or reasoning on the problems of the spirit—risked the accusation of heresy. Heretics were burned at the stake. Almost any one was liable to be dragged before the dread inquisitor, who tried the victim in secret without even letting him know which of his enemies had betrayed him.
Then there was the danger of witchcraft and the malevolent influence of the Evil Eye. But worse still (and this was no imaginary peril) there was the danger of being accused of practising witchcraft. If you were skeptical and did not believe in witchcraft, your disbelief was synonymous with atheism, and automatically you became a heretic.
Burning was the favorite method of exterminating both heretics and witches. After the advent of the Protestant Church, Catholics and Protestants vied with each other in witch-hunting. At this late date it is hard to say whether early records exaggerate the figures or not, but one writer boasts that in the course of one hundred and fifty years the Holy Office had burned at least 30000 witches ‘who if they had been left unpunished would easily have brought the whole world to destruction.’
With this glimpse of their background, it is not difficult to understand why our Christian forebears, whether or not they believed in magic, might have found it expedient to wear amulets and charms to protect themselves from suspicion of skepticism if nothing else.
Rings engraved with figures of saints were held in high regard, and particularly powerful was the magic of St Christopher, who could ‘give immunity from sudden death for the day to all who had looked at any representation of him.’
Another favorite ring was inscribed with the last words of Our Lord on the Cross in combination with a formula which cured epilepsy and toothache.
Belief in the medicinal properties of precious stones seems to have become more deeply rooted at this time than ever before, and the specific remedial efficacy of each stone was multiplied until practically any stone was a cure all—if you allowed the right train of superstition. A sapphire worn in a ring would cure diseases of the eye, and preserve the wearer from envy; was an antidote for poison; and, as if that were not enough for one gem to attend to, preserved the chastity of its wearer and prevented poverty, betrayal, and wrongful conviction. Besides which are told, ‘Also wytches love well this stone, for thtey wene that they may werke certen wondres by vertue of this stone.’
The French Revolution And Its Influence On Art
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
2
Most attractive of all the portraitures of this period is the woman artist Madame Elizabeth Louise Vigée Lebrun (1755-1842). Her father, a portrait-painter himself, died when she was only twelve years old, and his daughter carried on his practice almost at once, for when she was only fifteen she was already painting portraits with success and talent. While still young she married Lebrus, a prosperous and enterprising picture-dealer, who managed her affairs well, and whose stock of Old Masters afforded the young artist many models which she studied with good results. In 1783 Vigée Lebrun was admitted to the French Academy, and during the last years of the French monarchy she was a favorite at Court and painted several portraits of Marie Antoinette and her children. In 1789, alarmed at the way things were going in France, she went to Italy, where she was received with enthusiasm and made a member of the Academies of Rome, Parma, and Bologna. Thence she went to Vienna, where she stayed three years, and subsequently visiting Prague, Dresden, Berlin, and St Petersburg, she only returned to France in 1801. Thus she escaped the Revolution altogether and saw little of the Empire, for about the time fo the Peace of Amiens she came to England, where she stayed three years, and then visited Holland and Switzerland, finally returning to France in 1809.
Entirely untouched by the Revolution and by the wave of Classicism which followed it, Mme. Vigée Lebrun was a cosmopolitan artist whose art belonged to no particular country, and whose style had more in common with English Romanticism than with the asceticism then in vogue in France. Among all her portraits none is more charming than the many she painted of herself, and of these the best known and most popular is the winning of ‘Portrait of the Artist and her Daughter’ at the Louvre. Though in time she belongs to the revolutionary era, Mme. Lebrun is, as regards her art, a survival of the old aristocratic portrait-painters of monarchical France.
The French Revolution And Its Influence On Art (continued)
2
Most attractive of all the portraitures of this period is the woman artist Madame Elizabeth Louise Vigée Lebrun (1755-1842). Her father, a portrait-painter himself, died when she was only twelve years old, and his daughter carried on his practice almost at once, for when she was only fifteen she was already painting portraits with success and talent. While still young she married Lebrus, a prosperous and enterprising picture-dealer, who managed her affairs well, and whose stock of Old Masters afforded the young artist many models which she studied with good results. In 1783 Vigée Lebrun was admitted to the French Academy, and during the last years of the French monarchy she was a favorite at Court and painted several portraits of Marie Antoinette and her children. In 1789, alarmed at the way things were going in France, she went to Italy, where she was received with enthusiasm and made a member of the Academies of Rome, Parma, and Bologna. Thence she went to Vienna, where she stayed three years, and subsequently visiting Prague, Dresden, Berlin, and St Petersburg, she only returned to France in 1801. Thus she escaped the Revolution altogether and saw little of the Empire, for about the time fo the Peace of Amiens she came to England, where she stayed three years, and then visited Holland and Switzerland, finally returning to France in 1809.
Entirely untouched by the Revolution and by the wave of Classicism which followed it, Mme. Vigée Lebrun was a cosmopolitan artist whose art belonged to no particular country, and whose style had more in common with English Romanticism than with the asceticism then in vogue in France. Among all her portraits none is more charming than the many she painted of herself, and of these the best known and most popular is the winning of ‘Portrait of the Artist and her Daughter’ at the Louvre. Though in time she belongs to the revolutionary era, Mme. Lebrun is, as regards her art, a survival of the old aristocratic portrait-painters of monarchical France.
The French Revolution And Its Influence On Art (continued)
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Prophet Of Innovation
Prophet of Innovation by Thomas K. McCraw is a brilliant book + he is one of the best business historians in the world + writes on Joseph Schumpeter’s views on the nature of capitalist profit.
Listen to a short interview with Thomas McCraw
Host: Chris Gondek Producer: Heron & Crane
Listen to a short interview with Thomas McCraw
Host: Chris Gondek Producer: Heron & Crane
Colored Stone Update
There is a lot of talk about andesine-labradorite via JTV + the sources + the color is just beautiful, if well cut.
Useful link:
www.jewelrytelevision.com
Useful link:
www.jewelrytelevision.com
Diamdel Markets Pandora’s Boxes
Chaim Even Zohar writes about De Beers trading subsidiary, Diamdel + the online auction concept + the impact @ http://www.idexonline.com/portal_FullEditorial.asp
Friday, February 01, 2008
Mobs, Messiahs, And Markets
Mobs, Messiahs, and Markets: Surviving the Public Spectacle in Finance and Politics by William Bonner + Lila Rajiva is an interesting book that describes follow-the- crowd syndrome + it's funny/brilliant/thought-provoking + I think it's an interesting topic to study and reflect upon.
Here is what the description of Mobs, Messiahs, And Markets says (via Amazon):
Bestselling author Bill Bonner has long been a maverick observer of the financial and political world, sharpening his sardonic wit, in particular, on the vagaries of the investing public. Market booms and busts, tulip manias and dotcom bubbles, venture capitalists and vulture funds, he lets you know, are best explained not by dry statistics and obscure theories but by the metaphors and analogies of literature.
Now, in Mobs, Messiahs, and Markets, Bonner and freelance journalist Lila Rajiva use literary economics to offer broader insights into mass behavior and its devastating effects on society. Why is it, they ask, that perfectly sane and responsible individuals can get together, and by some bizarre alchemy turn into an irrational mob? What makes them trust charlatans and demagogues who manipulate their worst instincts? Why do they abandon good sense, good behavior and good taste when an empty slogan is waved in front of them. Why is the road to hell paved with so many sterling intentions? Why is there a fool on every corner and a knave in every public office?
In attempting an answer, the authors weave a light-hearted journey through history, politics and finance to show group think at work in an improbable array of instances, from medieval crusades to the architectural follies of hedge-fund managers. Their journey takes them ultimately to the desk of the chairman of the Federal Reserve Bank and to a cautionary tale of the current bubble economy. They warn that the gush of credit let loose by Alan Greenspan and multiplied by the sophisticated number games of Wall Street whizzes is fraught with perils for the unwary. Boom without end, pronounces The Street. But Bonner and Rajiva are more cynical. When the higher math and the greater greed come together, watch out below!
Mobs, Messiahs, and Markets ends by giving concrete advice on how readers can avoid what the authors call the public spectacle of modern finance, and become, instead, private investors - knowing their own mind and following their own intuitions. The authors have no gimmicks to offer here - but instead give a better understanding of the dynamics of market behavior, allowing prudent investors to protect themselves from the fads and follies of the investment markets.
Here is what the description of Mobs, Messiahs, And Markets says (via Amazon):
Bestselling author Bill Bonner has long been a maverick observer of the financial and political world, sharpening his sardonic wit, in particular, on the vagaries of the investing public. Market booms and busts, tulip manias and dotcom bubbles, venture capitalists and vulture funds, he lets you know, are best explained not by dry statistics and obscure theories but by the metaphors and analogies of literature.
Now, in Mobs, Messiahs, and Markets, Bonner and freelance journalist Lila Rajiva use literary economics to offer broader insights into mass behavior and its devastating effects on society. Why is it, they ask, that perfectly sane and responsible individuals can get together, and by some bizarre alchemy turn into an irrational mob? What makes them trust charlatans and demagogues who manipulate their worst instincts? Why do they abandon good sense, good behavior and good taste when an empty slogan is waved in front of them. Why is the road to hell paved with so many sterling intentions? Why is there a fool on every corner and a knave in every public office?
In attempting an answer, the authors weave a light-hearted journey through history, politics and finance to show group think at work in an improbable array of instances, from medieval crusades to the architectural follies of hedge-fund managers. Their journey takes them ultimately to the desk of the chairman of the Federal Reserve Bank and to a cautionary tale of the current bubble economy. They warn that the gush of credit let loose by Alan Greenspan and multiplied by the sophisticated number games of Wall Street whizzes is fraught with perils for the unwary. Boom without end, pronounces The Street. But Bonner and Rajiva are more cynical. When the higher math and the greater greed come together, watch out below!
Mobs, Messiahs, and Markets ends by giving concrete advice on how readers can avoid what the authors call the public spectacle of modern finance, and become, instead, private investors - knowing their own mind and following their own intuitions. The authors have no gimmicks to offer here - but instead give a better understanding of the dynamics of market behavior, allowing prudent investors to protect themselves from the fads and follies of the investment markets.
Niki de Saint Phalle
Niki de Saint Phalle was a French sculptor + painter + film maker + she became world famous for her Shooting paintings + worked with art personalities such as Arman + César Baldaccini + Christo + Gérard Deschamps + Francois Dufrêne + Raymond Hains + Yves Klein + Martial Raysse + Mimmo Rotella + Daniel Spoerri + Jean Tinguely + Jacques Villeglé + Robert Rauschenberg + Jasper Johns + Larry Rivers + Salvador Dalí for ideas + created a monumental sculpture park in Garavicchio, Tuscany, about 100 km north-west of Rome along the coast + the garden, called Giardino dei Tarocchi in Italian, contained sculptures of the symbols found on Tarot cards + many of Niki de Saint Phalle's sculptures are large and some of them are exhibited in public places + her art works are unique and display that otherness to be enjoyed by all who love art.
Useful links:
www.nikidesaintphalle.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niki_de_Saint_Phalle
Useful links:
www.nikidesaintphalle.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niki_de_Saint_Phalle
Paolo Longo
Paolo Longo is an Italian composer and conductor + his works (based on diverse processes as cellular proliferation and spectral synthesis) are unique + I enjoy his music.
Useful links:
www.paolo-longo.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paolo_Longo
Useful links:
www.paolo-longo.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paolo_Longo
Step Cuts
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
When cutters wanted to make use of pieces of rough which were too flat even for Mirror Cuts, they found that it was often possible to achieve reasonable light effects by ‘stepping’ the crown or pavilions, or even both. This technique allowed the production of large Table Cut diamonds at a far lower cost than Full or Mirror Cuts. If it was impossible to avoid an over-large culet, they compensated for this defect by foiling. In jewels of this sort which have survived, the foils have disintegrated and the culets appear as dark holes. This is the main reason why the old Table, Mirror and Table Cut diamonds in our museums, treasuries and private collections are ignored or considered to be merely primitive cuts without any charm.
Table Cut diamonds dominated the market for about two hundred years, losing ground only gradually, during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, to Rose Cuts and Brilliants. To some extent step-cut Tables have returned to favor in modern diamonds with outlines similar to those of the old Table Cuts: squares, rectangles, triangles. If these are large enough, they can still dominate a jewel just as powerfully as their predecessors did. Smaller stones can be set in lines or groups to give an impression of opulence. And, if they are very small, they can be used to encircle and enhance a more important diamond or to enrich the color of an emerald, a sapphire or a ruby—all functions of the ancient Table Cuts. Prefixing the name Step Cut with ‘Modern’ therefore implies no change in the function or outline of a diamond, but only in its height proportions, which follow those now set down for Brilliants and other modern cuts, involving mainly lower crown and pavilion angles.
When cutters wanted to make use of pieces of rough which were too flat even for Mirror Cuts, they found that it was often possible to achieve reasonable light effects by ‘stepping’ the crown or pavilions, or even both. This technique allowed the production of large Table Cut diamonds at a far lower cost than Full or Mirror Cuts. If it was impossible to avoid an over-large culet, they compensated for this defect by foiling. In jewels of this sort which have survived, the foils have disintegrated and the culets appear as dark holes. This is the main reason why the old Table, Mirror and Table Cut diamonds in our museums, treasuries and private collections are ignored or considered to be merely primitive cuts without any charm.
Table Cut diamonds dominated the market for about two hundred years, losing ground only gradually, during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, to Rose Cuts and Brilliants. To some extent step-cut Tables have returned to favor in modern diamonds with outlines similar to those of the old Table Cuts: squares, rectangles, triangles. If these are large enough, they can still dominate a jewel just as powerfully as their predecessors did. Smaller stones can be set in lines or groups to give an impression of opulence. And, if they are very small, they can be used to encircle and enhance a more important diamond or to enrich the color of an emerald, a sapphire or a ruby—all functions of the ancient Table Cuts. Prefixing the name Step Cut with ‘Modern’ therefore implies no change in the function or outline of a diamond, but only in its height proportions, which follow those now set down for Brilliants and other modern cuts, involving mainly lower crown and pavilion angles.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
5. Pilgrims’ Signs
During the Middle Ages a most interesting form of jewel found its starting point in the then-prevalent custom of making pilgrimages to the shrines of saints and martyrs. When a pilgrim visited a shrine he bought or was given a token of that particular saint. These ‘Pilgrims’ Signs’ were made of lead or pewter and produced in unlimited numbers right at the shrine, where the metal was heated and turned into molds. Each saint had his characteristic token. It might be a tiny image of himself or some symbolic device connected with his pious acts. At any rate, each token was either provided with a pin or pierced with holes which enables it to be pinned or sewed to a garment, preferably the hat.
The shrine of Thomas à Becket, the murdered Archbishop of Canterbury, seems to have been among the most famous. At the height of its popularity, 100000 pilgrims would visit it in a year, bringing the ‘rarest and most precious gems’ as offerings, and carrying away with them the little lead tokens of the Bishop.
Among all the quantities of varied Pilgrims’ Signs, it is the scallop-shell of St James of Compostella that has survived in tradition as being the characteristic badge of a pilgrim. The leaden emblems first acquired by the visiting pilgrims were regarded as talismans and eagerly collected even by those who had not made a pilgrimage. It scarcely seems possible to speak of that sour and supersititious king of France, Louis XI, without also mentioning his old hat wtih its band stuck full of little leader saints.
The custom of wearing a Pilgrim’s Sign on the hat developed beyond its original form and significance and in time the token became an enseigne—an elaborate ornament of gold and gems. The enseigne, at the peak of its vogue, belongs to the period of the Renaissance.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
5. Pilgrims’ Signs
During the Middle Ages a most interesting form of jewel found its starting point in the then-prevalent custom of making pilgrimages to the shrines of saints and martyrs. When a pilgrim visited a shrine he bought or was given a token of that particular saint. These ‘Pilgrims’ Signs’ were made of lead or pewter and produced in unlimited numbers right at the shrine, where the metal was heated and turned into molds. Each saint had his characteristic token. It might be a tiny image of himself or some symbolic device connected with his pious acts. At any rate, each token was either provided with a pin or pierced with holes which enables it to be pinned or sewed to a garment, preferably the hat.
The shrine of Thomas à Becket, the murdered Archbishop of Canterbury, seems to have been among the most famous. At the height of its popularity, 100000 pilgrims would visit it in a year, bringing the ‘rarest and most precious gems’ as offerings, and carrying away with them the little lead tokens of the Bishop.
Among all the quantities of varied Pilgrims’ Signs, it is the scallop-shell of St James of Compostella that has survived in tradition as being the characteristic badge of a pilgrim. The leaden emblems first acquired by the visiting pilgrims were regarded as talismans and eagerly collected even by those who had not made a pilgrimage. It scarcely seems possible to speak of that sour and supersititious king of France, Louis XI, without also mentioning his old hat wtih its band stuck full of little leader saints.
The custom of wearing a Pilgrim’s Sign on the hat developed beyond its original form and significance and in time the token became an enseigne—an elaborate ornament of gold and gems. The enseigne, at the peak of its vogue, belongs to the period of the Renaissance.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
The French Revolution And Its Influence On Art
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
The Work Of David, Vigée Lebrun, Gros, Ingres, And Goya
1
To look at the calm and serene British portraits in the last two chapters, it is difficult to realize that England was engaged in warfare almost continuously during the century in which they were painted. While Reynolds, Gainsborough, and their successors were building up the reputation of English art, statesmen, soldiers, and sailors were laying the foundations of the present British Empire, Wolfe in Canada, Clive in india, and Nelson on the high seas. We have seen how profusely art flowered in England while her empire abroad was expanding, and we must not turn our attention to the progress of art in that country which throughout the century was England’s constant foe.
To appreciate the effect of the French Revolution on the painters of France, it is advisable to consider briefly the condition of artists in the eighteenth century. The French Academy, founded in 1648 for the advancement of art, had become a close body, exercising a pernicious tyranny. Artists who were neither members nor associates wer not allowed to exhibit their works in public, and even Academicians were not supposed to show elsewhere: one of them, Serres by name, was actually expelled from the Academy because he had independantly exhibited his picture ‘The Pest of Marseilles’ for money. The only concession the Academy made to outsiders was to allow them once a year, on the day of the Fête Dieu, to hold an ‘Exhibition of Youth’ in the Place Dauphine, which was open for only two hours.
At last Salon held under the old monarchy in 1789 only 350 pictures were exhibited: in 1791 the National Assembly decreed that an exhibition open to all artists, French and foreign, should be held in the Louvre, and the number of pictures show was 794. In the year of the Terror (1793) the number of exhibits exceeded 1000: in 1795 the number of pictures shown increased to 3048. These figures tell their own story, and show that the first thing the French Revolution did for art was to give painters a fuller liberty to display their work to the public. Further, notwithstanding the exhausted state of the finances, the Revolutionary Government encouraged artists by distributing annual prizes to a total value of 442,000 francs, and began the systematic organization of public museums. On the 27th July 1793 the Convention decreed that a museum should be open in the Louvre, and that art treasures collected from the royal palaces, from monasteries, and from the houses of aristocrats who had fled the country should be placed there. At the same time a sum of 100,000 francs was voted for the further purchase of works of art.
While in some parts of the country an ignorant and savage mob ruthlessly destroyed many precious monuments, libraries, and art treasures, the leaders of the Revolution throughout showed a special solicitude not only for contemporary art but also for the monuments of the past. Yet while the Revolution did everything it could to foster contemporary art, and to preserve and popularize the best art of the past, it could not produce one really great master of painting or sculpture. Now, if ever, we might expect to find a realism and a rude, savage strength in art; yet the typical painting of the French revolutionary period is cold and correct, and its chief defect is its bloodlessness. While in England the taste, as we have seen, was all for a happy Romanticism in art, the taste of revolutionary France was for a stern Classicism. A nation aspiring to recover the lost virtues of antiquity was naturally disposed to find its ideal art in the antique, and just as politically its eye was on republican Rome rather than on Athens, so its Classicism in art was Roman rather than Greek. The man who gave a new direction to French painting was Jacques Louis David (1748-1825), who, curiously enough, was a distant relative of Boucher, and, for a time, worked under that master, whose art in later years he cordially detested. Later he became the pupil of Vien (1716-1809), whom he accompanied to Rome when Vien was appointed director of the French Academy in that city. In Rome David became absorbed in the study of the antique; and began painting pictures of classical subjects, which were well received when exhibited in Paris. During the Revolution David became a enthusiastic supporter of Robespierre, and though he was in danger for a time after the fall of Robespierre, he escaped the perils at the end of the Terror by wisely devoting himself to art and eschewing politics. When the Directory created the Institute of France on the ruins of the old monarchical academics, David was appointed one of the two original members of the Fine Arts section and charged with the delicate mission of selecting the other members.
Henceforward David was omnipotent in French art. Like so many other revolutionaries, he was completely carried away by the genius of the First Consul, who seemed to him the right Caesar for the new Romans. One morning, after Bonaparte had give him a sitting for a head. David spoke enthusiasitically of the General to his pupils. ‘He is a man to whom altars would have been erected in ancient times; yes, my friends, Bonaparte is my hero.’ But the portrait of his hero was never completed, and only the head remains today, for Napoleon disliked long sittings and did not care for exact likeness. What he demanded from an artist was a picture to rouse the admiration of the people, and to satisfy this demand David painted ‘Bonaparte crossing the Alps,’ ‘Napoleon distributing the Eagles to his Army,’ and similar pictures which, though correct and precise in drawing, seem cold, strained, and dull today.
The best works of David are not his official pictures, but some of his portraits, which have more force and life. The most celebrated of these portraits is his ‘Madame Recamier,’ now in the Louvre, though the painter himself did not regard it as more than an unfinished sketch which he once threatened to destroy. The sitter greatly displeased David by leaving him when the portrait was half finished and going to his pupil Gerard (1770-1837), who had suddenly become the fashion, to have another portait of herself painted by him. A few years later Madame Recamier, tired of Gerard’s flattering portraiture, came back to David and begged him to go on with his picture. ‘Madame,’ he replied, ‘artists are as capricious as women. Suffer me to keep your picture in the state where we left it.’
After Waterloo and the restoration of te Bourbons, David, who had taken so prominent a part in the Revolution, was exiled from France in 1816, and not being allowed to go to Rome as he wished, he settled in Brussels, where he continued painting classical pictures, now chiefly of Greek subjects, till he died in 1825. Even in exile David was still regarded as the head of his school, and few painters of so moderate a talent have so profoundly influenced the art of Europe. He completely crushed for the time being the ideals of Watteau and his school and of Boucher—‘cursed Boucher,’ that Boucher of ridiculous memory’—as he called him; and as a good republican he delighted other republicans by maintaining that the art of the last three Louis represented ‘the most complete decadence of taste and an epoch of corruption.’ To David and his pupils Europe owes that revival of classical subjects which was a feature of nineteenth century painting in all north-western Europe, and France owes him in addition that tradition of fine drawing which has characterized her art for the last century.
The French Revolution And Its Influence On Art (continue)
The Work Of David, Vigée Lebrun, Gros, Ingres, And Goya
1
To look at the calm and serene British portraits in the last two chapters, it is difficult to realize that England was engaged in warfare almost continuously during the century in which they were painted. While Reynolds, Gainsborough, and their successors were building up the reputation of English art, statesmen, soldiers, and sailors were laying the foundations of the present British Empire, Wolfe in Canada, Clive in india, and Nelson on the high seas. We have seen how profusely art flowered in England while her empire abroad was expanding, and we must not turn our attention to the progress of art in that country which throughout the century was England’s constant foe.
To appreciate the effect of the French Revolution on the painters of France, it is advisable to consider briefly the condition of artists in the eighteenth century. The French Academy, founded in 1648 for the advancement of art, had become a close body, exercising a pernicious tyranny. Artists who were neither members nor associates wer not allowed to exhibit their works in public, and even Academicians were not supposed to show elsewhere: one of them, Serres by name, was actually expelled from the Academy because he had independantly exhibited his picture ‘The Pest of Marseilles’ for money. The only concession the Academy made to outsiders was to allow them once a year, on the day of the Fête Dieu, to hold an ‘Exhibition of Youth’ in the Place Dauphine, which was open for only two hours.
At last Salon held under the old monarchy in 1789 only 350 pictures were exhibited: in 1791 the National Assembly decreed that an exhibition open to all artists, French and foreign, should be held in the Louvre, and the number of pictures show was 794. In the year of the Terror (1793) the number of exhibits exceeded 1000: in 1795 the number of pictures shown increased to 3048. These figures tell their own story, and show that the first thing the French Revolution did for art was to give painters a fuller liberty to display their work to the public. Further, notwithstanding the exhausted state of the finances, the Revolutionary Government encouraged artists by distributing annual prizes to a total value of 442,000 francs, and began the systematic organization of public museums. On the 27th July 1793 the Convention decreed that a museum should be open in the Louvre, and that art treasures collected from the royal palaces, from monasteries, and from the houses of aristocrats who had fled the country should be placed there. At the same time a sum of 100,000 francs was voted for the further purchase of works of art.
While in some parts of the country an ignorant and savage mob ruthlessly destroyed many precious monuments, libraries, and art treasures, the leaders of the Revolution throughout showed a special solicitude not only for contemporary art but also for the monuments of the past. Yet while the Revolution did everything it could to foster contemporary art, and to preserve and popularize the best art of the past, it could not produce one really great master of painting or sculpture. Now, if ever, we might expect to find a realism and a rude, savage strength in art; yet the typical painting of the French revolutionary period is cold and correct, and its chief defect is its bloodlessness. While in England the taste, as we have seen, was all for a happy Romanticism in art, the taste of revolutionary France was for a stern Classicism. A nation aspiring to recover the lost virtues of antiquity was naturally disposed to find its ideal art in the antique, and just as politically its eye was on republican Rome rather than on Athens, so its Classicism in art was Roman rather than Greek. The man who gave a new direction to French painting was Jacques Louis David (1748-1825), who, curiously enough, was a distant relative of Boucher, and, for a time, worked under that master, whose art in later years he cordially detested. Later he became the pupil of Vien (1716-1809), whom he accompanied to Rome when Vien was appointed director of the French Academy in that city. In Rome David became absorbed in the study of the antique; and began painting pictures of classical subjects, which were well received when exhibited in Paris. During the Revolution David became a enthusiastic supporter of Robespierre, and though he was in danger for a time after the fall of Robespierre, he escaped the perils at the end of the Terror by wisely devoting himself to art and eschewing politics. When the Directory created the Institute of France on the ruins of the old monarchical academics, David was appointed one of the two original members of the Fine Arts section and charged with the delicate mission of selecting the other members.
Henceforward David was omnipotent in French art. Like so many other revolutionaries, he was completely carried away by the genius of the First Consul, who seemed to him the right Caesar for the new Romans. One morning, after Bonaparte had give him a sitting for a head. David spoke enthusiasitically of the General to his pupils. ‘He is a man to whom altars would have been erected in ancient times; yes, my friends, Bonaparte is my hero.’ But the portrait of his hero was never completed, and only the head remains today, for Napoleon disliked long sittings and did not care for exact likeness. What he demanded from an artist was a picture to rouse the admiration of the people, and to satisfy this demand David painted ‘Bonaparte crossing the Alps,’ ‘Napoleon distributing the Eagles to his Army,’ and similar pictures which, though correct and precise in drawing, seem cold, strained, and dull today.
The best works of David are not his official pictures, but some of his portraits, which have more force and life. The most celebrated of these portraits is his ‘Madame Recamier,’ now in the Louvre, though the painter himself did not regard it as more than an unfinished sketch which he once threatened to destroy. The sitter greatly displeased David by leaving him when the portrait was half finished and going to his pupil Gerard (1770-1837), who had suddenly become the fashion, to have another portait of herself painted by him. A few years later Madame Recamier, tired of Gerard’s flattering portraiture, came back to David and begged him to go on with his picture. ‘Madame,’ he replied, ‘artists are as capricious as women. Suffer me to keep your picture in the state where we left it.’
After Waterloo and the restoration of te Bourbons, David, who had taken so prominent a part in the Revolution, was exiled from France in 1816, and not being allowed to go to Rome as he wished, he settled in Brussels, where he continued painting classical pictures, now chiefly of Greek subjects, till he died in 1825. Even in exile David was still regarded as the head of his school, and few painters of so moderate a talent have so profoundly influenced the art of Europe. He completely crushed for the time being the ideals of Watteau and his school and of Boucher—‘cursed Boucher,’ that Boucher of ridiculous memory’—as he called him; and as a good republican he delighted other republicans by maintaining that the art of the last three Louis represented ‘the most complete decadence of taste and an epoch of corruption.’ To David and his pupils Europe owes that revival of classical subjects which was a feature of nineteenth century painting in all north-western Europe, and France owes him in addition that tradition of fine drawing which has characterized her art for the last century.
The French Revolution And Its Influence On Art (continue)
Computer Tomography
A recent development in pearl testing is the application of computer tomography + it enables a three-dimensional image of the pearl’s (Akoya cultured, South Sea, Tahitian, Cultured Blister pearls) structure to be clearly discerned + it differentiates between natural and cultured pearls + it measures nacre thickness + it’s a very expensive methodology + it’s widely used in medicine and other industries.
Useful link:
www.jcat.org
Useful link:
www.jcat.org
Kristoffer Zegers
Kristoffer Zegers is a Dutch composer + I enjoy his music (slow developments in clusters via glissandi) + I think its natural.
Useful link:
www.kristofferzegers.nl
Useful link:
www.kristofferzegers.nl
Traveler IQ Challenge
(via Budgettravel) Traveler IQ challenge is an addictive trivia game that measures your ability to pick the exact location of world capitals + historical sights + cities that you've never heard of, on a colorful interactive map. I enjoyed it. It was educational.
Roger Keverne
Roger Keverne specializes in Chinese ceramics + works of art from the Neolithic to the Qing dynasty, including jades, bronzes, enamels, lacquer and other organic materials.
Useful link:
www.keverne.co.uk
Today Chinese jade carvings + items of jewelry aren't that easy to identify. The only way to identify + get a feel for the color (antique v. imitations) is by seeing as many different qualities of jade from different periods as possible. If in doubt always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory/expert for identification.
Useful link:
www.keverne.co.uk
Today Chinese jade carvings + items of jewelry aren't that easy to identify. The only way to identify + get a feel for the color (antique v. imitations) is by seeing as many different qualities of jade from different periods as possible. If in doubt always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory/expert for identification.
Polymer Clay As An Artistic Medium
Polymer clay is a manmade material + it’s widely used to create sculpture + figurines + jewelry.
Useful links:
www.npcg.org
www.polymerartarchive.com
Useful links:
www.npcg.org
www.polymerartarchive.com
Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind
Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind: How Intelligence Increases When You Think Less by Guy Claxton is very informative + highly entertaining + I think the approach will help you in business situations.
Here is what the description of Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind: How Intelligence Increases When You Think Less says (via Amazon):
In these accelerated times, our decisive and businesslike ways of thinking are unprepared for ambiguity, paradox, and sleeping on it. We assume that the quick-thinking 'hare brain' will beat out the slower Intuition of the 'tortoise mind.' However, now research in cognitive science is changing this understanding of the human mind. It suggests that patience and confusion--rather than rigor and certainty--are the essential precursors of wisdom.
With a compelling argument that the mind works best when we trust our unconscious, or undermind, psychologist Guy Claxton makes an appeal that we be less analytical and let our creativity have free rein. He also encourages reevaluation of society's obsession with results-oriented thinking and problem-solving under pressure. Packed with interesting anecdotes, a dozen puzzles to test your reasoning, and the latest related research, Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind is an illuminating, uplifting, stimulating read that focuses on a new kind of well-being and cognition.
Here is what the description of Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind: How Intelligence Increases When You Think Less says (via Amazon):
In these accelerated times, our decisive and businesslike ways of thinking are unprepared for ambiguity, paradox, and sleeping on it. We assume that the quick-thinking 'hare brain' will beat out the slower Intuition of the 'tortoise mind.' However, now research in cognitive science is changing this understanding of the human mind. It suggests that patience and confusion--rather than rigor and certainty--are the essential precursors of wisdom.
With a compelling argument that the mind works best when we trust our unconscious, or undermind, psychologist Guy Claxton makes an appeal that we be less analytical and let our creativity have free rein. He also encourages reevaluation of society's obsession with results-oriented thinking and problem-solving under pressure. Packed with interesting anecdotes, a dozen puzzles to test your reasoning, and the latest related research, Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind is an illuminating, uplifting, stimulating read that focuses on a new kind of well-being and cognition.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Heard On The Street
The iron rule of life is that only 20% of the people can be in the top fifth + that's just the way it is + the answer is that it's partly efficient and partly inefficient.
The Mirror, Mirroring Or Spread Table Cut
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
Mirror Cuts were more often oblong than square in outline. One of my experiments shows clearly why this was so. I produced replicas of the two halves of a large octahedron, as if the octahedron had been cleaved through the center. One of these halves I then fashioned into a square Mirror and the other into an oblong Mirror. In both, the aim was to produce maximum show with minimum weight loss. Both had full pavilions with relatively small culets. The results showed, first, that this type of rough, was ideal for Mirroring Spread Table Cuts and, secondly, how an elongated outline could be a good commercial propostion! They also showed why early cutters were tempted to produce gems with blunt corners.
Dimensions
Square: 2x2.8cm
Elongated Rectangle: 3.3 x 2.62 cm
Area
Square: 7.84 cm²
Elongated Rectangle: 8.65 cm²
Table size
Square: 88%
Elongated Rectangle: 81%
Crown angle
Square: 40°
Elongated Rectangle: 40°
Pavilion angle
Square: 49.5°
Elongated Rectangle: 51°
Culet size
Square: 15%
Elongated Rectangle: 17%
Weight
Square: 38.17ct
Elongated Rectangle: 43.52ct
I must admit that I did not succeed in obtaining ideal proportions, but then neither did the early cutters. I did discover that my oblong ‘diamond’ was 10 percent larger in area and 14 percent heavier than my square one, so one can understand why Mirror Cut diamonds were more often oblong than square.
It was, then, a lack of appreciation of fire—the separation of light into spectral colors—at that time, combined with the price factor, which encouraged the cutters to use rough from which it would have been impossible to fashion High Table Cuts without prohibitive loss of weight. Size was all important, reflecting, perhaps, the classical proportions discussed above. All this explains why, among old jewels, we find so many Mirror Cut diamonds with table sizes of up to 80 percent or more, but nevertheless with correctly proportioned pavilions.
An example of this is found in the pendant known as Palatine Lion (Pfälzer Löwe), one of the pièces de résistance of the Treasury in Munich. The diamond is just below the ring attached to the diamond-studded chain from which the pendant once hung. It has a distinct cleavage crack, found to be absolutely parallel with the octahedral face of a ‘was’. The fact that these are parallel confirms that this diamond can only have been fashioned from a triangular crystal of this type. Note also the obvious reason for the two blunted corners—a typical manner of achieving larger sizes at the expense of symmetry. Another example of a similarly inclined cleavage crack is found in a tiny (4x4mm) overspread Mirror Cut diamond, thte largest on the pedestal of a pendant representing Nessus and Deinarina.
Mirror Cuts were more often oblong than square in outline. One of my experiments shows clearly why this was so. I produced replicas of the two halves of a large octahedron, as if the octahedron had been cleaved through the center. One of these halves I then fashioned into a square Mirror and the other into an oblong Mirror. In both, the aim was to produce maximum show with minimum weight loss. Both had full pavilions with relatively small culets. The results showed, first, that this type of rough, was ideal for Mirroring Spread Table Cuts and, secondly, how an elongated outline could be a good commercial propostion! They also showed why early cutters were tempted to produce gems with blunt corners.
Dimensions
Square: 2x2.8cm
Elongated Rectangle: 3.3 x 2.62 cm
Area
Square: 7.84 cm²
Elongated Rectangle: 8.65 cm²
Table size
Square: 88%
Elongated Rectangle: 81%
Crown angle
Square: 40°
Elongated Rectangle: 40°
Pavilion angle
Square: 49.5°
Elongated Rectangle: 51°
Culet size
Square: 15%
Elongated Rectangle: 17%
Weight
Square: 38.17ct
Elongated Rectangle: 43.52ct
I must admit that I did not succeed in obtaining ideal proportions, but then neither did the early cutters. I did discover that my oblong ‘diamond’ was 10 percent larger in area and 14 percent heavier than my square one, so one can understand why Mirror Cut diamonds were more often oblong than square.
It was, then, a lack of appreciation of fire—the separation of light into spectral colors—at that time, combined with the price factor, which encouraged the cutters to use rough from which it would have been impossible to fashion High Table Cuts without prohibitive loss of weight. Size was all important, reflecting, perhaps, the classical proportions discussed above. All this explains why, among old jewels, we find so many Mirror Cut diamonds with table sizes of up to 80 percent or more, but nevertheless with correctly proportioned pavilions.
An example of this is found in the pendant known as Palatine Lion (Pfälzer Löwe), one of the pièces de résistance of the Treasury in Munich. The diamond is just below the ring attached to the diamond-studded chain from which the pendant once hung. It has a distinct cleavage crack, found to be absolutely parallel with the octahedral face of a ‘was’. The fact that these are parallel confirms that this diamond can only have been fashioned from a triangular crystal of this type. Note also the obvious reason for the two blunted corners—a typical manner of achieving larger sizes at the expense of symmetry. Another example of a similarly inclined cleavage crack is found in a tiny (4x4mm) overspread Mirror Cut diamond, thte largest on the pedestal of a pendant representing Nessus and Deinarina.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
4. Brooches
Especially busy, in the fourteenth century, were the brooch makers. There were so many of them that they formed a group by themselves. They turned out what may be termed everyday brooches. If a particularly fine brooch was required, the commissions was given over to the goldsmith jeweler.
There was considerable range of size and weight in brooches, according to the type of material which they were intended to fasten. If the material was delicate and filmy, there were tiny brooches less than half an inch across which would hold the stuff in place without tearing it. Our grandmothers had what they called ‘lace pins’ for such purposes. At the other extreme, in point of size, was the Scottish brooch, sometimes as much as four and half inches in diameter. It had to be large and strong, for it held, pinned on the shoulder, the heavy Scottish plaid worn by both men and women of Scotland.
One of the finest surviving examples of the Scottish brooch is the famous Loch Buy Brooch. It is a silver disk elaborately ornamented with filigree. In the raised center is set a large cabochon crystal, and around the edge stand peal-stripped turrets like candles on a frosted birthday cake.
Many brooches were disks or hollow circles, but not all of them by any means. They might be heart-shaped, for brooches were in great favor as love tokens or betrothal gifts, and frequently engraved on the reverse side was the word ‘Love’ or some phrase of affection. Again, the brooch might have religious significance and be fashioned in the image of a saint, such as St Christopher bearing the Christ child on his shoulder.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
4. Brooches
Especially busy, in the fourteenth century, were the brooch makers. There were so many of them that they formed a group by themselves. They turned out what may be termed everyday brooches. If a particularly fine brooch was required, the commissions was given over to the goldsmith jeweler.
There was considerable range of size and weight in brooches, according to the type of material which they were intended to fasten. If the material was delicate and filmy, there were tiny brooches less than half an inch across which would hold the stuff in place without tearing it. Our grandmothers had what they called ‘lace pins’ for such purposes. At the other extreme, in point of size, was the Scottish brooch, sometimes as much as four and half inches in diameter. It had to be large and strong, for it held, pinned on the shoulder, the heavy Scottish plaid worn by both men and women of Scotland.
One of the finest surviving examples of the Scottish brooch is the famous Loch Buy Brooch. It is a silver disk elaborately ornamented with filigree. In the raised center is set a large cabochon crystal, and around the edge stand peal-stripped turrets like candles on a frosted birthday cake.
Many brooches were disks or hollow circles, but not all of them by any means. They might be heart-shaped, for brooches were in great favor as love tokens or betrothal gifts, and frequently engraved on the reverse side was the word ‘Love’ or some phrase of affection. Again, the brooch might have religious significance and be fashioned in the image of a saint, such as St Christopher bearing the Christ child on his shoulder.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
Hoppner also had lost his chance by attaching himself to the wrong political party, so young Lawrence had it all his own way, and after being made a full R. A when he was only twenty five, on the death of Benjamin West in 1820 he was unanimously elected the new President. Five years before this he had been knighted, and during the interval between his knighthood and his Presidency he had visited the chief Courts of Europe and painted more crowned heads than any other English artist before or since. His prices were higher than those of any artist before him: for head he received 200 guineas, for a full-length hi usual terms were 600 to 700 guineas, but for some portraits—like that of ‘Lady Gower and Child’—he received as much as 1500 guineas.
Like Reynolds, Lawrence never married, but he was engaged for a time to the daughter of Mrs Siddons, and treated the poor girl so badly that a tragedy ensued. He was so notorious a flirt that when he was painting the portrait of Caroline of Brunswick he was required to draw up an affidavit as to the propriety of his conduct. Though popular and tremedously successful, the private life of Lawrence was not particularly happy; and though he made great sums he was often in financial difficulties owing to foolish purchases. He was constantly tempted to pay extravagant prices for painting by Old Masters, and his numerous acquaintances—for he had few real friends—often took advantage of his kindness and generosity. His fame is lower today than it was in his lifetime, for there was an inherent weakness both in his art and in his character. The refinement of his drawing is still to be admired, but he had not the love of truth which distinguished his great predecessors, and beside their work the portraits of Lawrence are apt to appear artificial and insipid. He is seen at his best in his portrait of ‘Lady Blessington’ in the Wallace Collection, and looking at this elegant portrait of an elegant woman we perceive the subtelty of what Campbell said about the artist. ‘Lawrence,’ the poet remarked, ‘makes one seem to have got into the drawing room in te mansions of the blest and to be looking at oneself in the mirrors.’
Another precocious child artist of the eighteenth century was the famous woman-painter, Angelica Kaufmann (1741-1807). She was the daughter of a mediocre Swiss portrait-painter who settled in England, and when she was ten years old Angelica was executing portraits in crayons with the assurance of a professional. Owing to the sex prejudice which existed in her day, she was taken by her father to the Academy in boy’s clothes, so that she might improve her drawing. When she was in her middle ‘teens she accompanied her father to Milan, Florence, Rome, and Venice, and it was at the latter city in 1764 that she made the acquaintance of the wife of the English Ambassador, who took a great fancy to the clever young artist and brought her back with her to England. Thus introduced to England in 1765, she soon became a general favorite, the young Queen being particularly attracted by her scholarly mind and amiable personality. In 1769 she was nominated one of the foundation members of the Royal Academy. The same year she was unhappily deceived into a secret marriage with the valet of Count de Horn, who had passed himself off for his master. This scoundrel treated her badly, and she only managed to buy back her liberty by giving him £300 on condition that he took himself off to Germany and did not return to England. With the exception of this painful episode, the private life of Angelica Kaufmann was as happy and serene as her own pictures, and after the false count had died she married again in 1780. Her second husband was a Venetian painter, Antonio Zucchi, with whom, and with her father, she returned to Italy two years after her marriage, and finally settled in Rome, where, happy, popular, and universally esteemed, she lived twenty five years till her death in 1807. ‘The Portrait of the Artist,’ gives a good idea of the personal charm of Angelica Kaufmann as a young woman, and of the soft graciousness which distinguishes her painting.
Hoppner also had lost his chance by attaching himself to the wrong political party, so young Lawrence had it all his own way, and after being made a full R. A when he was only twenty five, on the death of Benjamin West in 1820 he was unanimously elected the new President. Five years before this he had been knighted, and during the interval between his knighthood and his Presidency he had visited the chief Courts of Europe and painted more crowned heads than any other English artist before or since. His prices were higher than those of any artist before him: for head he received 200 guineas, for a full-length hi usual terms were 600 to 700 guineas, but for some portraits—like that of ‘Lady Gower and Child’—he received as much as 1500 guineas.
Like Reynolds, Lawrence never married, but he was engaged for a time to the daughter of Mrs Siddons, and treated the poor girl so badly that a tragedy ensued. He was so notorious a flirt that when he was painting the portrait of Caroline of Brunswick he was required to draw up an affidavit as to the propriety of his conduct. Though popular and tremedously successful, the private life of Lawrence was not particularly happy; and though he made great sums he was often in financial difficulties owing to foolish purchases. He was constantly tempted to pay extravagant prices for painting by Old Masters, and his numerous acquaintances—for he had few real friends—often took advantage of his kindness and generosity. His fame is lower today than it was in his lifetime, for there was an inherent weakness both in his art and in his character. The refinement of his drawing is still to be admired, but he had not the love of truth which distinguished his great predecessors, and beside their work the portraits of Lawrence are apt to appear artificial and insipid. He is seen at his best in his portrait of ‘Lady Blessington’ in the Wallace Collection, and looking at this elegant portrait of an elegant woman we perceive the subtelty of what Campbell said about the artist. ‘Lawrence,’ the poet remarked, ‘makes one seem to have got into the drawing room in te mansions of the blest and to be looking at oneself in the mirrors.’
Another precocious child artist of the eighteenth century was the famous woman-painter, Angelica Kaufmann (1741-1807). She was the daughter of a mediocre Swiss portrait-painter who settled in England, and when she was ten years old Angelica was executing portraits in crayons with the assurance of a professional. Owing to the sex prejudice which existed in her day, she was taken by her father to the Academy in boy’s clothes, so that she might improve her drawing. When she was in her middle ‘teens she accompanied her father to Milan, Florence, Rome, and Venice, and it was at the latter city in 1764 that she made the acquaintance of the wife of the English Ambassador, who took a great fancy to the clever young artist and brought her back with her to England. Thus introduced to England in 1765, she soon became a general favorite, the young Queen being particularly attracted by her scholarly mind and amiable personality. In 1769 she was nominated one of the foundation members of the Royal Academy. The same year she was unhappily deceived into a secret marriage with the valet of Count de Horn, who had passed himself off for his master. This scoundrel treated her badly, and she only managed to buy back her liberty by giving him £300 on condition that he took himself off to Germany and did not return to England. With the exception of this painful episode, the private life of Angelica Kaufmann was as happy and serene as her own pictures, and after the false count had died she married again in 1780. Her second husband was a Venetian painter, Antonio Zucchi, with whom, and with her father, she returned to Italy two years after her marriage, and finally settled in Rome, where, happy, popular, and universally esteemed, she lived twenty five years till her death in 1807. ‘The Portrait of the Artist,’ gives a good idea of the personal charm of Angelica Kaufmann as a young woman, and of the soft graciousness which distinguishes her painting.
Lab-grown Diamonds + Designers
I think it’s encouraging to see Taryn Rose + Jennifer Phelps-Montgomery promote Gemesis Cultured diamonds (fancy yellows) in their unique jewelry designs + I hope natural diamond and lab-grown diamonds are able to co-exist providing affordable alternatives with proper disclosures to consumers who love diamonds.
Useful links:
www.tarynrose.com
www.gemesis.com
www.solaurafinejewelry.com
www.renaissancediamonds.com
Useful links:
www.tarynrose.com
www.gemesis.com
www.solaurafinejewelry.com
www.renaissancediamonds.com
Survival Of The Sickest
Survival Of The Sickest: A Medical Maverick Discovers Why We Need Disease by Sharon Moalem + Jonathan Prince is filled with surprising observations + facts + I highly recommend it.
Here is what the description of Survival Of The Sickest says (via Amazon):
Read it. You're already living it. Was diabetes evolution's response to the last Ice Age? Did a deadly genetic disease help our ancestors survive the bubonic plagues of Europe? Will a visit to the tanning salon help lower your cholesterol? Why do we age? Why are some people immune to HIV? Can your genes be turned on -- or off?
Joining the ranks of modern myth busters, Dr. Sharon Moalem turns our current understanding of illness on its head and challenges us to fundamentally change the way we think about our bodies, our health, and our relationship to just about every other living thing on earth, from plants and animals to insects and bacteria.
Through a fresh and engaging examination of our evolutionary history, Dr. Moalem reveals how many of the conditions that are diseases today actually gave our ancestors a leg up in the survival sweepstakes. When the option is a long life with a disease or a short one without it, evolution opts for disease almost every time.
Everything from the climate our ancestors lived in to the crops they planted and ate to their beverage of choice can be seen in our genetic inheritance. But Survival of the Sickest doesn't stop there. It goes on to demonstrate just how little modern medicine really understands about human health, and offers a new way of thinking that can help all of us live longer, healthier lives.
Survival of the Sickest is filled with fascinating insights and cutting-edge research, presented in a way that is both accessible and utterly absorbing. This is a book about the interconnectedness of all life on earth -- and, especially, what that means for us.
Useful link:
www.survivalofthesickestthebook.com
Here is what the description of Survival Of The Sickest says (via Amazon):
Read it. You're already living it. Was diabetes evolution's response to the last Ice Age? Did a deadly genetic disease help our ancestors survive the bubonic plagues of Europe? Will a visit to the tanning salon help lower your cholesterol? Why do we age? Why are some people immune to HIV? Can your genes be turned on -- or off?
Joining the ranks of modern myth busters, Dr. Sharon Moalem turns our current understanding of illness on its head and challenges us to fundamentally change the way we think about our bodies, our health, and our relationship to just about every other living thing on earth, from plants and animals to insects and bacteria.
Through a fresh and engaging examination of our evolutionary history, Dr. Moalem reveals how many of the conditions that are diseases today actually gave our ancestors a leg up in the survival sweepstakes. When the option is a long life with a disease or a short one without it, evolution opts for disease almost every time.
Everything from the climate our ancestors lived in to the crops they planted and ate to their beverage of choice can be seen in our genetic inheritance. But Survival of the Sickest doesn't stop there. It goes on to demonstrate just how little modern medicine really understands about human health, and offers a new way of thinking that can help all of us live longer, healthier lives.
Survival of the Sickest is filled with fascinating insights and cutting-edge research, presented in a way that is both accessible and utterly absorbing. This is a book about the interconnectedness of all life on earth -- and, especially, what that means for us.
Useful link:
www.survivalofthesickestthebook.com
Software For Artists
Here is an interesting program for jewelry designers + other artists. Art Affair software now offers Artist Edition + Art Organizer + this new version allows users to record and track their creations + shows + competitions + contact lists + schedules + other features.
Useful link:
www.artaffairsoftware.com
Useful link:
www.artaffairsoftware.com
Kingman Turquoise
This is what I found interesting @ www.colbaugh.net. Only about 3% of turquoise is hard enough in it's natural state to be used in jewelry + various terms (natural, stabilized turquoise, treated turquoise, pressed turquoise) may be used to describe different stabilization and treatments in turquoise.
The Handmade Knives & Swords Of Jot Singh Khalsa
Jot Singh Khalsa's unique edged tools and weapons for collectors are unique + the classic handmade material is a magic combination of precious metals and gemstones, which in my opinion is work of art. It's look beautiful.
Useful link:
www.khalsakirpans.com
Useful link:
www.khalsakirpans.com
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Heard On The Street
You have to figure out what your own aptitudes are + if you play games where other people have the aptitudes and you don't, you're going to lose + and that's as close to certain as any prediction that you can make + you have to figure out where you've got an edge + and you've got to play within your own circle of competence.
Gerhard Richter
Gerhard Richter is a German artist + he is considered as one of the most important German artists of the post-World War II period and is also one of the world's most expensive, with his paintings often selling for several million dollars apiece.
'One has to believe in what one is doing, one has to commit oneself inwardly, in order to do painting. Once obsessed, one ultimately carries it to the point of believing that one might change human beings through painting. But if one lacks this passionate commitment, there is nothing left to do. Then it is best to leave it alone. For basically painting is idiocy.' (From Richter, 'Notes 1973', in The Daily Practice of Painting, p.78.)
I read the quote several times + he knows his way with words + now I understand his mind.
Useful links:
www.gerhard-richter.com
www.gerhard-richter-archiv.de
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gerhard_Richter
'One has to believe in what one is doing, one has to commit oneself inwardly, in order to do painting. Once obsessed, one ultimately carries it to the point of believing that one might change human beings through painting. But if one lacks this passionate commitment, there is nothing left to do. Then it is best to leave it alone. For basically painting is idiocy.' (From Richter, 'Notes 1973', in The Daily Practice of Painting, p.78.)
I read the quote several times + he knows his way with words + now I understand his mind.
Useful links:
www.gerhard-richter.com
www.gerhard-richter-archiv.de
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gerhard_Richter
The Mirror, Mirroring Or Spread Table Cut
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
The term ‘Mirror’ dates from the late fourteenth century and is frequently found in inventories of the early fifteenth century where gems were described as fait en façon de mirouer or mirour de diemant. It was also used in the names of famous diamonds such as the Mirror of Portugal and the Mirror of France. The mirror was very popular as a form of decoration and a symbol of luxury during the Renaissance. Applied to diamonds, the term described the striking light effects in certain Table Cuts. The term will not be found in modern diamond literature, but it is so appropriate for the cut that I feel it should be brought back. A Spread Table Cut looks exactly like a mirror, both in its outline and because of the strong reflection of light from its large surface—a far stronger reflection in diamonds than from a mirror made of metal or glass.
The term was applied to every diamond that resembled a mirror but it was not enough for well-polished facets to give attractive surface reflections (adamantine luster). Brilliant reflections from the interior were necessary as well, and these could only be achieved if the pavilion angle were about 45°. However, as it is unlikely, at least until after the Renaissance, that these combined light effects were perceived as separate phenomena, it seems logical to apply the term ‘mirroring’ to any historic cut with the quality of brilliance. These terms were introduced to French during the twelfth century, and only replaced by the term brilliant (used as an adjective) somewhere around 1564. After 1608 Brilliant (now used as a noun as well) gradually came to describe all faceted, pavilion-based diamonds.
The Mirror Cut is considerably less expensive to fashion than the High. Its general geometry is similar, especially in the pavilion with its relatively small culet which reflects light back through the crown—as it does, of course, in any Table Cut diamond with 45° angles of inclination in the main facets. The size of the table in a Mirror Cut appears to have been influenced by the square root of two and by the simple arithmetical proportions proposed by Luca Pacioli in 1509. Both are of geometric, though not Pythagorean, origin. The table would be around 70.7 percent of the overall dimension of the girdle. A figure which springs to mind when one thinks of Mirror Cut diamonds is that of a ‘man and a circle inscribed in a square’. A man and circle inscribed in a square, after a sixteenth century edition of the writings of Vitruvius could be a diamond and its table facet, in a ratio of 2:1, giving a table size of 70.7 percent. A man in a square , after a drawing by Cornelius Agrippa in the 1533 edition of Occulta Philosophia would, if applied to geometry of diamonds, suggest a table size of almost 80 percent.
In fact, the crown was often so low that the table was sometimes as much as 90 percent of the width of the girdle. A facet of this size acts, literally, as a mirror, and the reflections from the pavilion facets and the culet further increase the brilliance. However, only High Table Cuts, and then only those with correct proportions and perfect symmetry, display a combination of both brilliance and fire. In the old days gems of this type could be quite easily fashioned, with very little loss of weight, from fairly thick triangular rough such as macles, which were plentiful and much less expensive than octahedrons. A ‘was’, produced by cleaving, was equally suitable.
The Mirror, Mirroring Or Spread Table Cut (continued)
The term ‘Mirror’ dates from the late fourteenth century and is frequently found in inventories of the early fifteenth century where gems were described as fait en façon de mirouer or mirour de diemant. It was also used in the names of famous diamonds such as the Mirror of Portugal and the Mirror of France. The mirror was very popular as a form of decoration and a symbol of luxury during the Renaissance. Applied to diamonds, the term described the striking light effects in certain Table Cuts. The term will not be found in modern diamond literature, but it is so appropriate for the cut that I feel it should be brought back. A Spread Table Cut looks exactly like a mirror, both in its outline and because of the strong reflection of light from its large surface—a far stronger reflection in diamonds than from a mirror made of metal or glass.
The term was applied to every diamond that resembled a mirror but it was not enough for well-polished facets to give attractive surface reflections (adamantine luster). Brilliant reflections from the interior were necessary as well, and these could only be achieved if the pavilion angle were about 45°. However, as it is unlikely, at least until after the Renaissance, that these combined light effects were perceived as separate phenomena, it seems logical to apply the term ‘mirroring’ to any historic cut with the quality of brilliance. These terms were introduced to French during the twelfth century, and only replaced by the term brilliant (used as an adjective) somewhere around 1564. After 1608 Brilliant (now used as a noun as well) gradually came to describe all faceted, pavilion-based diamonds.
The Mirror Cut is considerably less expensive to fashion than the High. Its general geometry is similar, especially in the pavilion with its relatively small culet which reflects light back through the crown—as it does, of course, in any Table Cut diamond with 45° angles of inclination in the main facets. The size of the table in a Mirror Cut appears to have been influenced by the square root of two and by the simple arithmetical proportions proposed by Luca Pacioli in 1509. Both are of geometric, though not Pythagorean, origin. The table would be around 70.7 percent of the overall dimension of the girdle. A figure which springs to mind when one thinks of Mirror Cut diamonds is that of a ‘man and a circle inscribed in a square’. A man and circle inscribed in a square, after a sixteenth century edition of the writings of Vitruvius could be a diamond and its table facet, in a ratio of 2:1, giving a table size of 70.7 percent. A man in a square , after a drawing by Cornelius Agrippa in the 1533 edition of Occulta Philosophia would, if applied to geometry of diamonds, suggest a table size of almost 80 percent.
In fact, the crown was often so low that the table was sometimes as much as 90 percent of the width of the girdle. A facet of this size acts, literally, as a mirror, and the reflections from the pavilion facets and the culet further increase the brilliance. However, only High Table Cuts, and then only those with correct proportions and perfect symmetry, display a combination of both brilliance and fire. In the old days gems of this type could be quite easily fashioned, with very little loss of weight, from fairly thick triangular rough such as macles, which were plentiful and much less expensive than octahedrons. A ‘was’, produced by cleaving, was equally suitable.
The Mirror, Mirroring Or Spread Table Cut (continued)
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
3. Master Goldsmiths And Apprentices
Sometime after the ninth century various groups of craftsmen, including the workers in gold and cutters of gems, had established guilds for mutual protection. The members of each guild were pledged to assist each other and to see to it that no outsider had equal opportunities.
The goldsmiths’ guild maintained a high standard of workmanship; all members were expected to begin at the foot of the ladder as apprentices and, after a long course of training in all branches of the craft, finally to work their way up to the top—the exalted rank of master craftsman.
The earliest mention of the famous goldsmiths’ guild of England dates from 1180. In common with other guilds, such as the Fishmongers’, the Grocers’ and the Drapers’ Guilds, they sought to prevent all competition. Non-members of a guild were not allowed to practise their trade or craft within town limits.
By 1357 the wealthy and all-powerful goldsmiths’ guild was in the position to erect the Hall of the Goldsmiths’ Company in London; and at a somewhat later date, in addition to carrying on the work of their own craft, the goldsmiths also went in for banking and lending money.
In Florence, by the fourteenth century, the Guild of Workers in Gold and Silver was most important. In fact, it was a school of training not only for all potential jewelers but also for artists in general. Any boy of sixteen who displayed marked artistic talent was a matter of course apprenticed to one of the goldsmiths. He was trained in the art of precious-metal work, even though after a time he might become a sculptor of stone or a painter of pictures. The education of a goldsmith-jeweler was a lengthy process covering many years.
First, the boy apprentice lived in the master craftsman’s house and for a period of from five to seven years exchanged his labor for his instruction. Then as a journeyman he was expected to work for a small wage during three more years. After that, provided the man could qualify, he might become a full-fledged master of his craft, highly skilled in all its many branches. Small wonder that the guild members could execute the intricate and elaborate jewelry so characteristic of the times.
However, it was during this same period of intensive training of the craftsman that there came widespread disaster. Not war, this time, but a still more deadly invader.
An Oriental plague, known as the Black Death, swept across the civilized world, killing people faster than the living could bury them. In Florence, the apprentice and his highly skilled master alike went down before this terrible scourge, and no precious gem or magic amulet had power to cure the victims, though many were the stones engraved and wore for the sole purpose.
For those few goldsmiths who did escape with their lives, however, there was no lack of patrons—patrons whose fortunes had been greatly increased by the wealth inherited from the many plague victims.
Seemingly the rich tried to forget their own terror by means of increased luxuries and diversions. Wealthy noblemen and abbots continued to display their rich costumes and jewels in the face of misery and despair, and the jewelers were set the task of decorating and ‘gemming’ fine muslin and laces. Ecclesiastical vestments were covered with gold filigree work and pearls. Likewise the moneyed layman, and especially his wife, fairly dripped with pearls and precious gems. One of the characteristic features in the dress of that day was the elaborate jeweled girdle fastened with an ornamental buckle. Pearls, sapphires, enamels,gold, silver—anything that was rich and precious and fitting went into the making and garnishing of the girdles of royalty.
But there were strict rules about mixing high-grade with low-grade materials. It was forbidden to ‘garnish any girdle of silk, wool, leather or linen thread with inferior metal’ such as lead, pewter or tin; ‘the same should be burned and the workmen punished for their false work.’ Furthermore, if a girdle-maker of London was caught ‘having secretly made in his chamber a certain girdle that was harnessed with silver’ he was liable to be fined. Only the goldsmiths could mount girdles and garters with gold and silver. That was the law in 1376. Not so different from some of our restrictive labor union rules of today.
In the following century another labor dispute arose over who had the best right to make a certain type of bead. The lapidary had long been laboriously turning and polishing rock crystal, fashioning the hard crystal into beads for rosaries. But while he was plodding over his task the glassworker of Murano had forged ahead and attained high rank among the craftsmen of Venice. Indeed he was the pet (and incidentally the slave) of the Venetian Government. The glass-worker, having learned at long last to make clear colorless glass, could turn out no end of rosaries that looked very like rock crystal, while the lapidary was still polishing a single bead. Besides, glass was cheaper.
So through the ‘Turners of Beads’ branch of his guild, the wrathful lapidary laid his complaint before the Council of Ten, demanding a new law to suppress clear glass beads. But the Council proved deaf to the plea. One of Venice’s chief sources of revenue was her glass, and she had no intention of curtailing it even by so much as a bead.
The disgruntled lapidary had to swallow his chagrin as best he could. But he still had many materials, out of range of the glass-worker, from which to make rosaries. As well as from rock crystal and its rival, glass, rosaries were made of amber, coral, jet, bone, horn, ivory and mother-of-pearl. They were also made of precious metal—especially in silver gilt. In size rosaries varied considerably. Sometimes they were worn about the neck, but more often were attached to the girdle and occasionally even to a finger ring.
In London, the making of rosaries was a flourishing industry. Its trading center was the thoroughfare known as Paternoster Row. Here the rosary makers lived and had their workshops. Some of the beads were turned in a lathe, others slowly ground into shape by hand. Frequently an elaborately carved pendant in the form of crucifix was added to the rosary; another pendant much in favor was a little hollow case which when opened was found to contain a number of tiny figures exquisitely carved.
There were also little pendants shaped like an apple or a pear, which opened to receive the minute image of a saint or some treasured relic. The little fruit-shaped pendants, however, did not always serve religious purposes; often they were used as perfume cases and were likely to contain ambergris, prized then as it is now for its aromatic properties. In former days, however, ambergris had also the enviable reputation of being a curative.
The perfume cases were called ‘pomme ď ambre—apple of amber. Later the pomme ď ambre developed into an elaborate perfume ball of ornamental openwork called a pomander. Inside were many little subdivisions in which different perfumes could be carried, each in a separate compartment. It was a charmingly poetic jewel, exalting the volatile soul of a flower. Poetic, that is, unless one inquired too deeply into the reason for its popularity. The unsavory fact is that the streets of most cities were narrow and unclean. Sewer pipes were conspicuously absent, and the gentry, clad in all its finery, might be forced to the side by pigs that roamed at all through the thoroughfares. Even in the houses of the wealthy the air was none too free from unpleasant odors. And so the little pomander was called to the Herculean task of supplying all the perfumes of Araby to counteract less pleasant emanations—to put it conservatively.
The Worshipful Company of Goldsmiths of London, like many of the older guilds, was a semi-religious organization. It enjoyed the benefit of a patron saint who had himself been a worker in precious metals. St Dunstan’s Day was duly observed with prayers for the souls of deceased members of the Guild. The Company was jealous of its high reputation and viewed with a critical eye the quality of materials, workmanship, and trade conditions. Most of the goldsmiths had their shops near the market of ‘Chepe’ (Cheapsides) in Goldsmiths’ Row.
In Paris, the guild of goldsmiths had their quarters on the Pont du Change and the Pont Nôtre Dame; and the goldsmiths of Florence had forty four shops on the Ponte Vecchio, where, according to the rules of the Guild of Workers in Gold and Silver, the master must both work and live, as he was not allowed to work outside his dwelling place. Emigration of skilled craftsmen from Florence was strictly forbidden.
But presently, what with the demands of the Church and the diversity of commissions from wealthy customers, no one goldsmith could hold in his own hands alone all the many branches of his calling. There were far too many different things asked for, particularly utilitarian things. So the latter demand had been gradually turned over to groups known as girdle-makers, brooch-makers, jet-workers, and many others. These craftsmen formed a class apart from the master goldsmith who erstwhile attended to all the branches of his craft. It was the first step toward the specialization so complete today that any one jewel has to go through many different hands before it is ready for the shop.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
3. Master Goldsmiths And Apprentices
Sometime after the ninth century various groups of craftsmen, including the workers in gold and cutters of gems, had established guilds for mutual protection. The members of each guild were pledged to assist each other and to see to it that no outsider had equal opportunities.
The goldsmiths’ guild maintained a high standard of workmanship; all members were expected to begin at the foot of the ladder as apprentices and, after a long course of training in all branches of the craft, finally to work their way up to the top—the exalted rank of master craftsman.
The earliest mention of the famous goldsmiths’ guild of England dates from 1180. In common with other guilds, such as the Fishmongers’, the Grocers’ and the Drapers’ Guilds, they sought to prevent all competition. Non-members of a guild were not allowed to practise their trade or craft within town limits.
By 1357 the wealthy and all-powerful goldsmiths’ guild was in the position to erect the Hall of the Goldsmiths’ Company in London; and at a somewhat later date, in addition to carrying on the work of their own craft, the goldsmiths also went in for banking and lending money.
In Florence, by the fourteenth century, the Guild of Workers in Gold and Silver was most important. In fact, it was a school of training not only for all potential jewelers but also for artists in general. Any boy of sixteen who displayed marked artistic talent was a matter of course apprenticed to one of the goldsmiths. He was trained in the art of precious-metal work, even though after a time he might become a sculptor of stone or a painter of pictures. The education of a goldsmith-jeweler was a lengthy process covering many years.
First, the boy apprentice lived in the master craftsman’s house and for a period of from five to seven years exchanged his labor for his instruction. Then as a journeyman he was expected to work for a small wage during three more years. After that, provided the man could qualify, he might become a full-fledged master of his craft, highly skilled in all its many branches. Small wonder that the guild members could execute the intricate and elaborate jewelry so characteristic of the times.
However, it was during this same period of intensive training of the craftsman that there came widespread disaster. Not war, this time, but a still more deadly invader.
An Oriental plague, known as the Black Death, swept across the civilized world, killing people faster than the living could bury them. In Florence, the apprentice and his highly skilled master alike went down before this terrible scourge, and no precious gem or magic amulet had power to cure the victims, though many were the stones engraved and wore for the sole purpose.
For those few goldsmiths who did escape with their lives, however, there was no lack of patrons—patrons whose fortunes had been greatly increased by the wealth inherited from the many plague victims.
Seemingly the rich tried to forget their own terror by means of increased luxuries and diversions. Wealthy noblemen and abbots continued to display their rich costumes and jewels in the face of misery and despair, and the jewelers were set the task of decorating and ‘gemming’ fine muslin and laces. Ecclesiastical vestments were covered with gold filigree work and pearls. Likewise the moneyed layman, and especially his wife, fairly dripped with pearls and precious gems. One of the characteristic features in the dress of that day was the elaborate jeweled girdle fastened with an ornamental buckle. Pearls, sapphires, enamels,gold, silver—anything that was rich and precious and fitting went into the making and garnishing of the girdles of royalty.
But there were strict rules about mixing high-grade with low-grade materials. It was forbidden to ‘garnish any girdle of silk, wool, leather or linen thread with inferior metal’ such as lead, pewter or tin; ‘the same should be burned and the workmen punished for their false work.’ Furthermore, if a girdle-maker of London was caught ‘having secretly made in his chamber a certain girdle that was harnessed with silver’ he was liable to be fined. Only the goldsmiths could mount girdles and garters with gold and silver. That was the law in 1376. Not so different from some of our restrictive labor union rules of today.
In the following century another labor dispute arose over who had the best right to make a certain type of bead. The lapidary had long been laboriously turning and polishing rock crystal, fashioning the hard crystal into beads for rosaries. But while he was plodding over his task the glassworker of Murano had forged ahead and attained high rank among the craftsmen of Venice. Indeed he was the pet (and incidentally the slave) of the Venetian Government. The glass-worker, having learned at long last to make clear colorless glass, could turn out no end of rosaries that looked very like rock crystal, while the lapidary was still polishing a single bead. Besides, glass was cheaper.
So through the ‘Turners of Beads’ branch of his guild, the wrathful lapidary laid his complaint before the Council of Ten, demanding a new law to suppress clear glass beads. But the Council proved deaf to the plea. One of Venice’s chief sources of revenue was her glass, and she had no intention of curtailing it even by so much as a bead.
The disgruntled lapidary had to swallow his chagrin as best he could. But he still had many materials, out of range of the glass-worker, from which to make rosaries. As well as from rock crystal and its rival, glass, rosaries were made of amber, coral, jet, bone, horn, ivory and mother-of-pearl. They were also made of precious metal—especially in silver gilt. In size rosaries varied considerably. Sometimes they were worn about the neck, but more often were attached to the girdle and occasionally even to a finger ring.
In London, the making of rosaries was a flourishing industry. Its trading center was the thoroughfare known as Paternoster Row. Here the rosary makers lived and had their workshops. Some of the beads were turned in a lathe, others slowly ground into shape by hand. Frequently an elaborately carved pendant in the form of crucifix was added to the rosary; another pendant much in favor was a little hollow case which when opened was found to contain a number of tiny figures exquisitely carved.
There were also little pendants shaped like an apple or a pear, which opened to receive the minute image of a saint or some treasured relic. The little fruit-shaped pendants, however, did not always serve religious purposes; often they were used as perfume cases and were likely to contain ambergris, prized then as it is now for its aromatic properties. In former days, however, ambergris had also the enviable reputation of being a curative.
The perfume cases were called ‘pomme ď ambre—apple of amber. Later the pomme ď ambre developed into an elaborate perfume ball of ornamental openwork called a pomander. Inside were many little subdivisions in which different perfumes could be carried, each in a separate compartment. It was a charmingly poetic jewel, exalting the volatile soul of a flower. Poetic, that is, unless one inquired too deeply into the reason for its popularity. The unsavory fact is that the streets of most cities were narrow and unclean. Sewer pipes were conspicuously absent, and the gentry, clad in all its finery, might be forced to the side by pigs that roamed at all through the thoroughfares. Even in the houses of the wealthy the air was none too free from unpleasant odors. And so the little pomander was called to the Herculean task of supplying all the perfumes of Araby to counteract less pleasant emanations—to put it conservatively.
The Worshipful Company of Goldsmiths of London, like many of the older guilds, was a semi-religious organization. It enjoyed the benefit of a patron saint who had himself been a worker in precious metals. St Dunstan’s Day was duly observed with prayers for the souls of deceased members of the Guild. The Company was jealous of its high reputation and viewed with a critical eye the quality of materials, workmanship, and trade conditions. Most of the goldsmiths had their shops near the market of ‘Chepe’ (Cheapsides) in Goldsmiths’ Row.
In Paris, the guild of goldsmiths had their quarters on the Pont du Change and the Pont Nôtre Dame; and the goldsmiths of Florence had forty four shops on the Ponte Vecchio, where, according to the rules of the Guild of Workers in Gold and Silver, the master must both work and live, as he was not allowed to work outside his dwelling place. Emigration of skilled craftsmen from Florence was strictly forbidden.
But presently, what with the demands of the Church and the diversity of commissions from wealthy customers, no one goldsmith could hold in his own hands alone all the many branches of his calling. There were far too many different things asked for, particularly utilitarian things. So the latter demand had been gradually turned over to groups known as girdle-makers, brooch-makers, jet-workers, and many others. These craftsmen formed a class apart from the master goldsmith who erstwhile attended to all the branches of his craft. It was the first step toward the specialization so complete today that any one jewel has to go through many different hands before it is ready for the shop.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
4
Within the space of this Outline it is not possible to enumerate all the talented painters who made England during the eighteenth century the most prolific country in Europe for the production of notable works of art. The wealth of the country and the patronage extended to art by the Court and Society brought painters from all over the world to London, and in addition to the native-born artists many foreign painters settled in London, among them being the two American historical painters, John Singleton Copley (1737-1815) and Benjamin West (1738-1820), who succeeded Reynolds as President of the Royal Academy.
In portraiture, however, the true heir of Reynolds was John Hoppner (1758-1810), who, though born at Whitechapel, was from childhood brought in touch with the high personages he was afterwards to paint. His mother was employed at Court, and his father—though there is some mystery about his birth—is said to have been a surgeon. George III was certainly interested in the boy when he was a chorister at the Chapel Royal, and perceiving his aptitude for art he made the lad a small allowance, and in 1765 got him admitted as a student to the Academy’s schools. There Hoppner gained the gold medal in 1782, and later when he settled at 18 Charles Street, St James Square—close to Carlton House—he at once had the favor of the Court. He painted Mrs Jordan for the Prince of Wales, and the three princesses for the King, and soon became the fashion. Though too much influenced by Reynolds to be considered a very original artist, and too hard as a rule in his color and not strong enough in his drawing to be considered that great man’s equal, Hoppner has nevertheless left us many charming portraits, among which ‘The Countess of Oxford’ is usually considered to be his master work. In this thoughtful head we see that Hoppner, like Reynolds, was also a scholar and a thinker, and he not only had great intelligence but the capacity to express his thoughts clearly and well. He was associated with Gifford of the Quarterly Review, to the first numbers of which he contributed some brilliant articles, which to credit to his powers of literary expression, to his artistic judgment, and to his goodness of heart, but, owing to his intimate relationship with this famous Whig periodical and its editor, he gradually lost the favor of the Court, which was given to the Tory party and its protégé, Thomas Lawrence.
Sir Thomas Lawrence (1769-1830), who succeeded West as President of the Royal Academy in 1820, had the romantic career of a child prodigy. His father was an innkeeper who, when young Thomas was three, kept the ‘Black Bear’ at Devizes, where people of fashion used to stay on their way to and from Bath. Though the child got little education, he was wonderfully gifted and a lovely child in appearance. He was petted by his father’s guests and entertained them by quaint recitations and by drawing their likenesses with a precocious skill which soon made the child at the ‘Black Bear’ the talk of the Bath Road. He was allowed to copy pictures i the great houses in the neighborhood before he was ten years old, and once he was taken to London to be exhibited as a phenomenon, for his father, a complete adventurer, lost no opportunity of making money out of his son. Finding his son likely to be more profitable than his innkeeping, the father settled at Bath, where the pretty boy opened a studio and drew heads in charcoal for a guinea apiece.
In 1785, when he was only sixteen, Lawrence began to paint in oils, and two years later his father thought it worth while to remove to London, and this youth of eighteen was given a studio at 4 Leicester Square, near the great Reynolds, upon whom he called, and who was exceedingly kind and encouraging. While continuing to keep his family by the pictures he painted for money, Lawrence was now able to study at the Academy schools. Prosperity increased as his talent matured, and soon after he had turned twenty he took a larger studio at 24 Old Bond Street; he was already the talk of the town and darling of Society. As gracious and charming in his manners as he was in his art, royalty delighted to honor him, and in 1791 George III compelled the Academy to admit him as an Associate, though according to its rules twenty five was the minimum age at which an Associate could be elected, and Lawrence had only just turned twenty two. The King’s will broke through the Academy’s law, and when Reynolds died in the following year, Lawrence, at age of twenty three, was appointed the King’s principal portrait-painter-in-ordinary.
The way was now open for his unbroken triumph. John Opie (1761-1807, the Cornish painter, whose art was much stronger and more robust, might have been a formidable rival had he not been too abrupt and caustic in his speech to please a public that liked to be flattered. It was Opie who, when asked once how he mixed his colors, made the famous reply, ‘With brains, sir.’
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)
4
Within the space of this Outline it is not possible to enumerate all the talented painters who made England during the eighteenth century the most prolific country in Europe for the production of notable works of art. The wealth of the country and the patronage extended to art by the Court and Society brought painters from all over the world to London, and in addition to the native-born artists many foreign painters settled in London, among them being the two American historical painters, John Singleton Copley (1737-1815) and Benjamin West (1738-1820), who succeeded Reynolds as President of the Royal Academy.
In portraiture, however, the true heir of Reynolds was John Hoppner (1758-1810), who, though born at Whitechapel, was from childhood brought in touch with the high personages he was afterwards to paint. His mother was employed at Court, and his father—though there is some mystery about his birth—is said to have been a surgeon. George III was certainly interested in the boy when he was a chorister at the Chapel Royal, and perceiving his aptitude for art he made the lad a small allowance, and in 1765 got him admitted as a student to the Academy’s schools. There Hoppner gained the gold medal in 1782, and later when he settled at 18 Charles Street, St James Square—close to Carlton House—he at once had the favor of the Court. He painted Mrs Jordan for the Prince of Wales, and the three princesses for the King, and soon became the fashion. Though too much influenced by Reynolds to be considered a very original artist, and too hard as a rule in his color and not strong enough in his drawing to be considered that great man’s equal, Hoppner has nevertheless left us many charming portraits, among which ‘The Countess of Oxford’ is usually considered to be his master work. In this thoughtful head we see that Hoppner, like Reynolds, was also a scholar and a thinker, and he not only had great intelligence but the capacity to express his thoughts clearly and well. He was associated with Gifford of the Quarterly Review, to the first numbers of which he contributed some brilliant articles, which to credit to his powers of literary expression, to his artistic judgment, and to his goodness of heart, but, owing to his intimate relationship with this famous Whig periodical and its editor, he gradually lost the favor of the Court, which was given to the Tory party and its protégé, Thomas Lawrence.
Sir Thomas Lawrence (1769-1830), who succeeded West as President of the Royal Academy in 1820, had the romantic career of a child prodigy. His father was an innkeeper who, when young Thomas was three, kept the ‘Black Bear’ at Devizes, where people of fashion used to stay on their way to and from Bath. Though the child got little education, he was wonderfully gifted and a lovely child in appearance. He was petted by his father’s guests and entertained them by quaint recitations and by drawing their likenesses with a precocious skill which soon made the child at the ‘Black Bear’ the talk of the Bath Road. He was allowed to copy pictures i the great houses in the neighborhood before he was ten years old, and once he was taken to London to be exhibited as a phenomenon, for his father, a complete adventurer, lost no opportunity of making money out of his son. Finding his son likely to be more profitable than his innkeeping, the father settled at Bath, where the pretty boy opened a studio and drew heads in charcoal for a guinea apiece.
In 1785, when he was only sixteen, Lawrence began to paint in oils, and two years later his father thought it worth while to remove to London, and this youth of eighteen was given a studio at 4 Leicester Square, near the great Reynolds, upon whom he called, and who was exceedingly kind and encouraging. While continuing to keep his family by the pictures he painted for money, Lawrence was now able to study at the Academy schools. Prosperity increased as his talent matured, and soon after he had turned twenty he took a larger studio at 24 Old Bond Street; he was already the talk of the town and darling of Society. As gracious and charming in his manners as he was in his art, royalty delighted to honor him, and in 1791 George III compelled the Academy to admit him as an Associate, though according to its rules twenty five was the minimum age at which an Associate could be elected, and Lawrence had only just turned twenty two. The King’s will broke through the Academy’s law, and when Reynolds died in the following year, Lawrence, at age of twenty three, was appointed the King’s principal portrait-painter-in-ordinary.
The way was now open for his unbroken triumph. John Opie (1761-1807, the Cornish painter, whose art was much stronger and more robust, might have been a formidable rival had he not been too abrupt and caustic in his speech to please a public that liked to be flattered. It was Opie who, when asked once how he mixed his colors, made the famous reply, ‘With brains, sir.’
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)
New Geological Age
A new geological age was first suggested by Paul Crutzen in 2002 (a Nobel prize-winning chemist) + he said we should now consider that we are living in the Anthropocene, an age dominated by human activities + I found the Wired article on the same concept @ http://blog.wired.com/wiredscience/2008/01/name-our-age-th.html very interesting.
Useful link:
http://www.newscientist.com/blog/environment
Useful link:
http://www.newscientist.com/blog/environment
Synthetic Sapphire
Sapphire is one of the hardest materials on earth + it measures 9 on the Mohs scale + it is chemically inert + due to its mechanical, optical and structural properties, sapphire is a perfect material for optics, electronics + opto-electronics, fine mechanics and laser technologies + the material is produced by the Kyropulos method to grow high purity large size sapphire single crystals.
Sapphire is the best for:
- Lasers
Optical storages - Medical applications - Laser printers - Military applications
- Light Emitting Diodes (Blue, White, Green, Violet LEDs)
Traffic Lights - Automotive lights - Video display boards - Miniature lamps - General illuminations
- UV detectors
Analytical equipments - Flame detections - Ozone monitors - Pollution monitors
- Integrated circuits
Cellular infrastructure (power amplifiers) - Power Industry (power switches) - Military applications (microwave circuits)
Synthetic sapphire is also widely used in the watch industry.
Sapphire is the best for:
- Lasers
Optical storages - Medical applications - Laser printers - Military applications
- Light Emitting Diodes (Blue, White, Green, Violet LEDs)
Traffic Lights - Automotive lights - Video display boards - Miniature lamps - General illuminations
- UV detectors
Analytical equipments - Flame detections - Ozone monitors - Pollution monitors
- Integrated circuits
Cellular infrastructure (power amplifiers) - Power Industry (power switches) - Military applications (microwave circuits)
Synthetic sapphire is also widely used in the watch industry.
Mineral Sands Deposits
Australia is a world leader in production of mineral sands and has the world’s largest economic demonstrated resources of ilmenite, rutile and zircon with 29%, 44% and 40%, respectively + it produces up to 55 per cent of the world's rutile, 39% of the world's zircon, and about 30 per cent of the world's ilmenite + the other major producers are South Africa (Richards Bay deposit), the United States (Florida), Canada (ilmenite sources from hard rock) and India + most of Australia's rutile and synthetic rutile and about 40 per cent of the ilmenite exports are to the USA, the UK, Japan, Spain and the Netherlands for processing into white, titanium dioxide pigment and titanium metal.
Synthetic rutile was first produced in 1948 and is sold under a variety of names + very pure synthetic rutile is transparent and almost colorless (slightly yellow) in large pieces + synthetic rutile can be made in a variety of colors by doping, although the purest material is almost colorless + the high refractive index gives an adamantine lustre and strong refraction that leads to a diamond-like appearance + the near-colorless diamond substitute is sold under the name Titania, which is the old-fashioned chemical name for this oxide + rutile is seldom used in jewelry because it is not very hard (scratch-resistant), measuring only about 6 on the Mohs hardness scale.
Useful links:
www.australianminesatlas.gov.au
http://www.ga.gov.au/minerals/exploration/resources_advice/AIMR2006.jsp
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rutile
Synthetic rutile was first produced in 1948 and is sold under a variety of names + very pure synthetic rutile is transparent and almost colorless (slightly yellow) in large pieces + synthetic rutile can be made in a variety of colors by doping, although the purest material is almost colorless + the high refractive index gives an adamantine lustre and strong refraction that leads to a diamond-like appearance + the near-colorless diamond substitute is sold under the name Titania, which is the old-fashioned chemical name for this oxide + rutile is seldom used in jewelry because it is not very hard (scratch-resistant), measuring only about 6 on the Mohs hardness scale.
Useful links:
www.australianminesatlas.gov.au
http://www.ga.gov.au/minerals/exploration/resources_advice/AIMR2006.jsp
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rutile
Classical Music Update
I enjoy classical music because of its broad variety of forms + styles + genres + cultural durability. Here is a list:
- Simone Dinnerstein, Bach: The Goldberg Variations
www.simonedinnerstein.com
- Russian National Orchestra, Beethoven: The Nine Symphonies
www.russianarts.org
- Corigliano: Music for String Quartet
www.coriglianoquartet.com
- Lisa Batiashvili, Sibelius and Lindberg Violin Concertos
www.lisabatiashvili.com
www.sibelius.fi
www.yle.fi
- Henry Brant/Charles Ives: A Concord Symphony
www.jaffe.com
www.charlesives.org
- Mozart: Mitridate, Re di Ponto
www.mozartproject.org
- Simone Dinnerstein, Bach: The Goldberg Variations
www.simonedinnerstein.com
- Russian National Orchestra, Beethoven: The Nine Symphonies
www.russianarts.org
- Corigliano: Music for String Quartet
www.coriglianoquartet.com
- Lisa Batiashvili, Sibelius and Lindberg Violin Concertos
www.lisabatiashvili.com
www.sibelius.fi
www.yle.fi
- Henry Brant/Charles Ives: A Concord Symphony
www.jaffe.com
www.charlesives.org
- Mozart: Mitridate, Re di Ponto
www.mozartproject.org
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Billions Of Entrepreneurs
In a great book Billions of Entrepreneurs: How China and India Are Reshaping Their Futures and Yours by Tarun Khanna there are some insights on the two great economies + he compares China and India on a broad range of factors in entrepreneurship, including access to capital, freedom and reliability of information, governmental involvement, and infrastructure + the landscape of big, medium, and small entrepreneurship, including rural health-care initiatives and even Bollywood. I highly recommend it.
Here is what the description of Billions Of Entrepreneurs: How China and India are Reshaping Their Futures--and Yours says (via Harvard Business School Press):
China and India are home to one-third of the world's population. And they're undergoing social and economic revolutions that are capturing the best minds--and money--of Western business. In "Billions of Entrepreneurs," Tarun Khanna examines the entrepreneurial forces driving China's and India's trajectories of development. He shows where these trajectories overlap and complement one another--and where they diverge and compete. He also reveals how Western companies can participate in this development. Through intriguing comparisons, the author probes important differences between China and India in areas such as information and transparency, the roles of capital markets and talent, public and private property rights, social constraints on market forces, attitudes toward expatriates abroad and foreigners at home, entrepreneurial and corporate opportunities, and the importance of urban and rural communities. He explains how these differences will influence China's and India's future development, what the two countries can learn from each other, and how they will ultimately reshape business, politics, and society in the world around them. Engaging and incisive, this book is a critical resource for anyone working in China or India or planning to do business in these two countries.
Here is what the description of Billions Of Entrepreneurs: How China and India are Reshaping Their Futures--and Yours says (via Harvard Business School Press):
China and India are home to one-third of the world's population. And they're undergoing social and economic revolutions that are capturing the best minds--and money--of Western business. In "Billions of Entrepreneurs," Tarun Khanna examines the entrepreneurial forces driving China's and India's trajectories of development. He shows where these trajectories overlap and complement one another--and where they diverge and compete. He also reveals how Western companies can participate in this development. Through intriguing comparisons, the author probes important differences between China and India in areas such as information and transparency, the roles of capital markets and talent, public and private property rights, social constraints on market forces, attitudes toward expatriates abroad and foreigners at home, entrepreneurial and corporate opportunities, and the importance of urban and rural communities. He explains how these differences will influence China's and India's future development, what the two countries can learn from each other, and how they will ultimately reshape business, politics, and society in the world around them. Engaging and incisive, this book is a critical resource for anyone working in China or India or planning to do business in these two countries.
Art Update: India
Here is a list of art houses in India that's worth surfing for modern/contemporary art:
- Osian’s
www.osians.com
- Bid & Hammer
www.bidandhammer.com
-Apparao
www.apparaoart.com
- Emami Chisel Art
www.emamichisel.com
- Osian’s
www.osians.com
- Bid & Hammer
www.bidandhammer.com
-Apparao
www.apparaoart.com
- Emami Chisel Art
www.emamichisel.com
Diamond Market Update
Industry analysts believe 2008 will be a tough year for the trade + jewelry sector due to war in Iraq, Afghanistan, elsewhere + the credit crunch caused by a major downturn in the housing market + Diamond Trading Company’s (DTC) just revised sightholder list + the high gas/metal prices + high labor costs + demographics shift + I think the ones that are going to survive are the ones with good brands/customer base + cash flow.
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
In 1530, a large Table Cut diamond set in a pendant, with drop-shaped pearl hanging below it, was included in the French Crown inventory. The jewel is thought originally to have been among the personal possessions of Queen Claude of France, wife of Francis I and mother of Henry II. In 1531 it was renamed Table de Gêne on the occasion of the marriage of Catherine de Medici to the future Henry II. In 1560 it was listed again, this time as part of a headband belonging to Mary Stuart, wife of their son Francis II. Besides the Table de Gêne, the headband contained six other diamonds, all of approximately the same size, among them the Pointe de Bretagne and the Pointe de Milan, and a thin Table Cut diamond with a lozenge-shaped table facet—a French Cut in modern terminology.
The Table de Gêne was originally described as a High Table Cut (une grande table de dyament haultz de bizeaux). In 1570 the phrase ‘longuet et escornée ďun coing’ was added, indicating that it had a slightly elongated rectangular outline and one blunt corner. Finally, in a hatband made for Elizabeth of Austria, wife of Charles IX of France, the further addition ‘à deux fons’ was made, implying that the pavilion was step cut. In 1576 the whole jewel was pawned to Cardinal Farnese and has never been recovered.
In Thomas Cletscher’s sketchbook there is an illustration of the 36 ct Table Cut diamond known as The Great Pindar or simply as ‘The Great Diamond’. The dimensions of the stone are 19 x 17.5 mm which, according to Jeffries’ chart for a diamond of that weight, indicates that it was a stone of perfect proportions with 45° angles both above and below the girdle. The diamond was considered perfect in every other respect: ‘Heeft en botten hoack, is suijver, schoon water’. Cletscher tells us, and this is confirmed by Gans, that his father-in-law Niccolo Ghysberti (Nicolaes Ghijsbertij), representative of the United Provinces in Constantinople, purchased this stone for Paul Pindar (Pawels Pinder).
Sir Paul Pindar (1565?-1650) was a businessman and a diplomat. In a British warrant of indemnity dated 7 July 1623, there is an entry which clearly refers to the Pindar diamond: ‘A great dyamond sett open, without foyle (this indicates that it had perfect proportions and symmetry) to which is added the least of the three pearles pendante, which did hang at the Portugall dyamond.’ A receipt dated 2 May 1626 states: ‘Received by me Sir Paulo Pindar Knight by ways of defalcation out of the rent of the allomworks payable by me and William Curno Esquire the sum of £9440 in part of payment of a greater sum due to me for a great diamond by me sold to His Majesty. I say received by virtue of His Majesty’s Letters Patents under the great seal of England dated the 10th of August 1625.’ There seems to be some doubt as to the full price agreed, or possibly there were two different stones, but in any case there is no record that Sir Paul ever received the balance due. Clearly Charles I had no hesitation in acquiring jewels for which he had neither the means nor the intention of paying!
It can be fairly confidently assumed that this gem eventually became number two of Mazarin’s famous collection of eighteen diamonds, which he bequeathed to the French Crown. A diamond of the size and splendor of Mazarin’s second could hardly have ‘sprung suddenly upon the world without a history.’ It is more than likely that the Great Pindar was one of the three diamonds, said to have weighed 36 ct each, which Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles I, pawned in Amsterdam in 1646. It has been documented that the Sancy and the Mirror of Portugal, both from the English Crown Jewels, were acquired by Cardinal Mazarin, and it is evident that a few more stones in the Cardinal’s collection came from England, too. For obvious reasons their origin was never officially disclosed. At any rate, no other diamond corresponding to the description of The Great Pindar has ever been registered since. Mazarin’s second diamond was recut into a Brilliant in 1774 and became one of the large gems in ‘a white Golden Fleece’ belonging to the French Crown. The large Brilliant was almost certainly The Great Pindar. The jewel was stolen in 1848 and none of the stones has ever been recovered.
Opinions differ as to whether the sitter is Margaret de Medici, daughter of Cosimo II, Grand Duke of Tuscany, and Maria Magdalena of Austria, or Claudia de Medici, daughter of Ferdinand I and Christine of Lorraine. Apart from her magnificent string of pearls, this princess is modest enough to wear no other jewelry except a diamond brooch. The brooch is interesting in that all its gems are Table Cut, even the very smallest. Sustermans painted two other very similar portraits of the same sitter in which she wears a profusion of jewels, all with quite small diamonds which also appear to be Table Cuts. All three portraits are in Florence.
In 1530, a large Table Cut diamond set in a pendant, with drop-shaped pearl hanging below it, was included in the French Crown inventory. The jewel is thought originally to have been among the personal possessions of Queen Claude of France, wife of Francis I and mother of Henry II. In 1531 it was renamed Table de Gêne on the occasion of the marriage of Catherine de Medici to the future Henry II. In 1560 it was listed again, this time as part of a headband belonging to Mary Stuart, wife of their son Francis II. Besides the Table de Gêne, the headband contained six other diamonds, all of approximately the same size, among them the Pointe de Bretagne and the Pointe de Milan, and a thin Table Cut diamond with a lozenge-shaped table facet—a French Cut in modern terminology.
The Table de Gêne was originally described as a High Table Cut (une grande table de dyament haultz de bizeaux). In 1570 the phrase ‘longuet et escornée ďun coing’ was added, indicating that it had a slightly elongated rectangular outline and one blunt corner. Finally, in a hatband made for Elizabeth of Austria, wife of Charles IX of France, the further addition ‘à deux fons’ was made, implying that the pavilion was step cut. In 1576 the whole jewel was pawned to Cardinal Farnese and has never been recovered.
In Thomas Cletscher’s sketchbook there is an illustration of the 36 ct Table Cut diamond known as The Great Pindar or simply as ‘The Great Diamond’. The dimensions of the stone are 19 x 17.5 mm which, according to Jeffries’ chart for a diamond of that weight, indicates that it was a stone of perfect proportions with 45° angles both above and below the girdle. The diamond was considered perfect in every other respect: ‘Heeft en botten hoack, is suijver, schoon water’. Cletscher tells us, and this is confirmed by Gans, that his father-in-law Niccolo Ghysberti (Nicolaes Ghijsbertij), representative of the United Provinces in Constantinople, purchased this stone for Paul Pindar (Pawels Pinder).
Sir Paul Pindar (1565?-1650) was a businessman and a diplomat. In a British warrant of indemnity dated 7 July 1623, there is an entry which clearly refers to the Pindar diamond: ‘A great dyamond sett open, without foyle (this indicates that it had perfect proportions and symmetry) to which is added the least of the three pearles pendante, which did hang at the Portugall dyamond.’ A receipt dated 2 May 1626 states: ‘Received by me Sir Paulo Pindar Knight by ways of defalcation out of the rent of the allomworks payable by me and William Curno Esquire the sum of £9440 in part of payment of a greater sum due to me for a great diamond by me sold to His Majesty. I say received by virtue of His Majesty’s Letters Patents under the great seal of England dated the 10th of August 1625.’ There seems to be some doubt as to the full price agreed, or possibly there were two different stones, but in any case there is no record that Sir Paul ever received the balance due. Clearly Charles I had no hesitation in acquiring jewels for which he had neither the means nor the intention of paying!
It can be fairly confidently assumed that this gem eventually became number two of Mazarin’s famous collection of eighteen diamonds, which he bequeathed to the French Crown. A diamond of the size and splendor of Mazarin’s second could hardly have ‘sprung suddenly upon the world without a history.’ It is more than likely that the Great Pindar was one of the three diamonds, said to have weighed 36 ct each, which Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles I, pawned in Amsterdam in 1646. It has been documented that the Sancy and the Mirror of Portugal, both from the English Crown Jewels, were acquired by Cardinal Mazarin, and it is evident that a few more stones in the Cardinal’s collection came from England, too. For obvious reasons their origin was never officially disclosed. At any rate, no other diamond corresponding to the description of The Great Pindar has ever been registered since. Mazarin’s second diamond was recut into a Brilliant in 1774 and became one of the large gems in ‘a white Golden Fleece’ belonging to the French Crown. The large Brilliant was almost certainly The Great Pindar. The jewel was stolen in 1848 and none of the stones has ever been recovered.
Opinions differ as to whether the sitter is Margaret de Medici, daughter of Cosimo II, Grand Duke of Tuscany, and Maria Magdalena of Austria, or Claudia de Medici, daughter of Ferdinand I and Christine of Lorraine. Apart from her magnificent string of pearls, this princess is modest enough to wear no other jewelry except a diamond brooch. The brooch is interesting in that all its gems are Table Cut, even the very smallest. Sustermans painted two other very similar portraits of the same sitter in which she wears a profusion of jewels, all with quite small diamonds which also appear to be Table Cuts. All three portraits are in Florence.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
2. Pagan Gems And Christian Symbols
And now came about one of the most curious juxtapositions of gems in all history. Bands of Crusaders were constantly going forth to rescue the Holy Land (or perhaps whatever else they came upon) from the infidel. When they returned they brought back, among other loot, vast numbers of precious stones and engraved gems. Religion was militant with a vengeance and the Church benefited by the spoils of war. Gems by the bushel, after being ‘rescued’, found devotional uses in the churches. Yet we should not view these facts with lofty condemnation. To the people of the Middle Ages, it seemed right, and in no way incongruous, that God should be glorified by such offerings. The vestments of the clergy were heavy with gems, and whether or not the beauty of some devotional object was enhanced (generally it was not) by the addition of gems, it was sure to be stuck as full of them as a plum pudding with fruit, and their placement was about as hit or miss.
The bizarre element in this juxtaposition of pagan gems and Christian symbols was that many of the stones brought home by the Crusaders were cameos or intaglios representing a god of Greek or Roman mythology, which was all Greek to the clergy who were ignorant of such matters. Monks and bishops wore rings whose gems bore the likeness of some mythological god or goddess-Hercules, Hermes, Cupid, or even Venus. With a clear conscience the holy men wore their gems to the glory of God and interpreted the carved figures according to their own ideas.
Any figure with wings, such as Cupid or Victory, was an angel. A veiled female was the Madonna or the Magdalene. Figures with crooks were bishops, and the rest were saints. Just how the infidels happened to carve Christian saints and angels in not explained. The age was not too curious. It accepted the most fantastic inventions of imaginations and swallowed them whole.
In the Metropolitan Museum there are some good examples of the ritual paraphernalia of Christian devotion all pranked out (one cannot say ornamented) with cameos. Each cameo is beautiful by itself but in such loud discord both in idea and in style of work with the thing it embellishes that beauty is not achieved. But never mind beauty for the moment; these things are records of the hearts and minds of a bygone age. Their naive incongruity is more subtly expressive than a page from written history.
Among such treasures at the Metropolitan Museum is a triptych about fifteen inches high. Its central panel bears an oblong picture of the Virgin. This is executed in enamel and has the quaint charm of Medieval design. But the Virgin, intended as the focus of attention, is quite overwhelmed and outdone by large crystals cut en cabochon and ancient cameos representing a host of alien deities, including a delightful little Cupid. Crystals and cameos surround the central picture and are set prodigally in both wings of the triptych.
During the crusades, while the high tide of gems pouring in from overseas deluged the Church, there was plenty of overflow for the laity. The costumes of the rich were gorgeous with gold and magnificent jewels; and much of the jewelry was devotional in character. Small diptychs (two leaves closing like a book) with pictured saints inside were encrusted with engraved gems and worn as pendants. There were portable reliquaries of various and sometimes extraordinary shapes also bejeweled with Greek gems.
Relics of saints, spikes from the Crown of Thorns and fragments of the Cross were eagerly sought by pilgrims who came to the Church of St Croce-in-Gerusalemme in Rome; and when, on an Easter Sunday, the True Cross was solemnly exposed to the people ‘their curious devotion was rewarded,’ says Gibbons, ‘by the gift of small pieces, which they encased in gold or gems and carried away in triumph to their respective countries.’
These hollow gems were often bean-shaped and hinged together, forming a case.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
2. Pagan Gems And Christian Symbols
And now came about one of the most curious juxtapositions of gems in all history. Bands of Crusaders were constantly going forth to rescue the Holy Land (or perhaps whatever else they came upon) from the infidel. When they returned they brought back, among other loot, vast numbers of precious stones and engraved gems. Religion was militant with a vengeance and the Church benefited by the spoils of war. Gems by the bushel, after being ‘rescued’, found devotional uses in the churches. Yet we should not view these facts with lofty condemnation. To the people of the Middle Ages, it seemed right, and in no way incongruous, that God should be glorified by such offerings. The vestments of the clergy were heavy with gems, and whether or not the beauty of some devotional object was enhanced (generally it was not) by the addition of gems, it was sure to be stuck as full of them as a plum pudding with fruit, and their placement was about as hit or miss.
The bizarre element in this juxtaposition of pagan gems and Christian symbols was that many of the stones brought home by the Crusaders were cameos or intaglios representing a god of Greek or Roman mythology, which was all Greek to the clergy who were ignorant of such matters. Monks and bishops wore rings whose gems bore the likeness of some mythological god or goddess-Hercules, Hermes, Cupid, or even Venus. With a clear conscience the holy men wore their gems to the glory of God and interpreted the carved figures according to their own ideas.
Any figure with wings, such as Cupid or Victory, was an angel. A veiled female was the Madonna or the Magdalene. Figures with crooks were bishops, and the rest were saints. Just how the infidels happened to carve Christian saints and angels in not explained. The age was not too curious. It accepted the most fantastic inventions of imaginations and swallowed them whole.
In the Metropolitan Museum there are some good examples of the ritual paraphernalia of Christian devotion all pranked out (one cannot say ornamented) with cameos. Each cameo is beautiful by itself but in such loud discord both in idea and in style of work with the thing it embellishes that beauty is not achieved. But never mind beauty for the moment; these things are records of the hearts and minds of a bygone age. Their naive incongruity is more subtly expressive than a page from written history.
Among such treasures at the Metropolitan Museum is a triptych about fifteen inches high. Its central panel bears an oblong picture of the Virgin. This is executed in enamel and has the quaint charm of Medieval design. But the Virgin, intended as the focus of attention, is quite overwhelmed and outdone by large crystals cut en cabochon and ancient cameos representing a host of alien deities, including a delightful little Cupid. Crystals and cameos surround the central picture and are set prodigally in both wings of the triptych.
During the crusades, while the high tide of gems pouring in from overseas deluged the Church, there was plenty of overflow for the laity. The costumes of the rich were gorgeous with gold and magnificent jewels; and much of the jewelry was devotional in character. Small diptychs (two leaves closing like a book) with pictured saints inside were encrusted with engraved gems and worn as pendants. There were portable reliquaries of various and sometimes extraordinary shapes also bejeweled with Greek gems.
Relics of saints, spikes from the Crown of Thorns and fragments of the Cross were eagerly sought by pilgrims who came to the Church of St Croce-in-Gerusalemme in Rome; and when, on an Easter Sunday, the True Cross was solemnly exposed to the people ‘their curious devotion was rewarded,’ says Gibbons, ‘by the gift of small pieces, which they encased in gold or gems and carried away in triumph to their respective countries.’
These hollow gems were often bean-shaped and hinged together, forming a case.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
3
The greatest portrait painter that Scotland has ever produced, Sir Henry Raeburn, R.A., belonged to a younger generation than any of the artists whose lives we have so far recounted. Raeburn was born at Stockbridge, a suburb of Edinburgh, on March 4, 1756, and so was thirty three years younger than Reynolds, twenty nine years younger than Gainsborough, and twenty two years younger than Romney. His father, a well-to-do manufacturer, died when young Henry was six, and his elder brother then looked after him, had him educated at Heriot’s School—where he showed his leaning by making caricatures of his masters and school fellows—and apprenticed him at the age of fifteen to an Edinburgh goldsmith. There he also began to paint miniatures, and these gradually attracted attention till Raeburn broadened out into oil portraits and landscapes.
Like Gainsborough, he loved to ramble about the countryside sketching, and in one of his open-air sketches he introduced the figure of a charming young lady whom he had seen crossing the meadow. Some time later this young lady presented herself at Raeburn’s studio to have her portrait painted. She was the widow of a wealthy Frenchman, Count Leslie, but herself a Scottish girl, her maiden name having been Ann Edgar. During their sittings the artist and his model fell deeply in love with each other; there was no one to hinder their union, so they were quickly married, and at the age of twenty two young Raeburn found himself the possessor of a charming wife, a fine house at Edinburgh, and a comfortable income which made ‘potboiling’ unnecessary.
Under these happy circumstances he rapidly came to the front as a portrait painter. About 1785 he visited London and called on Sir Joshua Reynolds, who, himself now almost an Old Master, showed the young artist every possible kindness and gave him much good advice. Reynolds urged him to visit Rome and ‘saturate’ himself in Michael Angelo, generously offering to lend him money for the journey. This, however, Raeburn did not need, but he followed the advice of the veteran, and went to Rome, where he remained for nearly two years and greatly strengthened his art. In 1787 he returned to Edinburgh and soon after, inheriting some property from his brother, he built himself the splendid studio and picture gallery in York Place, which still stands and is known as ‘Raeburn House.’
From this time on till the day of his death in 1823, the career of Raeburn was an unbroken sequence of happiness and success. Acting, it is said, on the advice of Lawrence, he wisely preferred to be the best painter in Edinburgh rather than one of several good painters in London. But though he never resided in England, he exhibited regularly at the Academy from 1792 to the year of his death; he was elected an Associate in 1812 and made a full Academician three years later. He was knighted when George IV visited Edinburgh in 1822 and soon afterwards appointed His Majesty’s Limner for Scotland.
Raeburn was probably wise to remain in Scotland, for it is by no means certain that the rugged truthfulness which was the chief characteristic of his portraiture would have pleased London society. He was the most vigorous of all the eighteenth-century British portrait-painters, and none of them succeeded so well as he did in setting on canvas the splendid figure of a man. Though he has left us many noble and dignified paintings of women, Raeburn is held to have excelled himself in male portraitures, and his masterpiece, ‘Sir John Sinclair’, can hold its own for vitality, solidity, and dignity with any painted man in existence.
Raeburn was one of the most methodical and industrious of all the world’s great portrait-painters. He rose at seven, breakfasted at eight, entered his studio at nine, and worked there till five in the afternoon. It is said that he spent more time looking at his sitters than in painting them, for he would search the countenance before him till he had penetrated to the character of the person, and the beginning with forehead, chin, nose, and mouth, he would paint away rapidly, never making any preliminary drawing, and never using a mahl-stick to support his brush. His method was free and vigorous, and the results he obtained by it preserved the freedom and vigor of his process.
Though money is not everything in art, it is a rough-and-ready index to the estimation in which a painter is held, and therefore it may be mentioned here that the saleroom record for a British portrait was made in 1911 by a Raeburn, which fetched 22300 guineas at Christie’s.
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)
3
The greatest portrait painter that Scotland has ever produced, Sir Henry Raeburn, R.A., belonged to a younger generation than any of the artists whose lives we have so far recounted. Raeburn was born at Stockbridge, a suburb of Edinburgh, on March 4, 1756, and so was thirty three years younger than Reynolds, twenty nine years younger than Gainsborough, and twenty two years younger than Romney. His father, a well-to-do manufacturer, died when young Henry was six, and his elder brother then looked after him, had him educated at Heriot’s School—where he showed his leaning by making caricatures of his masters and school fellows—and apprenticed him at the age of fifteen to an Edinburgh goldsmith. There he also began to paint miniatures, and these gradually attracted attention till Raeburn broadened out into oil portraits and landscapes.
Like Gainsborough, he loved to ramble about the countryside sketching, and in one of his open-air sketches he introduced the figure of a charming young lady whom he had seen crossing the meadow. Some time later this young lady presented herself at Raeburn’s studio to have her portrait painted. She was the widow of a wealthy Frenchman, Count Leslie, but herself a Scottish girl, her maiden name having been Ann Edgar. During their sittings the artist and his model fell deeply in love with each other; there was no one to hinder their union, so they were quickly married, and at the age of twenty two young Raeburn found himself the possessor of a charming wife, a fine house at Edinburgh, and a comfortable income which made ‘potboiling’ unnecessary.
Under these happy circumstances he rapidly came to the front as a portrait painter. About 1785 he visited London and called on Sir Joshua Reynolds, who, himself now almost an Old Master, showed the young artist every possible kindness and gave him much good advice. Reynolds urged him to visit Rome and ‘saturate’ himself in Michael Angelo, generously offering to lend him money for the journey. This, however, Raeburn did not need, but he followed the advice of the veteran, and went to Rome, where he remained for nearly two years and greatly strengthened his art. In 1787 he returned to Edinburgh and soon after, inheriting some property from his brother, he built himself the splendid studio and picture gallery in York Place, which still stands and is known as ‘Raeburn House.’
From this time on till the day of his death in 1823, the career of Raeburn was an unbroken sequence of happiness and success. Acting, it is said, on the advice of Lawrence, he wisely preferred to be the best painter in Edinburgh rather than one of several good painters in London. But though he never resided in England, he exhibited regularly at the Academy from 1792 to the year of his death; he was elected an Associate in 1812 and made a full Academician three years later. He was knighted when George IV visited Edinburgh in 1822 and soon afterwards appointed His Majesty’s Limner for Scotland.
Raeburn was probably wise to remain in Scotland, for it is by no means certain that the rugged truthfulness which was the chief characteristic of his portraiture would have pleased London society. He was the most vigorous of all the eighteenth-century British portrait-painters, and none of them succeeded so well as he did in setting on canvas the splendid figure of a man. Though he has left us many noble and dignified paintings of women, Raeburn is held to have excelled himself in male portraitures, and his masterpiece, ‘Sir John Sinclair’, can hold its own for vitality, solidity, and dignity with any painted man in existence.
Raeburn was one of the most methodical and industrious of all the world’s great portrait-painters. He rose at seven, breakfasted at eight, entered his studio at nine, and worked there till five in the afternoon. It is said that he spent more time looking at his sitters than in painting them, for he would search the countenance before him till he had penetrated to the character of the person, and the beginning with forehead, chin, nose, and mouth, he would paint away rapidly, never making any preliminary drawing, and never using a mahl-stick to support his brush. His method was free and vigorous, and the results he obtained by it preserved the freedom and vigor of his process.
Though money is not everything in art, it is a rough-and-ready index to the estimation in which a painter is held, and therefore it may be mentioned here that the saleroom record for a British portrait was made in 1911 by a Raeburn, which fetched 22300 guineas at Christie’s.
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)
Free Music
Radiohead started the trend when they offered their album In Rainbows on the internet last year for whatever price listeners were willing to pay + now a host of new services, with the backing of major labels, are promising to revolutionise how music is distributed by offering millions of tracks for nothing (hard to believe!) + the move into a free service is a sea change for an industry which spent years fighting through the courts with companies offering free internet downloading and sharing of songs.
Free Music @
Qtrax.com
We7.com
Imeem.com
Last.fm
Free Music @
Qtrax.com
We7.com
Imeem.com
Last.fm
Ivanka Trump Collection
Ivanka Trump has a new jewelry line + a magic mix and match of old-Hollywood glamor with new concepts, with more emphasis on diamonds, pearls and black onyx + I think it may appeal to women of all ages who enjoy beautiful jewelry.
Useful link:
www.ivankatrumpcollection.com
Useful link:
www.ivankatrumpcollection.com
Sense Of Smell
Retail jeweler (s) are on the scenting bandwagon because consumers are more likely to linger in a store that smells nice + increased browsing time raises the chances that consumers may make a purchase + I think the scenting evolution may be the tip of the iceberg--a unique tool to create customer loyalty.
A few interesting facts about our sense of smell:
- People recall smells with about 65% accuracy after a year, compared to 50% for visual recall of pictures after about three months.
- A woman's sense of smell is keener than a man's.
- Your sense of smell is least acute in the morning; ability to perceive odors increases as the day wears on.
- The average human being is able to detect about 10000 different odors.
- No two people smell the same odor the same way.
Useful link:
www.senseofsmell.org
A few interesting facts about our sense of smell:
- People recall smells with about 65% accuracy after a year, compared to 50% for visual recall of pictures after about three months.
- A woman's sense of smell is keener than a man's.
- Your sense of smell is least acute in the morning; ability to perceive odors increases as the day wears on.
- The average human being is able to detect about 10000 different odors.
- No two people smell the same odor the same way.
Useful link:
www.senseofsmell.org
Diamonds Class Action
If you purchased a gem diamond or diamond jewelry between January 1, 1994 and March 31, 2006, you may have a claim to receive benefits in a proposed class action settlement. The case is called Sullivan v. DB Investments, Inc., Civil Action Index No.04-2819 (SRC). These lawsuits are about gem diamond pricing, and the proposed settlement is with De Beers, a miner and seller of rough gem diamonds.
To get complete information about the Class Actions and your rights + to see if you qualify to receive a cash payment, you should visit www.diamondsclassaction.com
To get complete information about the Class Actions and your rights + to see if you qualify to receive a cash payment, you should visit www.diamondsclassaction.com
Monday, January 28, 2008
Irma Stern
The Economist writes about Irma Stern, the grande dame of South African painting + other viewpoints @ http://www.economist.com/daily/columns/artview/displaystory.cfm?story_id=10592115
Useful link:
www.irmastern.co.za
Useful link:
www.irmastern.co.za
Gold Update
Gold prices will continue to rise because three South African gold miners, Gold Fields (GFI) + Harmony (HAR) + AngloGold Ashanti (ANG) have stopped production at all of their local mines due to inadequate power supplies + global gold production fell to a ten-year low + the Chinese traders are busy buying gold for the upcoming New Year, which is in the first week of February.
Useful links:
www.goldfields.co.za
www.ashantigold.com
www.harmony.co.za
Useful links:
www.goldfields.co.za
www.ashantigold.com
www.harmony.co.za
World's Greenest Countries
(via Newsweek) The Yale Center for Environmental Law and Policy released its first official Environmental Performance Index + the list uses a variety of metrics, including carbon and sulfur emissions + water purity and conservation practices, to calculate an overall score for each country.
Useful links:
Yale's EPI Web site
www.epa.gov
Useful links:
Yale's EPI Web site
www.epa.gov
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
A most unusual agraffe, made in 1603 by the Augsburg master goldsmith, hans Georg Beuerl, can be seen today in the Schatzkammer der Residenz, Munich. Set with 245 diamonds, this enormous jewel weighs 410 grams (just under a pound) and is 17.5 cm high. My assistant U.-J.Petterson and I were given special permission to examine this ‘War Trophy’, as it is sometimes called. We worked at night, after the museum was closed, fully equipped with polaroid camera, wax and plaster for taking prints and making models, jeweler’s tools, etc. Our first discovery was a horrifying one—several of the diamonds were missing! We stayed in the museum all night in order to prove in the morning that we had not removed them. It is astonishing to think that the absence of these stones had not previously been noticed.
The description given here is based on our study of this magnificent jewel, which represents a trophy of weapons with cuirass and helmet, set all over with diamonds. In addition, six pearls adorn the upper part. The composition is dominated by large Table Cuts of exceptionally fine make, but also contains a whole collection of different contemporary cuts, all beautifully fashioned: Star Cuts, Trihedrally Faceted Lozenges, Kites, Triangles and, last but not least, small Table Cuts which closely resemble similar modern cuts. One of the Baguettes, though only 2mm wide, is a full 12mm long. The largest of the Tables is nearly 16mm square—the same size as the famous diamond in the The Three Brethren, said in its time to be the largest diamond in Christendom. According to Lord Twining, the diamond on the trophy weighs 18ct. As a matter of interest, the diamond in the The Three Brethren, though of the same dimensions, weighed 30ct because it was a Pyramidal Point Cut whereas that in the agraffe is a Table.
The cross, worn by Marie de Medici in a portrait painted between 1612 and 1614 by Frans Pourbus the Younger (Musée du Louvre, Paris), was never documented in an inventory but, according to Bapst, besides being depicted on Marie de Medici’s coronation robe in this portrait, it also appeared in a portrait of Anne of Austria. It is quite possible that the jewel included the five Table Cut diamonds of the Great Cross owned by Francis I. The cross was apparently broken up after Anne’s death, since it is not listed in the Crown inventory of 1691. The diamonds were set in the new style, close to each other in barely visible box settings. The four triangular mirror-cut diamonds at the extremities of the cross emphasize the very regular arrangement of the square gems. The three large drop-shaped pearls appear to be of exceptional quality and add to the magnificence of the jewel.
The beautifully enamelled portable set of gold flatware (from a Renaissance cutlery set, 17.3 cm long—Grϋnes Gewölbe, Dresden) is thought to have been made in Nuremberg in about 1600. In 1724 it was given as a birthday present to King Augustus I of Poland, Elector of Saxony, by the wife of Crown Marshall Mnisczek of Warsaw. Originally there was a toothpick inserted in the handle, with the image of a kneeling princess as its knob. The spoon shown is decorated with High Table Cuts and similarly fashioned rubies.
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners (continued)
A most unusual agraffe, made in 1603 by the Augsburg master goldsmith, hans Georg Beuerl, can be seen today in the Schatzkammer der Residenz, Munich. Set with 245 diamonds, this enormous jewel weighs 410 grams (just under a pound) and is 17.5 cm high. My assistant U.-J.Petterson and I were given special permission to examine this ‘War Trophy’, as it is sometimes called. We worked at night, after the museum was closed, fully equipped with polaroid camera, wax and plaster for taking prints and making models, jeweler’s tools, etc. Our first discovery was a horrifying one—several of the diamonds were missing! We stayed in the museum all night in order to prove in the morning that we had not removed them. It is astonishing to think that the absence of these stones had not previously been noticed.
The description given here is based on our study of this magnificent jewel, which represents a trophy of weapons with cuirass and helmet, set all over with diamonds. In addition, six pearls adorn the upper part. The composition is dominated by large Table Cuts of exceptionally fine make, but also contains a whole collection of different contemporary cuts, all beautifully fashioned: Star Cuts, Trihedrally Faceted Lozenges, Kites, Triangles and, last but not least, small Table Cuts which closely resemble similar modern cuts. One of the Baguettes, though only 2mm wide, is a full 12mm long. The largest of the Tables is nearly 16mm square—the same size as the famous diamond in the The Three Brethren, said in its time to be the largest diamond in Christendom. According to Lord Twining, the diamond on the trophy weighs 18ct. As a matter of interest, the diamond in the The Three Brethren, though of the same dimensions, weighed 30ct because it was a Pyramidal Point Cut whereas that in the agraffe is a Table.
The cross, worn by Marie de Medici in a portrait painted between 1612 and 1614 by Frans Pourbus the Younger (Musée du Louvre, Paris), was never documented in an inventory but, according to Bapst, besides being depicted on Marie de Medici’s coronation robe in this portrait, it also appeared in a portrait of Anne of Austria. It is quite possible that the jewel included the five Table Cut diamonds of the Great Cross owned by Francis I. The cross was apparently broken up after Anne’s death, since it is not listed in the Crown inventory of 1691. The diamonds were set in the new style, close to each other in barely visible box settings. The four triangular mirror-cut diamonds at the extremities of the cross emphasize the very regular arrangement of the square gems. The three large drop-shaped pearls appear to be of exceptional quality and add to the magnificence of the jewel.
The beautifully enamelled portable set of gold flatware (from a Renaissance cutlery set, 17.3 cm long—Grϋnes Gewölbe, Dresden) is thought to have been made in Nuremberg in about 1600. In 1724 it was given as a birthday present to King Augustus I of Poland, Elector of Saxony, by the wife of Crown Marshall Mnisczek of Warsaw. Originally there was a toothpick inserted in the handle, with the image of a kneeling princess as its knob. The spoon shown is decorated with High Table Cuts and similarly fashioned rubies.
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners (continued)
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