(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
During his travels in the Netherlands towards the end of 1559, King Philip II of Spain bought the largest diamond ever seen in Europe. The merchant who sold him the rough stone was (according to Charles de Lecluse, who spells the name in various ways) Juan Carlos Affaitatus. King Philip had the stone fashioned into a single exceptionally fine gem weighing nearly 50 ct, which was given the name of Estanque, meaning ‘impervious’ or ‘adamantine’. He presented the diamond, and the famous Peregrina pearl, to his third wife Elizabeth of Valois as a wedding present. On 13th February 1560 she rode in state into Toledo, wearing both these jewels and another large Table Cut diamond. This second Table can be seen in portraits of the English Queen, Mary Tudor, Philp’s second wife, on whose death in 1558 the diamond returned to the Spanish Crown.
Large Table Cut diamonds were the height of fashion in Spain at that time; they often had drop-shaped pearls suspended from them. The Peregrina and the Estanque were later combined into one jewel known as the Joyel Rico or the Jewel of the Austrias, which suggests that it was created for Philip’s fourth wife, Anne of Austria.
It has only been possible to analyze the cut of the stone through the efforts of Dr Muller, who discovered a most interesting description in Saez Diez’s manual for jewelers, published in 1781. Diez claimed that the area of the gem was equal to the area of a 56ct diamond. He had not actually seen the gem, but it is clear that a trustworthy informant had compared the size of the Estanque with Jeffries’ charts.
A number of portraits of Spanish queens show the Estanque diamond, but in most of them the brushwork is imprecise. However, in the portrait of Margarita of Austria, wife of Philip III of Spain, Bartolomé Gonzales (appointed Pintor del Rei in 1617) has reproduced the gem with exceptional accuracy. He shows the size of the table and the culet, the stepping of the pavilion, and the reflections of the culet in the crown facets. These last indicate that it was a shallow stone.
Drawing of the Estanque diamond: diameter of 22mm, a table size of 78 percent and a crown height of 11 percent. The angles of inclination are 45° both above and below the girdle. The application of a step near the culet was a device widely used in Antwerp throughout the period when Table Cuts remained in fashion. It made it possible to reduce the size of the culet and at the same time to retain the 45° angles of the pavilion. If the step was applied at precisely the right point, it gave increased reflections of light from the pavilion. The broken lines in the diagram indicate the shape of a standard High Table Cut.
Two other painting of the Estanque diamond confirm my analysis of it: a portrait of Queen Anna by Alonso Sanchez Coello and a portrait of Queen Margarita, said to have been painted by Diego Velázquez and his studio.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Friday, February 15, 2008
Jean-Michel Basquiat
Jean-Michel Basquiat was an American artist + he became popular, first as a graffiti artist in New York City, and then as a successful 1980s-era Neo-expressionist artist + his paintings continue to influence modern day artists and command high prices + in my view his strong use of color and the social commentary in his work creates that otherness.
Useful links:
www.basquiat.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean-Michel_Basquiat
Every single line means something.
- Jean-Michel Basquiat
Useful links:
www.basquiat.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jean-Michel_Basquiat
Every single line means something.
- Jean-Michel Basquiat
The Davis Dynasty
The Davis Dynasty by John Rothchild is a wonderful book about Shelby Davis, one of Wall Street's most successful and least-known investors + its part character study/part Wall Street history + I liked it.
Gulf Stream Energy
Scientists believe that the mighty Gulf Stream, off Florida’s coast rushes by at nearly 8.5 billion gallons per second, the world’s most powerful sustained ocean current + it represent a new, plentiful and uninterrupted source of clean energy + but for now, no one knows the environmental consequences + I think a cost-efficient ‘energy mix’ could be one solution + it’s encouraging to see innovative companies researching for alternative sources to replace fossil fuels.
Useful links:
www.epri.com
www.finavera.com
www.ferc.gov
http://coet.fau.edu
Useful links:
www.epri.com
www.finavera.com
www.ferc.gov
http://coet.fau.edu
Jewelers Of Renaissance
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
- Rings Of Romance And Sentiment
Betrothal rings, wedding rings, love rings, rings as token of friendship or of loyalty to some chosen hero, rings given wholesale in commemoration of an event such as a wedding or a funeral, individual mourning rings—rings no end.
It would seem that a ring more than any other form of jewelry must support the total weight of human emotions and stand by as emblem of joy, woe, and all the intervening shades of feeling that make up the sum of personal relations.
The custom of exchanging betrothal rings traces back to classical times. In ancient Rome the ring represented a pledge made by the father or guardian of the woman to the man destined to be her husband. He in turn pledged himself by the presentation of a ring to his bride-to-be. Such a contract appears not to have been unbreakable if the parties concerned changed their minds. But by the end of the Middle Ages, it would seem that betrothal and marriage had become so closely related that the wedding ring and the betrothal ring merged into one.
Among the Early Christian writings is a passage stating that a betrothal ring ‘is given by the espouser to the espoused either for a sign of mutual fidelity or still more to join their hearts by this pledge, and therefore the ring is placed on the fourth finger because a certain vein, it is said, flows thence to the heart.’
Since the thumb was counted as the first finger, doubtless the finger referred to was in fact the third. Nearly all medieval paintings which represent a wedding ceremony show the ring being placed on the right hand. A change of practice in placing the ring on the third finger of the left instead of the right hand first appears in the Book of Common Prayer of Edward VI (1549).
The ring as a symbol of marriage seems to be one of our permanent institutions, continuing through changes of fashion both in its outward form and in the ceremony of conferring it. Even when the English Puritans tried their best to do away with the wedding ring they failed to suppress it.
Fashion in wedding rings has been changeable, swinging from the simplest band of metal without any ornament to elaborately wrought designs or rings set with stones, then back again to the plain metal hoop.
As a marked instance of elaboration stands the Jewish wedding ring. Far too unwieldy for daily wear, it was used only during the wedding ceremony. In many of these heavy rings the bezel took the form of a gabled building, a synagogue or Solomon’s Temple; sometimes wrought in great detail with roof tiles of enamel and a couple of weather vanes that could revolve as practically as real weather vanes of normal size. The bands of these rings were also elaborately ornamented and often bore a Hebrew inscription meaning Good Luck.
Emblematic of love and friendship was the gimmel ring which consisted of two rings closely locked together, but capable of being separated so that two lovers or friends could each wear, in a sense, the same ring.
Another ring signifying a close bond was the fede ring, whose symbol of two clasped hands can be traced back to classical times and from then onward to the present day. Not infrequently the gimmel and the fede were combined, the double ring bearing the symbolic device of clasped hands, perhaps the better to denote a double quota of ardent devotion between the two parties concerned. There was nothing lukewarm about the Renaissance. Emotions were as spectacular and colorful as jewels and as readily displayed, unless there was some very good reason other than shyness for concealing them.
During the Middle Ages began a vogue for a type of love ring known as the ‘posy’ ring. The vogue grew in popularity, reaching its peak in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
The posy or poesy ring, while it might indicate the emotional bond between two lovers, was also handy for the expression of calmer sentiments. In either case the sentiment was usually conveyed in the form of a rhyme engraved on the ring band.
Here are some posy ring inscriptions:
- Let this present my good intent.
- Thy friend am I, and so will dye.
- If I think my wife is fair, what need other people care?
- My dearest Betty is good and pretty.
- I like, I love, as turtledove.
- This and the giver, are thine forever.
Supposedly the versified sentiment originated with the ‘giver’ and sometimes it did. But on the whole, jewelers could tell a different story. They had a store of ready-made rhymes which saved the purchaser a lot of trouble. By 1674, there was published a book entitled Love’s Garland, or Posies for Rings, Handkerchiefs, and Gloves, and such like pretty Tokens that Lovers send their Loves. That book finds an amusing parallel in the ready-made appropriate greetings and messages for all occasions recently provided by the telegraph company. Thought-saving devices have a perennial welcome.
Somewhat related to the custom of tying a string around your finger to make you remember something was the custom of giving rings to commemorate an event, joyous or woeful. The fashion of giving rings to wedding guests seems to have reached a high peak in Elizabeth’s time when Sir Edward Killey ‘is said to have presented four thousand pounds’ worth of gold rings at the marriage of one of his maid-servants.’ Even so, the giving of rings at weddings never became as widespread and excessively practised as did the bestowal of funeral rings. Since a certain sum was often set aside and directions given in the will of the deceased for the purchase commemorative rings, it is difficult to say whether the custom was inspired merely by fashion or by a pathetic longing to be remembered after death.
Although the practice of inscribing rings with the date of death of the deceased can be traced back to the Middle Ages, a distinctive type of mourning ring was not evolved until about the middle of the seventeenth century. Then there was no mistaking it. Inside the hoop was engraved the name and date of death; outside, it was decorated with a skeleton in gold on a black background; and the bezel was set with a crystal which covered either the representation of a skull or a lock of the deceased’s hair. Sometimes his initials were formed in gold thread on a ground of colored silk.
It appears that the ring is the Jack-of-all-trades among jewels—or at least that the jeweler has done his best to load it with responsibilities other than its nature as an ornament requires.
In the latter part of the Middle Ages education was still a luxury beyond reach of the masses. Many people could neither read nor write and the custom of using a signet ring was almost as necessary as it had been back in ancient Egypt. The usual type of gem ring was ‘stirrup-shape.’ Its engraved device might be some emblem or it might be a portrait of the owner. The merchant had his own special signet ring, a trademark with which to stamp his goods so that even though his customers might not be able to read they would have no difficulty in recognizing his distinctive seal.
The signet ring, still serving more than one purpose, was wont most conveniently to combine practical use and romantic sentiment. One famous example bears the letters H.M. in a monogram bound by a truelover’s knot. Inside the hoop is engraved HENRIL DARNLEY, 1655. Touched not alone with romance but with tragedy, is this signet-betrothal ring, for it is believed to be that given by the ill-fated Mary, Queen of Scots, to her future husband, Darnley.
Entirely fitting, practical, and dignified was the signet ring; but treading on the heels of dignity came numbers of contraptions—hybrid rings intended both for use and ornament and not making a very good job of either career. For this type of ring our modern colloquial term ‘gadget’ is aptly descriptive.
Jewelers Of Renaissance (continued)
- Rings Of Romance And Sentiment
Betrothal rings, wedding rings, love rings, rings as token of friendship or of loyalty to some chosen hero, rings given wholesale in commemoration of an event such as a wedding or a funeral, individual mourning rings—rings no end.
It would seem that a ring more than any other form of jewelry must support the total weight of human emotions and stand by as emblem of joy, woe, and all the intervening shades of feeling that make up the sum of personal relations.
The custom of exchanging betrothal rings traces back to classical times. In ancient Rome the ring represented a pledge made by the father or guardian of the woman to the man destined to be her husband. He in turn pledged himself by the presentation of a ring to his bride-to-be. Such a contract appears not to have been unbreakable if the parties concerned changed their minds. But by the end of the Middle Ages, it would seem that betrothal and marriage had become so closely related that the wedding ring and the betrothal ring merged into one.
Among the Early Christian writings is a passage stating that a betrothal ring ‘is given by the espouser to the espoused either for a sign of mutual fidelity or still more to join their hearts by this pledge, and therefore the ring is placed on the fourth finger because a certain vein, it is said, flows thence to the heart.’
Since the thumb was counted as the first finger, doubtless the finger referred to was in fact the third. Nearly all medieval paintings which represent a wedding ceremony show the ring being placed on the right hand. A change of practice in placing the ring on the third finger of the left instead of the right hand first appears in the Book of Common Prayer of Edward VI (1549).
The ring as a symbol of marriage seems to be one of our permanent institutions, continuing through changes of fashion both in its outward form and in the ceremony of conferring it. Even when the English Puritans tried their best to do away with the wedding ring they failed to suppress it.
Fashion in wedding rings has been changeable, swinging from the simplest band of metal without any ornament to elaborately wrought designs or rings set with stones, then back again to the plain metal hoop.
As a marked instance of elaboration stands the Jewish wedding ring. Far too unwieldy for daily wear, it was used only during the wedding ceremony. In many of these heavy rings the bezel took the form of a gabled building, a synagogue or Solomon’s Temple; sometimes wrought in great detail with roof tiles of enamel and a couple of weather vanes that could revolve as practically as real weather vanes of normal size. The bands of these rings were also elaborately ornamented and often bore a Hebrew inscription meaning Good Luck.
Emblematic of love and friendship was the gimmel ring which consisted of two rings closely locked together, but capable of being separated so that two lovers or friends could each wear, in a sense, the same ring.
Another ring signifying a close bond was the fede ring, whose symbol of two clasped hands can be traced back to classical times and from then onward to the present day. Not infrequently the gimmel and the fede were combined, the double ring bearing the symbolic device of clasped hands, perhaps the better to denote a double quota of ardent devotion between the two parties concerned. There was nothing lukewarm about the Renaissance. Emotions were as spectacular and colorful as jewels and as readily displayed, unless there was some very good reason other than shyness for concealing them.
During the Middle Ages began a vogue for a type of love ring known as the ‘posy’ ring. The vogue grew in popularity, reaching its peak in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
The posy or poesy ring, while it might indicate the emotional bond between two lovers, was also handy for the expression of calmer sentiments. In either case the sentiment was usually conveyed in the form of a rhyme engraved on the ring band.
Here are some posy ring inscriptions:
- Let this present my good intent.
- Thy friend am I, and so will dye.
- If I think my wife is fair, what need other people care?
- My dearest Betty is good and pretty.
- I like, I love, as turtledove.
- This and the giver, are thine forever.
Supposedly the versified sentiment originated with the ‘giver’ and sometimes it did. But on the whole, jewelers could tell a different story. They had a store of ready-made rhymes which saved the purchaser a lot of trouble. By 1674, there was published a book entitled Love’s Garland, or Posies for Rings, Handkerchiefs, and Gloves, and such like pretty Tokens that Lovers send their Loves. That book finds an amusing parallel in the ready-made appropriate greetings and messages for all occasions recently provided by the telegraph company. Thought-saving devices have a perennial welcome.
Somewhat related to the custom of tying a string around your finger to make you remember something was the custom of giving rings to commemorate an event, joyous or woeful. The fashion of giving rings to wedding guests seems to have reached a high peak in Elizabeth’s time when Sir Edward Killey ‘is said to have presented four thousand pounds’ worth of gold rings at the marriage of one of his maid-servants.’ Even so, the giving of rings at weddings never became as widespread and excessively practised as did the bestowal of funeral rings. Since a certain sum was often set aside and directions given in the will of the deceased for the purchase commemorative rings, it is difficult to say whether the custom was inspired merely by fashion or by a pathetic longing to be remembered after death.
Although the practice of inscribing rings with the date of death of the deceased can be traced back to the Middle Ages, a distinctive type of mourning ring was not evolved until about the middle of the seventeenth century. Then there was no mistaking it. Inside the hoop was engraved the name and date of death; outside, it was decorated with a skeleton in gold on a black background; and the bezel was set with a crystal which covered either the representation of a skull or a lock of the deceased’s hair. Sometimes his initials were formed in gold thread on a ground of colored silk.
It appears that the ring is the Jack-of-all-trades among jewels—or at least that the jeweler has done his best to load it with responsibilities other than its nature as an ornament requires.
In the latter part of the Middle Ages education was still a luxury beyond reach of the masses. Many people could neither read nor write and the custom of using a signet ring was almost as necessary as it had been back in ancient Egypt. The usual type of gem ring was ‘stirrup-shape.’ Its engraved device might be some emblem or it might be a portrait of the owner. The merchant had his own special signet ring, a trademark with which to stamp his goods so that even though his customers might not be able to read they would have no difficulty in recognizing his distinctive seal.
The signet ring, still serving more than one purpose, was wont most conveniently to combine practical use and romantic sentiment. One famous example bears the letters H.M. in a monogram bound by a truelover’s knot. Inside the hoop is engraved HENRIL DARNLEY, 1655. Touched not alone with romance but with tragedy, is this signet-betrothal ring, for it is believed to be that given by the ill-fated Mary, Queen of Scots, to her future husband, Darnley.
Entirely fitting, practical, and dignified was the signet ring; but treading on the heels of dignity came numbers of contraptions—hybrid rings intended both for use and ornament and not making a very good job of either career. For this type of ring our modern colloquial term ‘gadget’ is aptly descriptive.
Jewelers Of Renaissance (continued)
The Rise Of Landscape Painting
4
Jealous as he was of other painters, there was one of his contemporaries for whose art Turner had nothing but admiration. ‘Had Girtin lived,’ he once said, ‘I should have starved,’ and he roundly admitted that painter’s ‘White House in Chelsea’ to be better than anything of his own up to that time. Thomas Girtin was born in 1773 at Southwark, where his father was a rope manufacturer, and, like Turner, he was for a time the pupil of Dayes. But for his short life—for he died in 1802 at the early age of twenty seven—he would probably have rivalled Turner as a painter in oils, and though his career was cut short he lived long enough to make himself one of the greatest of our painters in water colors. In this medium his style was bold and vigorous, and by suppressing irrelevant detail he gave a sense of grandeur to the scenes he depicted. His chief sketching-ground was the northern countries, and particularly its cathedral cities, and his favorite subjects were the ruins of our old abbeys and castles, and the hilly scenery of the north. The water color at South Kensington of ‘Kirkstall Abbey’ is a fine example of his power to present his subject with truth and majesty.
A younger fellow-student with Turner and Girtin in the hospitable house of Dr Monro was another artist who achieved fame chiefly as a painter in water colors. This was Peter De Wint, born at Stone in Staffordshire in 1784. His father was a Dutch physician belonging to an old and respected Amsterdam family who settled in England. Peter, his fourth son, was originally intended for the medical profession, but was allowed to follow art, and placed with the engraver, John Raphael Smith, in 1802. Five years later he was admitted to the Royal Academy School, and the same year (1807) he exhibited at the Academy for the first time, sending three landscapes, and thereafter he exhibited there occasionally till 1828. But his reputation was principally made by the drawings he contributed to the Water-color Society, of which he was elected an Associate in 1810 and was long one of the chief ornaments.
De Wint loved to paint direct from Nature, and was never so happy as when in the fields. His subjects are principally chosen in the eastern and northern countries, and though often tempted to extend his studies to the Continent, the love of England and English scenery was so strong that, except for one visit to Normandy, he never left these shores. He formed a style of his own, notable for the simplicity and breadth of his light and shade, and the fresh limpidity of his color. He was a great purist in technique and objected to the use of Chinese white and body color, which he thought tended to give a heavy effect to a drawing. He excelled in river scenes, and ‘The Trent near Burton,’ in the Victoria and Albert Museum, South Kensignton, is a beautiful example of his tender and faithful rendering of a typical English scene.
While De Wint excelled in painting the placid aspects of landscapes, his contemporary, David Cox, was at his best on a widy day or in stormy weather. Cox was the son of a blacksmith and was born at Deritend, a suburb of Birmingham, on April 29, 1783. During his school days he had an accident and broke his leg, and this misfortune proved to be his good fortune, for having been given a box of colors with which to amuse himself while he was laid up, young David made such good use of the paints that his parents perceived the bent of his genius, and when he was well again apprenticed him to a painter. David Cox received his first tuition from an artist who painted miniatures for lockets, but when his master committed suicide young Cox went to the other extreme of painting, and at the age of seventeen he became an assistant scene-painter at the Birmingham Theatre. It is said that he even took a small part now and then at this theatre, which was then managed by the father of Macready.
The Rise Of Landscape Painting (continued)
Jealous as he was of other painters, there was one of his contemporaries for whose art Turner had nothing but admiration. ‘Had Girtin lived,’ he once said, ‘I should have starved,’ and he roundly admitted that painter’s ‘White House in Chelsea’ to be better than anything of his own up to that time. Thomas Girtin was born in 1773 at Southwark, where his father was a rope manufacturer, and, like Turner, he was for a time the pupil of Dayes. But for his short life—for he died in 1802 at the early age of twenty seven—he would probably have rivalled Turner as a painter in oils, and though his career was cut short he lived long enough to make himself one of the greatest of our painters in water colors. In this medium his style was bold and vigorous, and by suppressing irrelevant detail he gave a sense of grandeur to the scenes he depicted. His chief sketching-ground was the northern countries, and particularly its cathedral cities, and his favorite subjects were the ruins of our old abbeys and castles, and the hilly scenery of the north. The water color at South Kensington of ‘Kirkstall Abbey’ is a fine example of his power to present his subject with truth and majesty.
A younger fellow-student with Turner and Girtin in the hospitable house of Dr Monro was another artist who achieved fame chiefly as a painter in water colors. This was Peter De Wint, born at Stone in Staffordshire in 1784. His father was a Dutch physician belonging to an old and respected Amsterdam family who settled in England. Peter, his fourth son, was originally intended for the medical profession, but was allowed to follow art, and placed with the engraver, John Raphael Smith, in 1802. Five years later he was admitted to the Royal Academy School, and the same year (1807) he exhibited at the Academy for the first time, sending three landscapes, and thereafter he exhibited there occasionally till 1828. But his reputation was principally made by the drawings he contributed to the Water-color Society, of which he was elected an Associate in 1810 and was long one of the chief ornaments.
De Wint loved to paint direct from Nature, and was never so happy as when in the fields. His subjects are principally chosen in the eastern and northern countries, and though often tempted to extend his studies to the Continent, the love of England and English scenery was so strong that, except for one visit to Normandy, he never left these shores. He formed a style of his own, notable for the simplicity and breadth of his light and shade, and the fresh limpidity of his color. He was a great purist in technique and objected to the use of Chinese white and body color, which he thought tended to give a heavy effect to a drawing. He excelled in river scenes, and ‘The Trent near Burton,’ in the Victoria and Albert Museum, South Kensignton, is a beautiful example of his tender and faithful rendering of a typical English scene.
While De Wint excelled in painting the placid aspects of landscapes, his contemporary, David Cox, was at his best on a widy day or in stormy weather. Cox was the son of a blacksmith and was born at Deritend, a suburb of Birmingham, on April 29, 1783. During his school days he had an accident and broke his leg, and this misfortune proved to be his good fortune, for having been given a box of colors with which to amuse himself while he was laid up, young David made such good use of the paints that his parents perceived the bent of his genius, and when he was well again apprenticed him to a painter. David Cox received his first tuition from an artist who painted miniatures for lockets, but when his master committed suicide young Cox went to the other extreme of painting, and at the age of seventeen he became an assistant scene-painter at the Birmingham Theatre. It is said that he even took a small part now and then at this theatre, which was then managed by the father of Macready.
The Rise Of Landscape Painting (continued)
FTC Update
Here is an interesting FTC consumer alert on shopping jewelry @ http://www.ftc.gov/bcp/edu/pubs/consumer/alerts/alt011.shtm + I think the FTC's interpretation of natural v real may confuse the novice who may not be familiar with gemological jargons + my view is, if in doubt always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
New Energy Source
The scientists from the Georgia Institute of Technology have produced a unique fabric (by growing zinc oxide nanowires around kevlar textile fibers + weaving the fibres together; when the wires rub against each other, an electric charge builts up and is channeled into a cathode output), a personalized form of piezoelectric power generation, in which mechanical stress is turned into electricity + the researchers say their fabric could have military application in places where other types of power generation are impractical + I think the civilian possibilities are endless.
Useful links:
www.gatech.edu
www.nature.com
www.wired.com
Useful links:
www.gatech.edu
www.nature.com
www.wired.com
Art Update
Object ID is an international standard for describing cultural objects + it has been developed through the collaboration of the museum community, police and customs agencies, the art trade, insurance industry, and valuers of art and antiques.
Useful link:
www.object-id.com
Useful link:
www.object-id.com
Natural Color Diamond Update
The Natural Color Diamond Association + The Nielsen Company has launched a unique program called Marketscope, which I think may be an effective medium to share market research + demographic data for the members of the association + the concept may initiate effective marketing and increased sales + I wish them good luck with the new concept.
Useful links:
www.ncdia.com
www.nielsen.com
Useful links:
www.ncdia.com
www.nielsen.com
The Mind Of Wall Street
The Mind of Wall Street by Leon Levy + Eugene Linden is about two loves of Leon Levy's life -- the stock market and psychology + there are nuggets of wisdom garnered over a lifetime of investing that one finds in the book + I liked it.
Patrick O'Brian
I think all of the books by Patrick O'Brian in the Aubrey/Maturin series contain insights about economics that are timeless and valuable.
Jewelers Of Renaissance
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
- Curative Rings
Since ideas of religion, magic and medicine were still so entangled one with the other that there were no clearly defined boundaries between them, it naturally follows that this confusion is shown in the rings of the period. Belief in the curative powers of gemstones and the efficacy of inscriptions and devices engraved thereon had survived the Middle Ages and flourished as mightily during the Renaissance as it had it earlier times. To be sure, by now, a few scholars voiced skepticism concerning certain supersititions, while stoutly maintaining that others were facts. But on the whole, everybody believed that the right kind of ring would cure ills of body, soul, or estate according to need. Some details concerning these beliefs have already been given in former chapters.
There is one type of curative rings, however, that seems to have gained particular prominence during the Renaissance, namely, the ‘cramp ring’. It was supposed to be a protection, as the name indicates, against cramps. Tradition says these rings were made from gold coins given by successive kings of England at the offertory at Westminster Abbey on Good Friday. But a cramp ring was not always made of gold. During the sixteenth century, when its fame had spread from England to other countries of Europe, the great demand was met by rings of baser metal. Cellini refers to a cramp ring made of lead and copper, worth tenpence.
The toadstone, highly prized as a ring-charm, has been immortalized by Shakespeare:
Sweet are the uses of adversity;
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
But unfortunately for this poetic conception, the toadstone is not a stone (being the fossilized tooth of a fish) nor—quite obviously—does it come from the head of a toad. Nevertheless such stones were believed to be carried in the heads of large old toads and were recommended for curing dropsy and the spleen. Directions for procuring a toadstone are set forth in the Kyranides, a work of Gnostic tendencies, thought to have been written at Alexandria:
The earth-toad, called saccos, whose breath is poisonous, has a stone in the marrow of its head. If you take it when the moon is waning, put it in a linen cloth for forty days, and then cut it from the cloth and take the stone, you will have a powerful amulet.
The toadstone possessed great sensitivity. If brought in contact with poison it was said to change color and to sweat. And whether or not your toadstone was genuine could be most easily proved. All that was necessary was to place the stone in front of a toad and if the toad straightway snatched up the stone, then it was a real toadstone, but if the toad remained indifferent then your stone was not genuine.
One of the first illustrated books on drugs, the Hortus Sanitatis, written in 1483, has hand-illuminated pictures, one of which shows the proper way to extract a curative toadstone from your toad. Another picture illustrates the manner in which a bloodstone should be applied to the nose in order to prevent nosebleed.
An elaborate full-page drawing represents the interior of a lapidary-apothecary’s shop. At the back is a doctor instructing his pupil in the medicinal virtues of stones, while in the front of the shop six customers at once are buying ‘medicine rocks.’ It takes two clerks to wait on them, and apparently no medicine except ‘rocks,’ judging form the display on the five tables, is carried in stock by this shop, although of course doctors did not confine their nostrums entirely to the mineral kingdom. They used both vegetable and animal ingredients, often cooking up the most revolting messes, the worse the better, for their long-suffering patients to swallow.
Jewelers Of Renaissance (continued)
- Curative Rings
Since ideas of religion, magic and medicine were still so entangled one with the other that there were no clearly defined boundaries between them, it naturally follows that this confusion is shown in the rings of the period. Belief in the curative powers of gemstones and the efficacy of inscriptions and devices engraved thereon had survived the Middle Ages and flourished as mightily during the Renaissance as it had it earlier times. To be sure, by now, a few scholars voiced skepticism concerning certain supersititions, while stoutly maintaining that others were facts. But on the whole, everybody believed that the right kind of ring would cure ills of body, soul, or estate according to need. Some details concerning these beliefs have already been given in former chapters.
There is one type of curative rings, however, that seems to have gained particular prominence during the Renaissance, namely, the ‘cramp ring’. It was supposed to be a protection, as the name indicates, against cramps. Tradition says these rings were made from gold coins given by successive kings of England at the offertory at Westminster Abbey on Good Friday. But a cramp ring was not always made of gold. During the sixteenth century, when its fame had spread from England to other countries of Europe, the great demand was met by rings of baser metal. Cellini refers to a cramp ring made of lead and copper, worth tenpence.
The toadstone, highly prized as a ring-charm, has been immortalized by Shakespeare:
Sweet are the uses of adversity;
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
But unfortunately for this poetic conception, the toadstone is not a stone (being the fossilized tooth of a fish) nor—quite obviously—does it come from the head of a toad. Nevertheless such stones were believed to be carried in the heads of large old toads and were recommended for curing dropsy and the spleen. Directions for procuring a toadstone are set forth in the Kyranides, a work of Gnostic tendencies, thought to have been written at Alexandria:
The earth-toad, called saccos, whose breath is poisonous, has a stone in the marrow of its head. If you take it when the moon is waning, put it in a linen cloth for forty days, and then cut it from the cloth and take the stone, you will have a powerful amulet.
The toadstone possessed great sensitivity. If brought in contact with poison it was said to change color and to sweat. And whether or not your toadstone was genuine could be most easily proved. All that was necessary was to place the stone in front of a toad and if the toad straightway snatched up the stone, then it was a real toadstone, but if the toad remained indifferent then your stone was not genuine.
One of the first illustrated books on drugs, the Hortus Sanitatis, written in 1483, has hand-illuminated pictures, one of which shows the proper way to extract a curative toadstone from your toad. Another picture illustrates the manner in which a bloodstone should be applied to the nose in order to prevent nosebleed.
An elaborate full-page drawing represents the interior of a lapidary-apothecary’s shop. At the back is a doctor instructing his pupil in the medicinal virtues of stones, while in the front of the shop six customers at once are buying ‘medicine rocks.’ It takes two clerks to wait on them, and apparently no medicine except ‘rocks,’ judging form the display on the five tables, is carried in stock by this shop, although of course doctors did not confine their nostrums entirely to the mineral kingdom. They used both vegetable and animal ingredients, often cooking up the most revolting messes, the worse the better, for their long-suffering patients to swallow.
Jewelers Of Renaissance (continued)
The Rise Of Landscape Painting
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
In 1840, when Turner was sixty five, he met a young man of twenty one, fresh from Oxford, who, from the time he first saw the illustrations to Roger’s Italy, had worshipped the genius of Turner, and was destined to become his persistent and most eloquent champion. This was John Ruskin, who in 1843—the year in which Turner painted ‘The Approach to Venice’ – published the first volume of his Modern Painters, an epoch-making book, the real subject of which was the superiority of Turner to all painters past and present. Henceforward, however others might laugh at and ridicule his magical color visions, Turner now had an enthusiastic defender whose opinions yearly became more authoritative and more widely respected. It is no exaggeration to say that to the constant eulogy of Ruskin is due in no small measure the universal esteem in which Turner is held today.
Though he never married, Turner had a natural liking for a quiet domestic existence, and after his father’s death he began to lead a double life. Under the assumed name of Booth he formed a connection with a woman who kept a house at 119 Cheyne Walk, where he had been accustomed occasionally to lodge, and ‘Puggy’ or ‘Admiral’ Booth became a well-known character in Chelsea, where he was reputed to be a retired mariner of eccentric disposition, fond of his glass, and never tired of watching the sun. On the roof of the house in Cheyne Walk there was a gallery, and here ‘Mr Booth’ would sit for hours at dawn and sunset. The secret of his double existence was not discovered till the day before his death, for he had been accustomed to absent himself from Queen Anne Street for long intervals and therefore was not missed. Suddenly those who knew him as Turner learnt that the great artist was lying dead in a little house at Chelsea, where his last illness had seized him, and where he died on December 19, 1851. The body was removed to the house in Queen Anne Street, and afterwards buried in the crypt of St Paul’s Cathedral.
Turner left a fortune of £140,000, and after making a number of small annuities left the bulk of it for the benefit of art and artists; but his will, drawn by himself, was so vague and unskillfully framed that, after four years litigation, a compromise was arranged on the advice of the Lord Chancellor. The Royal Academy received £20000, which is set aside as the Turner Fund for the relief of poor artists not members of their body, and the National Gallery acquired the magnificent gift of 362 oil paintings, 135 finished water colors, 1757 studies in color, and thousands of drawings and sketches. The task of sifting, arranging, and cataloguing the water colors and sketches which Turner bequeathed to the nation was rightly placed in the sympathetic hands of his great advocate, John Ruskin.
The life of Turner, as we have seen, was full of strangeness and contradictions, and it is possible he may have inherited some of his eccentricities from his mother, a woman of fierce temper, who eventually became insane. There was little correspodence between his art and his life, for, as Mr E V Lucas has justly said: ‘Turner’s works are marvels of loveliness and grandeur; Turner was grubby, miserly, jealous, and squalid in his tastes. He saw visions and glorified even what was already glorious; and he deliberately chose to live in houses think with grime, and often to consort with inferior persons.’ The evidence before us compels us to believe that he was really happier as ‘Puggy Booth’ with a few cronies in a Chelsea bar-parlor than as ‘the famous Mr Turner’ in the company of his patron, Lord Egremont, or in the hospitable mansion of Mr Fawkes of Farnley Hall.
The Rise Of Landscape Painting (continued)
In 1840, when Turner was sixty five, he met a young man of twenty one, fresh from Oxford, who, from the time he first saw the illustrations to Roger’s Italy, had worshipped the genius of Turner, and was destined to become his persistent and most eloquent champion. This was John Ruskin, who in 1843—the year in which Turner painted ‘The Approach to Venice’ – published the first volume of his Modern Painters, an epoch-making book, the real subject of which was the superiority of Turner to all painters past and present. Henceforward, however others might laugh at and ridicule his magical color visions, Turner now had an enthusiastic defender whose opinions yearly became more authoritative and more widely respected. It is no exaggeration to say that to the constant eulogy of Ruskin is due in no small measure the universal esteem in which Turner is held today.
Though he never married, Turner had a natural liking for a quiet domestic existence, and after his father’s death he began to lead a double life. Under the assumed name of Booth he formed a connection with a woman who kept a house at 119 Cheyne Walk, where he had been accustomed occasionally to lodge, and ‘Puggy’ or ‘Admiral’ Booth became a well-known character in Chelsea, where he was reputed to be a retired mariner of eccentric disposition, fond of his glass, and never tired of watching the sun. On the roof of the house in Cheyne Walk there was a gallery, and here ‘Mr Booth’ would sit for hours at dawn and sunset. The secret of his double existence was not discovered till the day before his death, for he had been accustomed to absent himself from Queen Anne Street for long intervals and therefore was not missed. Suddenly those who knew him as Turner learnt that the great artist was lying dead in a little house at Chelsea, where his last illness had seized him, and where he died on December 19, 1851. The body was removed to the house in Queen Anne Street, and afterwards buried in the crypt of St Paul’s Cathedral.
Turner left a fortune of £140,000, and after making a number of small annuities left the bulk of it for the benefit of art and artists; but his will, drawn by himself, was so vague and unskillfully framed that, after four years litigation, a compromise was arranged on the advice of the Lord Chancellor. The Royal Academy received £20000, which is set aside as the Turner Fund for the relief of poor artists not members of their body, and the National Gallery acquired the magnificent gift of 362 oil paintings, 135 finished water colors, 1757 studies in color, and thousands of drawings and sketches. The task of sifting, arranging, and cataloguing the water colors and sketches which Turner bequeathed to the nation was rightly placed in the sympathetic hands of his great advocate, John Ruskin.
The life of Turner, as we have seen, was full of strangeness and contradictions, and it is possible he may have inherited some of his eccentricities from his mother, a woman of fierce temper, who eventually became insane. There was little correspodence between his art and his life, for, as Mr E V Lucas has justly said: ‘Turner’s works are marvels of loveliness and grandeur; Turner was grubby, miserly, jealous, and squalid in his tastes. He saw visions and glorified even what was already glorious; and he deliberately chose to live in houses think with grime, and often to consort with inferior persons.’ The evidence before us compels us to believe that he was really happier as ‘Puggy Booth’ with a few cronies in a Chelsea bar-parlor than as ‘the famous Mr Turner’ in the company of his patron, Lord Egremont, or in the hospitable mansion of Mr Fawkes of Farnley Hall.
The Rise Of Landscape Painting (continued)
Miloš Forman
Milos Forman is an actor + screenwriter + professor + two-time Academy Award-winning film director + the 1975 adaptation of Ken Kesey's novel One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, won five Academy Awards (my favorite) + other great movies include Hair (musical, 1979) + Ragtime (1981) + Amadeus (1984) + Valmont (1989) + The People vs. Larry Flynt (1996) + Man on the Moon (1999) + Goya's Ghosts (2006) + I love his movies.
Useful links:
www.milosforman.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milo%C5%A1_Forman
Useful links:
www.milosforman.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milo%C5%A1_Forman
Gold Update
Quite recently the Group of Seven (G-7) approved the sale of gold by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) from April as part of a broad reform of its budget, but the big question is whether the U.S Congress (USA is the largest single member nation + the largest single contributor of the IMF's gold) is going to authorize the reform + I think a win or a loss for gold may depend on the precise size, timing and methodology of the disposals + the best thing to do is to watch the US dollar and equity markets (prime movers for the precious metal) and see if the proposed sale is going to impact gold market prices.
Useful links:
www.imf.org
www.bis.org
www.ecb.int
www.thegartmanletter.com
www.thebulliondesk.com
www.kitco.com
Useful links:
www.imf.org
www.bis.org
www.ecb.int
www.thegartmanletter.com
www.thebulliondesk.com
www.kitco.com
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Signs Of The Time
It was interesting to read the comment (s) by Israel's largest diamond dealer Lev Leviev at the the Third International Diamond Conference in Tel Aviv, 2008 about the state of the diamond industry: 'You can’t blame the diamond producers for their desire to achieve the highest prices possible + oil, gold, coal and other minerals saw prices rise 300-400 percent in the last five years – much more than diamonds + we grew second and third tier polishers that grew with us + each gets a different (category of) diamonds, and they don’t compete with each other + the competition between manufacturers when they all sell the same items causes them to lower prices.'
I think he is right + the industry need a unified strategy + it's all about effective/mutually beneficial distribution methodology + at the end of the day it's all about profit not prices.
I think he is right + the industry need a unified strategy + it's all about effective/mutually beneficial distribution methodology + at the end of the day it's all about profit not prices.
Microtrends
Microtrends: The Small Forces Behind Tomorrow's Big Changes by Mark Penn + E. Kinney Zalesne is intriguing + it makes you think differently + we are a collection of communities with many individual tastes and lifestyles + I liked the book.
Herbie Hancock
Herbert Hancock is an Academy Award and Grammy award-winning American jazz pianist and composer + he is one of jazz music's most important and influential pianists and composers + he blends elements of rock, funk, and soul to create that otherness.
Useful links:
www.herbiehancock.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herbie_Hancock
Useful links:
www.herbiehancock.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herbie_Hancock
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