Roger Keverne specializes in Chinese ceramics + works of art from the Neolithic to the Qing dynasty, including jades, bronzes, enamels, lacquer and other organic materials.
Useful link:
www.keverne.co.uk
Today Chinese jade carvings + items of jewelry aren't that easy to identify. The only way to identify + get a feel for the color (antique v. imitations) is by seeing as many different qualities of jade from different periods as possible. If in doubt always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory/expert for identification.
Friday, February 01, 2008
Polymer Clay As An Artistic Medium
Polymer clay is a manmade material + it’s widely used to create sculpture + figurines + jewelry.
Useful links:
www.npcg.org
www.polymerartarchive.com
Useful links:
www.npcg.org
www.polymerartarchive.com
Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind
Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind: How Intelligence Increases When You Think Less by Guy Claxton is very informative + highly entertaining + I think the approach will help you in business situations.
Here is what the description of Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind: How Intelligence Increases When You Think Less says (via Amazon):
In these accelerated times, our decisive and businesslike ways of thinking are unprepared for ambiguity, paradox, and sleeping on it. We assume that the quick-thinking 'hare brain' will beat out the slower Intuition of the 'tortoise mind.' However, now research in cognitive science is changing this understanding of the human mind. It suggests that patience and confusion--rather than rigor and certainty--are the essential precursors of wisdom.
With a compelling argument that the mind works best when we trust our unconscious, or undermind, psychologist Guy Claxton makes an appeal that we be less analytical and let our creativity have free rein. He also encourages reevaluation of society's obsession with results-oriented thinking and problem-solving under pressure. Packed with interesting anecdotes, a dozen puzzles to test your reasoning, and the latest related research, Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind is an illuminating, uplifting, stimulating read that focuses on a new kind of well-being and cognition.
Here is what the description of Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind: How Intelligence Increases When You Think Less says (via Amazon):
In these accelerated times, our decisive and businesslike ways of thinking are unprepared for ambiguity, paradox, and sleeping on it. We assume that the quick-thinking 'hare brain' will beat out the slower Intuition of the 'tortoise mind.' However, now research in cognitive science is changing this understanding of the human mind. It suggests that patience and confusion--rather than rigor and certainty--are the essential precursors of wisdom.
With a compelling argument that the mind works best when we trust our unconscious, or undermind, psychologist Guy Claxton makes an appeal that we be less analytical and let our creativity have free rein. He also encourages reevaluation of society's obsession with results-oriented thinking and problem-solving under pressure. Packed with interesting anecdotes, a dozen puzzles to test your reasoning, and the latest related research, Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind is an illuminating, uplifting, stimulating read that focuses on a new kind of well-being and cognition.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Heard On The Street
The iron rule of life is that only 20% of the people can be in the top fifth + that's just the way it is + the answer is that it's partly efficient and partly inefficient.
The Mirror, Mirroring Or Spread Table Cut
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
Mirror Cuts were more often oblong than square in outline. One of my experiments shows clearly why this was so. I produced replicas of the two halves of a large octahedron, as if the octahedron had been cleaved through the center. One of these halves I then fashioned into a square Mirror and the other into an oblong Mirror. In both, the aim was to produce maximum show with minimum weight loss. Both had full pavilions with relatively small culets. The results showed, first, that this type of rough, was ideal for Mirroring Spread Table Cuts and, secondly, how an elongated outline could be a good commercial propostion! They also showed why early cutters were tempted to produce gems with blunt corners.
Dimensions
Square: 2x2.8cm
Elongated Rectangle: 3.3 x 2.62 cm
Area
Square: 7.84 cm²
Elongated Rectangle: 8.65 cm²
Table size
Square: 88%
Elongated Rectangle: 81%
Crown angle
Square: 40°
Elongated Rectangle: 40°
Pavilion angle
Square: 49.5°
Elongated Rectangle: 51°
Culet size
Square: 15%
Elongated Rectangle: 17%
Weight
Square: 38.17ct
Elongated Rectangle: 43.52ct
I must admit that I did not succeed in obtaining ideal proportions, but then neither did the early cutters. I did discover that my oblong ‘diamond’ was 10 percent larger in area and 14 percent heavier than my square one, so one can understand why Mirror Cut diamonds were more often oblong than square.
It was, then, a lack of appreciation of fire—the separation of light into spectral colors—at that time, combined with the price factor, which encouraged the cutters to use rough from which it would have been impossible to fashion High Table Cuts without prohibitive loss of weight. Size was all important, reflecting, perhaps, the classical proportions discussed above. All this explains why, among old jewels, we find so many Mirror Cut diamonds with table sizes of up to 80 percent or more, but nevertheless with correctly proportioned pavilions.
An example of this is found in the pendant known as Palatine Lion (Pfälzer Löwe), one of the pièces de résistance of the Treasury in Munich. The diamond is just below the ring attached to the diamond-studded chain from which the pendant once hung. It has a distinct cleavage crack, found to be absolutely parallel with the octahedral face of a ‘was’. The fact that these are parallel confirms that this diamond can only have been fashioned from a triangular crystal of this type. Note also the obvious reason for the two blunted corners—a typical manner of achieving larger sizes at the expense of symmetry. Another example of a similarly inclined cleavage crack is found in a tiny (4x4mm) overspread Mirror Cut diamond, thte largest on the pedestal of a pendant representing Nessus and Deinarina.
Mirror Cuts were more often oblong than square in outline. One of my experiments shows clearly why this was so. I produced replicas of the two halves of a large octahedron, as if the octahedron had been cleaved through the center. One of these halves I then fashioned into a square Mirror and the other into an oblong Mirror. In both, the aim was to produce maximum show with minimum weight loss. Both had full pavilions with relatively small culets. The results showed, first, that this type of rough, was ideal for Mirroring Spread Table Cuts and, secondly, how an elongated outline could be a good commercial propostion! They also showed why early cutters were tempted to produce gems with blunt corners.
Dimensions
Square: 2x2.8cm
Elongated Rectangle: 3.3 x 2.62 cm
Area
Square: 7.84 cm²
Elongated Rectangle: 8.65 cm²
Table size
Square: 88%
Elongated Rectangle: 81%
Crown angle
Square: 40°
Elongated Rectangle: 40°
Pavilion angle
Square: 49.5°
Elongated Rectangle: 51°
Culet size
Square: 15%
Elongated Rectangle: 17%
Weight
Square: 38.17ct
Elongated Rectangle: 43.52ct
I must admit that I did not succeed in obtaining ideal proportions, but then neither did the early cutters. I did discover that my oblong ‘diamond’ was 10 percent larger in area and 14 percent heavier than my square one, so one can understand why Mirror Cut diamonds were more often oblong than square.
It was, then, a lack of appreciation of fire—the separation of light into spectral colors—at that time, combined with the price factor, which encouraged the cutters to use rough from which it would have been impossible to fashion High Table Cuts without prohibitive loss of weight. Size was all important, reflecting, perhaps, the classical proportions discussed above. All this explains why, among old jewels, we find so many Mirror Cut diamonds with table sizes of up to 80 percent or more, but nevertheless with correctly proportioned pavilions.
An example of this is found in the pendant known as Palatine Lion (Pfälzer Löwe), one of the pièces de résistance of the Treasury in Munich. The diamond is just below the ring attached to the diamond-studded chain from which the pendant once hung. It has a distinct cleavage crack, found to be absolutely parallel with the octahedral face of a ‘was’. The fact that these are parallel confirms that this diamond can only have been fashioned from a triangular crystal of this type. Note also the obvious reason for the two blunted corners—a typical manner of achieving larger sizes at the expense of symmetry. Another example of a similarly inclined cleavage crack is found in a tiny (4x4mm) overspread Mirror Cut diamond, thte largest on the pedestal of a pendant representing Nessus and Deinarina.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
4. Brooches
Especially busy, in the fourteenth century, were the brooch makers. There were so many of them that they formed a group by themselves. They turned out what may be termed everyday brooches. If a particularly fine brooch was required, the commissions was given over to the goldsmith jeweler.
There was considerable range of size and weight in brooches, according to the type of material which they were intended to fasten. If the material was delicate and filmy, there were tiny brooches less than half an inch across which would hold the stuff in place without tearing it. Our grandmothers had what they called ‘lace pins’ for such purposes. At the other extreme, in point of size, was the Scottish brooch, sometimes as much as four and half inches in diameter. It had to be large and strong, for it held, pinned on the shoulder, the heavy Scottish plaid worn by both men and women of Scotland.
One of the finest surviving examples of the Scottish brooch is the famous Loch Buy Brooch. It is a silver disk elaborately ornamented with filigree. In the raised center is set a large cabochon crystal, and around the edge stand peal-stripped turrets like candles on a frosted birthday cake.
Many brooches were disks or hollow circles, but not all of them by any means. They might be heart-shaped, for brooches were in great favor as love tokens or betrothal gifts, and frequently engraved on the reverse side was the word ‘Love’ or some phrase of affection. Again, the brooch might have religious significance and be fashioned in the image of a saint, such as St Christopher bearing the Christ child on his shoulder.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
4. Brooches
Especially busy, in the fourteenth century, were the brooch makers. There were so many of them that they formed a group by themselves. They turned out what may be termed everyday brooches. If a particularly fine brooch was required, the commissions was given over to the goldsmith jeweler.
There was considerable range of size and weight in brooches, according to the type of material which they were intended to fasten. If the material was delicate and filmy, there were tiny brooches less than half an inch across which would hold the stuff in place without tearing it. Our grandmothers had what they called ‘lace pins’ for such purposes. At the other extreme, in point of size, was the Scottish brooch, sometimes as much as four and half inches in diameter. It had to be large and strong, for it held, pinned on the shoulder, the heavy Scottish plaid worn by both men and women of Scotland.
One of the finest surviving examples of the Scottish brooch is the famous Loch Buy Brooch. It is a silver disk elaborately ornamented with filigree. In the raised center is set a large cabochon crystal, and around the edge stand peal-stripped turrets like candles on a frosted birthday cake.
Many brooches were disks or hollow circles, but not all of them by any means. They might be heart-shaped, for brooches were in great favor as love tokens or betrothal gifts, and frequently engraved on the reverse side was the word ‘Love’ or some phrase of affection. Again, the brooch might have religious significance and be fashioned in the image of a saint, such as St Christopher bearing the Christ child on his shoulder.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
Hoppner also had lost his chance by attaching himself to the wrong political party, so young Lawrence had it all his own way, and after being made a full R. A when he was only twenty five, on the death of Benjamin West in 1820 he was unanimously elected the new President. Five years before this he had been knighted, and during the interval between his knighthood and his Presidency he had visited the chief Courts of Europe and painted more crowned heads than any other English artist before or since. His prices were higher than those of any artist before him: for head he received 200 guineas, for a full-length hi usual terms were 600 to 700 guineas, but for some portraits—like that of ‘Lady Gower and Child’—he received as much as 1500 guineas.
Like Reynolds, Lawrence never married, but he was engaged for a time to the daughter of Mrs Siddons, and treated the poor girl so badly that a tragedy ensued. He was so notorious a flirt that when he was painting the portrait of Caroline of Brunswick he was required to draw up an affidavit as to the propriety of his conduct. Though popular and tremedously successful, the private life of Lawrence was not particularly happy; and though he made great sums he was often in financial difficulties owing to foolish purchases. He was constantly tempted to pay extravagant prices for painting by Old Masters, and his numerous acquaintances—for he had few real friends—often took advantage of his kindness and generosity. His fame is lower today than it was in his lifetime, for there was an inherent weakness both in his art and in his character. The refinement of his drawing is still to be admired, but he had not the love of truth which distinguished his great predecessors, and beside their work the portraits of Lawrence are apt to appear artificial and insipid. He is seen at his best in his portrait of ‘Lady Blessington’ in the Wallace Collection, and looking at this elegant portrait of an elegant woman we perceive the subtelty of what Campbell said about the artist. ‘Lawrence,’ the poet remarked, ‘makes one seem to have got into the drawing room in te mansions of the blest and to be looking at oneself in the mirrors.’
Another precocious child artist of the eighteenth century was the famous woman-painter, Angelica Kaufmann (1741-1807). She was the daughter of a mediocre Swiss portrait-painter who settled in England, and when she was ten years old Angelica was executing portraits in crayons with the assurance of a professional. Owing to the sex prejudice which existed in her day, she was taken by her father to the Academy in boy’s clothes, so that she might improve her drawing. When she was in her middle ‘teens she accompanied her father to Milan, Florence, Rome, and Venice, and it was at the latter city in 1764 that she made the acquaintance of the wife of the English Ambassador, who took a great fancy to the clever young artist and brought her back with her to England. Thus introduced to England in 1765, she soon became a general favorite, the young Queen being particularly attracted by her scholarly mind and amiable personality. In 1769 she was nominated one of the foundation members of the Royal Academy. The same year she was unhappily deceived into a secret marriage with the valet of Count de Horn, who had passed himself off for his master. This scoundrel treated her badly, and she only managed to buy back her liberty by giving him £300 on condition that he took himself off to Germany and did not return to England. With the exception of this painful episode, the private life of Angelica Kaufmann was as happy and serene as her own pictures, and after the false count had died she married again in 1780. Her second husband was a Venetian painter, Antonio Zucchi, with whom, and with her father, she returned to Italy two years after her marriage, and finally settled in Rome, where, happy, popular, and universally esteemed, she lived twenty five years till her death in 1807. ‘The Portrait of the Artist,’ gives a good idea of the personal charm of Angelica Kaufmann as a young woman, and of the soft graciousness which distinguishes her painting.
Hoppner also had lost his chance by attaching himself to the wrong political party, so young Lawrence had it all his own way, and after being made a full R. A when he was only twenty five, on the death of Benjamin West in 1820 he was unanimously elected the new President. Five years before this he had been knighted, and during the interval between his knighthood and his Presidency he had visited the chief Courts of Europe and painted more crowned heads than any other English artist before or since. His prices were higher than those of any artist before him: for head he received 200 guineas, for a full-length hi usual terms were 600 to 700 guineas, but for some portraits—like that of ‘Lady Gower and Child’—he received as much as 1500 guineas.
Like Reynolds, Lawrence never married, but he was engaged for a time to the daughter of Mrs Siddons, and treated the poor girl so badly that a tragedy ensued. He was so notorious a flirt that when he was painting the portrait of Caroline of Brunswick he was required to draw up an affidavit as to the propriety of his conduct. Though popular and tremedously successful, the private life of Lawrence was not particularly happy; and though he made great sums he was often in financial difficulties owing to foolish purchases. He was constantly tempted to pay extravagant prices for painting by Old Masters, and his numerous acquaintances—for he had few real friends—often took advantage of his kindness and generosity. His fame is lower today than it was in his lifetime, for there was an inherent weakness both in his art and in his character. The refinement of his drawing is still to be admired, but he had not the love of truth which distinguished his great predecessors, and beside their work the portraits of Lawrence are apt to appear artificial and insipid. He is seen at his best in his portrait of ‘Lady Blessington’ in the Wallace Collection, and looking at this elegant portrait of an elegant woman we perceive the subtelty of what Campbell said about the artist. ‘Lawrence,’ the poet remarked, ‘makes one seem to have got into the drawing room in te mansions of the blest and to be looking at oneself in the mirrors.’
Another precocious child artist of the eighteenth century was the famous woman-painter, Angelica Kaufmann (1741-1807). She was the daughter of a mediocre Swiss portrait-painter who settled in England, and when she was ten years old Angelica was executing portraits in crayons with the assurance of a professional. Owing to the sex prejudice which existed in her day, she was taken by her father to the Academy in boy’s clothes, so that she might improve her drawing. When she was in her middle ‘teens she accompanied her father to Milan, Florence, Rome, and Venice, and it was at the latter city in 1764 that she made the acquaintance of the wife of the English Ambassador, who took a great fancy to the clever young artist and brought her back with her to England. Thus introduced to England in 1765, she soon became a general favorite, the young Queen being particularly attracted by her scholarly mind and amiable personality. In 1769 she was nominated one of the foundation members of the Royal Academy. The same year she was unhappily deceived into a secret marriage with the valet of Count de Horn, who had passed himself off for his master. This scoundrel treated her badly, and she only managed to buy back her liberty by giving him £300 on condition that he took himself off to Germany and did not return to England. With the exception of this painful episode, the private life of Angelica Kaufmann was as happy and serene as her own pictures, and after the false count had died she married again in 1780. Her second husband was a Venetian painter, Antonio Zucchi, with whom, and with her father, she returned to Italy two years after her marriage, and finally settled in Rome, where, happy, popular, and universally esteemed, she lived twenty five years till her death in 1807. ‘The Portrait of the Artist,’ gives a good idea of the personal charm of Angelica Kaufmann as a young woman, and of the soft graciousness which distinguishes her painting.
Lab-grown Diamonds + Designers
I think it’s encouraging to see Taryn Rose + Jennifer Phelps-Montgomery promote Gemesis Cultured diamonds (fancy yellows) in their unique jewelry designs + I hope natural diamond and lab-grown diamonds are able to co-exist providing affordable alternatives with proper disclosures to consumers who love diamonds.
Useful links:
www.tarynrose.com
www.gemesis.com
www.solaurafinejewelry.com
www.renaissancediamonds.com
Useful links:
www.tarynrose.com
www.gemesis.com
www.solaurafinejewelry.com
www.renaissancediamonds.com
Survival Of The Sickest
Survival Of The Sickest: A Medical Maverick Discovers Why We Need Disease by Sharon Moalem + Jonathan Prince is filled with surprising observations + facts + I highly recommend it.
Here is what the description of Survival Of The Sickest says (via Amazon):
Read it. You're already living it. Was diabetes evolution's response to the last Ice Age? Did a deadly genetic disease help our ancestors survive the bubonic plagues of Europe? Will a visit to the tanning salon help lower your cholesterol? Why do we age? Why are some people immune to HIV? Can your genes be turned on -- or off?
Joining the ranks of modern myth busters, Dr. Sharon Moalem turns our current understanding of illness on its head and challenges us to fundamentally change the way we think about our bodies, our health, and our relationship to just about every other living thing on earth, from plants and animals to insects and bacteria.
Through a fresh and engaging examination of our evolutionary history, Dr. Moalem reveals how many of the conditions that are diseases today actually gave our ancestors a leg up in the survival sweepstakes. When the option is a long life with a disease or a short one without it, evolution opts for disease almost every time.
Everything from the climate our ancestors lived in to the crops they planted and ate to their beverage of choice can be seen in our genetic inheritance. But Survival of the Sickest doesn't stop there. It goes on to demonstrate just how little modern medicine really understands about human health, and offers a new way of thinking that can help all of us live longer, healthier lives.
Survival of the Sickest is filled with fascinating insights and cutting-edge research, presented in a way that is both accessible and utterly absorbing. This is a book about the interconnectedness of all life on earth -- and, especially, what that means for us.
Useful link:
www.survivalofthesickestthebook.com
Here is what the description of Survival Of The Sickest says (via Amazon):
Read it. You're already living it. Was diabetes evolution's response to the last Ice Age? Did a deadly genetic disease help our ancestors survive the bubonic plagues of Europe? Will a visit to the tanning salon help lower your cholesterol? Why do we age? Why are some people immune to HIV? Can your genes be turned on -- or off?
Joining the ranks of modern myth busters, Dr. Sharon Moalem turns our current understanding of illness on its head and challenges us to fundamentally change the way we think about our bodies, our health, and our relationship to just about every other living thing on earth, from plants and animals to insects and bacteria.
Through a fresh and engaging examination of our evolutionary history, Dr. Moalem reveals how many of the conditions that are diseases today actually gave our ancestors a leg up in the survival sweepstakes. When the option is a long life with a disease or a short one without it, evolution opts for disease almost every time.
Everything from the climate our ancestors lived in to the crops they planted and ate to their beverage of choice can be seen in our genetic inheritance. But Survival of the Sickest doesn't stop there. It goes on to demonstrate just how little modern medicine really understands about human health, and offers a new way of thinking that can help all of us live longer, healthier lives.
Survival of the Sickest is filled with fascinating insights and cutting-edge research, presented in a way that is both accessible and utterly absorbing. This is a book about the interconnectedness of all life on earth -- and, especially, what that means for us.
Useful link:
www.survivalofthesickestthebook.com
Software For Artists
Here is an interesting program for jewelry designers + other artists. Art Affair software now offers Artist Edition + Art Organizer + this new version allows users to record and track their creations + shows + competitions + contact lists + schedules + other features.
Useful link:
www.artaffairsoftware.com
Useful link:
www.artaffairsoftware.com
Kingman Turquoise
This is what I found interesting @ www.colbaugh.net. Only about 3% of turquoise is hard enough in it's natural state to be used in jewelry + various terms (natural, stabilized turquoise, treated turquoise, pressed turquoise) may be used to describe different stabilization and treatments in turquoise.
The Handmade Knives & Swords Of Jot Singh Khalsa
Jot Singh Khalsa's unique edged tools and weapons for collectors are unique + the classic handmade material is a magic combination of precious metals and gemstones, which in my opinion is work of art. It's look beautiful.
Useful link:
www.khalsakirpans.com
Useful link:
www.khalsakirpans.com
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Heard On The Street
You have to figure out what your own aptitudes are + if you play games where other people have the aptitudes and you don't, you're going to lose + and that's as close to certain as any prediction that you can make + you have to figure out where you've got an edge + and you've got to play within your own circle of competence.
Gerhard Richter
Gerhard Richter is a German artist + he is considered as one of the most important German artists of the post-World War II period and is also one of the world's most expensive, with his paintings often selling for several million dollars apiece.
'One has to believe in what one is doing, one has to commit oneself inwardly, in order to do painting. Once obsessed, one ultimately carries it to the point of believing that one might change human beings through painting. But if one lacks this passionate commitment, there is nothing left to do. Then it is best to leave it alone. For basically painting is idiocy.' (From Richter, 'Notes 1973', in The Daily Practice of Painting, p.78.)
I read the quote several times + he knows his way with words + now I understand his mind.
Useful links:
www.gerhard-richter.com
www.gerhard-richter-archiv.de
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gerhard_Richter
'One has to believe in what one is doing, one has to commit oneself inwardly, in order to do painting. Once obsessed, one ultimately carries it to the point of believing that one might change human beings through painting. But if one lacks this passionate commitment, there is nothing left to do. Then it is best to leave it alone. For basically painting is idiocy.' (From Richter, 'Notes 1973', in The Daily Practice of Painting, p.78.)
I read the quote several times + he knows his way with words + now I understand his mind.
Useful links:
www.gerhard-richter.com
www.gerhard-richter-archiv.de
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gerhard_Richter
The Mirror, Mirroring Or Spread Table Cut
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
The term ‘Mirror’ dates from the late fourteenth century and is frequently found in inventories of the early fifteenth century where gems were described as fait en façon de mirouer or mirour de diemant. It was also used in the names of famous diamonds such as the Mirror of Portugal and the Mirror of France. The mirror was very popular as a form of decoration and a symbol of luxury during the Renaissance. Applied to diamonds, the term described the striking light effects in certain Table Cuts. The term will not be found in modern diamond literature, but it is so appropriate for the cut that I feel it should be brought back. A Spread Table Cut looks exactly like a mirror, both in its outline and because of the strong reflection of light from its large surface—a far stronger reflection in diamonds than from a mirror made of metal or glass.
The term was applied to every diamond that resembled a mirror but it was not enough for well-polished facets to give attractive surface reflections (adamantine luster). Brilliant reflections from the interior were necessary as well, and these could only be achieved if the pavilion angle were about 45°. However, as it is unlikely, at least until after the Renaissance, that these combined light effects were perceived as separate phenomena, it seems logical to apply the term ‘mirroring’ to any historic cut with the quality of brilliance. These terms were introduced to French during the twelfth century, and only replaced by the term brilliant (used as an adjective) somewhere around 1564. After 1608 Brilliant (now used as a noun as well) gradually came to describe all faceted, pavilion-based diamonds.
The Mirror Cut is considerably less expensive to fashion than the High. Its general geometry is similar, especially in the pavilion with its relatively small culet which reflects light back through the crown—as it does, of course, in any Table Cut diamond with 45° angles of inclination in the main facets. The size of the table in a Mirror Cut appears to have been influenced by the square root of two and by the simple arithmetical proportions proposed by Luca Pacioli in 1509. Both are of geometric, though not Pythagorean, origin. The table would be around 70.7 percent of the overall dimension of the girdle. A figure which springs to mind when one thinks of Mirror Cut diamonds is that of a ‘man and a circle inscribed in a square’. A man and circle inscribed in a square, after a sixteenth century edition of the writings of Vitruvius could be a diamond and its table facet, in a ratio of 2:1, giving a table size of 70.7 percent. A man in a square , after a drawing by Cornelius Agrippa in the 1533 edition of Occulta Philosophia would, if applied to geometry of diamonds, suggest a table size of almost 80 percent.
In fact, the crown was often so low that the table was sometimes as much as 90 percent of the width of the girdle. A facet of this size acts, literally, as a mirror, and the reflections from the pavilion facets and the culet further increase the brilliance. However, only High Table Cuts, and then only those with correct proportions and perfect symmetry, display a combination of both brilliance and fire. In the old days gems of this type could be quite easily fashioned, with very little loss of weight, from fairly thick triangular rough such as macles, which were plentiful and much less expensive than octahedrons. A ‘was’, produced by cleaving, was equally suitable.
The Mirror, Mirroring Or Spread Table Cut (continued)
The term ‘Mirror’ dates from the late fourteenth century and is frequently found in inventories of the early fifteenth century where gems were described as fait en façon de mirouer or mirour de diemant. It was also used in the names of famous diamonds such as the Mirror of Portugal and the Mirror of France. The mirror was very popular as a form of decoration and a symbol of luxury during the Renaissance. Applied to diamonds, the term described the striking light effects in certain Table Cuts. The term will not be found in modern diamond literature, but it is so appropriate for the cut that I feel it should be brought back. A Spread Table Cut looks exactly like a mirror, both in its outline and because of the strong reflection of light from its large surface—a far stronger reflection in diamonds than from a mirror made of metal or glass.
The term was applied to every diamond that resembled a mirror but it was not enough for well-polished facets to give attractive surface reflections (adamantine luster). Brilliant reflections from the interior were necessary as well, and these could only be achieved if the pavilion angle were about 45°. However, as it is unlikely, at least until after the Renaissance, that these combined light effects were perceived as separate phenomena, it seems logical to apply the term ‘mirroring’ to any historic cut with the quality of brilliance. These terms were introduced to French during the twelfth century, and only replaced by the term brilliant (used as an adjective) somewhere around 1564. After 1608 Brilliant (now used as a noun as well) gradually came to describe all faceted, pavilion-based diamonds.
The Mirror Cut is considerably less expensive to fashion than the High. Its general geometry is similar, especially in the pavilion with its relatively small culet which reflects light back through the crown—as it does, of course, in any Table Cut diamond with 45° angles of inclination in the main facets. The size of the table in a Mirror Cut appears to have been influenced by the square root of two and by the simple arithmetical proportions proposed by Luca Pacioli in 1509. Both are of geometric, though not Pythagorean, origin. The table would be around 70.7 percent of the overall dimension of the girdle. A figure which springs to mind when one thinks of Mirror Cut diamonds is that of a ‘man and a circle inscribed in a square’. A man and circle inscribed in a square, after a sixteenth century edition of the writings of Vitruvius could be a diamond and its table facet, in a ratio of 2:1, giving a table size of 70.7 percent. A man in a square , after a drawing by Cornelius Agrippa in the 1533 edition of Occulta Philosophia would, if applied to geometry of diamonds, suggest a table size of almost 80 percent.
In fact, the crown was often so low that the table was sometimes as much as 90 percent of the width of the girdle. A facet of this size acts, literally, as a mirror, and the reflections from the pavilion facets and the culet further increase the brilliance. However, only High Table Cuts, and then only those with correct proportions and perfect symmetry, display a combination of both brilliance and fire. In the old days gems of this type could be quite easily fashioned, with very little loss of weight, from fairly thick triangular rough such as macles, which were plentiful and much less expensive than octahedrons. A ‘was’, produced by cleaving, was equally suitable.
The Mirror, Mirroring Or Spread Table Cut (continued)
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
3. Master Goldsmiths And Apprentices
Sometime after the ninth century various groups of craftsmen, including the workers in gold and cutters of gems, had established guilds for mutual protection. The members of each guild were pledged to assist each other and to see to it that no outsider had equal opportunities.
The goldsmiths’ guild maintained a high standard of workmanship; all members were expected to begin at the foot of the ladder as apprentices and, after a long course of training in all branches of the craft, finally to work their way up to the top—the exalted rank of master craftsman.
The earliest mention of the famous goldsmiths’ guild of England dates from 1180. In common with other guilds, such as the Fishmongers’, the Grocers’ and the Drapers’ Guilds, they sought to prevent all competition. Non-members of a guild were not allowed to practise their trade or craft within town limits.
By 1357 the wealthy and all-powerful goldsmiths’ guild was in the position to erect the Hall of the Goldsmiths’ Company in London; and at a somewhat later date, in addition to carrying on the work of their own craft, the goldsmiths also went in for banking and lending money.
In Florence, by the fourteenth century, the Guild of Workers in Gold and Silver was most important. In fact, it was a school of training not only for all potential jewelers but also for artists in general. Any boy of sixteen who displayed marked artistic talent was a matter of course apprenticed to one of the goldsmiths. He was trained in the art of precious-metal work, even though after a time he might become a sculptor of stone or a painter of pictures. The education of a goldsmith-jeweler was a lengthy process covering many years.
First, the boy apprentice lived in the master craftsman’s house and for a period of from five to seven years exchanged his labor for his instruction. Then as a journeyman he was expected to work for a small wage during three more years. After that, provided the man could qualify, he might become a full-fledged master of his craft, highly skilled in all its many branches. Small wonder that the guild members could execute the intricate and elaborate jewelry so characteristic of the times.
However, it was during this same period of intensive training of the craftsman that there came widespread disaster. Not war, this time, but a still more deadly invader.
An Oriental plague, known as the Black Death, swept across the civilized world, killing people faster than the living could bury them. In Florence, the apprentice and his highly skilled master alike went down before this terrible scourge, and no precious gem or magic amulet had power to cure the victims, though many were the stones engraved and wore for the sole purpose.
For those few goldsmiths who did escape with their lives, however, there was no lack of patrons—patrons whose fortunes had been greatly increased by the wealth inherited from the many plague victims.
Seemingly the rich tried to forget their own terror by means of increased luxuries and diversions. Wealthy noblemen and abbots continued to display their rich costumes and jewels in the face of misery and despair, and the jewelers were set the task of decorating and ‘gemming’ fine muslin and laces. Ecclesiastical vestments were covered with gold filigree work and pearls. Likewise the moneyed layman, and especially his wife, fairly dripped with pearls and precious gems. One of the characteristic features in the dress of that day was the elaborate jeweled girdle fastened with an ornamental buckle. Pearls, sapphires, enamels,gold, silver—anything that was rich and precious and fitting went into the making and garnishing of the girdles of royalty.
But there were strict rules about mixing high-grade with low-grade materials. It was forbidden to ‘garnish any girdle of silk, wool, leather or linen thread with inferior metal’ such as lead, pewter or tin; ‘the same should be burned and the workmen punished for their false work.’ Furthermore, if a girdle-maker of London was caught ‘having secretly made in his chamber a certain girdle that was harnessed with silver’ he was liable to be fined. Only the goldsmiths could mount girdles and garters with gold and silver. That was the law in 1376. Not so different from some of our restrictive labor union rules of today.
In the following century another labor dispute arose over who had the best right to make a certain type of bead. The lapidary had long been laboriously turning and polishing rock crystal, fashioning the hard crystal into beads for rosaries. But while he was plodding over his task the glassworker of Murano had forged ahead and attained high rank among the craftsmen of Venice. Indeed he was the pet (and incidentally the slave) of the Venetian Government. The glass-worker, having learned at long last to make clear colorless glass, could turn out no end of rosaries that looked very like rock crystal, while the lapidary was still polishing a single bead. Besides, glass was cheaper.
So through the ‘Turners of Beads’ branch of his guild, the wrathful lapidary laid his complaint before the Council of Ten, demanding a new law to suppress clear glass beads. But the Council proved deaf to the plea. One of Venice’s chief sources of revenue was her glass, and she had no intention of curtailing it even by so much as a bead.
The disgruntled lapidary had to swallow his chagrin as best he could. But he still had many materials, out of range of the glass-worker, from which to make rosaries. As well as from rock crystal and its rival, glass, rosaries were made of amber, coral, jet, bone, horn, ivory and mother-of-pearl. They were also made of precious metal—especially in silver gilt. In size rosaries varied considerably. Sometimes they were worn about the neck, but more often were attached to the girdle and occasionally even to a finger ring.
In London, the making of rosaries was a flourishing industry. Its trading center was the thoroughfare known as Paternoster Row. Here the rosary makers lived and had their workshops. Some of the beads were turned in a lathe, others slowly ground into shape by hand. Frequently an elaborately carved pendant in the form of crucifix was added to the rosary; another pendant much in favor was a little hollow case which when opened was found to contain a number of tiny figures exquisitely carved.
There were also little pendants shaped like an apple or a pear, which opened to receive the minute image of a saint or some treasured relic. The little fruit-shaped pendants, however, did not always serve religious purposes; often they were used as perfume cases and were likely to contain ambergris, prized then as it is now for its aromatic properties. In former days, however, ambergris had also the enviable reputation of being a curative.
The perfume cases were called ‘pomme ď ambre—apple of amber. Later the pomme ď ambre developed into an elaborate perfume ball of ornamental openwork called a pomander. Inside were many little subdivisions in which different perfumes could be carried, each in a separate compartment. It was a charmingly poetic jewel, exalting the volatile soul of a flower. Poetic, that is, unless one inquired too deeply into the reason for its popularity. The unsavory fact is that the streets of most cities were narrow and unclean. Sewer pipes were conspicuously absent, and the gentry, clad in all its finery, might be forced to the side by pigs that roamed at all through the thoroughfares. Even in the houses of the wealthy the air was none too free from unpleasant odors. And so the little pomander was called to the Herculean task of supplying all the perfumes of Araby to counteract less pleasant emanations—to put it conservatively.
The Worshipful Company of Goldsmiths of London, like many of the older guilds, was a semi-religious organization. It enjoyed the benefit of a patron saint who had himself been a worker in precious metals. St Dunstan’s Day was duly observed with prayers for the souls of deceased members of the Guild. The Company was jealous of its high reputation and viewed with a critical eye the quality of materials, workmanship, and trade conditions. Most of the goldsmiths had their shops near the market of ‘Chepe’ (Cheapsides) in Goldsmiths’ Row.
In Paris, the guild of goldsmiths had their quarters on the Pont du Change and the Pont Nôtre Dame; and the goldsmiths of Florence had forty four shops on the Ponte Vecchio, where, according to the rules of the Guild of Workers in Gold and Silver, the master must both work and live, as he was not allowed to work outside his dwelling place. Emigration of skilled craftsmen from Florence was strictly forbidden.
But presently, what with the demands of the Church and the diversity of commissions from wealthy customers, no one goldsmith could hold in his own hands alone all the many branches of his calling. There were far too many different things asked for, particularly utilitarian things. So the latter demand had been gradually turned over to groups known as girdle-makers, brooch-makers, jet-workers, and many others. These craftsmen formed a class apart from the master goldsmith who erstwhile attended to all the branches of his craft. It was the first step toward the specialization so complete today that any one jewel has to go through many different hands before it is ready for the shop.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
3. Master Goldsmiths And Apprentices
Sometime after the ninth century various groups of craftsmen, including the workers in gold and cutters of gems, had established guilds for mutual protection. The members of each guild were pledged to assist each other and to see to it that no outsider had equal opportunities.
The goldsmiths’ guild maintained a high standard of workmanship; all members were expected to begin at the foot of the ladder as apprentices and, after a long course of training in all branches of the craft, finally to work their way up to the top—the exalted rank of master craftsman.
The earliest mention of the famous goldsmiths’ guild of England dates from 1180. In common with other guilds, such as the Fishmongers’, the Grocers’ and the Drapers’ Guilds, they sought to prevent all competition. Non-members of a guild were not allowed to practise their trade or craft within town limits.
By 1357 the wealthy and all-powerful goldsmiths’ guild was in the position to erect the Hall of the Goldsmiths’ Company in London; and at a somewhat later date, in addition to carrying on the work of their own craft, the goldsmiths also went in for banking and lending money.
In Florence, by the fourteenth century, the Guild of Workers in Gold and Silver was most important. In fact, it was a school of training not only for all potential jewelers but also for artists in general. Any boy of sixteen who displayed marked artistic talent was a matter of course apprenticed to one of the goldsmiths. He was trained in the art of precious-metal work, even though after a time he might become a sculptor of stone or a painter of pictures. The education of a goldsmith-jeweler was a lengthy process covering many years.
First, the boy apprentice lived in the master craftsman’s house and for a period of from five to seven years exchanged his labor for his instruction. Then as a journeyman he was expected to work for a small wage during three more years. After that, provided the man could qualify, he might become a full-fledged master of his craft, highly skilled in all its many branches. Small wonder that the guild members could execute the intricate and elaborate jewelry so characteristic of the times.
However, it was during this same period of intensive training of the craftsman that there came widespread disaster. Not war, this time, but a still more deadly invader.
An Oriental plague, known as the Black Death, swept across the civilized world, killing people faster than the living could bury them. In Florence, the apprentice and his highly skilled master alike went down before this terrible scourge, and no precious gem or magic amulet had power to cure the victims, though many were the stones engraved and wore for the sole purpose.
For those few goldsmiths who did escape with their lives, however, there was no lack of patrons—patrons whose fortunes had been greatly increased by the wealth inherited from the many plague victims.
Seemingly the rich tried to forget their own terror by means of increased luxuries and diversions. Wealthy noblemen and abbots continued to display their rich costumes and jewels in the face of misery and despair, and the jewelers were set the task of decorating and ‘gemming’ fine muslin and laces. Ecclesiastical vestments were covered with gold filigree work and pearls. Likewise the moneyed layman, and especially his wife, fairly dripped with pearls and precious gems. One of the characteristic features in the dress of that day was the elaborate jeweled girdle fastened with an ornamental buckle. Pearls, sapphires, enamels,gold, silver—anything that was rich and precious and fitting went into the making and garnishing of the girdles of royalty.
But there were strict rules about mixing high-grade with low-grade materials. It was forbidden to ‘garnish any girdle of silk, wool, leather or linen thread with inferior metal’ such as lead, pewter or tin; ‘the same should be burned and the workmen punished for their false work.’ Furthermore, if a girdle-maker of London was caught ‘having secretly made in his chamber a certain girdle that was harnessed with silver’ he was liable to be fined. Only the goldsmiths could mount girdles and garters with gold and silver. That was the law in 1376. Not so different from some of our restrictive labor union rules of today.
In the following century another labor dispute arose over who had the best right to make a certain type of bead. The lapidary had long been laboriously turning and polishing rock crystal, fashioning the hard crystal into beads for rosaries. But while he was plodding over his task the glassworker of Murano had forged ahead and attained high rank among the craftsmen of Venice. Indeed he was the pet (and incidentally the slave) of the Venetian Government. The glass-worker, having learned at long last to make clear colorless glass, could turn out no end of rosaries that looked very like rock crystal, while the lapidary was still polishing a single bead. Besides, glass was cheaper.
So through the ‘Turners of Beads’ branch of his guild, the wrathful lapidary laid his complaint before the Council of Ten, demanding a new law to suppress clear glass beads. But the Council proved deaf to the plea. One of Venice’s chief sources of revenue was her glass, and she had no intention of curtailing it even by so much as a bead.
The disgruntled lapidary had to swallow his chagrin as best he could. But he still had many materials, out of range of the glass-worker, from which to make rosaries. As well as from rock crystal and its rival, glass, rosaries were made of amber, coral, jet, bone, horn, ivory and mother-of-pearl. They were also made of precious metal—especially in silver gilt. In size rosaries varied considerably. Sometimes they were worn about the neck, but more often were attached to the girdle and occasionally even to a finger ring.
In London, the making of rosaries was a flourishing industry. Its trading center was the thoroughfare known as Paternoster Row. Here the rosary makers lived and had their workshops. Some of the beads were turned in a lathe, others slowly ground into shape by hand. Frequently an elaborately carved pendant in the form of crucifix was added to the rosary; another pendant much in favor was a little hollow case which when opened was found to contain a number of tiny figures exquisitely carved.
There were also little pendants shaped like an apple or a pear, which opened to receive the minute image of a saint or some treasured relic. The little fruit-shaped pendants, however, did not always serve religious purposes; often they were used as perfume cases and were likely to contain ambergris, prized then as it is now for its aromatic properties. In former days, however, ambergris had also the enviable reputation of being a curative.
The perfume cases were called ‘pomme ď ambre—apple of amber. Later the pomme ď ambre developed into an elaborate perfume ball of ornamental openwork called a pomander. Inside were many little subdivisions in which different perfumes could be carried, each in a separate compartment. It was a charmingly poetic jewel, exalting the volatile soul of a flower. Poetic, that is, unless one inquired too deeply into the reason for its popularity. The unsavory fact is that the streets of most cities were narrow and unclean. Sewer pipes were conspicuously absent, and the gentry, clad in all its finery, might be forced to the side by pigs that roamed at all through the thoroughfares. Even in the houses of the wealthy the air was none too free from unpleasant odors. And so the little pomander was called to the Herculean task of supplying all the perfumes of Araby to counteract less pleasant emanations—to put it conservatively.
The Worshipful Company of Goldsmiths of London, like many of the older guilds, was a semi-religious organization. It enjoyed the benefit of a patron saint who had himself been a worker in precious metals. St Dunstan’s Day was duly observed with prayers for the souls of deceased members of the Guild. The Company was jealous of its high reputation and viewed with a critical eye the quality of materials, workmanship, and trade conditions. Most of the goldsmiths had their shops near the market of ‘Chepe’ (Cheapsides) in Goldsmiths’ Row.
In Paris, the guild of goldsmiths had their quarters on the Pont du Change and the Pont Nôtre Dame; and the goldsmiths of Florence had forty four shops on the Ponte Vecchio, where, according to the rules of the Guild of Workers in Gold and Silver, the master must both work and live, as he was not allowed to work outside his dwelling place. Emigration of skilled craftsmen from Florence was strictly forbidden.
But presently, what with the demands of the Church and the diversity of commissions from wealthy customers, no one goldsmith could hold in his own hands alone all the many branches of his calling. There were far too many different things asked for, particularly utilitarian things. So the latter demand had been gradually turned over to groups known as girdle-makers, brooch-makers, jet-workers, and many others. These craftsmen formed a class apart from the master goldsmith who erstwhile attended to all the branches of his craft. It was the first step toward the specialization so complete today that any one jewel has to go through many different hands before it is ready for the shop.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
4
Within the space of this Outline it is not possible to enumerate all the talented painters who made England during the eighteenth century the most prolific country in Europe for the production of notable works of art. The wealth of the country and the patronage extended to art by the Court and Society brought painters from all over the world to London, and in addition to the native-born artists many foreign painters settled in London, among them being the two American historical painters, John Singleton Copley (1737-1815) and Benjamin West (1738-1820), who succeeded Reynolds as President of the Royal Academy.
In portraiture, however, the true heir of Reynolds was John Hoppner (1758-1810), who, though born at Whitechapel, was from childhood brought in touch with the high personages he was afterwards to paint. His mother was employed at Court, and his father—though there is some mystery about his birth—is said to have been a surgeon. George III was certainly interested in the boy when he was a chorister at the Chapel Royal, and perceiving his aptitude for art he made the lad a small allowance, and in 1765 got him admitted as a student to the Academy’s schools. There Hoppner gained the gold medal in 1782, and later when he settled at 18 Charles Street, St James Square—close to Carlton House—he at once had the favor of the Court. He painted Mrs Jordan for the Prince of Wales, and the three princesses for the King, and soon became the fashion. Though too much influenced by Reynolds to be considered a very original artist, and too hard as a rule in his color and not strong enough in his drawing to be considered that great man’s equal, Hoppner has nevertheless left us many charming portraits, among which ‘The Countess of Oxford’ is usually considered to be his master work. In this thoughtful head we see that Hoppner, like Reynolds, was also a scholar and a thinker, and he not only had great intelligence but the capacity to express his thoughts clearly and well. He was associated with Gifford of the Quarterly Review, to the first numbers of which he contributed some brilliant articles, which to credit to his powers of literary expression, to his artistic judgment, and to his goodness of heart, but, owing to his intimate relationship with this famous Whig periodical and its editor, he gradually lost the favor of the Court, which was given to the Tory party and its protégé, Thomas Lawrence.
Sir Thomas Lawrence (1769-1830), who succeeded West as President of the Royal Academy in 1820, had the romantic career of a child prodigy. His father was an innkeeper who, when young Thomas was three, kept the ‘Black Bear’ at Devizes, where people of fashion used to stay on their way to and from Bath. Though the child got little education, he was wonderfully gifted and a lovely child in appearance. He was petted by his father’s guests and entertained them by quaint recitations and by drawing their likenesses with a precocious skill which soon made the child at the ‘Black Bear’ the talk of the Bath Road. He was allowed to copy pictures i the great houses in the neighborhood before he was ten years old, and once he was taken to London to be exhibited as a phenomenon, for his father, a complete adventurer, lost no opportunity of making money out of his son. Finding his son likely to be more profitable than his innkeeping, the father settled at Bath, where the pretty boy opened a studio and drew heads in charcoal for a guinea apiece.
In 1785, when he was only sixteen, Lawrence began to paint in oils, and two years later his father thought it worth while to remove to London, and this youth of eighteen was given a studio at 4 Leicester Square, near the great Reynolds, upon whom he called, and who was exceedingly kind and encouraging. While continuing to keep his family by the pictures he painted for money, Lawrence was now able to study at the Academy schools. Prosperity increased as his talent matured, and soon after he had turned twenty he took a larger studio at 24 Old Bond Street; he was already the talk of the town and darling of Society. As gracious and charming in his manners as he was in his art, royalty delighted to honor him, and in 1791 George III compelled the Academy to admit him as an Associate, though according to its rules twenty five was the minimum age at which an Associate could be elected, and Lawrence had only just turned twenty two. The King’s will broke through the Academy’s law, and when Reynolds died in the following year, Lawrence, at age of twenty three, was appointed the King’s principal portrait-painter-in-ordinary.
The way was now open for his unbroken triumph. John Opie (1761-1807, the Cornish painter, whose art was much stronger and more robust, might have been a formidable rival had he not been too abrupt and caustic in his speech to please a public that liked to be flattered. It was Opie who, when asked once how he mixed his colors, made the famous reply, ‘With brains, sir.’
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)
4
Within the space of this Outline it is not possible to enumerate all the talented painters who made England during the eighteenth century the most prolific country in Europe for the production of notable works of art. The wealth of the country and the patronage extended to art by the Court and Society brought painters from all over the world to London, and in addition to the native-born artists many foreign painters settled in London, among them being the two American historical painters, John Singleton Copley (1737-1815) and Benjamin West (1738-1820), who succeeded Reynolds as President of the Royal Academy.
In portraiture, however, the true heir of Reynolds was John Hoppner (1758-1810), who, though born at Whitechapel, was from childhood brought in touch with the high personages he was afterwards to paint. His mother was employed at Court, and his father—though there is some mystery about his birth—is said to have been a surgeon. George III was certainly interested in the boy when he was a chorister at the Chapel Royal, and perceiving his aptitude for art he made the lad a small allowance, and in 1765 got him admitted as a student to the Academy’s schools. There Hoppner gained the gold medal in 1782, and later when he settled at 18 Charles Street, St James Square—close to Carlton House—he at once had the favor of the Court. He painted Mrs Jordan for the Prince of Wales, and the three princesses for the King, and soon became the fashion. Though too much influenced by Reynolds to be considered a very original artist, and too hard as a rule in his color and not strong enough in his drawing to be considered that great man’s equal, Hoppner has nevertheless left us many charming portraits, among which ‘The Countess of Oxford’ is usually considered to be his master work. In this thoughtful head we see that Hoppner, like Reynolds, was also a scholar and a thinker, and he not only had great intelligence but the capacity to express his thoughts clearly and well. He was associated with Gifford of the Quarterly Review, to the first numbers of which he contributed some brilliant articles, which to credit to his powers of literary expression, to his artistic judgment, and to his goodness of heart, but, owing to his intimate relationship with this famous Whig periodical and its editor, he gradually lost the favor of the Court, which was given to the Tory party and its protégé, Thomas Lawrence.
Sir Thomas Lawrence (1769-1830), who succeeded West as President of the Royal Academy in 1820, had the romantic career of a child prodigy. His father was an innkeeper who, when young Thomas was three, kept the ‘Black Bear’ at Devizes, where people of fashion used to stay on their way to and from Bath. Though the child got little education, he was wonderfully gifted and a lovely child in appearance. He was petted by his father’s guests and entertained them by quaint recitations and by drawing their likenesses with a precocious skill which soon made the child at the ‘Black Bear’ the talk of the Bath Road. He was allowed to copy pictures i the great houses in the neighborhood before he was ten years old, and once he was taken to London to be exhibited as a phenomenon, for his father, a complete adventurer, lost no opportunity of making money out of his son. Finding his son likely to be more profitable than his innkeeping, the father settled at Bath, where the pretty boy opened a studio and drew heads in charcoal for a guinea apiece.
In 1785, when he was only sixteen, Lawrence began to paint in oils, and two years later his father thought it worth while to remove to London, and this youth of eighteen was given a studio at 4 Leicester Square, near the great Reynolds, upon whom he called, and who was exceedingly kind and encouraging. While continuing to keep his family by the pictures he painted for money, Lawrence was now able to study at the Academy schools. Prosperity increased as his talent matured, and soon after he had turned twenty he took a larger studio at 24 Old Bond Street; he was already the talk of the town and darling of Society. As gracious and charming in his manners as he was in his art, royalty delighted to honor him, and in 1791 George III compelled the Academy to admit him as an Associate, though according to its rules twenty five was the minimum age at which an Associate could be elected, and Lawrence had only just turned twenty two. The King’s will broke through the Academy’s law, and when Reynolds died in the following year, Lawrence, at age of twenty three, was appointed the King’s principal portrait-painter-in-ordinary.
The way was now open for his unbroken triumph. John Opie (1761-1807, the Cornish painter, whose art was much stronger and more robust, might have been a formidable rival had he not been too abrupt and caustic in his speech to please a public that liked to be flattered. It was Opie who, when asked once how he mixed his colors, made the famous reply, ‘With brains, sir.’
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)
New Geological Age
A new geological age was first suggested by Paul Crutzen in 2002 (a Nobel prize-winning chemist) + he said we should now consider that we are living in the Anthropocene, an age dominated by human activities + I found the Wired article on the same concept @ http://blog.wired.com/wiredscience/2008/01/name-our-age-th.html very interesting.
Useful link:
http://www.newscientist.com/blog/environment
Useful link:
http://www.newscientist.com/blog/environment
Synthetic Sapphire
Sapphire is one of the hardest materials on earth + it measures 9 on the Mohs scale + it is chemically inert + due to its mechanical, optical and structural properties, sapphire is a perfect material for optics, electronics + opto-electronics, fine mechanics and laser technologies + the material is produced by the Kyropulos method to grow high purity large size sapphire single crystals.
Sapphire is the best for:
- Lasers
Optical storages - Medical applications - Laser printers - Military applications
- Light Emitting Diodes (Blue, White, Green, Violet LEDs)
Traffic Lights - Automotive lights - Video display boards - Miniature lamps - General illuminations
- UV detectors
Analytical equipments - Flame detections - Ozone monitors - Pollution monitors
- Integrated circuits
Cellular infrastructure (power amplifiers) - Power Industry (power switches) - Military applications (microwave circuits)
Synthetic sapphire is also widely used in the watch industry.
Sapphire is the best for:
- Lasers
Optical storages - Medical applications - Laser printers - Military applications
- Light Emitting Diodes (Blue, White, Green, Violet LEDs)
Traffic Lights - Automotive lights - Video display boards - Miniature lamps - General illuminations
- UV detectors
Analytical equipments - Flame detections - Ozone monitors - Pollution monitors
- Integrated circuits
Cellular infrastructure (power amplifiers) - Power Industry (power switches) - Military applications (microwave circuits)
Synthetic sapphire is also widely used in the watch industry.
Mineral Sands Deposits
Australia is a world leader in production of mineral sands and has the world’s largest economic demonstrated resources of ilmenite, rutile and zircon with 29%, 44% and 40%, respectively + it produces up to 55 per cent of the world's rutile, 39% of the world's zircon, and about 30 per cent of the world's ilmenite + the other major producers are South Africa (Richards Bay deposit), the United States (Florida), Canada (ilmenite sources from hard rock) and India + most of Australia's rutile and synthetic rutile and about 40 per cent of the ilmenite exports are to the USA, the UK, Japan, Spain and the Netherlands for processing into white, titanium dioxide pigment and titanium metal.
Synthetic rutile was first produced in 1948 and is sold under a variety of names + very pure synthetic rutile is transparent and almost colorless (slightly yellow) in large pieces + synthetic rutile can be made in a variety of colors by doping, although the purest material is almost colorless + the high refractive index gives an adamantine lustre and strong refraction that leads to a diamond-like appearance + the near-colorless diamond substitute is sold under the name Titania, which is the old-fashioned chemical name for this oxide + rutile is seldom used in jewelry because it is not very hard (scratch-resistant), measuring only about 6 on the Mohs hardness scale.
Useful links:
www.australianminesatlas.gov.au
http://www.ga.gov.au/minerals/exploration/resources_advice/AIMR2006.jsp
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rutile
Synthetic rutile was first produced in 1948 and is sold under a variety of names + very pure synthetic rutile is transparent and almost colorless (slightly yellow) in large pieces + synthetic rutile can be made in a variety of colors by doping, although the purest material is almost colorless + the high refractive index gives an adamantine lustre and strong refraction that leads to a diamond-like appearance + the near-colorless diamond substitute is sold under the name Titania, which is the old-fashioned chemical name for this oxide + rutile is seldom used in jewelry because it is not very hard (scratch-resistant), measuring only about 6 on the Mohs hardness scale.
Useful links:
www.australianminesatlas.gov.au
http://www.ga.gov.au/minerals/exploration/resources_advice/AIMR2006.jsp
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rutile
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