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

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

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

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

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

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)

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)

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)

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

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.

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

Classical Music Update

I enjoy classical music because of its broad variety of forms + styles + genres + cultural durability. Here is a list:

- Simone Dinnerstein, Bach: The Goldberg Variations
www.simonedinnerstein.com

- Russian National Orchestra, Beethoven: The Nine Symphonies
www.russianarts.org

- Corigliano: Music for String Quartet
www.coriglianoquartet.com

- Lisa Batiashvili, Sibelius and Lindberg Violin Concertos
www.lisabatiashvili.com
www.sibelius.fi
www.yle.fi

- Henry Brant/Charles Ives: A Concord Symphony
www.jaffe.com
www.charlesives.org

- Mozart: Mitridate, Re di Ponto
www.mozartproject.org

Billions Of Entrepreneurs

In a great book Billions of Entrepreneurs: How China and India Are Reshaping Their Futures and Yours by Tarun Khanna there are some insights on the two great economies + he compares China and India on a broad range of factors in entrepreneurship, including access to capital, freedom and reliability of information, governmental involvement, and infrastructure + the landscape of big, medium, and small entrepreneurship, including rural health-care initiatives and even Bollywood. I highly recommend it.

Here is what the description of Billions Of Entrepreneurs: How China and India are Reshaping Their Futures--and Yours says (via Harvard Business School Press):
China and India are home to one-third of the world's population. And they're undergoing social and economic revolutions that are capturing the best minds--and money--of Western business. In "Billions of Entrepreneurs," Tarun Khanna examines the entrepreneurial forces driving China's and India's trajectories of development. He shows where these trajectories overlap and complement one another--and where they diverge and compete. He also reveals how Western companies can participate in this development. Through intriguing comparisons, the author probes important differences between China and India in areas such as information and transparency, the roles of capital markets and talent, public and private property rights, social constraints on market forces, attitudes toward expatriates abroad and foreigners at home, entrepreneurial and corporate opportunities, and the importance of urban and rural communities. He explains how these differences will influence China's and India's future development, what the two countries can learn from each other, and how they will ultimately reshape business, politics, and society in the world around them. Engaging and incisive, this book is a critical resource for anyone working in China or India or planning to do business in these two countries.

Art Update: India

Here is a list of art houses in India that's worth surfing for modern/contemporary art:

- Osian’s
www.osians.com

- Bid & Hammer
www.bidandhammer.com

-Apparao
www.apparaoart.com

- Emami Chisel Art
www.emamichisel.com

Diamond Market Update

Industry analysts believe 2008 will be a tough year for the trade + jewelry sector due to war in Iraq, Afghanistan, elsewhere + the credit crunch caused by a major downturn in the housing market + Diamond Trading Company’s (DTC) just revised sightholder list + the high gas/metal prices + high labor costs + demographics shift + I think the ones that are going to survive are the ones with good brands/customer base + cash flow.

Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners

(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:

In 1530, a large Table Cut diamond set in a pendant, with drop-shaped pearl hanging below it, was included in the French Crown inventory. The jewel is thought originally to have been among the personal possessions of Queen Claude of France, wife of Francis I and mother of Henry II. In 1531 it was renamed Table de Gêne on the occasion of the marriage of Catherine de Medici to the future Henry II. In 1560 it was listed again, this time as part of a headband belonging to Mary Stuart, wife of their son Francis II. Besides the Table de Gêne, the headband contained six other diamonds, all of approximately the same size, among them the Pointe de Bretagne and the Pointe de Milan, and a thin Table Cut diamond with a lozenge-shaped table facet—a French Cut in modern terminology.

The Table de Gêne was originally described as a High Table Cut (une grande table de dyament haultz de bizeaux). In 1570 the phrase ‘longuet et escornée ďun coing’ was added, indicating that it had a slightly elongated rectangular outline and one blunt corner. Finally, in a hatband made for Elizabeth of Austria, wife of Charles IX of France, the further addition ‘à deux fons’ was made, implying that the pavilion was step cut. In 1576 the whole jewel was pawned to Cardinal Farnese and has never been recovered.

In Thomas Cletscher’s sketchbook there is an illustration of the 36 ct Table Cut diamond known as The Great Pindar or simply as ‘The Great Diamond’. The dimensions of the stone are 19 x 17.5 mm which, according to Jeffries’ chart for a diamond of that weight, indicates that it was a stone of perfect proportions with 45° angles both above and below the girdle. The diamond was considered perfect in every other respect: ‘Heeft en botten hoack, is suijver, schoon water’. Cletscher tells us, and this is confirmed by Gans, that his father-in-law Niccolo Ghysberti (Nicolaes Ghijsbertij), representative of the United Provinces in Constantinople, purchased this stone for Paul Pindar (Pawels Pinder).

Sir Paul Pindar (1565?-1650) was a businessman and a diplomat. In a British warrant of indemnity dated 7 July 1623, there is an entry which clearly refers to the Pindar diamond: ‘A great dyamond sett open, without foyle (this indicates that it had perfect proportions and symmetry) to which is added the least of the three pearles pendante, which did hang at the Portugall dyamond.’ A receipt dated 2 May 1626 states: ‘Received by me Sir Paulo Pindar Knight by ways of defalcation out of the rent of the allomworks payable by me and William Curno Esquire the sum of £9440 in part of payment of a greater sum due to me for a great diamond by me sold to His Majesty. I say received by virtue of His Majesty’s Letters Patents under the great seal of England dated the 10th of August 1625.’ There seems to be some doubt as to the full price agreed, or possibly there were two different stones, but in any case there is no record that Sir Paul ever received the balance due. Clearly Charles I had no hesitation in acquiring jewels for which he had neither the means nor the intention of paying!

It can be fairly confidently assumed that this gem eventually became number two of Mazarin’s famous collection of eighteen diamonds, which he bequeathed to the French Crown. A diamond of the size and splendor of Mazarin’s second could hardly have ‘sprung suddenly upon the world without a history.’ It is more than likely that the Great Pindar was one of the three diamonds, said to have weighed 36 ct each, which Henrietta Maria, wife of Charles I, pawned in Amsterdam in 1646. It has been documented that the Sancy and the Mirror of Portugal, both from the English Crown Jewels, were acquired by Cardinal Mazarin, and it is evident that a few more stones in the Cardinal’s collection came from England, too. For obvious reasons their origin was never officially disclosed. At any rate, no other diamond corresponding to the description of The Great Pindar has ever been registered since. Mazarin’s second diamond was recut into a Brilliant in 1774 and became one of the large gems in ‘a white Golden Fleece’ belonging to the French Crown. The large Brilliant was almost certainly The Great Pindar. The jewel was stolen in 1848 and none of the stones has ever been recovered.

Opinions differ as to whether the sitter is Margaret de Medici, daughter of Cosimo II, Grand Duke of Tuscany, and Maria Magdalena of Austria, or Claudia de Medici, daughter of Ferdinand I and Christine of Lorraine. Apart from her magnificent string of pearls, this princess is modest enough to wear no other jewelry except a diamond brooch. The brooch is interesting in that all its gems are Table Cut, even the very smallest. Sustermans painted two other very similar portraits of the same sitter in which she wears a profusion of jewels, all with quite small diamonds which also appear to be Table Cuts. All three portraits are in Florence.

Jewelers Of The Middle Ages

(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:

2. Pagan Gems And Christian Symbols

And now came about one of the most curious juxtapositions of gems in all history. Bands of Crusaders were constantly going forth to rescue the Holy Land (or perhaps whatever else they came upon) from the infidel. When they returned they brought back, among other loot, vast numbers of precious stones and engraved gems. Religion was militant with a vengeance and the Church benefited by the spoils of war. Gems by the bushel, after being ‘rescued’, found devotional uses in the churches. Yet we should not view these facts with lofty condemnation. To the people of the Middle Ages, it seemed right, and in no way incongruous, that God should be glorified by such offerings. The vestments of the clergy were heavy with gems, and whether or not the beauty of some devotional object was enhanced (generally it was not) by the addition of gems, it was sure to be stuck as full of them as a plum pudding with fruit, and their placement was about as hit or miss.

The bizarre element in this juxtaposition of pagan gems and Christian symbols was that many of the stones brought home by the Crusaders were cameos or intaglios representing a god of Greek or Roman mythology, which was all Greek to the clergy who were ignorant of such matters. Monks and bishops wore rings whose gems bore the likeness of some mythological god or goddess-Hercules, Hermes, Cupid, or even Venus. With a clear conscience the holy men wore their gems to the glory of God and interpreted the carved figures according to their own ideas.

Any figure with wings, such as Cupid or Victory, was an angel. A veiled female was the Madonna or the Magdalene. Figures with crooks were bishops, and the rest were saints. Just how the infidels happened to carve Christian saints and angels in not explained. The age was not too curious. It accepted the most fantastic inventions of imaginations and swallowed them whole.

In the Metropolitan Museum there are some good examples of the ritual paraphernalia of Christian devotion all pranked out (one cannot say ornamented) with cameos. Each cameo is beautiful by itself but in such loud discord both in idea and in style of work with the thing it embellishes that beauty is not achieved. But never mind beauty for the moment; these things are records of the hearts and minds of a bygone age. Their naive incongruity is more subtly expressive than a page from written history.

Among such treasures at the Metropolitan Museum is a triptych about fifteen inches high. Its central panel bears an oblong picture of the Virgin. This is executed in enamel and has the quaint charm of Medieval design. But the Virgin, intended as the focus of attention, is quite overwhelmed and outdone by large crystals cut en cabochon and ancient cameos representing a host of alien deities, including a delightful little Cupid. Crystals and cameos surround the central picture and are set prodigally in both wings of the triptych.

During the crusades, while the high tide of gems pouring in from overseas deluged the Church, there was plenty of overflow for the laity. The costumes of the rich were gorgeous with gold and magnificent jewels; and much of the jewelry was devotional in character. Small diptychs (two leaves closing like a book) with pictured saints inside were encrusted with engraved gems and worn as pendants. There were portable reliquaries of various and sometimes extraordinary shapes also bejeweled with Greek gems.

Relics of saints, spikes from the Crown of Thorns and fragments of the Cross were eagerly sought by pilgrims who came to the Church of St Croce-in-Gerusalemme in Rome; and when, on an Easter Sunday, the True Cross was solemnly exposed to the people ‘their curious devotion was rewarded,’ says Gibbons, ‘by the gift of small pieces, which they encased in gold or gems and carried away in triumph to their respective countries.’

These hollow gems were often bean-shaped and hinged together, forming a case.

Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)

Eighteenth Century British Portraiture

(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:

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The greatest portrait painter that Scotland has ever produced, Sir Henry Raeburn, R.A., belonged to a younger generation than any of the artists whose lives we have so far recounted. Raeburn was born at Stockbridge, a suburb of Edinburgh, on March 4, 1756, and so was thirty three years younger than Reynolds, twenty nine years younger than Gainsborough, and twenty two years younger than Romney. His father, a well-to-do manufacturer, died when young Henry was six, and his elder brother then looked after him, had him educated at Heriot’s School—where he showed his leaning by making caricatures of his masters and school fellows—and apprenticed him at the age of fifteen to an Edinburgh goldsmith. There he also began to paint miniatures, and these gradually attracted attention till Raeburn broadened out into oil portraits and landscapes.

Like Gainsborough, he loved to ramble about the countryside sketching, and in one of his open-air sketches he introduced the figure of a charming young lady whom he had seen crossing the meadow. Some time later this young lady presented herself at Raeburn’s studio to have her portrait painted. She was the widow of a wealthy Frenchman, Count Leslie, but herself a Scottish girl, her maiden name having been Ann Edgar. During their sittings the artist and his model fell deeply in love with each other; there was no one to hinder their union, so they were quickly married, and at the age of twenty two young Raeburn found himself the possessor of a charming wife, a fine house at Edinburgh, and a comfortable income which made ‘potboiling’ unnecessary.

Under these happy circumstances he rapidly came to the front as a portrait painter. About 1785 he visited London and called on Sir Joshua Reynolds, who, himself now almost an Old Master, showed the young artist every possible kindness and gave him much good advice. Reynolds urged him to visit Rome and ‘saturate’ himself in Michael Angelo, generously offering to lend him money for the journey. This, however, Raeburn did not need, but he followed the advice of the veteran, and went to Rome, where he remained for nearly two years and greatly strengthened his art. In 1787 he returned to Edinburgh and soon after, inheriting some property from his brother, he built himself the splendid studio and picture gallery in York Place, which still stands and is known as ‘Raeburn House.’

From this time on till the day of his death in 1823, the career of Raeburn was an unbroken sequence of happiness and success. Acting, it is said, on the advice of Lawrence, he wisely preferred to be the best painter in Edinburgh rather than one of several good painters in London. But though he never resided in England, he exhibited regularly at the Academy from 1792 to the year of his death; he was elected an Associate in 1812 and made a full Academician three years later. He was knighted when George IV visited Edinburgh in 1822 and soon afterwards appointed His Majesty’s Limner for Scotland.

Raeburn was probably wise to remain in Scotland, for it is by no means certain that the rugged truthfulness which was the chief characteristic of his portraiture would have pleased London society. He was the most vigorous of all the eighteenth-century British portrait-painters, and none of them succeeded so well as he did in setting on canvas the splendid figure of a man. Though he has left us many noble and dignified paintings of women, Raeburn is held to have excelled himself in male portraitures, and his masterpiece, ‘Sir John Sinclair’, can hold its own for vitality, solidity, and dignity with any painted man in existence.

Raeburn was one of the most methodical and industrious of all the world’s great portrait-painters. He rose at seven, breakfasted at eight, entered his studio at nine, and worked there till five in the afternoon. It is said that he spent more time looking at his sitters than in painting them, for he would search the countenance before him till he had penetrated to the character of the person, and the beginning with forehead, chin, nose, and mouth, he would paint away rapidly, never making any preliminary drawing, and never using a mahl-stick to support his brush. His method was free and vigorous, and the results he obtained by it preserved the freedom and vigor of his process.

Though money is not everything in art, it is a rough-and-ready index to the estimation in which a painter is held, and therefore it may be mentioned here that the saleroom record for a British portrait was made in 1911 by a Raeburn, which fetched 22300 guineas at Christie’s.

Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)