Prophet of Innovation by Thomas K. McCraw is a brilliant book + he is one of the best business historians in the world + writes on Joseph Schumpeter’s views on the nature of capitalist profit.
Listen to a short interview with Thomas McCraw
Host: Chris Gondek Producer: Heron & Crane
Saturday, February 02, 2008
Colored Stone Update
There is a lot of talk about andesine-labradorite via JTV + the sources + the color is just beautiful, if well cut.
Useful link:
www.jewelrytelevision.com
Useful link:
www.jewelrytelevision.com
Diamdel Markets Pandora’s Boxes
Chaim Even Zohar writes about De Beers trading subsidiary, Diamdel + the online auction concept + the impact @ http://www.idexonline.com/portal_FullEditorial.asp
Friday, February 01, 2008
Mobs, Messiahs, And Markets
Mobs, Messiahs, and Markets: Surviving the Public Spectacle in Finance and Politics by William Bonner + Lila Rajiva is an interesting book that describes follow-the- crowd syndrome + it's funny/brilliant/thought-provoking + I think it's an interesting topic to study and reflect upon.
Here is what the description of Mobs, Messiahs, And Markets says (via Amazon):
Bestselling author Bill Bonner has long been a maverick observer of the financial and political world, sharpening his sardonic wit, in particular, on the vagaries of the investing public. Market booms and busts, tulip manias and dotcom bubbles, venture capitalists and vulture funds, he lets you know, are best explained not by dry statistics and obscure theories but by the metaphors and analogies of literature.
Now, in Mobs, Messiahs, and Markets, Bonner and freelance journalist Lila Rajiva use literary economics to offer broader insights into mass behavior and its devastating effects on society. Why is it, they ask, that perfectly sane and responsible individuals can get together, and by some bizarre alchemy turn into an irrational mob? What makes them trust charlatans and demagogues who manipulate their worst instincts? Why do they abandon good sense, good behavior and good taste when an empty slogan is waved in front of them. Why is the road to hell paved with so many sterling intentions? Why is there a fool on every corner and a knave in every public office?
In attempting an answer, the authors weave a light-hearted journey through history, politics and finance to show group think at work in an improbable array of instances, from medieval crusades to the architectural follies of hedge-fund managers. Their journey takes them ultimately to the desk of the chairman of the Federal Reserve Bank and to a cautionary tale of the current bubble economy. They warn that the gush of credit let loose by Alan Greenspan and multiplied by the sophisticated number games of Wall Street whizzes is fraught with perils for the unwary. Boom without end, pronounces The Street. But Bonner and Rajiva are more cynical. When the higher math and the greater greed come together, watch out below!
Mobs, Messiahs, and Markets ends by giving concrete advice on how readers can avoid what the authors call the public spectacle of modern finance, and become, instead, private investors - knowing their own mind and following their own intuitions. The authors have no gimmicks to offer here - but instead give a better understanding of the dynamics of market behavior, allowing prudent investors to protect themselves from the fads and follies of the investment markets.
Here is what the description of Mobs, Messiahs, And Markets says (via Amazon):
Bestselling author Bill Bonner has long been a maverick observer of the financial and political world, sharpening his sardonic wit, in particular, on the vagaries of the investing public. Market booms and busts, tulip manias and dotcom bubbles, venture capitalists and vulture funds, he lets you know, are best explained not by dry statistics and obscure theories but by the metaphors and analogies of literature.
Now, in Mobs, Messiahs, and Markets, Bonner and freelance journalist Lila Rajiva use literary economics to offer broader insights into mass behavior and its devastating effects on society. Why is it, they ask, that perfectly sane and responsible individuals can get together, and by some bizarre alchemy turn into an irrational mob? What makes them trust charlatans and demagogues who manipulate their worst instincts? Why do they abandon good sense, good behavior and good taste when an empty slogan is waved in front of them. Why is the road to hell paved with so many sterling intentions? Why is there a fool on every corner and a knave in every public office?
In attempting an answer, the authors weave a light-hearted journey through history, politics and finance to show group think at work in an improbable array of instances, from medieval crusades to the architectural follies of hedge-fund managers. Their journey takes them ultimately to the desk of the chairman of the Federal Reserve Bank and to a cautionary tale of the current bubble economy. They warn that the gush of credit let loose by Alan Greenspan and multiplied by the sophisticated number games of Wall Street whizzes is fraught with perils for the unwary. Boom without end, pronounces The Street. But Bonner and Rajiva are more cynical. When the higher math and the greater greed come together, watch out below!
Mobs, Messiahs, and Markets ends by giving concrete advice on how readers can avoid what the authors call the public spectacle of modern finance, and become, instead, private investors - knowing their own mind and following their own intuitions. The authors have no gimmicks to offer here - but instead give a better understanding of the dynamics of market behavior, allowing prudent investors to protect themselves from the fads and follies of the investment markets.
Niki de Saint Phalle
Niki de Saint Phalle was a French sculptor + painter + film maker + she became world famous for her Shooting paintings + worked with art personalities such as Arman + César Baldaccini + Christo + Gérard Deschamps + Francois Dufrêne + Raymond Hains + Yves Klein + Martial Raysse + Mimmo Rotella + Daniel Spoerri + Jean Tinguely + Jacques Villeglé + Robert Rauschenberg + Jasper Johns + Larry Rivers + Salvador Dalí for ideas + created a monumental sculpture park in Garavicchio, Tuscany, about 100 km north-west of Rome along the coast + the garden, called Giardino dei Tarocchi in Italian, contained sculptures of the symbols found on Tarot cards + many of Niki de Saint Phalle's sculptures are large and some of them are exhibited in public places + her art works are unique and display that otherness to be enjoyed by all who love art.
Useful links:
www.nikidesaintphalle.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niki_de_Saint_Phalle
Useful links:
www.nikidesaintphalle.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niki_de_Saint_Phalle
Paolo Longo
Paolo Longo is an Italian composer and conductor + his works (based on diverse processes as cellular proliferation and spectral synthesis) are unique + I enjoy his music.
Useful links:
www.paolo-longo.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paolo_Longo
Useful links:
www.paolo-longo.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paolo_Longo
Step Cuts
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
When cutters wanted to make use of pieces of rough which were too flat even for Mirror Cuts, they found that it was often possible to achieve reasonable light effects by ‘stepping’ the crown or pavilions, or even both. This technique allowed the production of large Table Cut diamonds at a far lower cost than Full or Mirror Cuts. If it was impossible to avoid an over-large culet, they compensated for this defect by foiling. In jewels of this sort which have survived, the foils have disintegrated and the culets appear as dark holes. This is the main reason why the old Table, Mirror and Table Cut diamonds in our museums, treasuries and private collections are ignored or considered to be merely primitive cuts without any charm.
Table Cut diamonds dominated the market for about two hundred years, losing ground only gradually, during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, to Rose Cuts and Brilliants. To some extent step-cut Tables have returned to favor in modern diamonds with outlines similar to those of the old Table Cuts: squares, rectangles, triangles. If these are large enough, they can still dominate a jewel just as powerfully as their predecessors did. Smaller stones can be set in lines or groups to give an impression of opulence. And, if they are very small, they can be used to encircle and enhance a more important diamond or to enrich the color of an emerald, a sapphire or a ruby—all functions of the ancient Table Cuts. Prefixing the name Step Cut with ‘Modern’ therefore implies no change in the function or outline of a diamond, but only in its height proportions, which follow those now set down for Brilliants and other modern cuts, involving mainly lower crown and pavilion angles.
When cutters wanted to make use of pieces of rough which were too flat even for Mirror Cuts, they found that it was often possible to achieve reasonable light effects by ‘stepping’ the crown or pavilions, or even both. This technique allowed the production of large Table Cut diamonds at a far lower cost than Full or Mirror Cuts. If it was impossible to avoid an over-large culet, they compensated for this defect by foiling. In jewels of this sort which have survived, the foils have disintegrated and the culets appear as dark holes. This is the main reason why the old Table, Mirror and Table Cut diamonds in our museums, treasuries and private collections are ignored or considered to be merely primitive cuts without any charm.
Table Cut diamonds dominated the market for about two hundred years, losing ground only gradually, during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, to Rose Cuts and Brilliants. To some extent step-cut Tables have returned to favor in modern diamonds with outlines similar to those of the old Table Cuts: squares, rectangles, triangles. If these are large enough, they can still dominate a jewel just as powerfully as their predecessors did. Smaller stones can be set in lines or groups to give an impression of opulence. And, if they are very small, they can be used to encircle and enhance a more important diamond or to enrich the color of an emerald, a sapphire or a ruby—all functions of the ancient Table Cuts. Prefixing the name Step Cut with ‘Modern’ therefore implies no change in the function or outline of a diamond, but only in its height proportions, which follow those now set down for Brilliants and other modern cuts, involving mainly lower crown and pavilion angles.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
5. Pilgrims’ Signs
During the Middle Ages a most interesting form of jewel found its starting point in the then-prevalent custom of making pilgrimages to the shrines of saints and martyrs. When a pilgrim visited a shrine he bought or was given a token of that particular saint. These ‘Pilgrims’ Signs’ were made of lead or pewter and produced in unlimited numbers right at the shrine, where the metal was heated and turned into molds. Each saint had his characteristic token. It might be a tiny image of himself or some symbolic device connected with his pious acts. At any rate, each token was either provided with a pin or pierced with holes which enables it to be pinned or sewed to a garment, preferably the hat.
The shrine of Thomas à Becket, the murdered Archbishop of Canterbury, seems to have been among the most famous. At the height of its popularity, 100000 pilgrims would visit it in a year, bringing the ‘rarest and most precious gems’ as offerings, and carrying away with them the little lead tokens of the Bishop.
Among all the quantities of varied Pilgrims’ Signs, it is the scallop-shell of St James of Compostella that has survived in tradition as being the characteristic badge of a pilgrim. The leaden emblems first acquired by the visiting pilgrims were regarded as talismans and eagerly collected even by those who had not made a pilgrimage. It scarcely seems possible to speak of that sour and supersititious king of France, Louis XI, without also mentioning his old hat wtih its band stuck full of little leader saints.
The custom of wearing a Pilgrim’s Sign on the hat developed beyond its original form and significance and in time the token became an enseigne—an elaborate ornament of gold and gems. The enseigne, at the peak of its vogue, belongs to the period of the Renaissance.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
5. Pilgrims’ Signs
During the Middle Ages a most interesting form of jewel found its starting point in the then-prevalent custom of making pilgrimages to the shrines of saints and martyrs. When a pilgrim visited a shrine he bought or was given a token of that particular saint. These ‘Pilgrims’ Signs’ were made of lead or pewter and produced in unlimited numbers right at the shrine, where the metal was heated and turned into molds. Each saint had his characteristic token. It might be a tiny image of himself or some symbolic device connected with his pious acts. At any rate, each token was either provided with a pin or pierced with holes which enables it to be pinned or sewed to a garment, preferably the hat.
The shrine of Thomas à Becket, the murdered Archbishop of Canterbury, seems to have been among the most famous. At the height of its popularity, 100000 pilgrims would visit it in a year, bringing the ‘rarest and most precious gems’ as offerings, and carrying away with them the little lead tokens of the Bishop.
Among all the quantities of varied Pilgrims’ Signs, it is the scallop-shell of St James of Compostella that has survived in tradition as being the characteristic badge of a pilgrim. The leaden emblems first acquired by the visiting pilgrims were regarded as talismans and eagerly collected even by those who had not made a pilgrimage. It scarcely seems possible to speak of that sour and supersititious king of France, Louis XI, without also mentioning his old hat wtih its band stuck full of little leader saints.
The custom of wearing a Pilgrim’s Sign on the hat developed beyond its original form and significance and in time the token became an enseigne—an elaborate ornament of gold and gems. The enseigne, at the peak of its vogue, belongs to the period of the Renaissance.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
The French Revolution And Its Influence On Art
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
The Work Of David, Vigée Lebrun, Gros, Ingres, And Goya
1
To look at the calm and serene British portraits in the last two chapters, it is difficult to realize that England was engaged in warfare almost continuously during the century in which they were painted. While Reynolds, Gainsborough, and their successors were building up the reputation of English art, statesmen, soldiers, and sailors were laying the foundations of the present British Empire, Wolfe in Canada, Clive in india, and Nelson on the high seas. We have seen how profusely art flowered in England while her empire abroad was expanding, and we must not turn our attention to the progress of art in that country which throughout the century was England’s constant foe.
To appreciate the effect of the French Revolution on the painters of France, it is advisable to consider briefly the condition of artists in the eighteenth century. The French Academy, founded in 1648 for the advancement of art, had become a close body, exercising a pernicious tyranny. Artists who were neither members nor associates wer not allowed to exhibit their works in public, and even Academicians were not supposed to show elsewhere: one of them, Serres by name, was actually expelled from the Academy because he had independantly exhibited his picture ‘The Pest of Marseilles’ for money. The only concession the Academy made to outsiders was to allow them once a year, on the day of the Fête Dieu, to hold an ‘Exhibition of Youth’ in the Place Dauphine, which was open for only two hours.
At last Salon held under the old monarchy in 1789 only 350 pictures were exhibited: in 1791 the National Assembly decreed that an exhibition open to all artists, French and foreign, should be held in the Louvre, and the number of pictures show was 794. In the year of the Terror (1793) the number of exhibits exceeded 1000: in 1795 the number of pictures shown increased to 3048. These figures tell their own story, and show that the first thing the French Revolution did for art was to give painters a fuller liberty to display their work to the public. Further, notwithstanding the exhausted state of the finances, the Revolutionary Government encouraged artists by distributing annual prizes to a total value of 442,000 francs, and began the systematic organization of public museums. On the 27th July 1793 the Convention decreed that a museum should be open in the Louvre, and that art treasures collected from the royal palaces, from monasteries, and from the houses of aristocrats who had fled the country should be placed there. At the same time a sum of 100,000 francs was voted for the further purchase of works of art.
While in some parts of the country an ignorant and savage mob ruthlessly destroyed many precious monuments, libraries, and art treasures, the leaders of the Revolution throughout showed a special solicitude not only for contemporary art but also for the monuments of the past. Yet while the Revolution did everything it could to foster contemporary art, and to preserve and popularize the best art of the past, it could not produce one really great master of painting or sculpture. Now, if ever, we might expect to find a realism and a rude, savage strength in art; yet the typical painting of the French revolutionary period is cold and correct, and its chief defect is its bloodlessness. While in England the taste, as we have seen, was all for a happy Romanticism in art, the taste of revolutionary France was for a stern Classicism. A nation aspiring to recover the lost virtues of antiquity was naturally disposed to find its ideal art in the antique, and just as politically its eye was on republican Rome rather than on Athens, so its Classicism in art was Roman rather than Greek. The man who gave a new direction to French painting was Jacques Louis David (1748-1825), who, curiously enough, was a distant relative of Boucher, and, for a time, worked under that master, whose art in later years he cordially detested. Later he became the pupil of Vien (1716-1809), whom he accompanied to Rome when Vien was appointed director of the French Academy in that city. In Rome David became absorbed in the study of the antique; and began painting pictures of classical subjects, which were well received when exhibited in Paris. During the Revolution David became a enthusiastic supporter of Robespierre, and though he was in danger for a time after the fall of Robespierre, he escaped the perils at the end of the Terror by wisely devoting himself to art and eschewing politics. When the Directory created the Institute of France on the ruins of the old monarchical academics, David was appointed one of the two original members of the Fine Arts section and charged with the delicate mission of selecting the other members.
Henceforward David was omnipotent in French art. Like so many other revolutionaries, he was completely carried away by the genius of the First Consul, who seemed to him the right Caesar for the new Romans. One morning, after Bonaparte had give him a sitting for a head. David spoke enthusiasitically of the General to his pupils. ‘He is a man to whom altars would have been erected in ancient times; yes, my friends, Bonaparte is my hero.’ But the portrait of his hero was never completed, and only the head remains today, for Napoleon disliked long sittings and did not care for exact likeness. What he demanded from an artist was a picture to rouse the admiration of the people, and to satisfy this demand David painted ‘Bonaparte crossing the Alps,’ ‘Napoleon distributing the Eagles to his Army,’ and similar pictures which, though correct and precise in drawing, seem cold, strained, and dull today.
The best works of David are not his official pictures, but some of his portraits, which have more force and life. The most celebrated of these portraits is his ‘Madame Recamier,’ now in the Louvre, though the painter himself did not regard it as more than an unfinished sketch which he once threatened to destroy. The sitter greatly displeased David by leaving him when the portrait was half finished and going to his pupil Gerard (1770-1837), who had suddenly become the fashion, to have another portait of herself painted by him. A few years later Madame Recamier, tired of Gerard’s flattering portraiture, came back to David and begged him to go on with his picture. ‘Madame,’ he replied, ‘artists are as capricious as women. Suffer me to keep your picture in the state where we left it.’
After Waterloo and the restoration of te Bourbons, David, who had taken so prominent a part in the Revolution, was exiled from France in 1816, and not being allowed to go to Rome as he wished, he settled in Brussels, where he continued painting classical pictures, now chiefly of Greek subjects, till he died in 1825. Even in exile David was still regarded as the head of his school, and few painters of so moderate a talent have so profoundly influenced the art of Europe. He completely crushed for the time being the ideals of Watteau and his school and of Boucher—‘cursed Boucher,’ that Boucher of ridiculous memory’—as he called him; and as a good republican he delighted other republicans by maintaining that the art of the last three Louis represented ‘the most complete decadence of taste and an epoch of corruption.’ To David and his pupils Europe owes that revival of classical subjects which was a feature of nineteenth century painting in all north-western Europe, and France owes him in addition that tradition of fine drawing which has characterized her art for the last century.
The French Revolution And Its Influence On Art (continue)
The Work Of David, Vigée Lebrun, Gros, Ingres, And Goya
1
To look at the calm and serene British portraits in the last two chapters, it is difficult to realize that England was engaged in warfare almost continuously during the century in which they were painted. While Reynolds, Gainsborough, and their successors were building up the reputation of English art, statesmen, soldiers, and sailors were laying the foundations of the present British Empire, Wolfe in Canada, Clive in india, and Nelson on the high seas. We have seen how profusely art flowered in England while her empire abroad was expanding, and we must not turn our attention to the progress of art in that country which throughout the century was England’s constant foe.
To appreciate the effect of the French Revolution on the painters of France, it is advisable to consider briefly the condition of artists in the eighteenth century. The French Academy, founded in 1648 for the advancement of art, had become a close body, exercising a pernicious tyranny. Artists who were neither members nor associates wer not allowed to exhibit their works in public, and even Academicians were not supposed to show elsewhere: one of them, Serres by name, was actually expelled from the Academy because he had independantly exhibited his picture ‘The Pest of Marseilles’ for money. The only concession the Academy made to outsiders was to allow them once a year, on the day of the Fête Dieu, to hold an ‘Exhibition of Youth’ in the Place Dauphine, which was open for only two hours.
At last Salon held under the old monarchy in 1789 only 350 pictures were exhibited: in 1791 the National Assembly decreed that an exhibition open to all artists, French and foreign, should be held in the Louvre, and the number of pictures show was 794. In the year of the Terror (1793) the number of exhibits exceeded 1000: in 1795 the number of pictures shown increased to 3048. These figures tell their own story, and show that the first thing the French Revolution did for art was to give painters a fuller liberty to display their work to the public. Further, notwithstanding the exhausted state of the finances, the Revolutionary Government encouraged artists by distributing annual prizes to a total value of 442,000 francs, and began the systematic organization of public museums. On the 27th July 1793 the Convention decreed that a museum should be open in the Louvre, and that art treasures collected from the royal palaces, from monasteries, and from the houses of aristocrats who had fled the country should be placed there. At the same time a sum of 100,000 francs was voted for the further purchase of works of art.
While in some parts of the country an ignorant and savage mob ruthlessly destroyed many precious monuments, libraries, and art treasures, the leaders of the Revolution throughout showed a special solicitude not only for contemporary art but also for the monuments of the past. Yet while the Revolution did everything it could to foster contemporary art, and to preserve and popularize the best art of the past, it could not produce one really great master of painting or sculpture. Now, if ever, we might expect to find a realism and a rude, savage strength in art; yet the typical painting of the French revolutionary period is cold and correct, and its chief defect is its bloodlessness. While in England the taste, as we have seen, was all for a happy Romanticism in art, the taste of revolutionary France was for a stern Classicism. A nation aspiring to recover the lost virtues of antiquity was naturally disposed to find its ideal art in the antique, and just as politically its eye was on republican Rome rather than on Athens, so its Classicism in art was Roman rather than Greek. The man who gave a new direction to French painting was Jacques Louis David (1748-1825), who, curiously enough, was a distant relative of Boucher, and, for a time, worked under that master, whose art in later years he cordially detested. Later he became the pupil of Vien (1716-1809), whom he accompanied to Rome when Vien was appointed director of the French Academy in that city. In Rome David became absorbed in the study of the antique; and began painting pictures of classical subjects, which were well received when exhibited in Paris. During the Revolution David became a enthusiastic supporter of Robespierre, and though he was in danger for a time after the fall of Robespierre, he escaped the perils at the end of the Terror by wisely devoting himself to art and eschewing politics. When the Directory created the Institute of France on the ruins of the old monarchical academics, David was appointed one of the two original members of the Fine Arts section and charged with the delicate mission of selecting the other members.
Henceforward David was omnipotent in French art. Like so many other revolutionaries, he was completely carried away by the genius of the First Consul, who seemed to him the right Caesar for the new Romans. One morning, after Bonaparte had give him a sitting for a head. David spoke enthusiasitically of the General to his pupils. ‘He is a man to whom altars would have been erected in ancient times; yes, my friends, Bonaparte is my hero.’ But the portrait of his hero was never completed, and only the head remains today, for Napoleon disliked long sittings and did not care for exact likeness. What he demanded from an artist was a picture to rouse the admiration of the people, and to satisfy this demand David painted ‘Bonaparte crossing the Alps,’ ‘Napoleon distributing the Eagles to his Army,’ and similar pictures which, though correct and precise in drawing, seem cold, strained, and dull today.
The best works of David are not his official pictures, but some of his portraits, which have more force and life. The most celebrated of these portraits is his ‘Madame Recamier,’ now in the Louvre, though the painter himself did not regard it as more than an unfinished sketch which he once threatened to destroy. The sitter greatly displeased David by leaving him when the portrait was half finished and going to his pupil Gerard (1770-1837), who had suddenly become the fashion, to have another portait of herself painted by him. A few years later Madame Recamier, tired of Gerard’s flattering portraiture, came back to David and begged him to go on with his picture. ‘Madame,’ he replied, ‘artists are as capricious as women. Suffer me to keep your picture in the state where we left it.’
After Waterloo and the restoration of te Bourbons, David, who had taken so prominent a part in the Revolution, was exiled from France in 1816, and not being allowed to go to Rome as he wished, he settled in Brussels, where he continued painting classical pictures, now chiefly of Greek subjects, till he died in 1825. Even in exile David was still regarded as the head of his school, and few painters of so moderate a talent have so profoundly influenced the art of Europe. He completely crushed for the time being the ideals of Watteau and his school and of Boucher—‘cursed Boucher,’ that Boucher of ridiculous memory’—as he called him; and as a good republican he delighted other republicans by maintaining that the art of the last three Louis represented ‘the most complete decadence of taste and an epoch of corruption.’ To David and his pupils Europe owes that revival of classical subjects which was a feature of nineteenth century painting in all north-western Europe, and France owes him in addition that tradition of fine drawing which has characterized her art for the last century.
The French Revolution And Its Influence On Art (continue)
Computer Tomography
A recent development in pearl testing is the application of computer tomography + it enables a three-dimensional image of the pearl’s (Akoya cultured, South Sea, Tahitian, Cultured Blister pearls) structure to be clearly discerned + it differentiates between natural and cultured pearls + it measures nacre thickness + it’s a very expensive methodology + it’s widely used in medicine and other industries.
Useful link:
www.jcat.org
Useful link:
www.jcat.org
Kristoffer Zegers
Kristoffer Zegers is a Dutch composer + I enjoy his music (slow developments in clusters via glissandi) + I think its natural.
Useful link:
www.kristofferzegers.nl
Useful link:
www.kristofferzegers.nl
Traveler IQ Challenge
(via Budgettravel) Traveler IQ challenge is an addictive trivia game that measures your ability to pick the exact location of world capitals + historical sights + cities that you've never heard of, on a colorful interactive map. I enjoyed it. It was educational.
Roger Keverne
Roger Keverne specializes in Chinese ceramics + works of art from the Neolithic to the Qing dynasty, including jades, bronzes, enamels, lacquer and other organic materials.
Useful link:
www.keverne.co.uk
Today Chinese jade carvings + items of jewelry aren't that easy to identify. The only way to identify + get a feel for the color (antique v. imitations) is by seeing as many different qualities of jade from different periods as possible. If in doubt always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory/expert for identification.
Useful link:
www.keverne.co.uk
Today Chinese jade carvings + items of jewelry aren't that easy to identify. The only way to identify + get a feel for the color (antique v. imitations) is by seeing as many different qualities of jade from different periods as possible. If in doubt always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory/expert for identification.
Polymer Clay As An Artistic Medium
Polymer clay is a manmade material + it’s widely used to create sculpture + figurines + jewelry.
Useful links:
www.npcg.org
www.polymerartarchive.com
Useful links:
www.npcg.org
www.polymerartarchive.com
Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind
Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind: How Intelligence Increases When You Think Less by Guy Claxton is very informative + highly entertaining + I think the approach will help you in business situations.
Here is what the description of Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind: How Intelligence Increases When You Think Less says (via Amazon):
In these accelerated times, our decisive and businesslike ways of thinking are unprepared for ambiguity, paradox, and sleeping on it. We assume that the quick-thinking 'hare brain' will beat out the slower Intuition of the 'tortoise mind.' However, now research in cognitive science is changing this understanding of the human mind. It suggests that patience and confusion--rather than rigor and certainty--are the essential precursors of wisdom.
With a compelling argument that the mind works best when we trust our unconscious, or undermind, psychologist Guy Claxton makes an appeal that we be less analytical and let our creativity have free rein. He also encourages reevaluation of society's obsession with results-oriented thinking and problem-solving under pressure. Packed with interesting anecdotes, a dozen puzzles to test your reasoning, and the latest related research, Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind is an illuminating, uplifting, stimulating read that focuses on a new kind of well-being and cognition.
Here is what the description of Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind: How Intelligence Increases When You Think Less says (via Amazon):
In these accelerated times, our decisive and businesslike ways of thinking are unprepared for ambiguity, paradox, and sleeping on it. We assume that the quick-thinking 'hare brain' will beat out the slower Intuition of the 'tortoise mind.' However, now research in cognitive science is changing this understanding of the human mind. It suggests that patience and confusion--rather than rigor and certainty--are the essential precursors of wisdom.
With a compelling argument that the mind works best when we trust our unconscious, or undermind, psychologist Guy Claxton makes an appeal that we be less analytical and let our creativity have free rein. He also encourages reevaluation of society's obsession with results-oriented thinking and problem-solving under pressure. Packed with interesting anecdotes, a dozen puzzles to test your reasoning, and the latest related research, Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind is an illuminating, uplifting, stimulating read that focuses on a new kind of well-being and cognition.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Heard On The Street
The iron rule of life is that only 20% of the people can be in the top fifth + that's just the way it is + the answer is that it's partly efficient and partly inefficient.
The Mirror, Mirroring Or Spread Table Cut
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
Mirror Cuts were more often oblong than square in outline. One of my experiments shows clearly why this was so. I produced replicas of the two halves of a large octahedron, as if the octahedron had been cleaved through the center. One of these halves I then fashioned into a square Mirror and the other into an oblong Mirror. In both, the aim was to produce maximum show with minimum weight loss. Both had full pavilions with relatively small culets. The results showed, first, that this type of rough, was ideal for Mirroring Spread Table Cuts and, secondly, how an elongated outline could be a good commercial propostion! They also showed why early cutters were tempted to produce gems with blunt corners.
Dimensions
Square: 2x2.8cm
Elongated Rectangle: 3.3 x 2.62 cm
Area
Square: 7.84 cm²
Elongated Rectangle: 8.65 cm²
Table size
Square: 88%
Elongated Rectangle: 81%
Crown angle
Square: 40°
Elongated Rectangle: 40°
Pavilion angle
Square: 49.5°
Elongated Rectangle: 51°
Culet size
Square: 15%
Elongated Rectangle: 17%
Weight
Square: 38.17ct
Elongated Rectangle: 43.52ct
I must admit that I did not succeed in obtaining ideal proportions, but then neither did the early cutters. I did discover that my oblong ‘diamond’ was 10 percent larger in area and 14 percent heavier than my square one, so one can understand why Mirror Cut diamonds were more often oblong than square.
It was, then, a lack of appreciation of fire—the separation of light into spectral colors—at that time, combined with the price factor, which encouraged the cutters to use rough from which it would have been impossible to fashion High Table Cuts without prohibitive loss of weight. Size was all important, reflecting, perhaps, the classical proportions discussed above. All this explains why, among old jewels, we find so many Mirror Cut diamonds with table sizes of up to 80 percent or more, but nevertheless with correctly proportioned pavilions.
An example of this is found in the pendant known as Palatine Lion (Pfälzer Löwe), one of the pièces de résistance of the Treasury in Munich. The diamond is just below the ring attached to the diamond-studded chain from which the pendant once hung. It has a distinct cleavage crack, found to be absolutely parallel with the octahedral face of a ‘was’. The fact that these are parallel confirms that this diamond can only have been fashioned from a triangular crystal of this type. Note also the obvious reason for the two blunted corners—a typical manner of achieving larger sizes at the expense of symmetry. Another example of a similarly inclined cleavage crack is found in a tiny (4x4mm) overspread Mirror Cut diamond, thte largest on the pedestal of a pendant representing Nessus and Deinarina.
Mirror Cuts were more often oblong than square in outline. One of my experiments shows clearly why this was so. I produced replicas of the two halves of a large octahedron, as if the octahedron had been cleaved through the center. One of these halves I then fashioned into a square Mirror and the other into an oblong Mirror. In both, the aim was to produce maximum show with minimum weight loss. Both had full pavilions with relatively small culets. The results showed, first, that this type of rough, was ideal for Mirroring Spread Table Cuts and, secondly, how an elongated outline could be a good commercial propostion! They also showed why early cutters were tempted to produce gems with blunt corners.
Dimensions
Square: 2x2.8cm
Elongated Rectangle: 3.3 x 2.62 cm
Area
Square: 7.84 cm²
Elongated Rectangle: 8.65 cm²
Table size
Square: 88%
Elongated Rectangle: 81%
Crown angle
Square: 40°
Elongated Rectangle: 40°
Pavilion angle
Square: 49.5°
Elongated Rectangle: 51°
Culet size
Square: 15%
Elongated Rectangle: 17%
Weight
Square: 38.17ct
Elongated Rectangle: 43.52ct
I must admit that I did not succeed in obtaining ideal proportions, but then neither did the early cutters. I did discover that my oblong ‘diamond’ was 10 percent larger in area and 14 percent heavier than my square one, so one can understand why Mirror Cut diamonds were more often oblong than square.
It was, then, a lack of appreciation of fire—the separation of light into spectral colors—at that time, combined with the price factor, which encouraged the cutters to use rough from which it would have been impossible to fashion High Table Cuts without prohibitive loss of weight. Size was all important, reflecting, perhaps, the classical proportions discussed above. All this explains why, among old jewels, we find so many Mirror Cut diamonds with table sizes of up to 80 percent or more, but nevertheless with correctly proportioned pavilions.
An example of this is found in the pendant known as Palatine Lion (Pfälzer Löwe), one of the pièces de résistance of the Treasury in Munich. The diamond is just below the ring attached to the diamond-studded chain from which the pendant once hung. It has a distinct cleavage crack, found to be absolutely parallel with the octahedral face of a ‘was’. The fact that these are parallel confirms that this diamond can only have been fashioned from a triangular crystal of this type. Note also the obvious reason for the two blunted corners—a typical manner of achieving larger sizes at the expense of symmetry. Another example of a similarly inclined cleavage crack is found in a tiny (4x4mm) overspread Mirror Cut diamond, thte largest on the pedestal of a pendant representing Nessus and Deinarina.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
4. Brooches
Especially busy, in the fourteenth century, were the brooch makers. There were so many of them that they formed a group by themselves. They turned out what may be termed everyday brooches. If a particularly fine brooch was required, the commissions was given over to the goldsmith jeweler.
There was considerable range of size and weight in brooches, according to the type of material which they were intended to fasten. If the material was delicate and filmy, there were tiny brooches less than half an inch across which would hold the stuff in place without tearing it. Our grandmothers had what they called ‘lace pins’ for such purposes. At the other extreme, in point of size, was the Scottish brooch, sometimes as much as four and half inches in diameter. It had to be large and strong, for it held, pinned on the shoulder, the heavy Scottish plaid worn by both men and women of Scotland.
One of the finest surviving examples of the Scottish brooch is the famous Loch Buy Brooch. It is a silver disk elaborately ornamented with filigree. In the raised center is set a large cabochon crystal, and around the edge stand peal-stripped turrets like candles on a frosted birthday cake.
Many brooches were disks or hollow circles, but not all of them by any means. They might be heart-shaped, for brooches were in great favor as love tokens or betrothal gifts, and frequently engraved on the reverse side was the word ‘Love’ or some phrase of affection. Again, the brooch might have religious significance and be fashioned in the image of a saint, such as St Christopher bearing the Christ child on his shoulder.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
4. Brooches
Especially busy, in the fourteenth century, were the brooch makers. There were so many of them that they formed a group by themselves. They turned out what may be termed everyday brooches. If a particularly fine brooch was required, the commissions was given over to the goldsmith jeweler.
There was considerable range of size and weight in brooches, according to the type of material which they were intended to fasten. If the material was delicate and filmy, there were tiny brooches less than half an inch across which would hold the stuff in place without tearing it. Our grandmothers had what they called ‘lace pins’ for such purposes. At the other extreme, in point of size, was the Scottish brooch, sometimes as much as four and half inches in diameter. It had to be large and strong, for it held, pinned on the shoulder, the heavy Scottish plaid worn by both men and women of Scotland.
One of the finest surviving examples of the Scottish brooch is the famous Loch Buy Brooch. It is a silver disk elaborately ornamented with filigree. In the raised center is set a large cabochon crystal, and around the edge stand peal-stripped turrets like candles on a frosted birthday cake.
Many brooches were disks or hollow circles, but not all of them by any means. They might be heart-shaped, for brooches were in great favor as love tokens or betrothal gifts, and frequently engraved on the reverse side was the word ‘Love’ or some phrase of affection. Again, the brooch might have religious significance and be fashioned in the image of a saint, such as St Christopher bearing the Christ child on his shoulder.
Jewelers Of The Middle Ages (continued)
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
Hoppner also had lost his chance by attaching himself to the wrong political party, so young Lawrence had it all his own way, and after being made a full R. A when he was only twenty five, on the death of Benjamin West in 1820 he was unanimously elected the new President. Five years before this he had been knighted, and during the interval between his knighthood and his Presidency he had visited the chief Courts of Europe and painted more crowned heads than any other English artist before or since. His prices were higher than those of any artist before him: for head he received 200 guineas, for a full-length hi usual terms were 600 to 700 guineas, but for some portraits—like that of ‘Lady Gower and Child’—he received as much as 1500 guineas.
Like Reynolds, Lawrence never married, but he was engaged for a time to the daughter of Mrs Siddons, and treated the poor girl so badly that a tragedy ensued. He was so notorious a flirt that when he was painting the portrait of Caroline of Brunswick he was required to draw up an affidavit as to the propriety of his conduct. Though popular and tremedously successful, the private life of Lawrence was not particularly happy; and though he made great sums he was often in financial difficulties owing to foolish purchases. He was constantly tempted to pay extravagant prices for painting by Old Masters, and his numerous acquaintances—for he had few real friends—often took advantage of his kindness and generosity. His fame is lower today than it was in his lifetime, for there was an inherent weakness both in his art and in his character. The refinement of his drawing is still to be admired, but he had not the love of truth which distinguished his great predecessors, and beside their work the portraits of Lawrence are apt to appear artificial and insipid. He is seen at his best in his portrait of ‘Lady Blessington’ in the Wallace Collection, and looking at this elegant portrait of an elegant woman we perceive the subtelty of what Campbell said about the artist. ‘Lawrence,’ the poet remarked, ‘makes one seem to have got into the drawing room in te mansions of the blest and to be looking at oneself in the mirrors.’
Another precocious child artist of the eighteenth century was the famous woman-painter, Angelica Kaufmann (1741-1807). She was the daughter of a mediocre Swiss portrait-painter who settled in England, and when she was ten years old Angelica was executing portraits in crayons with the assurance of a professional. Owing to the sex prejudice which existed in her day, she was taken by her father to the Academy in boy’s clothes, so that she might improve her drawing. When she was in her middle ‘teens she accompanied her father to Milan, Florence, Rome, and Venice, and it was at the latter city in 1764 that she made the acquaintance of the wife of the English Ambassador, who took a great fancy to the clever young artist and brought her back with her to England. Thus introduced to England in 1765, she soon became a general favorite, the young Queen being particularly attracted by her scholarly mind and amiable personality. In 1769 she was nominated one of the foundation members of the Royal Academy. The same year she was unhappily deceived into a secret marriage with the valet of Count de Horn, who had passed himself off for his master. This scoundrel treated her badly, and she only managed to buy back her liberty by giving him £300 on condition that he took himself off to Germany and did not return to England. With the exception of this painful episode, the private life of Angelica Kaufmann was as happy and serene as her own pictures, and after the false count had died she married again in 1780. Her second husband was a Venetian painter, Antonio Zucchi, with whom, and with her father, she returned to Italy two years after her marriage, and finally settled in Rome, where, happy, popular, and universally esteemed, she lived twenty five years till her death in 1807. ‘The Portrait of the Artist,’ gives a good idea of the personal charm of Angelica Kaufmann as a young woman, and of the soft graciousness which distinguishes her painting.
Hoppner also had lost his chance by attaching himself to the wrong political party, so young Lawrence had it all his own way, and after being made a full R. A when he was only twenty five, on the death of Benjamin West in 1820 he was unanimously elected the new President. Five years before this he had been knighted, and during the interval between his knighthood and his Presidency he had visited the chief Courts of Europe and painted more crowned heads than any other English artist before or since. His prices were higher than those of any artist before him: for head he received 200 guineas, for a full-length hi usual terms were 600 to 700 guineas, but for some portraits—like that of ‘Lady Gower and Child’—he received as much as 1500 guineas.
Like Reynolds, Lawrence never married, but he was engaged for a time to the daughter of Mrs Siddons, and treated the poor girl so badly that a tragedy ensued. He was so notorious a flirt that when he was painting the portrait of Caroline of Brunswick he was required to draw up an affidavit as to the propriety of his conduct. Though popular and tremedously successful, the private life of Lawrence was not particularly happy; and though he made great sums he was often in financial difficulties owing to foolish purchases. He was constantly tempted to pay extravagant prices for painting by Old Masters, and his numerous acquaintances—for he had few real friends—often took advantage of his kindness and generosity. His fame is lower today than it was in his lifetime, for there was an inherent weakness both in his art and in his character. The refinement of his drawing is still to be admired, but he had not the love of truth which distinguished his great predecessors, and beside their work the portraits of Lawrence are apt to appear artificial and insipid. He is seen at his best in his portrait of ‘Lady Blessington’ in the Wallace Collection, and looking at this elegant portrait of an elegant woman we perceive the subtelty of what Campbell said about the artist. ‘Lawrence,’ the poet remarked, ‘makes one seem to have got into the drawing room in te mansions of the blest and to be looking at oneself in the mirrors.’
Another precocious child artist of the eighteenth century was the famous woman-painter, Angelica Kaufmann (1741-1807). She was the daughter of a mediocre Swiss portrait-painter who settled in England, and when she was ten years old Angelica was executing portraits in crayons with the assurance of a professional. Owing to the sex prejudice which existed in her day, she was taken by her father to the Academy in boy’s clothes, so that she might improve her drawing. When she was in her middle ‘teens she accompanied her father to Milan, Florence, Rome, and Venice, and it was at the latter city in 1764 that she made the acquaintance of the wife of the English Ambassador, who took a great fancy to the clever young artist and brought her back with her to England. Thus introduced to England in 1765, she soon became a general favorite, the young Queen being particularly attracted by her scholarly mind and amiable personality. In 1769 she was nominated one of the foundation members of the Royal Academy. The same year she was unhappily deceived into a secret marriage with the valet of Count de Horn, who had passed himself off for his master. This scoundrel treated her badly, and she only managed to buy back her liberty by giving him £300 on condition that he took himself off to Germany and did not return to England. With the exception of this painful episode, the private life of Angelica Kaufmann was as happy and serene as her own pictures, and after the false count had died she married again in 1780. Her second husband was a Venetian painter, Antonio Zucchi, with whom, and with her father, she returned to Italy two years after her marriage, and finally settled in Rome, where, happy, popular, and universally esteemed, she lived twenty five years till her death in 1807. ‘The Portrait of the Artist,’ gives a good idea of the personal charm of Angelica Kaufmann as a young woman, and of the soft graciousness which distinguishes her painting.
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