Monday, January 07, 2008
Blast From The Past
Pernilla Holmes writes about the concept of socialist realism + socialist realist style of art by painters from Communist and formerly Communist countries + other viewpoints @ http://www.artnewsonline.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=2424
Early Baguettes, Also Termed Batons
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
The term Baguette is often misunderstood because it has been used both widely and loosely. In the context of diamonds it takes its meaning from the French bague, ring. Nowadays this is used only to denote for any type of jewel. The diminutive form, baguette, consequently meant a small jewel, a ‘petit bijou sans valeur’. However, the cut which we now call a Baguette was developed from the Hogback into a design which is similar to a normal Table Cut.
To begin with, Baguettes and Hogbacks were considered unimportant and were mainly used in small jewels of little value. Since the early sixteenth century they were frequently ‘tailored’ for use in letters, initials and monograms, and joined together to give an impression of unbroken length. ‘Tailoring’ involved, for instance, the omission of one or both of the shortened facets. Two types were developed, one with quite narrow table facets and one with large table facets. The pavilions in both types were shaped as for full and mirror cut Table diamonds and noted as almost invisible reflectors. Unfortunately, with the increasing accumulation of dirt in the closed box setting, the impression of unbroken unity was gradually lost. This no doubt accounts for the short life of this cut.
Small Baguettes were frequently replaced by similar but flat-bottomed diamonds. In portraits and drawings the difference cannot always be detected. Our modern Baguettes, found so extensively in jewelry nowadays, are obtained by fashioning fragments in precisely the same way as the old Hogback which has, in fact, survived all through the history of diamond fashioning, though now renamed and with minor modifications.
Two types of rough Hogback can be obtained simply by cleaving. The number can be increased, depending on which cleavage face is eventually to be exposed to the viewer. These rough Hogbacks are then fashioned. One or both ends may be pointed and the ridges replaced by narrow facets. Finished gems are often multifaceted. Extensive transformation often makes it difficult to recognize the original cleavage.
With the growing demand for Hogbacks, cutters began to imitate them. They found that by limiting the fashioning to the crown and omitting the pavilion altogether, they could make use of the plentiful supply of thin diamond slices. The crown could be shaped and faceted in the same way as the pavilion-based Hogbacks. There was, certainly, a reduction in light effects, but brilliance and fire were not yet in demand and these small flat-bottomed Hogbacks proved to be perfectly acceptable. Nowadays, if a Hogback is in a closed setting, and especially if the foiling is stained, it is very difficult to tell whether the stone has a pavilion at all.
There are a great many portraits of sitters wearing large crosses of Hogbacks fashioned and combined in imitation of staurolite. This is a dark-colored mineral whose crystals are often found as ‘penetration twins’ in the form of a cross (from the Greek stauros, cross).
The Double Eagle pendant (catalogue number 49 in the Schatzkammer der Residenz, Munich) is one of the pieces which Archduke Albrecht of Bavaria and his wife, Maria Anna of Hapsburg, decided to add to the collection of the treasures of their House. It was most probably a wedding present to the Princess by her father, Emperor Ferdinand I. It is one of the few jewels containing a large number of Hogbacks to have survived from the sixteenth century.
The term Baguette is often misunderstood because it has been used both widely and loosely. In the context of diamonds it takes its meaning from the French bague, ring. Nowadays this is used only to denote for any type of jewel. The diminutive form, baguette, consequently meant a small jewel, a ‘petit bijou sans valeur’. However, the cut which we now call a Baguette was developed from the Hogback into a design which is similar to a normal Table Cut.
To begin with, Baguettes and Hogbacks were considered unimportant and were mainly used in small jewels of little value. Since the early sixteenth century they were frequently ‘tailored’ for use in letters, initials and monograms, and joined together to give an impression of unbroken length. ‘Tailoring’ involved, for instance, the omission of one or both of the shortened facets. Two types were developed, one with quite narrow table facets and one with large table facets. The pavilions in both types were shaped as for full and mirror cut Table diamonds and noted as almost invisible reflectors. Unfortunately, with the increasing accumulation of dirt in the closed box setting, the impression of unbroken unity was gradually lost. This no doubt accounts for the short life of this cut.
Small Baguettes were frequently replaced by similar but flat-bottomed diamonds. In portraits and drawings the difference cannot always be detected. Our modern Baguettes, found so extensively in jewelry nowadays, are obtained by fashioning fragments in precisely the same way as the old Hogback which has, in fact, survived all through the history of diamond fashioning, though now renamed and with minor modifications.
Two types of rough Hogback can be obtained simply by cleaving. The number can be increased, depending on which cleavage face is eventually to be exposed to the viewer. These rough Hogbacks are then fashioned. One or both ends may be pointed and the ridges replaced by narrow facets. Finished gems are often multifaceted. Extensive transformation often makes it difficult to recognize the original cleavage.
With the growing demand for Hogbacks, cutters began to imitate them. They found that by limiting the fashioning to the crown and omitting the pavilion altogether, they could make use of the plentiful supply of thin diamond slices. The crown could be shaped and faceted in the same way as the pavilion-based Hogbacks. There was, certainly, a reduction in light effects, but brilliance and fire were not yet in demand and these small flat-bottomed Hogbacks proved to be perfectly acceptable. Nowadays, if a Hogback is in a closed setting, and especially if the foiling is stained, it is very difficult to tell whether the stone has a pavilion at all.
There are a great many portraits of sitters wearing large crosses of Hogbacks fashioned and combined in imitation of staurolite. This is a dark-colored mineral whose crystals are often found as ‘penetration twins’ in the form of a cross (from the Greek stauros, cross).
The Double Eagle pendant (catalogue number 49 in the Schatzkammer der Residenz, Munich) is one of the pieces which Archduke Albrecht of Bavaria and his wife, Maria Anna of Hapsburg, decided to add to the collection of the treasures of their House. It was most probably a wedding present to the Princess by her father, Emperor Ferdinand I. It is one of the few jewels containing a large number of Hogbacks to have survived from the sixteenth century.
The Goldsmith – Jeweler Of Egypt
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
2. Ornaments And Magic
Long before man had either the implements or the skill to shape and engrave hard stones he had the desire to use them for adornment and apparently some obscure ideas concerning their occult powers.
‘The first spiritual want of a barbarous man is decoration,’ says Carlyle; and archeology confirms that statement. The ‘jewelry’ of primitive man might be made of almost any small objects that could easily be strung together. Necklaces of perishable things such as bright berries, seeds, and feathers have, of course, left no trace; but sea-shells, bits of bone, the teeth and claws of animals, all pierced for stringing, bear mute and permanent witness to the fact that jewelry, such as it was, became fashionable at a date so remote as to baffle any exact reckoning of centuries.
When archaeological research uncovered the early Neolithic strata of the cavern of Mas ď Azil, many pierced stagś teeth were found. Of the length of sinew or bit of vine which once strung them together no trace remained, but the arrangement of the teeth in the form of a necklace clearly told their story.
Many of the shells and the claws and teeth of animals found in ancient graves are ornamented with thin decorative lines suggestive of magic symbols, which leads us to surmise that the people of the Stone Age, even as the people who lived thousands of years later, wore their necklaces and pendants for the double purpose of ornament and amulet endowed with magic powers.
Magic, to the modern mind, is ‘the art (or pretended art) of producing by occult means effects contrary to the known order of nature.’
To primitive peoples, however, nature was not subject to undeviating laws. Sun, moon, clouds, rain, trees, and rocks, all were endowed with life and personality. They could think, feel and act in accordance with some unpredictable mood or whim; they could bring good or evil to mankind. Naturally everyone wished to attract and cajole the friendly elemental beings who brought good fortune, and to render powerless all harmful beings. The gods must be propitiated: the demons must be bribed or driven off by some compelling force. But how were these things to be done? Obviously the matter was beyond the knowledge of the common man. Here and there, however, various men became known for their ability to find out what pleased the gods and inclined them to bestow favors, and also how best to handle beings of mischievous intent. These men became the first priests.
In Egypt there had gradually been evolved a complicated mythology wherein religion, magic, and the power to heal the sick were closely interwoven; therefore priest, magician and physician were one and the same. All of which has direct bearing on our subject, because precious stones held an important place in the rites and ceremonies which made the connecting link between mankind and the supernatural powers.
For example, if a man’s body was full of aches and pains, doubtless he was possessed by a demon. So the man betook himself to the house of a priest who knew how to deal with the idiosyncrasies of these evil creatures. Now it would seem that from earliest times, even down to the voodoo ceremonies still practised today, one of the strongest powers of magic lay in the principle that like has relation to like—or, as the saying is, ‘A hair of the dog that bit you’ will cure you. Accordingly the priest, recognizing by the nature of the pain which particular demon was tormenting the patient, selected an amulet made of the proper precious stone, whereon was engraved the image of that particular demon. Then he pressed it against that part of the man’s body most affected, and with due ceremony repeated certain incantations addressed to the gods. Presumably, this was more than a demon could endure, and thereupon it was supposed to flee headlong, leaving the man restored to health.
And so it came about that a large part of the work of the jeweler of early times was the making of amulets and talismans. Rings, necklaces, pendants—especially pendants—beads, and bracelets, when properly inscribed with a magic symbol, were in constant demand, for the custom of wearing them was universal. In our times, a rabbit’s foot or a four leaf clover is rather jocosely regarded as a form of talisman. The ancients, however, since the wearing of a charm had relation to their religion, treated the whole subject with a respect due to the supernatural beings whom they sought to influence one way or another.
Everybody owned beads—men, women and children, whether of royal blood or humble workers—for the materials ranged from pearls to pot clay and therefore even the poor could possess a string of beads. The Egyptian word for beads was sha-sha, and the syllable sha was the word for luck.
A magic inscription on any kind of bead gave it amuletic significance, no matter what substance the bead was made of. But gemstones in themselves, even without any inscription, had supernatural powers according to their colors, characteristics, and such mystic legends as were associated with them. Agate was a recognized protection against spider bites and thunderstorms. Green jasper could bring rain. And he who wore lapis lazuli would be free from the attacks of serpents. A gem that could be cut so that its various markings or strata of color would resemble an eye was very desirable, and ‘eyes’ of banded agate—with three bands of color to represent the pupil, iris, and white of an eye as in nature—were especially potent.
The Goldsmith – Jeweler Of Egypt (continued)
2. Ornaments And Magic
Long before man had either the implements or the skill to shape and engrave hard stones he had the desire to use them for adornment and apparently some obscure ideas concerning their occult powers.
‘The first spiritual want of a barbarous man is decoration,’ says Carlyle; and archeology confirms that statement. The ‘jewelry’ of primitive man might be made of almost any small objects that could easily be strung together. Necklaces of perishable things such as bright berries, seeds, and feathers have, of course, left no trace; but sea-shells, bits of bone, the teeth and claws of animals, all pierced for stringing, bear mute and permanent witness to the fact that jewelry, such as it was, became fashionable at a date so remote as to baffle any exact reckoning of centuries.
When archaeological research uncovered the early Neolithic strata of the cavern of Mas ď Azil, many pierced stagś teeth were found. Of the length of sinew or bit of vine which once strung them together no trace remained, but the arrangement of the teeth in the form of a necklace clearly told their story.
Many of the shells and the claws and teeth of animals found in ancient graves are ornamented with thin decorative lines suggestive of magic symbols, which leads us to surmise that the people of the Stone Age, even as the people who lived thousands of years later, wore their necklaces and pendants for the double purpose of ornament and amulet endowed with magic powers.
Magic, to the modern mind, is ‘the art (or pretended art) of producing by occult means effects contrary to the known order of nature.’
To primitive peoples, however, nature was not subject to undeviating laws. Sun, moon, clouds, rain, trees, and rocks, all were endowed with life and personality. They could think, feel and act in accordance with some unpredictable mood or whim; they could bring good or evil to mankind. Naturally everyone wished to attract and cajole the friendly elemental beings who brought good fortune, and to render powerless all harmful beings. The gods must be propitiated: the demons must be bribed or driven off by some compelling force. But how were these things to be done? Obviously the matter was beyond the knowledge of the common man. Here and there, however, various men became known for their ability to find out what pleased the gods and inclined them to bestow favors, and also how best to handle beings of mischievous intent. These men became the first priests.
In Egypt there had gradually been evolved a complicated mythology wherein religion, magic, and the power to heal the sick were closely interwoven; therefore priest, magician and physician were one and the same. All of which has direct bearing on our subject, because precious stones held an important place in the rites and ceremonies which made the connecting link between mankind and the supernatural powers.
For example, if a man’s body was full of aches and pains, doubtless he was possessed by a demon. So the man betook himself to the house of a priest who knew how to deal with the idiosyncrasies of these evil creatures. Now it would seem that from earliest times, even down to the voodoo ceremonies still practised today, one of the strongest powers of magic lay in the principle that like has relation to like—or, as the saying is, ‘A hair of the dog that bit you’ will cure you. Accordingly the priest, recognizing by the nature of the pain which particular demon was tormenting the patient, selected an amulet made of the proper precious stone, whereon was engraved the image of that particular demon. Then he pressed it against that part of the man’s body most affected, and with due ceremony repeated certain incantations addressed to the gods. Presumably, this was more than a demon could endure, and thereupon it was supposed to flee headlong, leaving the man restored to health.
And so it came about that a large part of the work of the jeweler of early times was the making of amulets and talismans. Rings, necklaces, pendants—especially pendants—beads, and bracelets, when properly inscribed with a magic symbol, were in constant demand, for the custom of wearing them was universal. In our times, a rabbit’s foot or a four leaf clover is rather jocosely regarded as a form of talisman. The ancients, however, since the wearing of a charm had relation to their religion, treated the whole subject with a respect due to the supernatural beings whom they sought to influence one way or another.
Everybody owned beads—men, women and children, whether of royal blood or humble workers—for the materials ranged from pearls to pot clay and therefore even the poor could possess a string of beads. The Egyptian word for beads was sha-sha, and the syllable sha was the word for luck.
A magic inscription on any kind of bead gave it amuletic significance, no matter what substance the bead was made of. But gemstones in themselves, even without any inscription, had supernatural powers according to their colors, characteristics, and such mystic legends as were associated with them. Agate was a recognized protection against spider bites and thunderstorms. Green jasper could bring rain. And he who wore lapis lazuli would be free from the attacks of serpents. A gem that could be cut so that its various markings or strata of color would resemble an eye was very desirable, and ‘eyes’ of banded agate—with three bands of color to represent the pupil, iris, and white of an eye as in nature—were especially potent.
The Goldsmith – Jeweler Of Egypt (continued)
How Art Rose With The Dutch Republic
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
2
There is this initial difference between Hals and Rembrandt, that whereas Hals passed the greater part of his working life during a time of war, Rembrandt attained his maturity and executed most of his greatest works after the conclusion of peace. Hals lived in and depicted a life of action, when men must be up and doing and there was no time to think; Rembrandt’s middle years and old age were spent in an age of comparative peace and quite, when Holland had the leisure to think and to meditate not only on the greatness of her political achievements but on the problems of life. Hals expressed the gallantry of Holland in action; Rembrandt, the profundity of her thought.
One ought not to lay too much stress on a mere coincidence, yet when we remember the philosophical temper of his art it seems peculiarly appropriate that Rembrandt should have been born in the university town of Leyden, the headquarters of Dutch philosophy and learning. He came into the world on July 15, 1607, being the fifth and youngest son of Hermon Gerritzoon van Rijn, a prosperous miller who possessed a mill, several fields, and other property. The parents were ambitious for their youngest son and sent him to school ‘to learn the Latin tongue to prepare himself for the Academy of Leyden, so that in the fullness of time he might serve the city and the Republic with his knowledge.’
The boy, however, did not take kindly to book learning, but was for ever drawing and designing. At school Rembrandt is said to have been one of the idle pupils who ‘during their writing lessons, when they ought to be writing, scrawl figures of vessels and animals all over the margins of their books.’ He was at the University in 1620, but it soon became clear to his father that it was unprofitable for Rembrandt to continue his studies there. His aptitude for art was unmistakable, and accordingly he was apprenticed first to Jacob can Swanenburch, and afterwards to Pieter Lastman, of Amsterdam, a fashionable portrait painter of the day.
Six months were enough to satiate this earnest young student with the smooth and flattering trivialities of a fashionable merchant of likeness, and in 1624 he returned to Leyden to study and practise painting by himself. One of the earliest of his known and dated pictures is ‘St Paul in Prison’, painted in 1627, and now at Stuttgart. This picture shows the precise rendering of detail characteristic of his early style, but also anticipates the light effect of his later work by the way in which the light is concentrated on the head of the apostle. That the painter had already attracted some attention is clear from the fact that in the following year Gerard Dou, a promising boy of fifteen, was placed with him as a pupil.
About 1631 Rembrandt removed from Leyden to Amsterdam, an important step taken no doubt owing to the increasing number of portrait commissions he received from the rich merchants of this flourishing city. He had also made some reputation for himself as an etcher, and in 1632 Hendrik van Uylenburg, who had previously published some of his etchings, commissioned Rembrandt to paint a portrait of Saskia van Uylenburg, a young cousin of the print seller. The acquaintance thus begun soon ripened into love, and the form and face of this dainty little patrician, an orphan who had lost both her parents, suddenly becomes the prevailing theme both in the painted and etched work of Rembrandt. The attraction was mutual, and though her relatives disapproved of the attachment, considering the painter not good enough for a well-dowered young lady of quality, yet love won the day, and Rembrandt and Saskia were married in 1634. The veiled hostility shown by his bride’s relations led the painter to relieve his feelings by painting a series of pictures illustrating the life of Samson, in which Saskia is the Delilah, the artist Samson, and the Philistines, of course, are his wife’s relatives. These paintings not only express the artist’s defiance of family pride, but also his attitude towards the world at large, and his recurring amazement at his having won for himself so sweet a maid. The joyous picture of himself with Saskia on his knee, shows Rembrandt at the zenith of his happiness. Still popular as a painter, his portraits were sought after, he had a crowd of pupils, and a charming wife who brought him a moderate fortune. The young couple felt that the world was their own, and behaved like children in their utter disregard of the value of money. Rembrandt kept on buying new jewels and fine stuffs with which to deck his beloved and paint her in a new guise: he bought the works of other artists and beautiful objects of all kinds, wishing to create a fairy world around a fairy wife. But soon all this luxurious beauty was overshadowed by sorrow. Two children died one after the other, and in 1642 Saskia herself died after giving birth to the boy Titus.
How Art Rose With The Dutch Republic (continued)
2
There is this initial difference between Hals and Rembrandt, that whereas Hals passed the greater part of his working life during a time of war, Rembrandt attained his maturity and executed most of his greatest works after the conclusion of peace. Hals lived in and depicted a life of action, when men must be up and doing and there was no time to think; Rembrandt’s middle years and old age were spent in an age of comparative peace and quite, when Holland had the leisure to think and to meditate not only on the greatness of her political achievements but on the problems of life. Hals expressed the gallantry of Holland in action; Rembrandt, the profundity of her thought.
One ought not to lay too much stress on a mere coincidence, yet when we remember the philosophical temper of his art it seems peculiarly appropriate that Rembrandt should have been born in the university town of Leyden, the headquarters of Dutch philosophy and learning. He came into the world on July 15, 1607, being the fifth and youngest son of Hermon Gerritzoon van Rijn, a prosperous miller who possessed a mill, several fields, and other property. The parents were ambitious for their youngest son and sent him to school ‘to learn the Latin tongue to prepare himself for the Academy of Leyden, so that in the fullness of time he might serve the city and the Republic with his knowledge.’
The boy, however, did not take kindly to book learning, but was for ever drawing and designing. At school Rembrandt is said to have been one of the idle pupils who ‘during their writing lessons, when they ought to be writing, scrawl figures of vessels and animals all over the margins of their books.’ He was at the University in 1620, but it soon became clear to his father that it was unprofitable for Rembrandt to continue his studies there. His aptitude for art was unmistakable, and accordingly he was apprenticed first to Jacob can Swanenburch, and afterwards to Pieter Lastman, of Amsterdam, a fashionable portrait painter of the day.
Six months were enough to satiate this earnest young student with the smooth and flattering trivialities of a fashionable merchant of likeness, and in 1624 he returned to Leyden to study and practise painting by himself. One of the earliest of his known and dated pictures is ‘St Paul in Prison’, painted in 1627, and now at Stuttgart. This picture shows the precise rendering of detail characteristic of his early style, but also anticipates the light effect of his later work by the way in which the light is concentrated on the head of the apostle. That the painter had already attracted some attention is clear from the fact that in the following year Gerard Dou, a promising boy of fifteen, was placed with him as a pupil.
About 1631 Rembrandt removed from Leyden to Amsterdam, an important step taken no doubt owing to the increasing number of portrait commissions he received from the rich merchants of this flourishing city. He had also made some reputation for himself as an etcher, and in 1632 Hendrik van Uylenburg, who had previously published some of his etchings, commissioned Rembrandt to paint a portrait of Saskia van Uylenburg, a young cousin of the print seller. The acquaintance thus begun soon ripened into love, and the form and face of this dainty little patrician, an orphan who had lost both her parents, suddenly becomes the prevailing theme both in the painted and etched work of Rembrandt. The attraction was mutual, and though her relatives disapproved of the attachment, considering the painter not good enough for a well-dowered young lady of quality, yet love won the day, and Rembrandt and Saskia were married in 1634. The veiled hostility shown by his bride’s relations led the painter to relieve his feelings by painting a series of pictures illustrating the life of Samson, in which Saskia is the Delilah, the artist Samson, and the Philistines, of course, are his wife’s relatives. These paintings not only express the artist’s defiance of family pride, but also his attitude towards the world at large, and his recurring amazement at his having won for himself so sweet a maid. The joyous picture of himself with Saskia on his knee, shows Rembrandt at the zenith of his happiness. Still popular as a painter, his portraits were sought after, he had a crowd of pupils, and a charming wife who brought him a moderate fortune. The young couple felt that the world was their own, and behaved like children in their utter disregard of the value of money. Rembrandt kept on buying new jewels and fine stuffs with which to deck his beloved and paint her in a new guise: he bought the works of other artists and beautiful objects of all kinds, wishing to create a fairy world around a fairy wife. But soon all this luxurious beauty was overshadowed by sorrow. Two children died one after the other, and in 1642 Saskia herself died after giving birth to the boy Titus.
How Art Rose With The Dutch Republic (continued)
Saturday, January 05, 2008
Heard On The Street
The greatest wealth is created during the bad times + economic contraction is creating opportunities for each of us to create real wealth for ourselves.
Viewpoints Of A Commodity Trader
Viewpoints of a Commodity Trader by Roy W. Longstreet is a great book. There are lessons for everyone, especially gem traders and art dealers.
(via Amazon) Here is what the description of Viewpoints of a Commodity Trader says:
The psychological aspect of trading is considered by many to be the most important. In this classic, veteran trader Roy Longstreet explores many areas that are of psychological significance to the futures trader and offers guidance on how to deal with each effectively.
This is a behind the scenes book in the strictest sense of the phrase. When Roy Longstreet was first confronted with the question: If you know so much about commodity trading, then why aren't you rich? He determined that the best answer would be a conspicuous measure of financial success in the trading of commodities futures. That he achieved his objective is evident, because now he is the head of the largest brokerage firm in the country dealing exclusively in commodities.
The techniques and the methods he employed over the years to achieve financial success is what is important to the reader and in this book we have those methods ably described by Mr. Longstreet. His approach to commodity trading is more fundamental than technical. He believes that psychology plays a basic role in the movement of commodity prices. As a matter of fact, he has often expressed the desire to hire a psychologist to apply specialized knowledge and find out what people who trade commodities think and why they make the mistakes they do.
Roy Longstreet's views will prove to be invaluable for those who want to increase their financial standing along intelligent, crystal-clear and forthright lines. As publishers of many books in the financial field, we recommend Roy Longstreet's book to you.
Here is an excerpt:
The great philosopher Emerson stated that a man is as a tree and his wealth is as a vine. The vine can grow no higher than the tree.
The evidence is conclusive that commodity trading is an art. To be successful at it one must be an artist. Such a trader can scale the heights of accomplishment, realizing achievements comparable to those of a renowned concert pianist, or a painter whose works merit a place in the great galleries of the world.
What, then, are the attributes needed by one who would be a true artist in the world of commodities? There are many. A few are vital. Such men will be wise, be mighty, be already rich.
He who is wise learns from every man. He who is mighty has achieved control over his most formidable adversary, himself. He who is rich is satisfied with his lot. 'He who seeks silver only will never be satisfied with silver.'
(via Amazon) Here is what the description of Viewpoints of a Commodity Trader says:
The psychological aspect of trading is considered by many to be the most important. In this classic, veteran trader Roy Longstreet explores many areas that are of psychological significance to the futures trader and offers guidance on how to deal with each effectively.
This is a behind the scenes book in the strictest sense of the phrase. When Roy Longstreet was first confronted with the question: If you know so much about commodity trading, then why aren't you rich? He determined that the best answer would be a conspicuous measure of financial success in the trading of commodities futures. That he achieved his objective is evident, because now he is the head of the largest brokerage firm in the country dealing exclusively in commodities.
The techniques and the methods he employed over the years to achieve financial success is what is important to the reader and in this book we have those methods ably described by Mr. Longstreet. His approach to commodity trading is more fundamental than technical. He believes that psychology plays a basic role in the movement of commodity prices. As a matter of fact, he has often expressed the desire to hire a psychologist to apply specialized knowledge and find out what people who trade commodities think and why they make the mistakes they do.
Roy Longstreet's views will prove to be invaluable for those who want to increase their financial standing along intelligent, crystal-clear and forthright lines. As publishers of many books in the financial field, we recommend Roy Longstreet's book to you.
Here is an excerpt:
The great philosopher Emerson stated that a man is as a tree and his wealth is as a vine. The vine can grow no higher than the tree.
The evidence is conclusive that commodity trading is an art. To be successful at it one must be an artist. Such a trader can scale the heights of accomplishment, realizing achievements comparable to those of a renowned concert pianist, or a painter whose works merit a place in the great galleries of the world.
What, then, are the attributes needed by one who would be a true artist in the world of commodities? There are many. A few are vital. Such men will be wise, be mighty, be already rich.
He who is wise learns from every man. He who is mighty has achieved control over his most formidable adversary, himself. He who is rich is satisfied with his lot. 'He who seeks silver only will never be satisfied with silver.'
Bankable Contemporary Artists: India
The contemporary artists are catching up with the masters. You will hear more about them in 2008.
- N S Harsha
- Atul Dodiya
- Chintan Upadhyay
- Subodh Gupta
- T V Santhosh
- Thukral & Tagra
- G Ravinder Reddy
- Anju Dodiya
- Baiju Parthan
- Herman Linde
- N S Harsha
- Atul Dodiya
- Chintan Upadhyay
- Subodh Gupta
- T V Santhosh
- Thukral & Tagra
- G Ravinder Reddy
- Anju Dodiya
- Baiju Parthan
- Herman Linde
Upstream Mining Risks: Security Of Tenure
Chaim Even-Zohar writes about diamond merchants investing in mining properties + mineral rights issues/risks and rewards, especially in Africa + other viewpoints @ http://www.idexonline.com/portal_FullEditorial.asp
The Goldsmith – Jeweler Of Egypt
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
1. The Goldsmith’s Shop
Prefaced by the first groping efforts of primitive man toward personal adornment, comes the story of gems and jewelry as developed by civilization. This story begins in Egypt, because it is there that we find the oldest of all records concerning the making of jewelry. That record is to be found on the stone wall of an oblong room, the chapel chamber of an ancient tomb.
The chapel chamber is but one of many flat, oblong structures which surround the pyramids of Gizeh. It was the custom in ancient Egypt to provide the dead of high estate with a room to which the departed spirit might return each day to find the necessities, amusements and various interests which concerned him during life. For those things which could not be supplied in concrete form, pictures were substituted. From floor to ceiling, the inside walls of a chapel chamber were covered with rich murals, carved in low relief and painted in colors—which have in many cases remained unfaded through nearly fifty centuries.
These pictures are like some moment of arrested time: they convey to us, far better than history written in words, the manner of life and the industries which occupied the Egyptians of that period.
Most pertinent to our subject is a certain panel which shows the interior of a jeweler’s shop where work is in full swing, master and apprentices all earnestly engaged in making jewelry. The master weighs out precious stones on scales amazingly like those in use today. Near him stands the scribe who keeps the accounts. Six workers kneel before a small clay furnace and keep the fire glowing with their long blowpipes. Four apprentices beat gold into thin leaves, while still others hammer and solder gold, forming it into fine jewelry. One man, seated on a low bench, fashions an elaborate collar, and another grinds and polishes bits of sky blue turquoise for inlay work.
Perhaps the pictured jewelry shop was intended to provide a fresh supply of ornaments of gold and precious stones whenever needed by the spirit of the nobleman whose tomb it decorated. For, according to Egyptian belief, pictures and symbols took on the properties of real things by virtue of magical formulae recited over them as part of the funeral rites.
Fortunately for us, however, the jewelry that decorated a mummy was real and tangible; and it is due to the ancient custom of adorning the dead with jewels that many beautiful specimens have come down to us.
Among modern jewels there is an equivalent for most of the ancient jewelry. We have rings, bracelets, brooches, girdles, earrings, crowns, coronets; but the Egyptians had certain characteristic forms of jeweled ornament for which we have no equivalent. For example, the pectoral, which is found on nearly all mummies. It was a breast ornament, worn suspended from the neck by a ribbon or chain. Its design represented various deities, a kind of portable shrine for the gods. Many pectorals were made of bronze and covered over with thin gold leaf, but the finest were of pure gold, sometimes inlaid with lapis, carnelian and turquoise. And the beauty of Egyptian princesses and ladies of high degree was enhanced by a particularly becoming head-dress, nothing even, remotely approaching which is to be found in the jeweler’s shop of today. Often worn over a wig, which was arranged in a multitude of small braids, the head-dress itself might be said to take the form of an outer wig, fitting closely to the crown of the head and falling loosely in long flexible strings of gold beads or jeweled medallions over the shoulders. A gold head-band held it in place.
Very regal the princess must have looked when she donned this gorgeous wig-covering, and considering the tropical climate of Egypt, it must have taken Spartan courage to wear first the opulent wig and then all that weight of metal on top of it. But judging from the stunning effect of these curious head-dresses, even as displayed on artificial heads at the Metropolitan Museum, the game was worth the candle, which is not always the case when discomfort is the price of fashion.
By way of contrast Queen Nefertiti (of somewhat later date), as represented by her portrait head, is wigless. Her high crown is blue, and around it is a band of gold inset with precious stones. About her throat is the rich usekh collar—a wide collar-shaped necklace especially typical of Egyptian jewelry. It is found on nearly all mummies and painted on all mummy cases.
In early days of a jeweler was not only a highly skilled craftsman who made ornaments for personal adornment, he was also a goldsmith and an engraver of metals for any purpose. In fact, his craft was so inclusive as to cover all branches of decoration calling for the use of metals and gems. For the king, the Egyptian jeweler made such ornaments as magnificent bracelets composed of alternate plaques as hammered gold and engraved turquoise, or spiral bracelets of twisted bands of gold; but he also made emblems of royal authority—wonderful scepters of gold and sard. Even the king’s chariot had to be overlaid with sheets of gold and adorned with stone inlay. All these things were tasks for the goldsmith-jeweler.
For the adornment of the queen he made jewels richly engraved and delicately wrought, and he also made the jewel-cases to contain them. Her vanity box of filigree gold, shaped like a shell, her perfume caskets, and whatever receptacles she required for the unguents and paints employed in her elaborate art of make-up were fashioned by the versatile goldsmith.
The use of precious metals and gemstones was not as limited as it is today, but often spread itself lavishly wherever ornament was desired. Vases were shaped from gold and inlaid with turquoise; and furniture shone gorgeous with gold and lapis lazuli, which is a beautiful ultramarine stone frequently flecked with metallic specks ‘like to the serene blue heavens fretted with fire’.
Now to us, the rich and elaborate Egyptian jewelry, apart from its archaeological interest, is simply beautiful ornament. But to those who made and to those who wore that ancient jewelry much of it carried another value, one with which we must reckon if we are fully to understand and appreciate the work of the goldsmith of that day. His designs, for the most part, were not merely arbitrary—they were symbolic; and the symbols, according to popular belief, exercised a magic power in behalf of the wearer. Over and over again we find the lotus flower, the falcon, the scarab, or some Egyptian deity wrought in gold and precious stones, each one of which was an emblem held to exert some particular influence over daily life. The Egyptians, however, were not the first to wear gems as ornaments, nor were they the first to invest their ornaments with powers of magic.
The Goldsmith – Jeweler Of Egypt (continued)
1. The Goldsmith’s Shop
Prefaced by the first groping efforts of primitive man toward personal adornment, comes the story of gems and jewelry as developed by civilization. This story begins in Egypt, because it is there that we find the oldest of all records concerning the making of jewelry. That record is to be found on the stone wall of an oblong room, the chapel chamber of an ancient tomb.
The chapel chamber is but one of many flat, oblong structures which surround the pyramids of Gizeh. It was the custom in ancient Egypt to provide the dead of high estate with a room to which the departed spirit might return each day to find the necessities, amusements and various interests which concerned him during life. For those things which could not be supplied in concrete form, pictures were substituted. From floor to ceiling, the inside walls of a chapel chamber were covered with rich murals, carved in low relief and painted in colors—which have in many cases remained unfaded through nearly fifty centuries.
These pictures are like some moment of arrested time: they convey to us, far better than history written in words, the manner of life and the industries which occupied the Egyptians of that period.
Most pertinent to our subject is a certain panel which shows the interior of a jeweler’s shop where work is in full swing, master and apprentices all earnestly engaged in making jewelry. The master weighs out precious stones on scales amazingly like those in use today. Near him stands the scribe who keeps the accounts. Six workers kneel before a small clay furnace and keep the fire glowing with their long blowpipes. Four apprentices beat gold into thin leaves, while still others hammer and solder gold, forming it into fine jewelry. One man, seated on a low bench, fashions an elaborate collar, and another grinds and polishes bits of sky blue turquoise for inlay work.
Perhaps the pictured jewelry shop was intended to provide a fresh supply of ornaments of gold and precious stones whenever needed by the spirit of the nobleman whose tomb it decorated. For, according to Egyptian belief, pictures and symbols took on the properties of real things by virtue of magical formulae recited over them as part of the funeral rites.
Fortunately for us, however, the jewelry that decorated a mummy was real and tangible; and it is due to the ancient custom of adorning the dead with jewels that many beautiful specimens have come down to us.
Among modern jewels there is an equivalent for most of the ancient jewelry. We have rings, bracelets, brooches, girdles, earrings, crowns, coronets; but the Egyptians had certain characteristic forms of jeweled ornament for which we have no equivalent. For example, the pectoral, which is found on nearly all mummies. It was a breast ornament, worn suspended from the neck by a ribbon or chain. Its design represented various deities, a kind of portable shrine for the gods. Many pectorals were made of bronze and covered over with thin gold leaf, but the finest were of pure gold, sometimes inlaid with lapis, carnelian and turquoise. And the beauty of Egyptian princesses and ladies of high degree was enhanced by a particularly becoming head-dress, nothing even, remotely approaching which is to be found in the jeweler’s shop of today. Often worn over a wig, which was arranged in a multitude of small braids, the head-dress itself might be said to take the form of an outer wig, fitting closely to the crown of the head and falling loosely in long flexible strings of gold beads or jeweled medallions over the shoulders. A gold head-band held it in place.
Very regal the princess must have looked when she donned this gorgeous wig-covering, and considering the tropical climate of Egypt, it must have taken Spartan courage to wear first the opulent wig and then all that weight of metal on top of it. But judging from the stunning effect of these curious head-dresses, even as displayed on artificial heads at the Metropolitan Museum, the game was worth the candle, which is not always the case when discomfort is the price of fashion.
By way of contrast Queen Nefertiti (of somewhat later date), as represented by her portrait head, is wigless. Her high crown is blue, and around it is a band of gold inset with precious stones. About her throat is the rich usekh collar—a wide collar-shaped necklace especially typical of Egyptian jewelry. It is found on nearly all mummies and painted on all mummy cases.
In early days of a jeweler was not only a highly skilled craftsman who made ornaments for personal adornment, he was also a goldsmith and an engraver of metals for any purpose. In fact, his craft was so inclusive as to cover all branches of decoration calling for the use of metals and gems. For the king, the Egyptian jeweler made such ornaments as magnificent bracelets composed of alternate plaques as hammered gold and engraved turquoise, or spiral bracelets of twisted bands of gold; but he also made emblems of royal authority—wonderful scepters of gold and sard. Even the king’s chariot had to be overlaid with sheets of gold and adorned with stone inlay. All these things were tasks for the goldsmith-jeweler.
For the adornment of the queen he made jewels richly engraved and delicately wrought, and he also made the jewel-cases to contain them. Her vanity box of filigree gold, shaped like a shell, her perfume caskets, and whatever receptacles she required for the unguents and paints employed in her elaborate art of make-up were fashioned by the versatile goldsmith.
The use of precious metals and gemstones was not as limited as it is today, but often spread itself lavishly wherever ornament was desired. Vases were shaped from gold and inlaid with turquoise; and furniture shone gorgeous with gold and lapis lazuli, which is a beautiful ultramarine stone frequently flecked with metallic specks ‘like to the serene blue heavens fretted with fire’.
Now to us, the rich and elaborate Egyptian jewelry, apart from its archaeological interest, is simply beautiful ornament. But to those who made and to those who wore that ancient jewelry much of it carried another value, one with which we must reckon if we are fully to understand and appreciate the work of the goldsmith of that day. His designs, for the most part, were not merely arbitrary—they were symbolic; and the symbols, according to popular belief, exercised a magic power in behalf of the wearer. Over and over again we find the lotus flower, the falcon, the scarab, or some Egyptian deity wrought in gold and precious stones, each one of which was an emblem held to exert some particular influence over daily life. The Egyptians, however, were not the first to wear gems as ornaments, nor were they the first to invest their ornaments with powers of magic.
The Goldsmith – Jeweler Of Egypt (continued)
The Hogback
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
In the mid-sixteenth century only three types of diamond cut were actually given names: the Point Cut, the Table Cut, the Hogback, and the Dos ďâne. This last was the term used in the Renaissance to describe long, narrow diamonds which had two main sloping facets in the crown meeting at an acute angle in a horizontal ridge, and two similar facets in the pavilion. All four facets terminated at either end in smaller facets. In regular Hogbacks the girdle was rectangular.
The rough crystal was usually a distorted, elongated octahedron with two pairs of long faces, one pair above and one pair below. The shape could have emerged simply through unequal face development, or it may have been the result of a natural cleavage, or the cutter may have cleaved off segments from a normal octahedron, or split it twice.
Hogbacks served many purposes: as ‘petals’ of Rosettes, as arms of crosses, as strokes of letters in ‘IHS’ pendants, and so on. The pavilion was often given four facets and a culet, as in a Table Cut, and the ridge of the crown could also be flattened into a narrow Table facet. In fact, the Hogback eventually developed into a long narrower Table Cut.
In the mid-sixteenth century only three types of diamond cut were actually given names: the Point Cut, the Table Cut, the Hogback, and the Dos ďâne. This last was the term used in the Renaissance to describe long, narrow diamonds which had two main sloping facets in the crown meeting at an acute angle in a horizontal ridge, and two similar facets in the pavilion. All four facets terminated at either end in smaller facets. In regular Hogbacks the girdle was rectangular.
The rough crystal was usually a distorted, elongated octahedron with two pairs of long faces, one pair above and one pair below. The shape could have emerged simply through unequal face development, or it may have been the result of a natural cleavage, or the cutter may have cleaved off segments from a normal octahedron, or split it twice.
Hogbacks served many purposes: as ‘petals’ of Rosettes, as arms of crosses, as strokes of letters in ‘IHS’ pendants, and so on. The pavilion was often given four facets and a culet, as in a Table Cut, and the ridge of the crown could also be flattened into a narrow Table facet. In fact, the Hogback eventually developed into a long narrower Table Cut.
Sunshine And Shadow In Spain
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
3
Contemporary with Velazquez, but influenced in his style of painting not so much by him as by Caravaggio, was the monastic painter Francisco Zurbaran (1598-1662), who, though born in the province of Estremadura, came to Seville when he was only sixteen and is generally regarded as a member of the School of Seville. He is chiefly famous for his religious pictures, and particularly for his monastic visions, among which ‘The Apotheosis of St Thomas’ in the Museum of Seville ranks as his masterpiece. His monks in white sheets often appear to be carved owing to the effect of high relief obtained by strong contrasts of light and shade, and the feeling of austerity and grandeur they display makes the paintings of Zurbaran illuminating documents of monastic life in Spain during the seventeenth century.
Among the immediate pupils of Velazquez were Juan Battista del Mazo (1600-67), who (in 1634) became his son-in-law and imitated his portraiture so cleverly that some of his paintings were at one time confounded with those by his master; and one who became still more famous, Bartolome Esteban Murillo (1617-82). Also born at Seville, Murillo passed through a whole gamut of influences before he developed a distinct style of his own. When he was twenty four he came to Madrid for a couple of years and when he returned he did not forget the lessons of Velazquez. From this period date those popular pictures of beggar boys and low life subjects which were the first to bring him fame. ‘The Melon Eaters’ is a fine example of this side of Murillo’s art. It charms the layman by its warm and graceful sympathy with life; it delights the artist by the skill and taste shown in the painting of the accessories. The rind of the melon, the bloom of the grapes, the wicker of the woven baskets, all are depicted not only with great beauty of color but with rare fidelity to the textures of the different objects.
Later in life Murillo altered his methods and employed a softer and more suave style, in which outlines are lost in the delicate fusion of graduated colors. The mysterious vaporous effect thus obtained was a variant of Correggio’s famous ‘smoky’ style but has been distinguished from his by being technically described as vaporoso. Among the multitude of Murillo’s religious paintings in this style the most famous is ‘The Immaculate Conception’, now in Louvre, which the French Government acquired in 1852 for the sum of £23440. The change in the type of religious presentation is market if we compare this painting with the frenzy of El Greco or the dramatic action displayed in a Titian or a Tintoretto. The storm and strife of the Reformation and counter-Reformation is passing away, and the enervation of the once combative Spain finds expression in a soft serenity that dreams of an ideal world. Not tragedy nor power, but innocence and sweetness characterize this vision of Mary, whose eyes, as a modern critic has pointed out, are not filled with inspiration and longing, but ‘astonished as those of a child gazing upon the splendor of the candles of a Christmas tree.’
Murillo was very famous in his lifetime, and the sweet sentimentality of his paintings appealed so strongly to the eighteenth and nineteenth century that for nearly two hundred years after his death he was considered the foremost of Spanish painters. Today at least three Spanish painters, Velazquez, Goya, and El Greco are rated more highly. Senhor A. de Beruete y Moret, the learned director of the Prado Museum at Madrid, has stated that:
The art of Murillo is of less interest than formerly, owing to present day preferences, which seek spirituality in art, a force, and even a restlessness which we do not find in the work of this artist....His conceptions are beautiful, but superficial. There is in them no more skillful groundwork, dramatic impulse, nor exaltation than appears at first sight. To comprehend and enjoy them it is not necessary to think; their contemplation leaves the beholder tranquil, they do not possess the power to distract, they have no warmth, nor that distinction which makes a work unique.
Historically the art of Murillo must be regarded as a sign of the decadence of Spain, and it was not till a century later that the country gave birth to another great artist; then the agony of the Wars of Succession found expression through the grim, satirical powers of Goya, whose work will be considered when we come to the art of the Napoleonic period.
The political power and prosperity of Spain rose to its zenith between the reigns of Philip II and Philip IV, and flowered in the paintings of El Greco and Velazquez. But as the power of Spain weakened and her prosperity dwindled, so also did the glory of her art begin to wane. It is not without significance that all the great painters of Spain, Murillo included, were born before 1648, the year in which the humbled Spanish empire was compelled to recognize the independence of the Netherlands by the Peace of Munster. Immediately after Velazquez we must look for the great masters of the seventeenth century, not in decaying Spain, but in Holland, victorious and independent, the country of Hals and Rembrandt.
3
Contemporary with Velazquez, but influenced in his style of painting not so much by him as by Caravaggio, was the monastic painter Francisco Zurbaran (1598-1662), who, though born in the province of Estremadura, came to Seville when he was only sixteen and is generally regarded as a member of the School of Seville. He is chiefly famous for his religious pictures, and particularly for his monastic visions, among which ‘The Apotheosis of St Thomas’ in the Museum of Seville ranks as his masterpiece. His monks in white sheets often appear to be carved owing to the effect of high relief obtained by strong contrasts of light and shade, and the feeling of austerity and grandeur they display makes the paintings of Zurbaran illuminating documents of monastic life in Spain during the seventeenth century.
Among the immediate pupils of Velazquez were Juan Battista del Mazo (1600-67), who (in 1634) became his son-in-law and imitated his portraiture so cleverly that some of his paintings were at one time confounded with those by his master; and one who became still more famous, Bartolome Esteban Murillo (1617-82). Also born at Seville, Murillo passed through a whole gamut of influences before he developed a distinct style of his own. When he was twenty four he came to Madrid for a couple of years and when he returned he did not forget the lessons of Velazquez. From this period date those popular pictures of beggar boys and low life subjects which were the first to bring him fame. ‘The Melon Eaters’ is a fine example of this side of Murillo’s art. It charms the layman by its warm and graceful sympathy with life; it delights the artist by the skill and taste shown in the painting of the accessories. The rind of the melon, the bloom of the grapes, the wicker of the woven baskets, all are depicted not only with great beauty of color but with rare fidelity to the textures of the different objects.
Later in life Murillo altered his methods and employed a softer and more suave style, in which outlines are lost in the delicate fusion of graduated colors. The mysterious vaporous effect thus obtained was a variant of Correggio’s famous ‘smoky’ style but has been distinguished from his by being technically described as vaporoso. Among the multitude of Murillo’s religious paintings in this style the most famous is ‘The Immaculate Conception’, now in Louvre, which the French Government acquired in 1852 for the sum of £23440. The change in the type of religious presentation is market if we compare this painting with the frenzy of El Greco or the dramatic action displayed in a Titian or a Tintoretto. The storm and strife of the Reformation and counter-Reformation is passing away, and the enervation of the once combative Spain finds expression in a soft serenity that dreams of an ideal world. Not tragedy nor power, but innocence and sweetness characterize this vision of Mary, whose eyes, as a modern critic has pointed out, are not filled with inspiration and longing, but ‘astonished as those of a child gazing upon the splendor of the candles of a Christmas tree.’
Murillo was very famous in his lifetime, and the sweet sentimentality of his paintings appealed so strongly to the eighteenth and nineteenth century that for nearly two hundred years after his death he was considered the foremost of Spanish painters. Today at least three Spanish painters, Velazquez, Goya, and El Greco are rated more highly. Senhor A. de Beruete y Moret, the learned director of the Prado Museum at Madrid, has stated that:
The art of Murillo is of less interest than formerly, owing to present day preferences, which seek spirituality in art, a force, and even a restlessness which we do not find in the work of this artist....His conceptions are beautiful, but superficial. There is in them no more skillful groundwork, dramatic impulse, nor exaltation than appears at first sight. To comprehend and enjoy them it is not necessary to think; their contemplation leaves the beholder tranquil, they do not possess the power to distract, they have no warmth, nor that distinction which makes a work unique.
Historically the art of Murillo must be regarded as a sign of the decadence of Spain, and it was not till a century later that the country gave birth to another great artist; then the agony of the Wars of Succession found expression through the grim, satirical powers of Goya, whose work will be considered when we come to the art of the Napoleonic period.
The political power and prosperity of Spain rose to its zenith between the reigns of Philip II and Philip IV, and flowered in the paintings of El Greco and Velazquez. But as the power of Spain weakened and her prosperity dwindled, so also did the glory of her art begin to wane. It is not without significance that all the great painters of Spain, Murillo included, were born before 1648, the year in which the humbled Spanish empire was compelled to recognize the independence of the Netherlands by the Peace of Munster. Immediately after Velazquez we must look for the great masters of the seventeenth century, not in decaying Spain, but in Holland, victorious and independent, the country of Hals and Rembrandt.
Friday, January 04, 2008
Consumer Confidence
According to recent data from the Conference Board Consumer Research Center consumer confidence continues to slide due to rising fuel prices + volatility in the financial markets.
I think political uncertainities may also add to global concerns as events unfold in developed + developing countries in the coming months.
Useful link:
www.conference-board.org
I think political uncertainities may also add to global concerns as events unfold in developed + developing countries in the coming months.
Useful link:
www.conference-board.org
Chinese Jade For Olympic Medals
According to the Organizing Committee of the Beijing Olympic Games jade from China’s plateau province of Quinghai will be used for make Beijing Olympic Games medals + gold medal will include a light, fine jade set in its back, the silver medal in white greenish jade, while a greenish jade will be used for the bronze medal. In Chinese culture jade represents honor and virtue + the medal designs will combine Olympic spirit and Chinese culture. The Beijing Olympic Games will open on Aug. 8, 2008.
Useful links:
http://en.beijing2008.cn
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qinghai
www.chinaview.cn
Useful links:
http://en.beijing2008.cn
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qinghai
www.chinaview.cn
The Mysterious Attraction Of Gems
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
2. The First Collector of Gemstones
As far we know, the ape, our nearest relative among beasts, possesses no appreciation of beauty. There is no loadstone in his makeup that draws him inexorably toward symmetry of form or glory of color. The naturalists tells us that no creature in the animal kingdom except ourselves seeks to adorn its own person. That fact would appear to lead to the conclusion that the trait is purely human and perhaps one of the factors in the evolution of the human spirit.
Shades of our Purtian ancestry! Such an idea merits the stocks! Nevertheless, the instinctive pleasure felt by the man or woman who first cherished the beauty of a colorful pebble has gripped us fast ever since and become a part of our heritage, stocks or no stocks.
Of course all we can be certain of about that pleasurable moment when man first found a gemstone is that it actually did happen. For details we can only inquire of the archaeologist and then turn the spotlight of imagination on his findings.
Suppose we construct the situation: There has been a prolonged drought, and the river—only source of the man’s water supply—has gone dry, so that rocks and pebbles in its bed are exposed to view. The man walks along the river bed looking for some pool that has yet withstood the glaring heat of the sun.
The man is stoop-shouldered, for it is not so many ages since some ancestor of his first learned to walk on two feet instead of four. And he is shaggy. Indeed he needs a good deal of hair for protection against weather, because he is quite innocent of clothing. Seen at a distance you might believe he was not a man at all, but if you continue to watch he will prove the point for you.
In his search for water in the dry river bed he has discovered a pebble unlike the other pebbles. It is frosted red like a berry. With the infantile desire to taste anything that attracts the eye, he pops the pretty stone into his mouth. No. It is too hard, not good to eat. So he takes it out and sees that being wet the color has deepened and increased in beauty. His pleasure is so great that he must share it....So with much shouting and various other inarticulate noises he makes for the home cave, there to show the treasure to dame wife, who immediately claims it, gets it, and eventually wears it too.
No ape ever felt impelled to do things like that. By recognition of beauty and is fitness for personal adornment these creatures prove themselves human beings. In some fashion man first discovered a gemstone. From our point of view it all happened very long ago; but reckoning time in relation to the birth of the gemstone, it was only yesterday.
2. The First Collector of Gemstones
As far we know, the ape, our nearest relative among beasts, possesses no appreciation of beauty. There is no loadstone in his makeup that draws him inexorably toward symmetry of form or glory of color. The naturalists tells us that no creature in the animal kingdom except ourselves seeks to adorn its own person. That fact would appear to lead to the conclusion that the trait is purely human and perhaps one of the factors in the evolution of the human spirit.
Shades of our Purtian ancestry! Such an idea merits the stocks! Nevertheless, the instinctive pleasure felt by the man or woman who first cherished the beauty of a colorful pebble has gripped us fast ever since and become a part of our heritage, stocks or no stocks.
Of course all we can be certain of about that pleasurable moment when man first found a gemstone is that it actually did happen. For details we can only inquire of the archaeologist and then turn the spotlight of imagination on his findings.
Suppose we construct the situation: There has been a prolonged drought, and the river—only source of the man’s water supply—has gone dry, so that rocks and pebbles in its bed are exposed to view. The man walks along the river bed looking for some pool that has yet withstood the glaring heat of the sun.
The man is stoop-shouldered, for it is not so many ages since some ancestor of his first learned to walk on two feet instead of four. And he is shaggy. Indeed he needs a good deal of hair for protection against weather, because he is quite innocent of clothing. Seen at a distance you might believe he was not a man at all, but if you continue to watch he will prove the point for you.
In his search for water in the dry river bed he has discovered a pebble unlike the other pebbles. It is frosted red like a berry. With the infantile desire to taste anything that attracts the eye, he pops the pretty stone into his mouth. No. It is too hard, not good to eat. So he takes it out and sees that being wet the color has deepened and increased in beauty. His pleasure is so great that he must share it....So with much shouting and various other inarticulate noises he makes for the home cave, there to show the treasure to dame wife, who immediately claims it, gets it, and eventually wears it too.
No ape ever felt impelled to do things like that. By recognition of beauty and is fitness for personal adornment these creatures prove themselves human beings. In some fashion man first discovered a gemstone. From our point of view it all happened very long ago; but reckoning time in relation to the birth of the gemstone, it was only yesterday.
The Knob Cut
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
The Knob Cut (also known as the Nail Cut, Duke Cut and occasionally Prince or Prinz Cut) was a development of the standard Pyramidal Cut, in that the original, possibly damaged, apex was ground away to make a tiny table facet. A cubic formation modifying the points of an octahedron is quite often found in nature. This no doubt inspired both the Knob Cut and the blunt corners in some pyramidal cuts, as well as various types of tables. This particular modification of the point cut seems to have been popular from the second half of the fourteenth century to the beginning of the sixteenth, and can be seen in a number of contemporary paintings. It is described in some inventories as Nail Cut, the term referring to the crown, which is shaped like the head of an antique nail.
An octahedral rough with broken apexes can be improved by ‘lowering’—that is, by grinding its large faces until the desired sharp apex is obtained. However, this is a delicate and laborious operation and it is easier to fashion the damaged, missing or misshapen point into a small table. Additional facets may be applied, for instance on broken edges. The Knob Cuts were fashioned in this manner, and it is clear that they were precursors of the Table Cuts.
Very early Knobs can be seen in German engravings of royal crowns dating from the beginning of the twelfth century. In a number of inventories tiny Knob Cut diamonds are described as representing the nails that pierced Christ’s hands and feet on the cross. In the Kleinodienbuch der Herzogin Anna (c.1550) there are several illustrations by Mielich of jewels belonging to Anna, Duchess of Bavaria. One of these is a natural Point reproduced with a clear, full-sized reflection, but symmetrized just sufficiently to give a tiny Knob facet at the top. A crown sketched for Christian IV of Denmark by Corvinianus Sauer (1594) also features Knob Cuts. In a portrait by Rubens, dating from about 1620, the French Queen, Anna of Austria, wears a large necklace which displays several Knob Cut diamonds, all fashioned from Hogbacks—that is, long rectangular stones.
Only a very few Knob Cuts have survived; apparently most of them were recut into Tables. One important exception, a 10 ct yellow diamond called the Jonquil (on display at the Musée ďHistoire Naturelle, Paris), has been part of the Royal French Treasury since at least the seventeenth century. The Jonquil is richly faceted and has the same arrangement of twenty four facets in both the crown and the pavilion. Both the table facet and the culet are octagonal and the same size as each other. This disposition of facets is very like that of the relatively modern Split Brilliant Cut. Even the octagonal angles have to some extent been retained.
The Knob Cut (also known as the Nail Cut, Duke Cut and occasionally Prince or Prinz Cut) was a development of the standard Pyramidal Cut, in that the original, possibly damaged, apex was ground away to make a tiny table facet. A cubic formation modifying the points of an octahedron is quite often found in nature. This no doubt inspired both the Knob Cut and the blunt corners in some pyramidal cuts, as well as various types of tables. This particular modification of the point cut seems to have been popular from the second half of the fourteenth century to the beginning of the sixteenth, and can be seen in a number of contemporary paintings. It is described in some inventories as Nail Cut, the term referring to the crown, which is shaped like the head of an antique nail.
An octahedral rough with broken apexes can be improved by ‘lowering’—that is, by grinding its large faces until the desired sharp apex is obtained. However, this is a delicate and laborious operation and it is easier to fashion the damaged, missing or misshapen point into a small table. Additional facets may be applied, for instance on broken edges. The Knob Cuts were fashioned in this manner, and it is clear that they were precursors of the Table Cuts.
Very early Knobs can be seen in German engravings of royal crowns dating from the beginning of the twelfth century. In a number of inventories tiny Knob Cut diamonds are described as representing the nails that pierced Christ’s hands and feet on the cross. In the Kleinodienbuch der Herzogin Anna (c.1550) there are several illustrations by Mielich of jewels belonging to Anna, Duchess of Bavaria. One of these is a natural Point reproduced with a clear, full-sized reflection, but symmetrized just sufficiently to give a tiny Knob facet at the top. A crown sketched for Christian IV of Denmark by Corvinianus Sauer (1594) also features Knob Cuts. In a portrait by Rubens, dating from about 1620, the French Queen, Anna of Austria, wears a large necklace which displays several Knob Cut diamonds, all fashioned from Hogbacks—that is, long rectangular stones.
Only a very few Knob Cuts have survived; apparently most of them were recut into Tables. One important exception, a 10 ct yellow diamond called the Jonquil (on display at the Musée ďHistoire Naturelle, Paris), has been part of the Royal French Treasury since at least the seventeenth century. The Jonquil is richly faceted and has the same arrangement of twenty four facets in both the crown and the pavilion. Both the table facet and the culet are octagonal and the same size as each other. This disposition of facets is very like that of the relatively modern Split Brilliant Cut. Even the octagonal angles have to some extent been retained.
How Art Rose With The Dutch Republic
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
If in the intoxication of victory, coming and assured, some of the soldier-patriots of Holland became boisterous in their exuberance, who will blame them? And who will blame Hals if in this great and exhilarating period his art also becomes boisterous and exuberant?
It was nearly a quarter of a century before the final victory and the Spanish acknowledgment of Holland’s independence, when Frans Hals about 1624 painted that portrait of an officer known all over the world as ‘The Laughing Cavalier’. The treatment and the subject are in complete unity, for the swagger of the brushwork is in harmony with the swaggering pose of the officer. Mr Davies, the Master of Charterhouse, has commented on the extraordinary mobility of feature in the expression of this portrait—how at one moment the face of the cavalier seems provocatively disdainful, at another full of amused good humor. Another brilliant example of the unrivalled power of Hals to catch a fleeting expression will be found in his later painting, ‘Nurse and Child’, a work which with its wonderfully elaborate and intricate detail no alcoholic hand could possibly have painted. Look well at this babe with its odd little old face, and you will see it ‘just beginning to ripple all over with the laughter that will come in a minute.’ Mr Davies thinks Hals must have learnt the knack of this from watching his own children in his own home, and surely we may say with conviction that the man who could paint babies with so penetrating an eye was a good father.
Splendid as these two paintings are, good as the portraits by Hals in the National Gallery, London, yet to know Hals to the uttermost it is necessary to visit his hometown of Haarlem and to see there the series of great portrait groups he painted of the Guilds, the ‘Archers of St George’ (Joris) and the ‘Archers of Saint Adriaen.’ These shooting guilds may be roughly described as equivalent to our own Honorable Artillery Company when it was first instituted.
It is in these paintings of the citizen soldiers of his own city that Hals displays his highest gifts both as a decorator and as a painter of actuality. The figures are so real that we look at them seem to be one of the company; but though the arrangement appears so natural our eyes are always gladdened by a beauty of pattern, a flow of line, and a balancing of masses which testify to the painter’s science of design. There is nothing with which we can compare them save ‘The Surrender of Breda,’ and in making this comparison we must not forget that if Velazquez was his contemporary he was also by nearly twenty years the junior of Hals. It is easy to count up the qualities lacking in the art of Frans Hals, who had neither the grave dignity and mastery of light that Velazquez possessed nor the scenic splendor of Rubens, nor the thought of his contemporary Rembrandt; but a painter, like a man, must be judged by what he is—not what what he is not—and Hals keeps his place among the great masters by his own peculiar gifts as an exuberant, and indeed an inspired, portrayer of the bravery of Holland in her greatest hour.
How Art Rose With The Dutch Republic (continued)
If in the intoxication of victory, coming and assured, some of the soldier-patriots of Holland became boisterous in their exuberance, who will blame them? And who will blame Hals if in this great and exhilarating period his art also becomes boisterous and exuberant?
It was nearly a quarter of a century before the final victory and the Spanish acknowledgment of Holland’s independence, when Frans Hals about 1624 painted that portrait of an officer known all over the world as ‘The Laughing Cavalier’. The treatment and the subject are in complete unity, for the swagger of the brushwork is in harmony with the swaggering pose of the officer. Mr Davies, the Master of Charterhouse, has commented on the extraordinary mobility of feature in the expression of this portrait—how at one moment the face of the cavalier seems provocatively disdainful, at another full of amused good humor. Another brilliant example of the unrivalled power of Hals to catch a fleeting expression will be found in his later painting, ‘Nurse and Child’, a work which with its wonderfully elaborate and intricate detail no alcoholic hand could possibly have painted. Look well at this babe with its odd little old face, and you will see it ‘just beginning to ripple all over with the laughter that will come in a minute.’ Mr Davies thinks Hals must have learnt the knack of this from watching his own children in his own home, and surely we may say with conviction that the man who could paint babies with so penetrating an eye was a good father.
Splendid as these two paintings are, good as the portraits by Hals in the National Gallery, London, yet to know Hals to the uttermost it is necessary to visit his hometown of Haarlem and to see there the series of great portrait groups he painted of the Guilds, the ‘Archers of St George’ (Joris) and the ‘Archers of Saint Adriaen.’ These shooting guilds may be roughly described as equivalent to our own Honorable Artillery Company when it was first instituted.
It is in these paintings of the citizen soldiers of his own city that Hals displays his highest gifts both as a decorator and as a painter of actuality. The figures are so real that we look at them seem to be one of the company; but though the arrangement appears so natural our eyes are always gladdened by a beauty of pattern, a flow of line, and a balancing of masses which testify to the painter’s science of design. There is nothing with which we can compare them save ‘The Surrender of Breda,’ and in making this comparison we must not forget that if Velazquez was his contemporary he was also by nearly twenty years the junior of Hals. It is easy to count up the qualities lacking in the art of Frans Hals, who had neither the grave dignity and mastery of light that Velazquez possessed nor the scenic splendor of Rubens, nor the thought of his contemporary Rembrandt; but a painter, like a man, must be judged by what he is—not what what he is not—and Hals keeps his place among the great masters by his own peculiar gifts as an exuberant, and indeed an inspired, portrayer of the bravery of Holland in her greatest hour.
How Art Rose With The Dutch Republic (continued)
Diamond Certification In China
According to The National Standard Commission there are about 80 laboratories and institutions in China issuing diamond certificates. The National Gemstone Testing Center (NGTC) is perceived as the most prominent lab in China and is authorized to inspect and check certificates issued by other labs. The National Standard on Diamond Grading is the only standard used in disputes or disagreements about appraisal results. Most retailers send their diamond (s) that are certified by foreign labs to the NGTC/its local affiliated labs to get it recertified in order to avoid disputes in the local market.
Useful links:
www.ngtc.gov.cn
www.cnsde.com
Useful links:
www.ngtc.gov.cn
www.cnsde.com
Jewelry Trends
According to British research company Report Buyer, global luxury brand spending will rise considerably in the coming years + jewelry and watches are expected to become the next 'must have' luxury items as wealth increases worldwide due to emerging economies + mature markets + new marketing channels + the internet.
Useful link:
www.reportbuyer.com
Useful link:
www.reportbuyer.com
Candala Chrysoprase
Candala chrysoprase from Marlborough Mine in Queensland, Australia is perceived to be of the highest quality. Top quality chrysoprase may be confused for jade because of its color, but chrysoprase is not as tough as jade; its hard, durable, translucent, and takes a good polish.
Useful link:
www.candalachrysoprase.com
Useful link:
www.candalachrysoprase.com
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Diamond Industry News: India
With the introduction of amendments in law governing the diamond mining industry, the South African government is planning to restrict 100% export of rough diamonds + they want more polishing units to process diamonds in the country to generate more employment.
The Indian gem and jewelry sector is worried with the new developments + the appreciating Indian rupee against the dollar + competition from China + revoking of DTC Sightholder status of eight Indian diamond firms may lead to massive unemployment in the sector and affect small and medium manufacturers. There may be more surprises as events unfold.
The Indian gem and jewelry sector is worried with the new developments + the appreciating Indian rupee against the dollar + competition from China + revoking of DTC Sightholder status of eight Indian diamond firms may lead to massive unemployment in the sector and affect small and medium manufacturers. There may be more surprises as events unfold.
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