(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
This work was accomplished in less than three weeks’ time, for, says a State record, 1623, ‘Mr Heriot sat up day and night to get them completed.’
In a letter to the Prince of Wales, who was then traveling in Spain, James wrote that he was sending for his ‘Babie’s owin wearing.....the Three Brethren, that you knowe full well, but newlie sette.’
Aside from the famous pendant, orders were issued concerning the selection of ‘five or six faire jewels to be worn in men’s hats, same to be of £6000 or £7000 value, and none under.’ And to these sumptuous hat ornaments for the Prince, James added ‘the Mirroure of Frawnce, the fellowe of the Portugall Dyamont, quhiche I wolde wishe you to weare alone in your hatte with a little blakke feather.’
The rich jewels of the English crown were before long to face new dangers to their permanent existence. Not long after they came into the hands of Charles I, the ‘Babie’ for whom The Brethren had already suffered resetting, financial affairs were in a bad way. But there were all those jewels which had been collecting for so many years in the royal treasury—and to these Charles turned for a source of ready money, selling and pawning jewels that merely for their historic, if not their intrinsic, value, would each be worth a small fortune today. Many of these he pawned or sold in England, but during the Civil War much valuable jewelry was sent by the King and his sympathizers from England to Amsterdam, where it was broken up, the gold melted, and the gems thrown on the market for whatever they would fetch.
Amsterdam was at that time the gem grading center of Europe. When Portugal had expelled her Jewish gem merchants many of them migrated to Amsterdam, where they opened shops in which jewelry was both sold and taken as security. Above the shop door hung three golden balls as the symbol of the retail jeweler and money lender.
But, all the cash that Amsterdam could supply in exchange for English jewels was insufficient to stem the rush of events that proved fatal, not only to King Charles, but to whatever portion of the royal collection of gems had still remained intact.
Up to this point—the death of Charles—the jewels had at least served the utilitarian purpose of providing the King with money. They had been sacrificed to Mammon but not to Malice. But now the House of Commons, determined to stamp out all things relating to monarchy, proceeded ruthlessly to demolish the emblems of royalty. Deaf to the voices of the few members who tried to halt destruction by pointing out the fact that the crown jewels intact were worth far more than their value if reduced to lumps of gold and unmounted stones, the puritanical members had their way.
Among the treasures was the ancient crown of Alfred the Great, made of gold wire and set with small gems. It was melted down and sold at £3 an ounce. Other royal ornaments, broken up or sold at auction, include scepters; crowns set with diamonds, rubies and sapphires; swords, spurs, and regal plate. The list concludes with the following statement:
The foremention’d crownes, since y inventorie was taken, are accordinge to ord’ of parm totallie broken and defaced.
Eleven years later England again had need of crowns and scepters. According to one old account:
Because through Rapine of the late unhappy times all the Royall Ornaments and Regalia heretofore preserved from age to age in the Treasury of the Church at Westminster, were taken away, sold and destroyed, the Committee mett divers times not only to direct the remaking such Royall Ornaments adn Regalia, but even to sette the form and fashion of each particular.
The new Regalia, made from Charles II, son of the ‘Martyr’, met wtih misfortune when Colonel Blood all but succeeded in making off with it. The State Crown, having been bashed in during this raid, was replaced with an entirely new one for which extra gems had to be purchased, since a number of the original ones were lost in the shuffle.
Jewelers Of The Seventeenth Century (continued)
Monday, February 18, 2008
Natural Landscape
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
Sir George Beaumont not only encouraged young Constable to go on with his sketching, but lent him works which might serve as models for his practice. Among these were two water colors by Thomas Girtin, which Constable always maintained set his feet firmly in the right road, and also Claude’s ‘Landscape with the Angel appearing to Hagar,’ a work Beaumont so loved that he took it about with him wherever he traveled. In 1826 he gave this with fifteen other pictures to the nation, but finding he could not live without it he asked for it back till his death, which occurred in the following year. This Claude is now in the National Gallery.
The opinion of this artist-baronet naturally carried weight with Constable’s father, and as a result of his influence John Constable was permitted to go to London in 1795 to study art. Here he was encouraged by Joseph Farington, A.A (1747-1821), who communicated to him some of the precepts he had himself derived from his master Richard Wilson, and in 1799 Constable, through Farington’s influence, was admitted to the Royal Academy Schools. Although the first painting Constable exhibited at the Academy was a landscape, shown in 1802, he began his professional career as a portrait painter, which was then the only profitable branch of art. But after painting some portraits and altar pieces for Brantham in 1804 and for Nayland in 1809, he came to devote himself more or less exclusively to landscape, which was the true bent of his genius. He felt he could paint his own places best, he delighted in the flats of Dedham, with its trees and slow river ‘escaping from milldams, over willows, old rotten planks, slimy posts, and brickwork’; and so he finally settled down as the painter of the rural scenery among which he had been born. In 1803 he had written, ‘I feel now, more than ever, a decided conviction that I shall some time or other make some good pictures; pictures that shall be valuable to posterity, if I do not reap the benefit of them.’
These words were prophetic, and for some years almost the only patrons the young artist had were a kindly uncle and his friend Archdeacon Fisher, the nephew and chaplain of the Bishop of Salisbury. Had Constable been content to be merely topographical artist as Farington and most of the older water colorists were, he would probably have found it easier to sell his works and make a respectable income; but from the first it was his desire not merely to paint ‘portraits of places,’ but to give a true and full impression of Nature, to paint light, dews, breezes, bloom, and freshness. The multitude of his sketches—of which a fine collection may be seen in the Victoria and Albert Museum, South Kensington—show how earnestly and assiduously he studied Nature in all her aspects to attain this end, and though a love of Nature and of truth is discernible even in his earliest works, it was only gradually that Constable acquired the breadth and freedom which distinguish his later works.
If we compare even so beautiful an example of his early style as ‘Boat-building near Flatford Mill,’ painted in 1815, with ‘The Hay Wain,’ painted in 1821, we at once perceive the tremendous advance made by the artist in the intervening six years. It is not altogether without significance to note that the greatest strides forward in his art were made during the early years of his married life, and it may not unreasonably be surmised that the happiness of his private life and domestic contentment compensated Constable for public neglect and helped to give him increased confidence in his own powers.
Natural Landscape (continued)
Sir George Beaumont not only encouraged young Constable to go on with his sketching, but lent him works which might serve as models for his practice. Among these were two water colors by Thomas Girtin, which Constable always maintained set his feet firmly in the right road, and also Claude’s ‘Landscape with the Angel appearing to Hagar,’ a work Beaumont so loved that he took it about with him wherever he traveled. In 1826 he gave this with fifteen other pictures to the nation, but finding he could not live without it he asked for it back till his death, which occurred in the following year. This Claude is now in the National Gallery.
The opinion of this artist-baronet naturally carried weight with Constable’s father, and as a result of his influence John Constable was permitted to go to London in 1795 to study art. Here he was encouraged by Joseph Farington, A.A (1747-1821), who communicated to him some of the precepts he had himself derived from his master Richard Wilson, and in 1799 Constable, through Farington’s influence, was admitted to the Royal Academy Schools. Although the first painting Constable exhibited at the Academy was a landscape, shown in 1802, he began his professional career as a portrait painter, which was then the only profitable branch of art. But after painting some portraits and altar pieces for Brantham in 1804 and for Nayland in 1809, he came to devote himself more or less exclusively to landscape, which was the true bent of his genius. He felt he could paint his own places best, he delighted in the flats of Dedham, with its trees and slow river ‘escaping from milldams, over willows, old rotten planks, slimy posts, and brickwork’; and so he finally settled down as the painter of the rural scenery among which he had been born. In 1803 he had written, ‘I feel now, more than ever, a decided conviction that I shall some time or other make some good pictures; pictures that shall be valuable to posterity, if I do not reap the benefit of them.’
These words were prophetic, and for some years almost the only patrons the young artist had were a kindly uncle and his friend Archdeacon Fisher, the nephew and chaplain of the Bishop of Salisbury. Had Constable been content to be merely topographical artist as Farington and most of the older water colorists were, he would probably have found it easier to sell his works and make a respectable income; but from the first it was his desire not merely to paint ‘portraits of places,’ but to give a true and full impression of Nature, to paint light, dews, breezes, bloom, and freshness. The multitude of his sketches—of which a fine collection may be seen in the Victoria and Albert Museum, South Kensington—show how earnestly and assiduously he studied Nature in all her aspects to attain this end, and though a love of Nature and of truth is discernible even in his earliest works, it was only gradually that Constable acquired the breadth and freedom which distinguish his later works.
If we compare even so beautiful an example of his early style as ‘Boat-building near Flatford Mill,’ painted in 1815, with ‘The Hay Wain,’ painted in 1821, we at once perceive the tremendous advance made by the artist in the intervening six years. It is not altogether without significance to note that the greatest strides forward in his art were made during the early years of his married life, and it may not unreasonably be surmised that the happiness of his private life and domestic contentment compensated Constable for public neglect and helped to give him increased confidence in his own powers.
Natural Landscape (continued)
Global Warming + Wine
At a recent wine makers conference in Barcelona, Spain, carbon dioxide storage was an important topic for discussion (s) among the experts + wine production emits large quantities of CO2, the main gas responsible for climate change + experts believe global warming would lead to harder and less aromatic wines + some have already started experimenting with carbon capture and storage techniques whereby harmful CO2 emissions are trapped and stored underground + I hope wine producers will find innovative ways to use less water, less energy, and practice a more holistic agriculture to produce quality wine.
Useful link:
www.climatechangeandwine.com
Useful link:
www.climatechangeandwine.com
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Coal Is Still King
According to the WCI’s most updated numbers, coal still represents a full quarter of the world’s energy consumption + for world electricity consumption, the share is 40% + more than half of America’s electricity comes from coal + in China and Australia, the totals are closer to 80% + in Poland and South Africa, the totals are over 90% + at the end of the day we’re all coal addicts + most of us just don’t realize it + right now, I think coal is the hottest commodity.
Useful links:
www.worldcoal.org
www.fossil.energy.gov
www.futuregenalliance.org
Useful links:
www.worldcoal.org
www.fossil.energy.gov
www.futuregenalliance.org
Random Thoughts
Many a man has fallen in love with a girl in a light so dim he would not have chosen a suit by it.
- Maurice Chevalier (Actor and singer)
- Maurice Chevalier (Actor and singer)
Diamond-encrusted Hot Wheel Car
Here is what the Mattel website has to say about the diamond-encrusted car:
Hot Wheels® today announced its year-long plans to celebrate the brand's 40-year heritage at the 105th American International Toy Fair®. Anniversary activities were kicked off with the unveiling of a custom jeweled 1:64-scale Hot Wheels® car, designed by celebrity jeweler Jason of Beverly Hills. This one-of-a-kind car, the most expensive in Hot Wheels® history, was made to commemorate the production of the 4 billionth Hot Wheels® vehicle. The diamonds on the custom-made jeweled car, valued at $140,000, totals more than 2,700 and weighs nearly 23 carats. The car is cast in 18-karat white gold with the majority of the vehicle detailed with micro pave-set brilliant blue diamonds, mimicking the Hot Wheels® Spectraflame® blue paint. Under the functional hood, the engine showcases additional micro pave-set white and black diamonds. The Hot Wheels® flame logo found on the underbelly of the car is lined with white and black diamonds. Red rubies are set as the tail lights, while black diamonds and red enamel create the "red line" tires. The custom-made case that houses the jewel-encrusted vehicle also holds 40 individual white diamonds, signifying each year in the legacy of Hot Wheels®.
I really liked it.
Useful links:
www.mattel.com
www.hotwheels.com
Hot Wheels® today announced its year-long plans to celebrate the brand's 40-year heritage at the 105th American International Toy Fair®. Anniversary activities were kicked off with the unveiling of a custom jeweled 1:64-scale Hot Wheels® car, designed by celebrity jeweler Jason of Beverly Hills. This one-of-a-kind car, the most expensive in Hot Wheels® history, was made to commemorate the production of the 4 billionth Hot Wheels® vehicle. The diamonds on the custom-made jeweled car, valued at $140,000, totals more than 2,700 and weighs nearly 23 carats. The car is cast in 18-karat white gold with the majority of the vehicle detailed with micro pave-set brilliant blue diamonds, mimicking the Hot Wheels® Spectraflame® blue paint. Under the functional hood, the engine showcases additional micro pave-set white and black diamonds. The Hot Wheels® flame logo found on the underbelly of the car is lined with white and black diamonds. Red rubies are set as the tail lights, while black diamonds and red enamel create the "red line" tires. The custom-made case that houses the jewel-encrusted vehicle also holds 40 individual white diamonds, signifying each year in the legacy of Hot Wheels®.
I really liked it.
Useful links:
www.mattel.com
www.hotwheels.com
Peter Greenaway
Peter Greenaway, the iconoclastic British film-maker, will be bringing to life the hidden stories he sees in Leonardo Da Vinci's The Last Supper, turning into a narrative that stretches from Christ's birth to his crucifixion with voice given to the thoughts of each disciple as they work out which of them will betray him + if all goes well, it's going to be one-of-a-kind movie with spectacular visual effects and educational content.
Useful link:
www.petergreenawayevents.com
Useful link:
www.petergreenawayevents.com
Vanity Fair Portraits
Vanity Fair has an impressive photographic collection + a new exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery in London will show classic images from Vanity Fair's early period + other viewpoints @ http://www.npg.org.uk/vanityfair/index.htm
I have seen a few and they are brilliant.
I have seen a few and they are brilliant.
Jewelers Of The Seventeenth Century
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
1. Old Jewels In New Settings
The dauntless Elizabeth, Queen of England, had died with her clothes on, refusing to relinquish her cumbersome finery even in death. Perhaps it might be possible for a lady to carry a greater load of gold and precious stones than did the regal Elizabeth but for the time being she was champion. The culminating point in the matter of quantity had been reached, and with her death in 1603 the flood tide of jewels in Europe began gradually to recede.
James I, who succeeded Elizabeth, had a wife, Anne, who loved finery but lacked that elusive quality called style. There was little change in dress and jewels in England for some years. After Queen Anne’s death, the ladies even became a degree less flamboyant—but not so the men. Jewels seem to have found a special place of prominence on their enormous felt hats. These hats were decorated extravagantly with jeweled bands and gold clasps set with gems that held in place the bunch of plumes waving jauntily from the side, back, or upturned brim.
Pearls were especially in vogue. My lady’s hair was twined with pearls and it was the acme of elegant distinction for a gentleman to wear a single large, pear-shaped pearl dangling from one ear only, the other ear left unadorned.
Meanwhile, during the first half of the seventeenth century, Europe was torn with a series of wars. In Germany, the Thirty Years’ War had left the country ruined and desolate. The highly skilled, individualistic work of the goldsmith-jeweler is not an art that thrives in time of war. Germany’s goldsmiths, if escape were possible, fled and scattered in other lands.
Along with these unsettled times came changes of fashion. In France, the heavy velvets and stiff brocades that could almost stand alone made place for dainty silks and furbelows less stately, more gay, in accordance with the temper of the French court. Out of mode were the architectural forms, scrolls, and strapwork dear to the German school. Paris called for open lace-like settings in keeping with the new delicacy of fabrics, not the massive ornaments of the century past. The gemstone itself was now called upon to play the leading role; the setting must be subordinate.
And then, as has so often happened, came a wave of remodeling jewelry. Many a fine example of the goldsmith’s art was cast without regard to its beauty into the melting pot.
The epidemic of destruction did not confine itself to France. In Merrie England, when the new king, James I, took stock of the crown jewels, the inventory of 1603 listed ‘a fayre Flower, with three great ballaces, in the myddest a greate pointed dyamonde, and three greate perles fixed, with a fayre greate perle pendante, called The Brethren.’ It was, of course, the same historic pendant made for Charles the Bold, and later added to the royal regalia by Henry VIII. Elizabeth had kept the jewel intact, but when the fever of remodeling jewelry swept Europe, the pendant was among the royal jewels handled over to one of the court jewelers, George Heriot of Edinburgh, for refashioning.
Jewlers Of The Seventeenth Century (continued)
1. Old Jewels In New Settings
The dauntless Elizabeth, Queen of England, had died with her clothes on, refusing to relinquish her cumbersome finery even in death. Perhaps it might be possible for a lady to carry a greater load of gold and precious stones than did the regal Elizabeth but for the time being she was champion. The culminating point in the matter of quantity had been reached, and with her death in 1603 the flood tide of jewels in Europe began gradually to recede.
James I, who succeeded Elizabeth, had a wife, Anne, who loved finery but lacked that elusive quality called style. There was little change in dress and jewels in England for some years. After Queen Anne’s death, the ladies even became a degree less flamboyant—but not so the men. Jewels seem to have found a special place of prominence on their enormous felt hats. These hats were decorated extravagantly with jeweled bands and gold clasps set with gems that held in place the bunch of plumes waving jauntily from the side, back, or upturned brim.
Pearls were especially in vogue. My lady’s hair was twined with pearls and it was the acme of elegant distinction for a gentleman to wear a single large, pear-shaped pearl dangling from one ear only, the other ear left unadorned.
Meanwhile, during the first half of the seventeenth century, Europe was torn with a series of wars. In Germany, the Thirty Years’ War had left the country ruined and desolate. The highly skilled, individualistic work of the goldsmith-jeweler is not an art that thrives in time of war. Germany’s goldsmiths, if escape were possible, fled and scattered in other lands.
Along with these unsettled times came changes of fashion. In France, the heavy velvets and stiff brocades that could almost stand alone made place for dainty silks and furbelows less stately, more gay, in accordance with the temper of the French court. Out of mode were the architectural forms, scrolls, and strapwork dear to the German school. Paris called for open lace-like settings in keeping with the new delicacy of fabrics, not the massive ornaments of the century past. The gemstone itself was now called upon to play the leading role; the setting must be subordinate.
And then, as has so often happened, came a wave of remodeling jewelry. Many a fine example of the goldsmith’s art was cast without regard to its beauty into the melting pot.
The epidemic of destruction did not confine itself to France. In Merrie England, when the new king, James I, took stock of the crown jewels, the inventory of 1603 listed ‘a fayre Flower, with three great ballaces, in the myddest a greate pointed dyamonde, and three greate perles fixed, with a fayre greate perle pendante, called The Brethren.’ It was, of course, the same historic pendant made for Charles the Bold, and later added to the royal regalia by Henry VIII. Elizabeth had kept the jewel intact, but when the fever of remodeling jewelry swept Europe, the pendant was among the royal jewels handled over to one of the court jewelers, George Heriot of Edinburgh, for refashioning.
Jewlers Of The Seventeenth Century (continued)
Natural Landscape
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
The Art Of Constable, Bonington, Crome, And Cotman
1
Unquestionably the two greatest English painters of landscape, and probably the two greatest English painters of any kind, were Turner and Constable, who were born within a year of one another. Turner, as we saw in the last chapter, amassed a large fortune; Constable, on the other hand, could hardly earn a bare living, and not until 1814, when the artist was thirty eight, did he sell a picture to any but his own personal friends.
How was it that, from a worldly point of view, Constable failed where Turner succeeded? The explanation is to be found in the totally different character of the landscapes painted by these two artists. Turner, as Claude had done before him, made frequent use of nominal subjects as an excuse for his pictures of Nature; there was a dramatic element in his art which appealed to the popular imagination, and even when, as in many of his later works, people found difficulty in apprehending the elements of his style, they were insensibly affected by the splendor of his color and brought to admit that these pictures, if difficult to understand, were paintings in the ‘grand style’.
Constable never made use of ficticious subjects and titles as an excuse for painting landscapes. His works were wholly free from any dramatic or foreign interest, and following example of the Dutch landscape painters of the seventeenth century, he whole-heartedly devoted himself to painting the simple, homely beauty of the scenery in his native land. He modestly confessed that he thought there was room for a ‘natural painter’ and by this he meant a painter who would devote himself to painting as truly as he could the beauty of Nature without importing into his pictures any extraneous reference to Homeric legend or to events in the past or present.
His landscapes were long unappreciated because they appealed to a pure love of Nature which was not fully awake in the artist’s lifetime. ‘My art,’ said Constable a little bitterly in his middle years, ‘flatters nobody by imitation, it courts nobody by smoothness, tickles nobody by petiteness, it is without either fal-de-lal or fiddle-de-dee; how can I then hope to be popular?’
John Constable was born on June 11, 1776, nearly fourteen months, to be precise, after the birth of Turner. He was the son of a miller who owned watermills at Flatford and Dedham and two windmills at East Berghholt in Suffolk. It was at the mill house in East Berghholt that John Constable was born, and here he passed the greater part of his youth. His father wished him to enter the Church, but Constable had no inclination in this direction, and after he had finished his education in the local school, at the age of eighteen he assisted his father in the mill at East Bergholt which figures in so many of his landscapes.
Meanwhile his love of Nature and art was encouraged by a great amateur who happened to have his seat in the neighboring county of Essex and wa quick to recognize the talent of young Constable. Sir George Beaumont (1753-1827) was something of a painter himself, he had been a pupil of Richard Wilson; and he was an enthusiastic patron of art and artists. He had peculiar ideas about color, and his well-known saying that ‘a good picture, like good fiddle, should be brown,’ was not helpful to a painter like Constable, who saw them; but at this time Constable was beginner, and the friendly encouragement and advice of Beaumont decided Constable’s career.
One of the best things about Sir George Beaumont, to whose zeal and generosity we owe in large measure the establishment of the National Gallery, was his unremitting efforts to make England appreciate the genius of her own artists. As a young man he had waggishly shown up the ignorance of the public and its ridiculous passion for foreign artists by advertising in the newspapers that a wonderful German had arrived in Bond Street who could take likenesses by a new method of heating the mirror in which the sitter looked, and for ever fixing and preserving the reflection! On the next day a crowd of fashionable folk flocked to Bond Street, only to be laughed at by the practical joker and his friends.
Natural Landscape (continued)
The Art Of Constable, Bonington, Crome, And Cotman
1
Unquestionably the two greatest English painters of landscape, and probably the two greatest English painters of any kind, were Turner and Constable, who were born within a year of one another. Turner, as we saw in the last chapter, amassed a large fortune; Constable, on the other hand, could hardly earn a bare living, and not until 1814, when the artist was thirty eight, did he sell a picture to any but his own personal friends.
How was it that, from a worldly point of view, Constable failed where Turner succeeded? The explanation is to be found in the totally different character of the landscapes painted by these two artists. Turner, as Claude had done before him, made frequent use of nominal subjects as an excuse for his pictures of Nature; there was a dramatic element in his art which appealed to the popular imagination, and even when, as in many of his later works, people found difficulty in apprehending the elements of his style, they were insensibly affected by the splendor of his color and brought to admit that these pictures, if difficult to understand, were paintings in the ‘grand style’.
Constable never made use of ficticious subjects and titles as an excuse for painting landscapes. His works were wholly free from any dramatic or foreign interest, and following example of the Dutch landscape painters of the seventeenth century, he whole-heartedly devoted himself to painting the simple, homely beauty of the scenery in his native land. He modestly confessed that he thought there was room for a ‘natural painter’ and by this he meant a painter who would devote himself to painting as truly as he could the beauty of Nature without importing into his pictures any extraneous reference to Homeric legend or to events in the past or present.
His landscapes were long unappreciated because they appealed to a pure love of Nature which was not fully awake in the artist’s lifetime. ‘My art,’ said Constable a little bitterly in his middle years, ‘flatters nobody by imitation, it courts nobody by smoothness, tickles nobody by petiteness, it is without either fal-de-lal or fiddle-de-dee; how can I then hope to be popular?’
John Constable was born on June 11, 1776, nearly fourteen months, to be precise, after the birth of Turner. He was the son of a miller who owned watermills at Flatford and Dedham and two windmills at East Berghholt in Suffolk. It was at the mill house in East Berghholt that John Constable was born, and here he passed the greater part of his youth. His father wished him to enter the Church, but Constable had no inclination in this direction, and after he had finished his education in the local school, at the age of eighteen he assisted his father in the mill at East Bergholt which figures in so many of his landscapes.
Meanwhile his love of Nature and art was encouraged by a great amateur who happened to have his seat in the neighboring county of Essex and wa quick to recognize the talent of young Constable. Sir George Beaumont (1753-1827) was something of a painter himself, he had been a pupil of Richard Wilson; and he was an enthusiastic patron of art and artists. He had peculiar ideas about color, and his well-known saying that ‘a good picture, like good fiddle, should be brown,’ was not helpful to a painter like Constable, who saw them; but at this time Constable was beginner, and the friendly encouragement and advice of Beaumont decided Constable’s career.
One of the best things about Sir George Beaumont, to whose zeal and generosity we owe in large measure the establishment of the National Gallery, was his unremitting efforts to make England appreciate the genius of her own artists. As a young man he had waggishly shown up the ignorance of the public and its ridiculous passion for foreign artists by advertising in the newspapers that a wonderful German had arrived in Bond Street who could take likenesses by a new method of heating the mirror in which the sitter looked, and for ever fixing and preserving the reflection! On the next day a crowd of fashionable folk flocked to Bond Street, only to be laughed at by the practical joker and his friends.
Natural Landscape (continued)
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Heard On The Street
Remember: the market is always right + you can never be taught about market, you have to learn it + you must balance fear and greed.
Eric Estorick
The story of Eric Estorick is unique + the collection of art and sculpture (s) dating from 1890 to the 1950s includes Giacomo Balla + Umberto Boccioni, Carlo Carrà + Gino Severini + Luigi Russolo + Ardengo Soffici + works by Giorgio de Chirico + Amedeo Modigliani + Giorgio Morandi + Mario Sironi + Marino Marini + the Estorick Collection of Modern Italian Art museum in Canonbury Square in the district of Islington on the northern fringes of central London is the United Kingdom's only gallery devoted to modern Italian art.
Useful links:
www.estorickcollection.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Estorick_Collection_of_Modern_Italian_Art
http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/02/15/arts/melik16.php
What made Eric a great collector?
A wonderful eye, timing, foresight, energy.
-Michael Estorick
I think that neatly sums up what it takes to be an art hunter, whether as a dealer or a collector.
Useful links:
www.estorickcollection.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Estorick_Collection_of_Modern_Italian_Art
http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/02/15/arts/melik16.php
What made Eric a great collector?
A wonderful eye, timing, foresight, energy.
-Michael Estorick
I think that neatly sums up what it takes to be an art hunter, whether as a dealer or a collector.
Flawless
Trailer for 'Flawless', the new diamond movie @ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2GfpT1GCXy8
I hope you will like it.
I hope you will like it.
The Detective And The Investor
The Detective and The Investor by Robert G. Hagstrom is an interesting novel book on how the investigative methods used by the great fictional detectives to analyse the evidence and solve the mystery can be used by investors when analysing a business and determining its value + I liked it.
I was wondering whether the concept could be applied in gem and jewelry analysis + valuation.
I was wondering whether the concept could be applied in gem and jewelry analysis + valuation.
Failed Leadership And Fraudulent Certificates
Chaim Even Zohar writes about the state of DDC (Diamond Dealers Club) today + leadership issues and the impact + GIA’s Certifigate scandal and the key players + other viewpoints @ http://www.idexonline.com/portal_Forum_Type.asp?id=31
Jewelers Of Renaissance
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
- Fancy Or Gadget Rings
It seems probable that a great number of gadget rings perished along with the charm of their novelty. Nevertheless some types of these hybrids still exist to rejoice the hearts of collectors. Among them may be listed such items as the pugilist’s ring intended to be used as a weapon, something akin to ‘brass knuckles’; the compass ring, self-explanatory; the puzzle ring, ornamented with a rebus, and the tobacco stopper.
Tobacco had been introduced into Europe during the latter part of the sixteenth century, but it was too costly a luxury for any but the very wealthy. It was smoked in a small pipe and the smoke was expelled through the nose, not through the mouth. One may picture the young exquisite of the day daintly packing tobacco into his pipe with his golden ring, and breathing smoke from his nostrils—a strange new fashion—a sight to provoke awed admiration tinged with alarm! The tobacco stopper no doubt served its purpose well enough but it must have been an awkward ring to wear.
Then there was the ‘writing diamond’ ring. Vivid among our childhood’s memories of English history, as taught in schools, is the threadbare and doubtless unauthenticatic story of Queen Elizabeth and the aspiring gentleman who wrote upon the windowpane with his ring:
Fain would I climb but that I fear to fall.
And the Queen trying her hand at diamond writing, followed with:
If they heart fail thee, do not climb at all.
We used to think diamond writing must have been a difficult feat and that the ring was made for the sole purpose of writing messages or names on windowpanes. Probably it was used to greater advantage in the new fad for engraving glass tableware.
It Italy, the makers of fine glassware had recently invented a new mode of decorating a thin crystal goblet by covering it with an intricate and lacy design made up of a myriad of fine dots. The engraving tool was a diamond point. Presently glass-men of other countries took by glass-stippling, and before long the layman followed suit. He made a hobby of stippling fairy-like pictures on drinking glasses, and since it was a dainty art it appealed to the ladies, and a pointed diamond set in a ring was a charming tool.
There are many rings of the Renaissance whose bezel is made in the form of a little case with a hinged lid, or with a sliding panel beneath the bezel, thus providing a small space where perfume or poison could be kept. An ingenious form of poison ring borrowed its idea from the rattlesnake. A small hollow tube with a sharp point like a fang was connected with a reservoir of poison. When the point was turned inward, a tiny but fatal pucture could be made merely by clasping the hand of an enemy with warm enthusiasm.
- Fancy Or Gadget Rings
It seems probable that a great number of gadget rings perished along with the charm of their novelty. Nevertheless some types of these hybrids still exist to rejoice the hearts of collectors. Among them may be listed such items as the pugilist’s ring intended to be used as a weapon, something akin to ‘brass knuckles’; the compass ring, self-explanatory; the puzzle ring, ornamented with a rebus, and the tobacco stopper.
Tobacco had been introduced into Europe during the latter part of the sixteenth century, but it was too costly a luxury for any but the very wealthy. It was smoked in a small pipe and the smoke was expelled through the nose, not through the mouth. One may picture the young exquisite of the day daintly packing tobacco into his pipe with his golden ring, and breathing smoke from his nostrils—a strange new fashion—a sight to provoke awed admiration tinged with alarm! The tobacco stopper no doubt served its purpose well enough but it must have been an awkward ring to wear.
Then there was the ‘writing diamond’ ring. Vivid among our childhood’s memories of English history, as taught in schools, is the threadbare and doubtless unauthenticatic story of Queen Elizabeth and the aspiring gentleman who wrote upon the windowpane with his ring:
Fain would I climb but that I fear to fall.
And the Queen trying her hand at diamond writing, followed with:
If they heart fail thee, do not climb at all.
We used to think diamond writing must have been a difficult feat and that the ring was made for the sole purpose of writing messages or names on windowpanes. Probably it was used to greater advantage in the new fad for engraving glass tableware.
It Italy, the makers of fine glassware had recently invented a new mode of decorating a thin crystal goblet by covering it with an intricate and lacy design made up of a myriad of fine dots. The engraving tool was a diamond point. Presently glass-men of other countries took by glass-stippling, and before long the layman followed suit. He made a hobby of stippling fairy-like pictures on drinking glasses, and since it was a dainty art it appealed to the ladies, and a pointed diamond set in a ring was a charming tool.
There are many rings of the Renaissance whose bezel is made in the form of a little case with a hinged lid, or with a sliding panel beneath the bezel, thus providing a small space where perfume or poison could be kept. An ingenious form of poison ring borrowed its idea from the rattlesnake. A small hollow tube with a sharp point like a fang was connected with a reservoir of poison. When the point was turned inward, a tiny but fatal pucture could be made merely by clasping the hand of an enemy with warm enthusiasm.
The Rise Of Landscape Painting
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
From Birmingham David Cox went to London to paint scenery—at four shillings a square yard!—in the Surrey Theatre, varying this work with sepia drawings, which he sold to a dealer at two guineas a dozen for school copies. Meanwhile he made every endeavor to improve his art and took lessons from John Varley (1778-1842), an artist of refined accomplishment, who was one of the founders of the Water-color Society in 1804. Varley, who had had his own struggles before he made a position for himself as one of the best water-colorists of his time, like Cox so much and thought so highly of his talent that he would not allow the young man to pay him for his lessons.
Under Varley’s tuition Cox rapidly improved his art and his circumstances; he was able to quit the theatre and earn money in his turn by giving lessons, and in 1805 he made his first visit to Wales, where he discovered Bettws-y-Coed, ever after to be his Mecca. On his return he exhibited his Welsh water colors, which attracted some attention, and in 1808 he married and settled down in a little house on Dulwich Common. Here he gave lessons to pupils and polished his own art by the diligent study of the surrounding scenery, learning to render the varied effects of Nature and the aspects of morning, noon, and twilight. In 1813 he was elected a member of the Water-color Society and became one of the principal contributors to its exhibitions.
In 1829 he made a tour on the Continent, choosing his subjects on the coasts and in the market places of Antwerp and Brussels, and the crowded bridges of Paris, but he liked best the scenery of his own country, particularly the mountainous country of Wales and Scotland, whose gloomy passes he painted with great effect and grandeur. He also painted many views of the Thames and of the country round London, but till he was past fifty he worked exclusively in water-colors.
In 1839, however, when he was fifty six, Cox became acquainted with a young Bristol painter, William James Mϋller (1812-45), who had just returned from a long journey through Greece and Egypt. Mϋller was himself a very brilliant colorist and a skillful painter in oils; the man and his work made a deep impression on Cox, who studied Mϋller and watched him at work, and henceforward devoted himself more to oils than to water-colors. About 1841 Cox left London and settled at Greenfield House, Harborne, near Birmingham, and there, with an annual excursion of some weeks to his beloved Bettwys-y-Coed, he lived till the day of his death on June 7, 1859. During these later years Cox gave himself chiefly to oil-painting; his best pictures were seldom seen in London during his own lifetime, and when shown were not generally appreciated. It was only after his death that his merit as an oil painter became widely recognized.
Whether in oil or in water color the work of David Cox is distinguished by its light, its vigor, and its spaciousness. His pictures ‘A Windy Day,’ also known as ‘Crossing the Common,’ is a happy example of the scene and weather he excelled in rendering.
From Birmingham David Cox went to London to paint scenery—at four shillings a square yard!—in the Surrey Theatre, varying this work with sepia drawings, which he sold to a dealer at two guineas a dozen for school copies. Meanwhile he made every endeavor to improve his art and took lessons from John Varley (1778-1842), an artist of refined accomplishment, who was one of the founders of the Water-color Society in 1804. Varley, who had had his own struggles before he made a position for himself as one of the best water-colorists of his time, like Cox so much and thought so highly of his talent that he would not allow the young man to pay him for his lessons.
Under Varley’s tuition Cox rapidly improved his art and his circumstances; he was able to quit the theatre and earn money in his turn by giving lessons, and in 1805 he made his first visit to Wales, where he discovered Bettws-y-Coed, ever after to be his Mecca. On his return he exhibited his Welsh water colors, which attracted some attention, and in 1808 he married and settled down in a little house on Dulwich Common. Here he gave lessons to pupils and polished his own art by the diligent study of the surrounding scenery, learning to render the varied effects of Nature and the aspects of morning, noon, and twilight. In 1813 he was elected a member of the Water-color Society and became one of the principal contributors to its exhibitions.
In 1829 he made a tour on the Continent, choosing his subjects on the coasts and in the market places of Antwerp and Brussels, and the crowded bridges of Paris, but he liked best the scenery of his own country, particularly the mountainous country of Wales and Scotland, whose gloomy passes he painted with great effect and grandeur. He also painted many views of the Thames and of the country round London, but till he was past fifty he worked exclusively in water-colors.
In 1839, however, when he was fifty six, Cox became acquainted with a young Bristol painter, William James Mϋller (1812-45), who had just returned from a long journey through Greece and Egypt. Mϋller was himself a very brilliant colorist and a skillful painter in oils; the man and his work made a deep impression on Cox, who studied Mϋller and watched him at work, and henceforward devoted himself more to oils than to water-colors. About 1841 Cox left London and settled at Greenfield House, Harborne, near Birmingham, and there, with an annual excursion of some weeks to his beloved Bettwys-y-Coed, he lived till the day of his death on June 7, 1859. During these later years Cox gave himself chiefly to oil-painting; his best pictures were seldom seen in London during his own lifetime, and when shown were not generally appreciated. It was only after his death that his merit as an oil painter became widely recognized.
Whether in oil or in water color the work of David Cox is distinguished by its light, its vigor, and its spaciousness. His pictures ‘A Windy Day,’ also known as ‘Crossing the Common,’ is a happy example of the scene and weather he excelled in rendering.
Heard On The Street
We have no way of knowing what lays ahead for us in the future + all we can do is use the information at hand to make the best decision possible.
The Estanque
(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.
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.
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)