(via BBC) Researchers at the California Institute of Technology have shown that a person's enjoyment of wine can be heightened if they are simply told that it is an expensive one + researchers also managed to pass off a $90 bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon as a $10 bottle and presented a $5 as one worth $45 + the volunteers' brains were scanned to monitor the neural activity in the medial orbitofrontal cortex - the area of the brain associated with decision-making and pleasure in terms of flavour + higher ratings were given to the more 'expensive' wines + according to Oliver Johnson, CEO of the UK-based Wine Society, the volunteers appeared to have been associating the price of the wine with prestige + they were expecting it to be a good vintage, with a good label, even though they didn't have that information + Johnson says this response was common with certain prestige products such as clothing, cars and, nowadays, handbags + other viewpoints @ http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/7187577.stm
It's amazing + I think it could be applicable to the gem and jewelry sector.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Serpentine From Liaoning Province, China
Chinese serpentine (s) have been appearing on the jewelry markets of Russia and the Far East for some time + they are convincing simulants (imitations) for nephrite or jadeite.
Chinese serpentines are found in the provinces of Sichuan, Quinghai, Shenxi, Shaanxi, Shandong, Liaoning + China has the world’s largest chrysotile-asbestos deposit in Shimian, Ya’an prefecture, in Sichuan province + popular serpentine varieties include retinolite + williamsite + bowenite + green marble + they are used for interior decoration + sculpture + cabochons + beads + gemstones.
Standard gemological tests should easily identify the specimens, but if in doubt always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory.
Chinese serpentines are found in the provinces of Sichuan, Quinghai, Shenxi, Shaanxi, Shandong, Liaoning + China has the world’s largest chrysotile-asbestos deposit in Shimian, Ya’an prefecture, in Sichuan province + popular serpentine varieties include retinolite + williamsite + bowenite + green marble + they are used for interior decoration + sculpture + cabochons + beads + gemstones.
Standard gemological tests should easily identify the specimens, but if in doubt always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
The Mona Lisa Smile
Dr. Armin Schlechter, a manuscript expert believes the centuries-old mystery behind the identity of the ‘Mona Lisa’ in Leonardo da Vinci's famous portrait is Lisa Gherardini, the wife of a wealthy Florentine merchant, Francesco del Giocondo + the experts at the Heidelberg University library say dated notes scribbled in the margins of a book by its owner in October 1503 confirm once and for all that Lisa del Giocondo was indeed the model for one of the most famous portraits in the world.
More info @ http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20080114/wl_nm/germany_mona_lisa_dc
Theft Of The Mona Lisa
http://www.pbs.org/treasuresoftheworld/mona_lisa/mmain.html
More info @ http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20080114/wl_nm/germany_mona_lisa_dc
Theft Of The Mona Lisa
http://www.pbs.org/treasuresoftheworld/mona_lisa/mmain.html
Green Quartz
Some amethysts from certain localities change the color to green when heat-treated under the right conditions. They are known as Prasiolite or Greened-Amethyst. They are inexpensive + frequently encountered in the gem market in all shapes and sizes. There are irradiation+ heat treated green amethysts in the market.
Synthetic green quartz are also available. Synthetic green quartz was reported in the United States in 1954. Its commercial production started in 1960, mostly in Russia. Bi-colored stones in yellow + green, and multi-color in purple + yellow + green were synthesized in 1955 + 1997 respectively. Today visual identification of green quartz is difficult. If in doubt always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory.
Synthetic green quartz are also available. Synthetic green quartz was reported in the United States in 1954. Its commercial production started in 1960, mostly in Russia. Bi-colored stones in yellow + green, and multi-color in purple + yellow + green were synthesized in 1955 + 1997 respectively. Today visual identification of green quartz is difficult. If in doubt always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory.
The Birth Of Plenty
The Birth Of Plenty : How The Prosperity Of The Modern World Was Created by William Bernstein is an interesting book that examines the nature, causes, and consequences of economic growth + other viewpoints.
Here is what the description of The Birth Of Plenty says (via Amazon):
In the breakthrough spirit of Against the Gods, William Bernstein's The Birth of Plenty has the topical uniqueness and storytelling panache to literally create its own category and reader. Based upon the premise that mankind experienced virtually zero economic growth from the dawn of time until 1820, this provocative, bigpicture book identifies the four conditions necessary for sustained economic progress--property rights, scientific rationalism, capital markets, and communications and transportation technology-- and then analyzes their gradual appearance and impact throughout every corner of the globe. Filled with bestselling author William Bernstein's trademark meticulous research and page-turning writing style, The Birth of Plenty explores:
- Where the world economy could be headed next
- Implications of the book's thesis for today's society
- How the absence of one or more of the conditions continues to threaten beleaguered regions
Rare is the book that proposes an entirely new premise, validates that premise with inarguable research and analysis, and then explains beyond question both the relevance and the implications of its premise to the reader and the world at large.
The Birth of Plenty is just such a book. From its unique, topical subject matter to its tremendous review potential, this insightful book will be one of the most talked-about volumes of the publishing season.
1st chapter free here
Here is what the description of The Birth Of Plenty says (via Amazon):
In the breakthrough spirit of Against the Gods, William Bernstein's The Birth of Plenty has the topical uniqueness and storytelling panache to literally create its own category and reader. Based upon the premise that mankind experienced virtually zero economic growth from the dawn of time until 1820, this provocative, bigpicture book identifies the four conditions necessary for sustained economic progress--property rights, scientific rationalism, capital markets, and communications and transportation technology-- and then analyzes their gradual appearance and impact throughout every corner of the globe. Filled with bestselling author William Bernstein's trademark meticulous research and page-turning writing style, The Birth of Plenty explores:
- Where the world economy could be headed next
- Implications of the book's thesis for today's society
- How the absence of one or more of the conditions continues to threaten beleaguered regions
Rare is the book that proposes an entirely new premise, validates that premise with inarguable research and analysis, and then explains beyond question both the relevance and the implications of its premise to the reader and the world at large.
The Birth of Plenty is just such a book. From its unique, topical subject matter to its tremendous review potential, this insightful book will be one of the most talked-about volumes of the publishing season.
1st chapter free here
Talk To Her
Talk To Her (2002)
Directed by: Pedro Almodóvar
Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar
Cast: Javier Cámara, Darío Grandinetti, Leonor Watling, Rosario Flores
(via YouTube): ALMODOVAR – Talk To Her – Hable Con Ella
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNdzcTZUW54
I think Almodóvar fashions a wondrous tale + it's a unique film.
Directed by: Pedro Almodóvar
Screenplay: Pedro Almodóvar
Cast: Javier Cámara, Darío Grandinetti, Leonor Watling, Rosario Flores
(via YouTube): ALMODOVAR – Talk To Her – Hable Con Ella
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNdzcTZUW54
I think Almodóvar fashions a wondrous tale + it's a unique film.
Jewelers Of Phoenicia And Greece
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
In the meantime Greece had been forging ahead toward that high pinnacle of excellence in the arts which has made her achievements a standard for all time.
Little portrayal of jewelry is found in Greek statuary; the Greek sculptor loved too well the beauty of the human body unadorned by trinkets to break the pure line of arm or hand with a clutter of jewelry. But the flesh-and-blood ladies of Greece were not so austere in their taste; they wore crowns, diadems, earrings, bracelets, rings, pins for the hair, brooches and necklaces, whose elaborate workmanship can scarcely be described as denoting a love of simplicity.
Gold was wrought with the delicacy of fine lace and minute embroidery; and occasionally a gemstone, perhaps an emerald or garnet, or a touch of bright enamel, was introduced by way of color. The rich lady of that day did not, like her modern prototype, wear quantities of brilliant gems whose settings were subordinate to the stones. Her jewelry depended for its superb beauty on the artistry of the craftsman.
Particularly characteristic was the use of pendants; the Grecian lady was all ajangle with them. Her necklace might be composed of seventy-five or more tiny dangling vases, each ornamented with filigree and held to a band of woven chain by finer chains masked at the top by rosettes. Little vases of gold were typical of Greek jewelry; sometimes they were interspersed with golden flowers, or heads of animals. As for earrings, the jeweler outdid himself in fertile invention. He did not stop at earrings recognizable to us as such, but enlarged and embellished them with tiny images of the gods and series of ornamental pendants suspended by delicate chains until the weight of metal involved was too great to be supported by the ear. It is thought that these super earrings were fastened to the diadem and hung down over the ears, giving to the face the appearance of being set in gold like an exquisite cameo. With gold tassels at the ends of her girdle, gold ball-shaped buttons to fasten her dress at shoulder or neck and a row of thin gold plates to border her draperies, the lady of fashion could indeed be resplendent; but possibly she did not carry all this wealth of metal at one and the same time. However, her varied demands on the goldsmith kept him busy.
Athens was humming with the activities of the craftsmen—leather workers, potters, jewelers, and their assistants. Small workshops were enlarged, and guilds of skilled workers (forerunners of our present labor unions) were formed. This did not mean that the craft of jewelry making was divided into separate branches as it is today. An apprentice was still expected to learn from start to finish how to shape gold and engrave stones. In fact, a new task had by now been added to those already practised by the engraver of gems. In the seventh century B.C., when the more convenient custom of purchasing with money instead of by barter was introduced, it was the jeweler, already an adept in the cutting of intaglios, who cut the dies for stamping coins.
In the meantime Greece had been forging ahead toward that high pinnacle of excellence in the arts which has made her achievements a standard for all time.
Little portrayal of jewelry is found in Greek statuary; the Greek sculptor loved too well the beauty of the human body unadorned by trinkets to break the pure line of arm or hand with a clutter of jewelry. But the flesh-and-blood ladies of Greece were not so austere in their taste; they wore crowns, diadems, earrings, bracelets, rings, pins for the hair, brooches and necklaces, whose elaborate workmanship can scarcely be described as denoting a love of simplicity.
Gold was wrought with the delicacy of fine lace and minute embroidery; and occasionally a gemstone, perhaps an emerald or garnet, or a touch of bright enamel, was introduced by way of color. The rich lady of that day did not, like her modern prototype, wear quantities of brilliant gems whose settings were subordinate to the stones. Her jewelry depended for its superb beauty on the artistry of the craftsman.
Particularly characteristic was the use of pendants; the Grecian lady was all ajangle with them. Her necklace might be composed of seventy-five or more tiny dangling vases, each ornamented with filigree and held to a band of woven chain by finer chains masked at the top by rosettes. Little vases of gold were typical of Greek jewelry; sometimes they were interspersed with golden flowers, or heads of animals. As for earrings, the jeweler outdid himself in fertile invention. He did not stop at earrings recognizable to us as such, but enlarged and embellished them with tiny images of the gods and series of ornamental pendants suspended by delicate chains until the weight of metal involved was too great to be supported by the ear. It is thought that these super earrings were fastened to the diadem and hung down over the ears, giving to the face the appearance of being set in gold like an exquisite cameo. With gold tassels at the ends of her girdle, gold ball-shaped buttons to fasten her dress at shoulder or neck and a row of thin gold plates to border her draperies, the lady of fashion could indeed be resplendent; but possibly she did not carry all this wealth of metal at one and the same time. However, her varied demands on the goldsmith kept him busy.
Athens was humming with the activities of the craftsmen—leather workers, potters, jewelers, and their assistants. Small workshops were enlarged, and guilds of skilled workers (forerunners of our present labor unions) were formed. This did not mean that the craft of jewelry making was divided into separate branches as it is today. An apprentice was still expected to learn from start to finish how to shape gold and engrave stones. In fact, a new task had by now been added to those already practised by the engraver of gems. In the seventh century B.C., when the more convenient custom of purchasing with money instead of by barter was introduced, it was the jeweler, already an adept in the cutting of intaglios, who cut the dies for stamping coins.
The Double Rosette
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
Because Rosettes were always in a closed setting with the stones fixed in a bed of black pitch, it was impossible to keep the stone clean, even though a sheet of foil protected them from the pitch. Moisture entered through the tiny gaps between the petals, causing the foil to tarnish and eventually decompose, and thus allow the pitch to soil the undersides of the diamonds. This is probably the main reason why the design was discarded after such a relatively short time. Open settings, which make it possible for the gems to be kept clean from underneath, might perhaps have saved these exquisite compositions.
In 1027 the Emperor Conrad II set a nobleman of Werd (now Donauwörth, in Bavaria) on a diplomatic mission to the Byzantine Emperor. On his return the nobleman brought with him relics of the Holy Cross which had been presented to him, and founded a small convent where they could be preserved. This convent later became the Benedictine Abbey zum Heiligen Kreuz at Donauwörth.
When he visited the abbey in 1496, the Emperor Maximilian I decided to donate a work of art worthy of containing the relics, and commissioned the Antwerp-born master goldsmith Lucas to create a richly decorated monstrance. It took Lucas seventeen years to complete it, and it can still be admired both as a beautiful receptacle for the relics and as a magnificent work of art worthy of the Emperor. When the abbey was closed at the beginning of the nineteenth century, the monstrance became part of the Oettingen-Wallenstein Library and Art Collection now housed at Harburg Castle, near Donauwörth. We know that Master Lucas received from the Emperor not only the silver for the monstrance but also the gems, including the Rosettes already set and needing only to be fixed to the frame. So the four diamond Rosettes, as well as the ruby and fluorite Rosettes, must all have been fashioned before 1496, in a specialist workshop.
Among the liturgical objects in the cathedral of Augsburg, in Bavaria, is a gold and silver cross set with diamonds, pearls and colored gems. The front of the cross is made of gold, the back of chased silver, hinged at the top to form a box for holy relics. It is dated 1494 and was executed by the brothers Jörg and Nicolas Seld, members of a well-known Augsburg family of jewelers. The most important part of this cross lies at its center—a beautifully executed and well-preserved ten-petalled Double Rosette. On the four arms there are less attractive five-petalled Single Rosettes. This work clearly demonstrates how a diamond Rosette can take the place of a single gem of equal size without any loss of magnificence.
The central eight-petalled Double Rosette in the wedding ring of Albrecht V, Duke of Bavaria, is one of the best known pieces of Rosette jewelry in existence. Sadly, however, its underlying foil has completely deteriorated, with the result that the diamonds have not only lost their original brilliance but now look like very ordinary, if translucent, black stones with only a faint surface luster.
A ten-petalled Rosette, the earliest documented, appears in a portrait of Princess Margaret, the three year old daughter of the Emperor Maximilian I, painted by the Master of Moulins in 1483 (now in the Musée de Versailles, Paris).
The small diamonds of the six-petalled Double Rosette in Duchess Anna’s pendant are all different, in outline as well as in faceting. The cutter had not worked with the precision normally required at the time, and this irregularity was probably the reason that the outer setting featured a series of additional prongs, placed against the blunt rounded ends of the fan-shaped outer diamonds, where the pitch was quite visible between the gems. The gems are at the lowest end of the scale in clarity, and have disturbing dark inclusions. The diamonds are not colorless, and one of them is distinctly brownish. It therefore seems that the pendant was never intended to display wealth, but was probably used as an amulet. In spite of all this, the original foils may have disguised many of these imperfections and achieved wonders of reflection.
Because Rosettes were always in a closed setting with the stones fixed in a bed of black pitch, it was impossible to keep the stone clean, even though a sheet of foil protected them from the pitch. Moisture entered through the tiny gaps between the petals, causing the foil to tarnish and eventually decompose, and thus allow the pitch to soil the undersides of the diamonds. This is probably the main reason why the design was discarded after such a relatively short time. Open settings, which make it possible for the gems to be kept clean from underneath, might perhaps have saved these exquisite compositions.
In 1027 the Emperor Conrad II set a nobleman of Werd (now Donauwörth, in Bavaria) on a diplomatic mission to the Byzantine Emperor. On his return the nobleman brought with him relics of the Holy Cross which had been presented to him, and founded a small convent where they could be preserved. This convent later became the Benedictine Abbey zum Heiligen Kreuz at Donauwörth.
When he visited the abbey in 1496, the Emperor Maximilian I decided to donate a work of art worthy of containing the relics, and commissioned the Antwerp-born master goldsmith Lucas to create a richly decorated monstrance. It took Lucas seventeen years to complete it, and it can still be admired both as a beautiful receptacle for the relics and as a magnificent work of art worthy of the Emperor. When the abbey was closed at the beginning of the nineteenth century, the monstrance became part of the Oettingen-Wallenstein Library and Art Collection now housed at Harburg Castle, near Donauwörth. We know that Master Lucas received from the Emperor not only the silver for the monstrance but also the gems, including the Rosettes already set and needing only to be fixed to the frame. So the four diamond Rosettes, as well as the ruby and fluorite Rosettes, must all have been fashioned before 1496, in a specialist workshop.
Among the liturgical objects in the cathedral of Augsburg, in Bavaria, is a gold and silver cross set with diamonds, pearls and colored gems. The front of the cross is made of gold, the back of chased silver, hinged at the top to form a box for holy relics. It is dated 1494 and was executed by the brothers Jörg and Nicolas Seld, members of a well-known Augsburg family of jewelers. The most important part of this cross lies at its center—a beautifully executed and well-preserved ten-petalled Double Rosette. On the four arms there are less attractive five-petalled Single Rosettes. This work clearly demonstrates how a diamond Rosette can take the place of a single gem of equal size without any loss of magnificence.
The central eight-petalled Double Rosette in the wedding ring of Albrecht V, Duke of Bavaria, is one of the best known pieces of Rosette jewelry in existence. Sadly, however, its underlying foil has completely deteriorated, with the result that the diamonds have not only lost their original brilliance but now look like very ordinary, if translucent, black stones with only a faint surface luster.
A ten-petalled Rosette, the earliest documented, appears in a portrait of Princess Margaret, the three year old daughter of the Emperor Maximilian I, painted by the Master of Moulins in 1483 (now in the Musée de Versailles, Paris).
The small diamonds of the six-petalled Double Rosette in Duchess Anna’s pendant are all different, in outline as well as in faceting. The cutter had not worked with the precision normally required at the time, and this irregularity was probably the reason that the outer setting featured a series of additional prongs, placed against the blunt rounded ends of the fan-shaped outer diamonds, where the pitch was quite visible between the gems. The gems are at the lowest end of the scale in clarity, and have disturbing dark inclusions. The diamonds are not colorless, and one of them is distinctly brownish. It therefore seems that the pendant was never intended to display wealth, but was probably used as an amulet. In spite of all this, the original foils may have disguised many of these imperfections and achieved wonders of reflection.
The Rise Of French Painting
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
Through all this period of drudgery and semi-starvation, Watteau never despaired, and snatched every opportunity to improve his art, drawing from Nature at night and during his rare holidays and leisure moments. Then by a happy chance he made the acquaintance of the decorative artist Claude Gillot, who, after seeing Watteau’s drawings invited the young man to live with him.
Rescued from his miserable factory, Watteau worked with enthusiasm at the ornamental painting of his new friend, who was then chiefly engaged in representing scenes from Italian comedy. Watteau, who in his poverty and ill-health worshipped elegance and all the graces of life, soon rivalled and surpassed his tutor in painting slim Harlequins, simple Pierrots, dainty Columbines, and other well-defined characters of Italian comedy; and it may be that Gillot grew jealous of his protégé. After a period of warm friendship, the two artists parted on bad terms, and though Watteau in after life never ceased to praise Gillot’s pictures, he kept silent about the man, and would never answer when questioned about the breach between them. Gillot, on the other hand, tacitly acknowledged his pupil’s superiority, for some time after the quarrel he abandoned painting and devoted himself to etching.
When Watteau left Gillot, his fellow-assistant, Nicolas Lancret (1690-1743), who afterwards became his pupil, left with him, and both young men found employment with Claude Audran, a painter of ornaments, who was also a guardian of the Luxembourg Palace. This stay with Audran had a profound influence on the art of Watteau. There were no gardens of the Luxembourg in those days, and the park attached to the royal palace was full of wild and natural beauty which appealed to the young artist, and drew forth his powers as a landscape painter. It was here that he discovered and learnt to paint those noble clumps of trees which form the background to the figures of his idylls and pastorals.
Inspired thus by the externals of the palace, Watteau was also profoundly moved by what was within, the picture gallery containing the series of great paintings by Rubens which illustrated the life of Marie de Medicis. Watteau viewed these spirited paintings again and again; he copies them with zest, and became so saturated with Rubens that eventually he was able to deflect his fellow-countrymen from Italian ideals and revivify French paintings with the vigorous realism of Rubens. His worship of the great Fleming, to whom he felt himself related by ties of race as well as artistic sympathy, never degenerated into servile imitation: ‘by means of a gradually widening realism,’ says the distinguished French critic M Camille Mauclair Watteau ‘arrived at the point of preserving in his small canvass all Rubens’ admirable breadth, while achieving a masterly originality of grouping.’ A superb example of Watteau’s powers in this respect is his exquisite ‘Lady at her Toilet’ in the Wallace Collection. Here a theme, in which Rubens could hardly have avoided a certain coarseness, becomes a model of grace and refinement.
Once again the jealousy of a senior threatened Watteau’s progress. Watteau showed his master a realistic painting of soldiers on the march, and Audran, who naturally did not want to lose so talented as assistant, advised him not to paint realistic pictures lest he should lose his skill as a decorator. But Watteau, determined to devote himself to original work, was now diplomat enough to avoid a quarrel, and desirous of leaving Audran courteously, he informed him that he must return to Valenciennes to visit his family. At Valenciennes the young artist continued his studies of nature and contemporary life, and he painted a series of military pictures illustrating camp life, marches, and outpost duty. But after staying there long enough to justify his visit, he returned to Paris, where he was now not altogether unknown.
At this time his great desire was to win the Prix de Rome and to visit Italy, and with this object he competed in 1709, the subject set by the Academy being ‘David granting Abigail Nabal’s Pardon.’ The prize, however, was won by a student named Grison, Watteau being placed second and thus losing his opportunity of visiting Rome.
Still desirous of studying in Italy, and still hopeful that the Academy might help him to accomplish his desire, Watteau three years later contrived to get two of his military pictures hung in a room through which Academicians were in the habit of passing. Several admired the ‘vigorous coloring, and a certain harmony which made them appear the work of an old master,’ and one Academician, de la Fosse by name, made inquiries as to the painter. It was then discovered that his young painter, already twenty nine, was so modest that all he wanted from the Academy was its influence with the King that he might receive a small grant to enable him to study in Italy.
Attracted by his talent and modesty, M de la Fosse sought an interview with Watteau which had the most surprising results. With a rare generosity the Academician told the young man that he had no need to seek instruction in Italy, that he undervalued his own ability, and the Academicians believed he was already capable of doing them honor; in short, he had only to take the proper steps to be accepted a member of their society. The young artist did as he was told, and was immediately received as a member of the French Academy.
In all the long and memorable history of the Academy of France no incident similar to this has ever been recorded. That a young artist, without friends or fortune, who had failed to win the Prix de Rome and humbly begged for help in his studies, should spontaneously and unanimously be elected in Academician, is a miracle without precedent or sequel in the history of all Academies. This unique event was the turning point in Watteau’s career, and henceforward his fame was assured and he was able to earn his living in comfort.
The Rise Of French Painting (continued)
Through all this period of drudgery and semi-starvation, Watteau never despaired, and snatched every opportunity to improve his art, drawing from Nature at night and during his rare holidays and leisure moments. Then by a happy chance he made the acquaintance of the decorative artist Claude Gillot, who, after seeing Watteau’s drawings invited the young man to live with him.
Rescued from his miserable factory, Watteau worked with enthusiasm at the ornamental painting of his new friend, who was then chiefly engaged in representing scenes from Italian comedy. Watteau, who in his poverty and ill-health worshipped elegance and all the graces of life, soon rivalled and surpassed his tutor in painting slim Harlequins, simple Pierrots, dainty Columbines, and other well-defined characters of Italian comedy; and it may be that Gillot grew jealous of his protégé. After a period of warm friendship, the two artists parted on bad terms, and though Watteau in after life never ceased to praise Gillot’s pictures, he kept silent about the man, and would never answer when questioned about the breach between them. Gillot, on the other hand, tacitly acknowledged his pupil’s superiority, for some time after the quarrel he abandoned painting and devoted himself to etching.
When Watteau left Gillot, his fellow-assistant, Nicolas Lancret (1690-1743), who afterwards became his pupil, left with him, and both young men found employment with Claude Audran, a painter of ornaments, who was also a guardian of the Luxembourg Palace. This stay with Audran had a profound influence on the art of Watteau. There were no gardens of the Luxembourg in those days, and the park attached to the royal palace was full of wild and natural beauty which appealed to the young artist, and drew forth his powers as a landscape painter. It was here that he discovered and learnt to paint those noble clumps of trees which form the background to the figures of his idylls and pastorals.
Inspired thus by the externals of the palace, Watteau was also profoundly moved by what was within, the picture gallery containing the series of great paintings by Rubens which illustrated the life of Marie de Medicis. Watteau viewed these spirited paintings again and again; he copies them with zest, and became so saturated with Rubens that eventually he was able to deflect his fellow-countrymen from Italian ideals and revivify French paintings with the vigorous realism of Rubens. His worship of the great Fleming, to whom he felt himself related by ties of race as well as artistic sympathy, never degenerated into servile imitation: ‘by means of a gradually widening realism,’ says the distinguished French critic M Camille Mauclair Watteau ‘arrived at the point of preserving in his small canvass all Rubens’ admirable breadth, while achieving a masterly originality of grouping.’ A superb example of Watteau’s powers in this respect is his exquisite ‘Lady at her Toilet’ in the Wallace Collection. Here a theme, in which Rubens could hardly have avoided a certain coarseness, becomes a model of grace and refinement.
Once again the jealousy of a senior threatened Watteau’s progress. Watteau showed his master a realistic painting of soldiers on the march, and Audran, who naturally did not want to lose so talented as assistant, advised him not to paint realistic pictures lest he should lose his skill as a decorator. But Watteau, determined to devote himself to original work, was now diplomat enough to avoid a quarrel, and desirous of leaving Audran courteously, he informed him that he must return to Valenciennes to visit his family. At Valenciennes the young artist continued his studies of nature and contemporary life, and he painted a series of military pictures illustrating camp life, marches, and outpost duty. But after staying there long enough to justify his visit, he returned to Paris, where he was now not altogether unknown.
At this time his great desire was to win the Prix de Rome and to visit Italy, and with this object he competed in 1709, the subject set by the Academy being ‘David granting Abigail Nabal’s Pardon.’ The prize, however, was won by a student named Grison, Watteau being placed second and thus losing his opportunity of visiting Rome.
Still desirous of studying in Italy, and still hopeful that the Academy might help him to accomplish his desire, Watteau three years later contrived to get two of his military pictures hung in a room through which Academicians were in the habit of passing. Several admired the ‘vigorous coloring, and a certain harmony which made them appear the work of an old master,’ and one Academician, de la Fosse by name, made inquiries as to the painter. It was then discovered that his young painter, already twenty nine, was so modest that all he wanted from the Academy was its influence with the King that he might receive a small grant to enable him to study in Italy.
Attracted by his talent and modesty, M de la Fosse sought an interview with Watteau which had the most surprising results. With a rare generosity the Academician told the young man that he had no need to seek instruction in Italy, that he undervalued his own ability, and the Academicians believed he was already capable of doing them honor; in short, he had only to take the proper steps to be accepted a member of their society. The young artist did as he was told, and was immediately received as a member of the French Academy.
In all the long and memorable history of the Academy of France no incident similar to this has ever been recorded. That a young artist, without friends or fortune, who had failed to win the Prix de Rome and humbly begged for help in his studies, should spontaneously and unanimously be elected in Academician, is a miracle without precedent or sequel in the history of all Academies. This unique event was the turning point in Watteau’s career, and henceforward his fame was assured and he was able to earn his living in comfort.
The Rise Of French Painting (continued)
Heard On The Street
In the gem/jewelry/art markets, as in life, the only way to grow and preserve yourself is to get rid of what is not working for you.
Greg Raymer
I found Greg Raymer WSOP, Champion of 2004, an interesting personality, because when we won the title he did not let it go to his head + he uses a small fossil as a card protector while he plays poker + he plays within himself; a lesson for all.
Five Reasons To Go To Tucson
Derek Levin shares his views on the Tucson Gem and Mineral show + the business opportunities for gem and jewelry entrepreneurs + the worldwide network of people and cultures + other viewpoints @ http://www.jewelryartistmagazine.com/feature/tucson08.cfm
Useful links:
www.colored-stone.com
www.gemmaker.com
Useful links:
www.colored-stone.com
www.gemmaker.com
Monday, January 14, 2008
The Craftsman
The Craftsman by Richard Sennett is an interesting book that engages many dimensions of skill + Sennett apprises us of the surprising extent to which we can learn about ourselves through the labor of making physical things + this thought-provoking book explores the work of craftsmen past and present, identifies deep connections between material consciousness and ethical values, and challenges received ideas about what constitutes good work in today’s world.
(via Amazon) Why do people work hard, and take pride in what they do? This book, a philosophically-minded enquiry into practical activity of many different kinds past and present, is about what happens when people try to do a good job. It asks us to think about the true meaning of skill in the 'skills society' and argues that pure competition is a poor way to achieve quality work. Sennett suggests, instead, that there is a craftsman in every human being, which can sometimes be enormously motivating and inspiring - and can also in other circumstances make individuals obsessive and frustrated."The Craftsman" shows how history has drawn fault-lines between craftsman and artist, maker and user, technique and expression, practice and theory, and that individuals' pride in their work, as well as modern society in general, suffers from these historical divisions. But the past lives of crafts and craftsmen show us ways of working (using tools, acquiring skills, thinking about materials) which provide rewarding alternative ways for people to utilise their talents. We need to recognise this if motivations are to be understood and lives made as fulfilling as possible.The book divides into three parts: the first addresses the craftsman at work.
This is a story of workshops - the guilds of medieval goldsmiths, the ateliers of musical instrument makers, modern laboratories - in which masters and apprentices work together but not as equals. In its second part the book explores the development of skill: knowledge gained in the hand through touch and movement. A diverse group of case studies illustrates the grounding of skill in physical practice - from striking a piano key to the use of imperfect scientific instruments like the first telescopes or the anatomist's scalpel. The argument of the third part is that motivation counts for more than talent.Enlightenment thinkers believed that everyone possesses the ability to do good work, and that we are more likely to fail as craftsmen due to our motivation than because of our lack of ability. The book assesses and challenges this belief, concluding by considering craftsmanship as more than a technical practice, and considering the ethical questions that craftsmen's sustaining habits raise about how we anchor ourselves in the world around us.
Useful links:
Richard Sennett
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Sennett
Richard Taylor
www.wetaworkshop.co.nz
David Trubridge
www.davidtrubridge.com
(via Amazon) Why do people work hard, and take pride in what they do? This book, a philosophically-minded enquiry into practical activity of many different kinds past and present, is about what happens when people try to do a good job. It asks us to think about the true meaning of skill in the 'skills society' and argues that pure competition is a poor way to achieve quality work. Sennett suggests, instead, that there is a craftsman in every human being, which can sometimes be enormously motivating and inspiring - and can also in other circumstances make individuals obsessive and frustrated."The Craftsman" shows how history has drawn fault-lines between craftsman and artist, maker and user, technique and expression, practice and theory, and that individuals' pride in their work, as well as modern society in general, suffers from these historical divisions. But the past lives of crafts and craftsmen show us ways of working (using tools, acquiring skills, thinking about materials) which provide rewarding alternative ways for people to utilise their talents. We need to recognise this if motivations are to be understood and lives made as fulfilling as possible.The book divides into three parts: the first addresses the craftsman at work.
This is a story of workshops - the guilds of medieval goldsmiths, the ateliers of musical instrument makers, modern laboratories - in which masters and apprentices work together but not as equals. In its second part the book explores the development of skill: knowledge gained in the hand through touch and movement. A diverse group of case studies illustrates the grounding of skill in physical practice - from striking a piano key to the use of imperfect scientific instruments like the first telescopes or the anatomist's scalpel. The argument of the third part is that motivation counts for more than talent.Enlightenment thinkers believed that everyone possesses the ability to do good work, and that we are more likely to fail as craftsmen due to our motivation than because of our lack of ability. The book assesses and challenges this belief, concluding by considering craftsmanship as more than a technical practice, and considering the ethical questions that craftsmen's sustaining habits raise about how we anchor ourselves in the world around us.
Useful links:
Richard Sennett
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Sennett
Richard Taylor
www.wetaworkshop.co.nz
David Trubridge
www.davidtrubridge.com
Ulysses' Gaze
Ulysses' Gaze (1995)
Directed by: Theo Angelopoulos
Screenplay: Theo Angelopoulos, Tonino Guerra
Cast: Harvey Keitel, Maia Morgenstern, Erland Josephson
(via YouTube): Ulysses´Gaze. A tribute
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SAz9Vc2lVVA
Ulysses´Gaze official movie trailer
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DaUEulIEBV8
Ulysses´ Gaze. Dance Scene (Part 1)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoPy6AAC16M
Ulysses´ Gaze. Dance Scene (Part 2)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kE5B7WSEOao
I think Ulysses' Gaze is a synopsis of 20th century Greek history in a film + it's natural + I enjoyed it.
Directed by: Theo Angelopoulos
Screenplay: Theo Angelopoulos, Tonino Guerra
Cast: Harvey Keitel, Maia Morgenstern, Erland Josephson
(via YouTube): Ulysses´Gaze. A tribute
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SAz9Vc2lVVA
Ulysses´Gaze official movie trailer
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DaUEulIEBV8
Ulysses´ Gaze. Dance Scene (Part 1)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FoPy6AAC16M
Ulysses´ Gaze. Dance Scene (Part 2)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kE5B7WSEOao
I think Ulysses' Gaze is a synopsis of 20th century Greek history in a film + it's natural + I enjoyed it.
Jewelers Of Phoenicia And Greece
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
2. Goldsmiths Of The Classic Period
Slowly, very slowly, the once simple Greek began to learn for himself the art of shaping metals and engraving stones. At first his ambition led him only as far as copying the products brought from the Orient. Seemingly it nearly always happened like that. The novice craftsman who had already seen some particular type of jewelry started by sedulously copying the work of the master. Sometimes the pupil would outstrip the master in point of technique, yet never lay hold for himself of a single spark of originality, but only continue to imitate. In other cases, the one-time copyist would turn creative and his work would take on new forms. The craftsmen of Greece were among those who in time became creative and produced new designs.
Although at first the early Greek jewelry followed faithfully along Oriental lines—the sphinx of Egypt and the winged bull of Assyria appearing constantly in designs—yet after a time the goldsmith began to develop his own ideas of decorative art; and even when the pattern itself was borrowed from others it was given Greek characteristics. The little sacred beetle of Egypt continued to be the most popular form of signet, but interest gradually shifted from the convex back of the scarab to the device engraved on its stomach. The beetle was no longer carved with realism; its engraved base became a reflection, in miniature, of Greek art. Various gods and demons, the sphinx, the sirens, and warriors and horsemen were carved, always intaglio, on scarabs of carnelian, agate and chalcedony. They were set in swivel rings and served both as seals and ornaments.
As the artists of Greece became increasingly independent, the goldsmith modified and changed an established form until its derivation might be traced. For instance, of the little Egyptian beetle so long in vogue, he retained only its general scaraboid form, and this he set in a new manner. The signet stone, instead of being mounted on a swivel, was set solidly in a bed hollowed out of the metal of the ring.
On its now flat top the engraver cut not deities but scenes taken from daily life and especially those portraying the affairs of the gentler sex-perhaps a woman taking a bath or playing on some musical instrument. And presently, turning to nature herself for inspiration, the craftsman began to use flowers, leaves, animals, and the beauty of human body to furnish models for his designs. These he engraved on precious stones and wrought in gold. Gold, not merely as a setting for gems, but in its own right became his favorite medium. It was ornamented with embossed patterns impressed by means of stone molds, or its surface was covered with intricate designs built with tiny dots of gold, each soldered expertly into place. Rich filigree ornamentation was made with fine threads of gold twisted and bent into elaborate patterns. Enamels were used sparingly and gemstones only when they enhanced the beauty of earrings, necklaces, pendants, amulets and other jewelry.
Like the people of the East, the ancient Greeks believed in the magic powers of precious stones. But after a time, although the masses still clung to such superstitions, the more enlightened developed a certain skepticism concerning the matter; the Greek physician, for example, took a radical step. He declared that disease was not the work of some evil spirit, but that aches and pains were due to physical causes. Therefore a precious stone designed to cast out a devil (that did not exist anyway) could not cure physical ailments.
So far, his reasoning was all to the good, but even the progressive physician could not rid himself of a belief in the essential healing power of gems. He merely shifted their powers from magic to what he considered a commonsense basis. Herbs were good as medicine, but precious stones, being more rare and valuable, were even better. Fortunately the patient was not required to swallow a gem whole. The dose was made easy to take (if not palatable) by grinding the stone into powder and then mixing it with some liquid. This method of preparing the expensive remedy was practical only when the stone was comparatively soft. If it were very hard and therefore difficult to reduce to powder the patient could wear it next his skin—an external application equivalent to a plaster. Jasper, so worn, was prescribed for epilepsy; amber and coral were held in high esteem as cures for eye and throat troubles. This profound faith in the healing virtues of certain gems has taken such deep hold on the mind of mankind that it still exists, and we shall come upon it again and again in later times and in countries far from the Mediterranean.
Goldsmiths Of The Classic Period (continued)
2. Goldsmiths Of The Classic Period
Slowly, very slowly, the once simple Greek began to learn for himself the art of shaping metals and engraving stones. At first his ambition led him only as far as copying the products brought from the Orient. Seemingly it nearly always happened like that. The novice craftsman who had already seen some particular type of jewelry started by sedulously copying the work of the master. Sometimes the pupil would outstrip the master in point of technique, yet never lay hold for himself of a single spark of originality, but only continue to imitate. In other cases, the one-time copyist would turn creative and his work would take on new forms. The craftsmen of Greece were among those who in time became creative and produced new designs.
Although at first the early Greek jewelry followed faithfully along Oriental lines—the sphinx of Egypt and the winged bull of Assyria appearing constantly in designs—yet after a time the goldsmith began to develop his own ideas of decorative art; and even when the pattern itself was borrowed from others it was given Greek characteristics. The little sacred beetle of Egypt continued to be the most popular form of signet, but interest gradually shifted from the convex back of the scarab to the device engraved on its stomach. The beetle was no longer carved with realism; its engraved base became a reflection, in miniature, of Greek art. Various gods and demons, the sphinx, the sirens, and warriors and horsemen were carved, always intaglio, on scarabs of carnelian, agate and chalcedony. They were set in swivel rings and served both as seals and ornaments.
As the artists of Greece became increasingly independent, the goldsmith modified and changed an established form until its derivation might be traced. For instance, of the little Egyptian beetle so long in vogue, he retained only its general scaraboid form, and this he set in a new manner. The signet stone, instead of being mounted on a swivel, was set solidly in a bed hollowed out of the metal of the ring.
On its now flat top the engraver cut not deities but scenes taken from daily life and especially those portraying the affairs of the gentler sex-perhaps a woman taking a bath or playing on some musical instrument. And presently, turning to nature herself for inspiration, the craftsman began to use flowers, leaves, animals, and the beauty of human body to furnish models for his designs. These he engraved on precious stones and wrought in gold. Gold, not merely as a setting for gems, but in its own right became his favorite medium. It was ornamented with embossed patterns impressed by means of stone molds, or its surface was covered with intricate designs built with tiny dots of gold, each soldered expertly into place. Rich filigree ornamentation was made with fine threads of gold twisted and bent into elaborate patterns. Enamels were used sparingly and gemstones only when they enhanced the beauty of earrings, necklaces, pendants, amulets and other jewelry.
Like the people of the East, the ancient Greeks believed in the magic powers of precious stones. But after a time, although the masses still clung to such superstitions, the more enlightened developed a certain skepticism concerning the matter; the Greek physician, for example, took a radical step. He declared that disease was not the work of some evil spirit, but that aches and pains were due to physical causes. Therefore a precious stone designed to cast out a devil (that did not exist anyway) could not cure physical ailments.
So far, his reasoning was all to the good, but even the progressive physician could not rid himself of a belief in the essential healing power of gems. He merely shifted their powers from magic to what he considered a commonsense basis. Herbs were good as medicine, but precious stones, being more rare and valuable, were even better. Fortunately the patient was not required to swallow a gem whole. The dose was made easy to take (if not palatable) by grinding the stone into powder and then mixing it with some liquid. This method of preparing the expensive remedy was practical only when the stone was comparatively soft. If it were very hard and therefore difficult to reduce to powder the patient could wear it next his skin—an external application equivalent to a plaster. Jasper, so worn, was prescribed for epilepsy; amber and coral were held in high esteem as cures for eye and throat troubles. This profound faith in the healing virtues of certain gems has taken such deep hold on the mind of mankind that it still exists, and we shall come upon it again and again in later times and in countries far from the Mediterranean.
Goldsmiths Of The Classic Period (continued)
The Double Rosette
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
Aware of the very limited supply of large diamonds at acceptable prices and inspired by the success of Single Rosettes, cutters experimented with various combinations of small rough in an attempt to create attractive alternatives. Some of these turned out to be truly impressive. The four-petalled Rosette had already appeared by 1411 and the Single Rosettes with five to nine components some thirty years later. Finally, in about 1480, the ingenious Double Rosette made its appearance. Combining two completely different cuts in one design was an original and daring idea, and the result was incomparably beautiful. The fashioning of these cuts called not only for the greatest precision but also for a very large stock of rough from which to select the appropriate cleavages. It is possible that these Double Rosettes were the work of one single craftsman, or a small group of collaborators. The settings, it seems, were all produced by casting, another indication of a degree of specialization unusual at that time.
The new design comprised anything from ten to eighteen diamonds of two different shapes: the fan-shape, familiar from the Single Rosette, and the lozenge, which had the outline of an equilateral parallelogram. The lozenge cut, which was developed specifically for the Double Rosette, is quite intricate. It has two sloping main facets in the crown, similar to a Hogback. These meet at an angle of approximately 100° and are separated by a ridge shaped like a arrow, tapering facet, sharply pointed at the outer end of the stone and broad enough at the inner end to allow a pin to fix it in the center of the jewel.
The Double Rosette, even though it may appear to be quite flat, produces a distinctly three-dimensional effect which gives fascinating fire and brilliance. Earlier, such light effects had been arrived at by chance as, for instance, when ideal height proportions were discovered in Burgundian Point Cuts. It is possible that large, richly faceted Burgundian diamonds, with their almost circular outlines, were the models for which the new Rosettes were intended as a popular substitute. Calculations show that the display of a Double Rosette with sixteen components weighing about 3ct matches that of a Burgundian Point Cut of approximately 16ct—which would have to have been cut from a rough weighing at least 20-25ct! To make the Rosette it would suffice to have sixteen small cleavages weighing less than half a carat each.
I have investigated the effects of different kinds of light on a well-fashioned and clean Rosette. When dirty, Rosettes are dull and without luster, but when clean they sparkle brilliantly with all the colors of the rainbow. Candlelight seems to be particularly flattering to them.
The Double Rosette (continued)
Aware of the very limited supply of large diamonds at acceptable prices and inspired by the success of Single Rosettes, cutters experimented with various combinations of small rough in an attempt to create attractive alternatives. Some of these turned out to be truly impressive. The four-petalled Rosette had already appeared by 1411 and the Single Rosettes with five to nine components some thirty years later. Finally, in about 1480, the ingenious Double Rosette made its appearance. Combining two completely different cuts in one design was an original and daring idea, and the result was incomparably beautiful. The fashioning of these cuts called not only for the greatest precision but also for a very large stock of rough from which to select the appropriate cleavages. It is possible that these Double Rosettes were the work of one single craftsman, or a small group of collaborators. The settings, it seems, were all produced by casting, another indication of a degree of specialization unusual at that time.
The new design comprised anything from ten to eighteen diamonds of two different shapes: the fan-shape, familiar from the Single Rosette, and the lozenge, which had the outline of an equilateral parallelogram. The lozenge cut, which was developed specifically for the Double Rosette, is quite intricate. It has two sloping main facets in the crown, similar to a Hogback. These meet at an angle of approximately 100° and are separated by a ridge shaped like a arrow, tapering facet, sharply pointed at the outer end of the stone and broad enough at the inner end to allow a pin to fix it in the center of the jewel.
The Double Rosette, even though it may appear to be quite flat, produces a distinctly three-dimensional effect which gives fascinating fire and brilliance. Earlier, such light effects had been arrived at by chance as, for instance, when ideal height proportions were discovered in Burgundian Point Cuts. It is possible that large, richly faceted Burgundian diamonds, with their almost circular outlines, were the models for which the new Rosettes were intended as a popular substitute. Calculations show that the display of a Double Rosette with sixteen components weighing about 3ct matches that of a Burgundian Point Cut of approximately 16ct—which would have to have been cut from a rough weighing at least 20-25ct! To make the Rosette it would suffice to have sixteen small cleavages weighing less than half a carat each.
I have investigated the effects of different kinds of light on a well-fashioned and clean Rosette. When dirty, Rosettes are dull and without luster, but when clean they sparkle brilliantly with all the colors of the rainbow. Candlelight seems to be particularly flattering to them.
The Double Rosette (continued)
In Search Of The Precious Stone
Albert Ramsay (Albert Ramsay & Co, 1925) writes:
During my return trip from the mines I was afforded an opportunity to test the theory of psychologists to the effect that our subconscious minds control our involuntary actions and the result seemed to verify their contention. When we had arrived within about two miles of Thabeitkin I decided to walk the balance of the distance alone in hopes of bagging a bird or two for breakfast. I was proceeding quietly when a peculiar rustling in the bushes beside the road attracted my attention. Man eating tiger!—such was the thought that darted through my mind, bringing with it the recollection of the tragedy at Thabeitkin and my former fear, not dead but sleeping, sprang into life with renewed vigor. I felt instinctively that nothing but a tiger could have made that sound. Before I could budge the tomb-like silence of the jungle was shattered by a crash as of some heavy body precipitating itself through the underbrush. I then comprehended what the writers of ‘thrillers’ mean when they say: ‘His hair stood on end.’ My brain refused to function; my feet were rooted to the ground; my eyes were hypnotically fixed upon the spot from whence the tawny brute was about to spring. I stood thus transfixed, with beads of cold perspiration trickling down my forehead for what seemed an age but was, as a matter of fact, a few seconds, before the bushes parted and there appeared—not the striped form I had expected but the tusks of an elephant. Another moment and the chain which he wore upon one of the hind legs became visible, branding him a tame work-beast employed by the natives in the transportation of teakwood logs. I suddenly went as limp as a balloon tire which has formed a mesalliance with a nail and before my legs had received the bulletin flashed from my mental control station I was establishing new records for all distances up to and including two miles. Whether my failure to conduct myself in a normal manner immediately after the truth was discovered was due to exceptionally fast feet or to an unusually slow brain, is a matter of conjecture. At any rate I barely missed going right through the village and into the river.
Being desirous of adding to my collection of sapphires I turned my attention to the mines of Ceylon. Approaching Ceylon across the Bay of Bengal the empyrean dome of the firmament is apparently supported by the peaks of the mountains which rise sheer from the ocean’s depths. As the intervening distance decreases, more and more of the island becomes visible until finally, cloaked in luxuriant tropical foliage, framed by a beach of glistening white sand and set in the midst of an indigo sea, it resembles an Emerald mounted upon a slab of lapis lazuli.
Much of the sapphire-bearing ground in Ceylon is planted to rubber trees. The native miners lease sections from the plantation owners and sink shafts between the trees, frequently going down to the depth of seventy feet in order to cut the helam or sapphire bearing stratum. When that has been accomplished they drift along the helam by digging horizontal galleries. The loosened earth is carried to the shaft and raised to the surface by the aid of a windlass. Here it is piled until a sufficient quantity has been accumulated to warrant washing. The washing is performed in baskets and the operation is supervised by the owner who personally collects the gems as they are exposed. The stones are removed to the home of the plantation-owner for safe-keeping and once a month they are sold. The aphorism that self-preservation is the first law of nature was aptly demonstrated at one of these sales. The barefooted Singhalese buyers were grouped in a circle heatedly bidding for the stones. One of their number discovered a scorpion too close to his feet for comfort and, being a public-spirited individual, he informed the community of the peril by shouting: ‘Scorpion!’ at the top of his lungs. A story is told of a fleeing negro who heard the bullet of a pursuer twice—once when it passed him and again when he passed it; well, he was standing still compared to those Singhalese. Scattering gems in all directions they headed for the jungle where the last one arrived just in time to hear the warning word the second time. The intruder was killed and his mangled form exhibited to the natives as, one by one, they gingerly returned. Even that assurance failed to revive the enthusiasm of the assemblage in sapphires and the uneasy manner in which the buyers scrutinized the ground during, the balance of the sale bespoke lack of confidence in the famous words of Ethel Barrymore: ‘That’s all there is is. There is no more!’ Needless to say, that particular sale was not a success financially.
Star sapphires, native to Ceylon and Burma, are found in the same beds as sapphires. They possess a property of which even many jewelers are ignorant, i.e no matter into how many parts of a star sapphire may be cut each fragment will contain a six-pointed star of elusive light. I also acquired some fine specimens of cat’s eyes, which are steadily increasing in popularity.
As previously indicated, success in the gem business is largely dependent upon the buyer’s ability to accurately appraise the merits of concealed in the rough stones and my early training and experience in that particular fitted me admirably for the task which confronted me upon my trip. In the course of my career I have seen unscrupulous dealers take advantage of many men whose business should have rendered them immune to fraud, to mention nothing of the cases of people in whom ignorance in the matter of gems was excusable.
Upon my return from the Orient I went to South America to petition the Colombian government to grant me an option which would enable me to work the Muzo emerald mines, near Bogota, the country’s capital. These mines, which at that time had been inoperative for a number of years owing to litigation, produce emeralds far superior in quality to those found in the Siberian or other fields. I also desired to purchase a magnificent collection of emeralds which the government was holding in its vaults. The emerald is a gem has figured prominently in the annals of romance and tragedy throughout the ages. The ancients ascribed to it the power to sharpen wits, confer riches and enable its owner to foretell future events, but modern society places its stamp of favor upon the emerald for the more practical and self-evident reason of its beauty. Many persons of unquestionable discrimination and refined taste prefer the fires which smolder in the emerald’s depths to the icy austerity of the diamond. My Colombian trip proved interesting and profitable but the incidents which made it so may not be told at this time.
The foregoing are but a few experiences gleaned during my wanderings into distant lands, not only that I might obtain the jewels, but that I might also sense the thrill which comes from searching them out in nature’s hiding places. To me a gem is not merely a cold, inanimate bauble. It symbolizes years of somebody’s life consecrated to obtaining it; it is moist with the sweat of labor amid untold perils and under tropic sun; it is warm with the lifeblood of its discoverer, and as I hold it upon the palm of my hand, I can again feel the pulse of that man leap as it must have done when he first beheld the fruit of his toil. Can you blame me for being fascinated?
During my return trip from the mines I was afforded an opportunity to test the theory of psychologists to the effect that our subconscious minds control our involuntary actions and the result seemed to verify their contention. When we had arrived within about two miles of Thabeitkin I decided to walk the balance of the distance alone in hopes of bagging a bird or two for breakfast. I was proceeding quietly when a peculiar rustling in the bushes beside the road attracted my attention. Man eating tiger!—such was the thought that darted through my mind, bringing with it the recollection of the tragedy at Thabeitkin and my former fear, not dead but sleeping, sprang into life with renewed vigor. I felt instinctively that nothing but a tiger could have made that sound. Before I could budge the tomb-like silence of the jungle was shattered by a crash as of some heavy body precipitating itself through the underbrush. I then comprehended what the writers of ‘thrillers’ mean when they say: ‘His hair stood on end.’ My brain refused to function; my feet were rooted to the ground; my eyes were hypnotically fixed upon the spot from whence the tawny brute was about to spring. I stood thus transfixed, with beads of cold perspiration trickling down my forehead for what seemed an age but was, as a matter of fact, a few seconds, before the bushes parted and there appeared—not the striped form I had expected but the tusks of an elephant. Another moment and the chain which he wore upon one of the hind legs became visible, branding him a tame work-beast employed by the natives in the transportation of teakwood logs. I suddenly went as limp as a balloon tire which has formed a mesalliance with a nail and before my legs had received the bulletin flashed from my mental control station I was establishing new records for all distances up to and including two miles. Whether my failure to conduct myself in a normal manner immediately after the truth was discovered was due to exceptionally fast feet or to an unusually slow brain, is a matter of conjecture. At any rate I barely missed going right through the village and into the river.
Being desirous of adding to my collection of sapphires I turned my attention to the mines of Ceylon. Approaching Ceylon across the Bay of Bengal the empyrean dome of the firmament is apparently supported by the peaks of the mountains which rise sheer from the ocean’s depths. As the intervening distance decreases, more and more of the island becomes visible until finally, cloaked in luxuriant tropical foliage, framed by a beach of glistening white sand and set in the midst of an indigo sea, it resembles an Emerald mounted upon a slab of lapis lazuli.
Much of the sapphire-bearing ground in Ceylon is planted to rubber trees. The native miners lease sections from the plantation owners and sink shafts between the trees, frequently going down to the depth of seventy feet in order to cut the helam or sapphire bearing stratum. When that has been accomplished they drift along the helam by digging horizontal galleries. The loosened earth is carried to the shaft and raised to the surface by the aid of a windlass. Here it is piled until a sufficient quantity has been accumulated to warrant washing. The washing is performed in baskets and the operation is supervised by the owner who personally collects the gems as they are exposed. The stones are removed to the home of the plantation-owner for safe-keeping and once a month they are sold. The aphorism that self-preservation is the first law of nature was aptly demonstrated at one of these sales. The barefooted Singhalese buyers were grouped in a circle heatedly bidding for the stones. One of their number discovered a scorpion too close to his feet for comfort and, being a public-spirited individual, he informed the community of the peril by shouting: ‘Scorpion!’ at the top of his lungs. A story is told of a fleeing negro who heard the bullet of a pursuer twice—once when it passed him and again when he passed it; well, he was standing still compared to those Singhalese. Scattering gems in all directions they headed for the jungle where the last one arrived just in time to hear the warning word the second time. The intruder was killed and his mangled form exhibited to the natives as, one by one, they gingerly returned. Even that assurance failed to revive the enthusiasm of the assemblage in sapphires and the uneasy manner in which the buyers scrutinized the ground during, the balance of the sale bespoke lack of confidence in the famous words of Ethel Barrymore: ‘That’s all there is is. There is no more!’ Needless to say, that particular sale was not a success financially.
Star sapphires, native to Ceylon and Burma, are found in the same beds as sapphires. They possess a property of which even many jewelers are ignorant, i.e no matter into how many parts of a star sapphire may be cut each fragment will contain a six-pointed star of elusive light. I also acquired some fine specimens of cat’s eyes, which are steadily increasing in popularity.
As previously indicated, success in the gem business is largely dependent upon the buyer’s ability to accurately appraise the merits of concealed in the rough stones and my early training and experience in that particular fitted me admirably for the task which confronted me upon my trip. In the course of my career I have seen unscrupulous dealers take advantage of many men whose business should have rendered them immune to fraud, to mention nothing of the cases of people in whom ignorance in the matter of gems was excusable.
Upon my return from the Orient I went to South America to petition the Colombian government to grant me an option which would enable me to work the Muzo emerald mines, near Bogota, the country’s capital. These mines, which at that time had been inoperative for a number of years owing to litigation, produce emeralds far superior in quality to those found in the Siberian or other fields. I also desired to purchase a magnificent collection of emeralds which the government was holding in its vaults. The emerald is a gem has figured prominently in the annals of romance and tragedy throughout the ages. The ancients ascribed to it the power to sharpen wits, confer riches and enable its owner to foretell future events, but modern society places its stamp of favor upon the emerald for the more practical and self-evident reason of its beauty. Many persons of unquestionable discrimination and refined taste prefer the fires which smolder in the emerald’s depths to the icy austerity of the diamond. My Colombian trip proved interesting and profitable but the incidents which made it so may not be told at this time.
The foregoing are but a few experiences gleaned during my wanderings into distant lands, not only that I might obtain the jewels, but that I might also sense the thrill which comes from searching them out in nature’s hiding places. To me a gem is not merely a cold, inanimate bauble. It symbolizes years of somebody’s life consecrated to obtaining it; it is moist with the sweat of labor amid untold perils and under tropic sun; it is warm with the lifeblood of its discoverer, and as I hold it upon the palm of my hand, I can again feel the pulse of that man leap as it must have done when he first beheld the fruit of his toil. Can you blame me for being fascinated?
The Rise Of French Painting
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
The Art Of Watteau, Chardin, Boucher, Fragonard And Greuze
1
Coming events in the world of politics cast their shadows before them on the field of art, and as soon as we begin to study closely the national painting of France during the seventeenth and succeeding century, we become conscious of two streams of tradition, one democratic and derived from the Low Countries, the other aristocratic and inspired by Italy.
These two French schools of painting, which mirror respectively the life of the nobles and the life of the peasants, give us warning of that sharp division of the classes which were afterwards to meet and mingle in the clash and conflict of the French Revolution.
The seventeenth century, which in its beginning and middle period had seen art flourishing in Holland with the rise of the Dutch Republic, witnessed towards its close the shifting of political interest from Holland to France, and the rapid growth and development of a group of artists who added to the glory of the court of Louis XIV. Although France had given birth to artists of considerable distinction long before the end of the seventeenth century, it was not till the reign of the Grand Monarch that she evolved a distinct national style of her own.
The earlier French painters were almost wholly under the influence first of Flanders and then of Italy. Thus Jean Clouet, who in 1516 was appointed Court Painter to King Francois I, was the son of a Brussels artist, and both he and his son Francois Clouet (c.1510-72), who succeeded him, carried on a Flemish tradition. Though the feminine grace of the drawing of the Clouets has been held to be characteristic of France, yet the style of both artists was so close to that of their great contemporary Holbein that it can hardly be accepted as distinctly national.
Flemish again in character was the work of the three brothers Le Nain—Antoine and Louis, who both died in 1648, and Matthieu, died 1667—who came from Laon and settled in Paris. The gentle seriousness of their paintings of rustics foreshadows the peasant masterpieces of Jean Francois Millet. They are the ancestors of the democratic painters of France. Another painter closely associated with the age of Louis XIV, Philippe de Champaigne (1602-74), who painted numerous portraits of Cardinal Richelieu, was actually born in Brussels, though he established himself in Paris at the early age of nineteen. His portraiture, with its clear outline and suave coloring, is also northern rather than southern in character.
Nicholas Poussin (1594-1665) and Claude le Lorrain (1600-82) were great masters whose innovations left an indelible impress on landscape painting—the development of which will be traced in a subsequent chapter—but though born in France, both of them spent the greater part of their lives in Rome. Their art belongs to Europe generally rather than to France. The portrait-painter Pierre Mignard (1610-95) and his great rival Charles le Brun (1619-90), who as architect and sculptor as well as painter dominated the Louis Quatorze period, were both trained in Rome and entirely Italian in style.
None of these men was strong enough to found a distinct and national French style; and the kind of painting which we look upon today as being essentially and characteristically French was not born till Antoine Watteau left his home in Valenciennes for Paris. It was this weakling, whose frail form was prematurely ravaged by consumption, who founded the greatest and strongest of all the modern schools of painting.
Antoine Watteau was born in 1683 at Valenciennes, near the Franco-Flemish frontier. His father, a tiler and carpenter, was in poor circumstances, and the boy is said to have had an unhappy childhood. Watteau senior bore the reputation of being a hard man, and wanted his son to become a tiler like himself; and when young Antoine at last obtained permission to study in the studio of a local artist, one Guerin, who was painter to the municipality of Valenciennes, the father refused to pay the expenses of his son’s education.
After the death of Guerin in 1702, Antoine Watteau, then aged nineteen, ran away to Paris with a scene-painter called Metayer. But when they had arrived in Paris, this man soon abandoned his young companion when he had no more work to give him, and henceforward Watteau, already in delicate health and disowned by his father, was alone in Paris, without money, clothes, or resources of any kind. In desperate poverty he at last found employment in a wretched workshop where cheap religious pictures were produced by the dozen, to be retailed by country shopkeepers. Nowadays chromolithographs have saved artists form this kind of drudgery, but in the early eighteenth century even the lowest-priced colored card had to be done by hand. What was required of Watteau and his fellow-laborers was rapidity of execution in making copies of popular subjects, and for this work the pay was the equivalent of half-a-crown a week one daily meal of soup.
Yet even in this miserable trade Watteau managed to distinguish himself, and was entrusted with the reproduction of a ‘St Nicholas’ that was in great demand. One day the mistress of the workshop forgot to give Watteau the ‘St Nicholas’ to copy, and remembering her oversight later in the day, she climbed up to Watteau’s attic to scold him for idling. After she had worked herself up into a passion, Watteau amazed her by showing her his day’s work, a perfect St Nicholas, which he had completely finished from memory.
The Rise Of French Painting (continued)
The Art Of Watteau, Chardin, Boucher, Fragonard And Greuze
1
Coming events in the world of politics cast their shadows before them on the field of art, and as soon as we begin to study closely the national painting of France during the seventeenth and succeeding century, we become conscious of two streams of tradition, one democratic and derived from the Low Countries, the other aristocratic and inspired by Italy.
These two French schools of painting, which mirror respectively the life of the nobles and the life of the peasants, give us warning of that sharp division of the classes which were afterwards to meet and mingle in the clash and conflict of the French Revolution.
The seventeenth century, which in its beginning and middle period had seen art flourishing in Holland with the rise of the Dutch Republic, witnessed towards its close the shifting of political interest from Holland to France, and the rapid growth and development of a group of artists who added to the glory of the court of Louis XIV. Although France had given birth to artists of considerable distinction long before the end of the seventeenth century, it was not till the reign of the Grand Monarch that she evolved a distinct national style of her own.
The earlier French painters were almost wholly under the influence first of Flanders and then of Italy. Thus Jean Clouet, who in 1516 was appointed Court Painter to King Francois I, was the son of a Brussels artist, and both he and his son Francois Clouet (c.1510-72), who succeeded him, carried on a Flemish tradition. Though the feminine grace of the drawing of the Clouets has been held to be characteristic of France, yet the style of both artists was so close to that of their great contemporary Holbein that it can hardly be accepted as distinctly national.
Flemish again in character was the work of the three brothers Le Nain—Antoine and Louis, who both died in 1648, and Matthieu, died 1667—who came from Laon and settled in Paris. The gentle seriousness of their paintings of rustics foreshadows the peasant masterpieces of Jean Francois Millet. They are the ancestors of the democratic painters of France. Another painter closely associated with the age of Louis XIV, Philippe de Champaigne (1602-74), who painted numerous portraits of Cardinal Richelieu, was actually born in Brussels, though he established himself in Paris at the early age of nineteen. His portraiture, with its clear outline and suave coloring, is also northern rather than southern in character.
Nicholas Poussin (1594-1665) and Claude le Lorrain (1600-82) were great masters whose innovations left an indelible impress on landscape painting—the development of which will be traced in a subsequent chapter—but though born in France, both of them spent the greater part of their lives in Rome. Their art belongs to Europe generally rather than to France. The portrait-painter Pierre Mignard (1610-95) and his great rival Charles le Brun (1619-90), who as architect and sculptor as well as painter dominated the Louis Quatorze period, were both trained in Rome and entirely Italian in style.
None of these men was strong enough to found a distinct and national French style; and the kind of painting which we look upon today as being essentially and characteristically French was not born till Antoine Watteau left his home in Valenciennes for Paris. It was this weakling, whose frail form was prematurely ravaged by consumption, who founded the greatest and strongest of all the modern schools of painting.
Antoine Watteau was born in 1683 at Valenciennes, near the Franco-Flemish frontier. His father, a tiler and carpenter, was in poor circumstances, and the boy is said to have had an unhappy childhood. Watteau senior bore the reputation of being a hard man, and wanted his son to become a tiler like himself; and when young Antoine at last obtained permission to study in the studio of a local artist, one Guerin, who was painter to the municipality of Valenciennes, the father refused to pay the expenses of his son’s education.
After the death of Guerin in 1702, Antoine Watteau, then aged nineteen, ran away to Paris with a scene-painter called Metayer. But when they had arrived in Paris, this man soon abandoned his young companion when he had no more work to give him, and henceforward Watteau, already in delicate health and disowned by his father, was alone in Paris, without money, clothes, or resources of any kind. In desperate poverty he at last found employment in a wretched workshop where cheap religious pictures were produced by the dozen, to be retailed by country shopkeepers. Nowadays chromolithographs have saved artists form this kind of drudgery, but in the early eighteenth century even the lowest-priced colored card had to be done by hand. What was required of Watteau and his fellow-laborers was rapidity of execution in making copies of popular subjects, and for this work the pay was the equivalent of half-a-crown a week one daily meal of soup.
Yet even in this miserable trade Watteau managed to distinguish himself, and was entrusted with the reproduction of a ‘St Nicholas’ that was in great demand. One day the mistress of the workshop forgot to give Watteau the ‘St Nicholas’ to copy, and remembering her oversight later in the day, she climbed up to Watteau’s attic to scold him for idling. After she had worked herself up into a passion, Watteau amazed her by showing her his day’s work, a perfect St Nicholas, which he had completely finished from memory.
The Rise Of French Painting (continued)
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Juan Muñoz
The Spanish sculptor Juan Muñoz (1953-2001) was an interesting storyteller + I think he knew how to connect subjective human perceptions + he saw poetry in things, and translated what he saw into an inimitable art + he understood other storytellers.
Juan Muñoz: A Retrospective is @ Tate Modern, London, from January 24 - April 27, 2008.
Useful link:
tate.org.uk
Juan Muñoz: A Retrospective is @ Tate Modern, London, from January 24 - April 27, 2008.
Useful link:
tate.org.uk
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