The Virtual Community: Homesteading on the Electronic Frontier by Howard Rheingold is an important book on issues surrounding the world online communities + I think it's a must read.
Useful link:
www.rheingold.com
Thursday, March 06, 2008
A New Pearl Center In Zhuji, China
China Pearls and Jewelry City has announced the grand opening of pearls & jewelry exhibition center in Zhuji, China, on April 18, 2008 + the facilities and services include a center for manufacturing + processing and trading pearls + jewelry / accessories/equipment + 5,000 shops / booths + a year-round platform for exhibition/ display / trade + warehouse / logistics facilities + import and export / banking / insurance services + a five-star hotel /restaurants /entertainment / residential facilities + an international jewelry appraisal and training center.
Useful links:
www.cpjcity.com
www.zj.gov.cn
Useful links:
www.cpjcity.com
www.zj.gov.cn
The New World
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
3. The Modern Jeweler
‘Beauty unadorned?’
Why shouldn’t it be adorned? Even the perfect rose will at times enhance its beauty by wearing a jewel in the form of a flashing dewdrop—and no one pulls a long face of reproof. It may be argued with truth that the dewdrop is always in good taste, while our jewelry is at time sadly lacking in that respect. Nevertheless, fashions of today are sufficiently varied to offer an exceptionally wide choice. The year 1939 brought an influx of so-called ‘costume jewelry’. Heavy and gorgeous in its imitation gold and synthetic gems, such jewelry is not expected to fool anybody as to the authenticity of its materials, but is worn as an accessory to some special gown, much as half a century ago we trimmed our dresses with colored glass beads woven into decorative bands called passementerie. Passementerie was discarded with the gown it ornamented and so will be the costume jewelry of the moment; yet worn with discretion this barbaric style can be extremely effective.
It is to Paris we look for the latest word in styles, yet America is also creating her own styles and rivaling even French technique in the (sometimes arduous) task of making us pleasing to the eye. At any rate, when Paris and New York combine forces in that particular field, you have something hard to beat in any land.
At the corner of Fifth Avenue and 52nd Street, New York City, stands Cartier, Inc. First established in Paris about 1840, Cartier’s was soon after to be found in London also, and by 1900 in New York City as well. At Cartier’s Fifth Avenue, may be seen the latest word in twentieth-century jewels, from tiaras, fit for royalty, to tiny golden bangles, fashioned according to the fleeting craze of the moment. Here, it would not be in the least difficult to spend several fortunes (if you happened to have them) without turning around. On the other hand you will also find a display of distinctive examples of the jeweler’s art, priced well within the limits of a modest pocketbook.
Viewed from the street, one gets the effect of a shop, select and conservatively small. But that reticent exterior is a doorway into two six-story buildings whose upper floors are all humming with the varied activities of skilled artisans and designers, for much of Cartier’s jewelry is made on the spot.
As one example of cosmopolitan development of the jeweler’s craft, let us go backstage where the public as a rule does not venture, and watch at close range some of the steps in the making of fine jewelry of today. An elevator takes us to the top of the building, and we enter a room dedicated to the appraisal of precious stones. One’s first impression is lack of all color, a room in black and gray, arranged for the special purpose of giving the best possible conditions for seeing. Daylight, the cold north light most desired by the painter, who must clearly differentiate his colors, falls on tables covered with black felt. Here the expert may examine the precious stone under consideration without any disturbing intrusion of other colors. As a rule, the layman does not fully realize how the eye reacts to a juxtaposition of two or more different colors—each one of which may appear to have undergone a change when seen by itself. The colorless room, however, takes care of that difficulty and allows a single gem to be seen at its true color-value, or else in its true relation to a differently colored stone.
Next we go to a strong room in which great safes hold trays of precious and semi-precious stones, some dressed, some still in the rough. Many of the latter completely hide their potential magnificence and look like dull and shapeless pebbles, yet one or another of these unimpressive little stones may represent cash in four figures. But before their value becomes evident to the public the sleeping beauty in each stone must be awakened by the hum of the lapidary’s wheel.
As we approach the next room we can hear the humming obbligato of wheels, puncutated by little whining solos as a ruby or sapphire is pressed against a whirling ‘lap’. There are many machines, and the lapidaries sit at long tables, each man with his rapidly revolving wheel before him. The stone to be cut is embedded in a bit of wax,of a special kind, and stuck fast to the end of a small stick. Near the wheel is an upright rest, called a ‘jamb-peg’. It is notched at intervals and serves as a brace for the upper end of the stick while the gem is being pressed firmly, at any desired angle, against the lap. Other than this simple contrivance, the lapidary depends generally on nothing but his eye and his long-trained judgment for the exact placement of a facet.
In rooms where loose gems are handled, the floor is covered with a wooden grill. If a stone chances to fall on the floor it is likely to lodge in a crevice, safe from passing feet until it is recovered. Few gems are ever lost, however, for every worker checks and rechecks his supply, and risk is further removed by a man who carefully examines every scrap of waste paper before throwing it into the discard.
The New World (continued)
3. The Modern Jeweler
‘Beauty unadorned?’
Why shouldn’t it be adorned? Even the perfect rose will at times enhance its beauty by wearing a jewel in the form of a flashing dewdrop—and no one pulls a long face of reproof. It may be argued with truth that the dewdrop is always in good taste, while our jewelry is at time sadly lacking in that respect. Nevertheless, fashions of today are sufficiently varied to offer an exceptionally wide choice. The year 1939 brought an influx of so-called ‘costume jewelry’. Heavy and gorgeous in its imitation gold and synthetic gems, such jewelry is not expected to fool anybody as to the authenticity of its materials, but is worn as an accessory to some special gown, much as half a century ago we trimmed our dresses with colored glass beads woven into decorative bands called passementerie. Passementerie was discarded with the gown it ornamented and so will be the costume jewelry of the moment; yet worn with discretion this barbaric style can be extremely effective.
It is to Paris we look for the latest word in styles, yet America is also creating her own styles and rivaling even French technique in the (sometimes arduous) task of making us pleasing to the eye. At any rate, when Paris and New York combine forces in that particular field, you have something hard to beat in any land.
At the corner of Fifth Avenue and 52nd Street, New York City, stands Cartier, Inc. First established in Paris about 1840, Cartier’s was soon after to be found in London also, and by 1900 in New York City as well. At Cartier’s Fifth Avenue, may be seen the latest word in twentieth-century jewels, from tiaras, fit for royalty, to tiny golden bangles, fashioned according to the fleeting craze of the moment. Here, it would not be in the least difficult to spend several fortunes (if you happened to have them) without turning around. On the other hand you will also find a display of distinctive examples of the jeweler’s art, priced well within the limits of a modest pocketbook.
Viewed from the street, one gets the effect of a shop, select and conservatively small. But that reticent exterior is a doorway into two six-story buildings whose upper floors are all humming with the varied activities of skilled artisans and designers, for much of Cartier’s jewelry is made on the spot.
As one example of cosmopolitan development of the jeweler’s craft, let us go backstage where the public as a rule does not venture, and watch at close range some of the steps in the making of fine jewelry of today. An elevator takes us to the top of the building, and we enter a room dedicated to the appraisal of precious stones. One’s first impression is lack of all color, a room in black and gray, arranged for the special purpose of giving the best possible conditions for seeing. Daylight, the cold north light most desired by the painter, who must clearly differentiate his colors, falls on tables covered with black felt. Here the expert may examine the precious stone under consideration without any disturbing intrusion of other colors. As a rule, the layman does not fully realize how the eye reacts to a juxtaposition of two or more different colors—each one of which may appear to have undergone a change when seen by itself. The colorless room, however, takes care of that difficulty and allows a single gem to be seen at its true color-value, or else in its true relation to a differently colored stone.
Next we go to a strong room in which great safes hold trays of precious and semi-precious stones, some dressed, some still in the rough. Many of the latter completely hide their potential magnificence and look like dull and shapeless pebbles, yet one or another of these unimpressive little stones may represent cash in four figures. But before their value becomes evident to the public the sleeping beauty in each stone must be awakened by the hum of the lapidary’s wheel.
As we approach the next room we can hear the humming obbligato of wheels, puncutated by little whining solos as a ruby or sapphire is pressed against a whirling ‘lap’. There are many machines, and the lapidaries sit at long tables, each man with his rapidly revolving wheel before him. The stone to be cut is embedded in a bit of wax,of a special kind, and stuck fast to the end of a small stick. Near the wheel is an upright rest, called a ‘jamb-peg’. It is notched at intervals and serves as a brace for the upper end of the stick while the gem is being pressed firmly, at any desired angle, against the lap. Other than this simple contrivance, the lapidary depends generally on nothing but his eye and his long-trained judgment for the exact placement of a facet.
In rooms where loose gems are handled, the floor is covered with a wooden grill. If a stone chances to fall on the floor it is likely to lodge in a crevice, safe from passing feet until it is recovered. Few gems are ever lost, however, for every worker checks and rechecks his supply, and risk is further removed by a man who carefully examines every scrap of waste paper before throwing it into the discard.
The New World (continued)
The Pre-Raphaelites
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
3
Meanwhile Rossetti had been treading another path, forsaking the naturalism of Holman Hunt, but avoiding the anecdotal triviality that tempted Millais; his pictures became more and more dream-like in their imaginative aloofness from life. The popularity that Millais courted was shunned by Rossetti, who, relying on the patronage of Ruskin and other admirers, ceased to exhibit his pictures except in his own studio.
In 1857 Rossetti went to Oxford with the intention of executing wall-paintings in the Debating Hall of the Union Society, and there he gathered round him a brilliant band of pupils, chief among whom were two undergraduates from Exeter College, William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones (1833-98) Unfortunately the English climate is fatal to true fresco painting, but though the Oxford decorations rapidly perished, and today are hardly visible, they remain historic as marking the starting-point of a new phase of Pre-Raphaelitism, in which the naturalist element was lost and its place taken by a more deliberately decorative and romantic medievalism. Of this new school Rossetti was as definitely the leader and inspirer as Holman Hunt had been of the original Brotherhood, and though for many years the pictures produced by Rossetti and his followers continued to be commonly described as ‘Pre-Raphaelite,’ it is now clear that their productions really had little to do with the original Pre-Raphaelitism, but formed part of what became known later as the ‘Aesthetic Movement.’
In 1862 Eleanor Siddal, who for ten years had been Rossetti’s model and constant inspiration, died, and at first the bereaved husband was so prostrated with grief that he was totally unfitted for work. But two years later he recommenced painting in oils, and reached the highest point in his ‘Lady Lilith’ of 1864, and ‘The Beloved,’ painted in 1865-6. Though nominally a subject from the Song of Solomon, this voluptuous presentation of feminine beauty, which for sheer loveliness rivals a Botticelli, is far removed from the simple and comparatively stern Bibilical paintings of the artist’s youth. The subject is clothed in the garb of medievalism, enveloped in the romance of fairy-tale, and heightened by a brilliance of color unsurpassed in the painter’s work.
Rossetti’s pictorial work may be divided into three periods, each of which is dominated by an ideal of womanhood derived from a living woman; in the first period she is his sister Christina, in the second his wife Eleanor Siddal, and the inspiration of the third was Mrs William Morris. Of the many pictures she inspired one of the most beautiful is ‘The Day-dream’ in the Ionides Collection at South Kensington, but though he painted her in many characters, he never painted Mrs Morris as Dante’s Beatrice. That character was sacred to his wife, and it was in memory of her that be began to paint in 1863—though it was not finished till much later—the ‘Beata Beatrix,’ now in the Tate Gallery. The picture, according to Rossetti, ‘is not intended at all to represent death, but to render it under the semblance of a trance, in which Beatrice, seated at a balcony overlooking the city (Florence), is suddenly rapt from earth to heaven.’
Rossetti died at Birchington in 1882, but his ideals were faithfully carried on by the most celebrated of his pupils, Edward Burne-Jones, who had been intended for the Church, but after meeting Rossetti at Oxford felt he must be a painter. One great difference between their pictures lay in their different ideals of womanhood, for while the women of Rossetti were full-blooded and passionate, those of Burne-Jones were of so refined a spirituality that to many people they appear anaemic.Otherwise the paintings of Burne-Jones are as remote from naturalism as the later works of Rossetti; he also gives us dream pictures of an imaginary medievalism; and while Rossetti, as became his Italian descent, found his ideal in the Florence of Dante’s time, the Welshman Burne-Jones fittingly found his in the legendary court of King Arthur. Both, however, were inspired by the same feeling for chivalry and romance, and the distance that had been traveled from Holman Hunt’s naturalism may be traced in the famous confession of Burne-Jones that he longed to paint ‘the light that never was on sea or land.’
In 1884 he exhibited one of his best known and most popular works, ‘King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid,’ at the Grosvenor Gallery, and two years later, at the age of fifty thrree, he was tardily elected A.R.A, but he was never much in sympathy with the Academy, seldom exhibited there, and in 1893, five years before he died, he resigned his Associateship.
In addition to his pictures and water colors, Burne-Jones designed a number of tapestries and stained-glass windows for his lifelong friend William Morris, whose unbounded artistic energy found more congenial occupation in reviving crafts than in practising painting. In Morris the medievalism of Rossetti found a furiously eager and thoroughgoing exponent, and though many of his ideas were unpractical, his inauguration of the Arts and Crafts Society was one of the most fruitful art movements of the Victorian era, and to him more than to any other man we owe not only the revival of tapestry and stained glass but a great improvement on fine printing, in furniture, pottery, wall papers, and interior decoration generally.
Holman Hunt, the eldest of the Pre-Raphaelites, survived them all, and after painting a series of sacred pictures unique in English art for their religious fervor and geographical exactitude, he died in September 1910 at the great age of eighty three.
3
Meanwhile Rossetti had been treading another path, forsaking the naturalism of Holman Hunt, but avoiding the anecdotal triviality that tempted Millais; his pictures became more and more dream-like in their imaginative aloofness from life. The popularity that Millais courted was shunned by Rossetti, who, relying on the patronage of Ruskin and other admirers, ceased to exhibit his pictures except in his own studio.
In 1857 Rossetti went to Oxford with the intention of executing wall-paintings in the Debating Hall of the Union Society, and there he gathered round him a brilliant band of pupils, chief among whom were two undergraduates from Exeter College, William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones (1833-98) Unfortunately the English climate is fatal to true fresco painting, but though the Oxford decorations rapidly perished, and today are hardly visible, they remain historic as marking the starting-point of a new phase of Pre-Raphaelitism, in which the naturalist element was lost and its place taken by a more deliberately decorative and romantic medievalism. Of this new school Rossetti was as definitely the leader and inspirer as Holman Hunt had been of the original Brotherhood, and though for many years the pictures produced by Rossetti and his followers continued to be commonly described as ‘Pre-Raphaelite,’ it is now clear that their productions really had little to do with the original Pre-Raphaelitism, but formed part of what became known later as the ‘Aesthetic Movement.’
In 1862 Eleanor Siddal, who for ten years had been Rossetti’s model and constant inspiration, died, and at first the bereaved husband was so prostrated with grief that he was totally unfitted for work. But two years later he recommenced painting in oils, and reached the highest point in his ‘Lady Lilith’ of 1864, and ‘The Beloved,’ painted in 1865-6. Though nominally a subject from the Song of Solomon, this voluptuous presentation of feminine beauty, which for sheer loveliness rivals a Botticelli, is far removed from the simple and comparatively stern Bibilical paintings of the artist’s youth. The subject is clothed in the garb of medievalism, enveloped in the romance of fairy-tale, and heightened by a brilliance of color unsurpassed in the painter’s work.
Rossetti’s pictorial work may be divided into three periods, each of which is dominated by an ideal of womanhood derived from a living woman; in the first period she is his sister Christina, in the second his wife Eleanor Siddal, and the inspiration of the third was Mrs William Morris. Of the many pictures she inspired one of the most beautiful is ‘The Day-dream’ in the Ionides Collection at South Kensington, but though he painted her in many characters, he never painted Mrs Morris as Dante’s Beatrice. That character was sacred to his wife, and it was in memory of her that be began to paint in 1863—though it was not finished till much later—the ‘Beata Beatrix,’ now in the Tate Gallery. The picture, according to Rossetti, ‘is not intended at all to represent death, but to render it under the semblance of a trance, in which Beatrice, seated at a balcony overlooking the city (Florence), is suddenly rapt from earth to heaven.’
Rossetti died at Birchington in 1882, but his ideals were faithfully carried on by the most celebrated of his pupils, Edward Burne-Jones, who had been intended for the Church, but after meeting Rossetti at Oxford felt he must be a painter. One great difference between their pictures lay in their different ideals of womanhood, for while the women of Rossetti were full-blooded and passionate, those of Burne-Jones were of so refined a spirituality that to many people they appear anaemic.Otherwise the paintings of Burne-Jones are as remote from naturalism as the later works of Rossetti; he also gives us dream pictures of an imaginary medievalism; and while Rossetti, as became his Italian descent, found his ideal in the Florence of Dante’s time, the Welshman Burne-Jones fittingly found his in the legendary court of King Arthur. Both, however, were inspired by the same feeling for chivalry and romance, and the distance that had been traveled from Holman Hunt’s naturalism may be traced in the famous confession of Burne-Jones that he longed to paint ‘the light that never was on sea or land.’
In 1884 he exhibited one of his best known and most popular works, ‘King Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid,’ at the Grosvenor Gallery, and two years later, at the age of fifty thrree, he was tardily elected A.R.A, but he was never much in sympathy with the Academy, seldom exhibited there, and in 1893, five years before he died, he resigned his Associateship.
In addition to his pictures and water colors, Burne-Jones designed a number of tapestries and stained-glass windows for his lifelong friend William Morris, whose unbounded artistic energy found more congenial occupation in reviving crafts than in practising painting. In Morris the medievalism of Rossetti found a furiously eager and thoroughgoing exponent, and though many of his ideas were unpractical, his inauguration of the Arts and Crafts Society was one of the most fruitful art movements of the Victorian era, and to him more than to any other man we owe not only the revival of tapestry and stained glass but a great improvement on fine printing, in furniture, pottery, wall papers, and interior decoration generally.
Holman Hunt, the eldest of the Pre-Raphaelites, survived them all, and after painting a series of sacred pictures unique in English art for their religious fervor and geographical exactitude, he died in September 1910 at the great age of eighty three.
Freemium Business Model
I found the freemium business model @
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freemium_business_model interesting + insightful + I really liked the concept.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freemium_business_model interesting + insightful + I really liked the concept.
Nigerian Gem Deposits
Nigeria produces commercially important colored stones such as corundum (ruby + sapphire) + beryl (emerald + green beryl + aquamarine) + tourmaline (various colors) + topaz + garnet (spessartine), but most gem deposits are small-scale operations and irregular and often sold to dealers from East/West Africa/Europeans/Asians/North Americans + marketing channels are inefficient and disruptive + gemological knowledge is almost nonexistent + the local gem cutting industry needs a major facelift.
In my view the country has the potential if there are proper mining infrastructures + less corruption (difficult to get rid off) + improved security + proper gemological training at all levels + less bureaucracy.
Gem sales at Ibadan + Jos are good starts, but the government need to do more so that foreigners feel comfortable when buying gemstones through proper but reliable channels.
In my view the country has the potential if there are proper mining infrastructures + less corruption (difficult to get rid off) + improved security + proper gemological training at all levels + less bureaucracy.
Gem sales at Ibadan + Jos are good starts, but the government need to do more so that foreigners feel comfortable when buying gemstones through proper but reliable channels.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Random Thoughts
When one has reached maturity in the art, one will have a formless form. It is like ice dissolving in water. When one has no form, one can be all forms; when one has no style, he can fit in with any style.
- Bruce Lee
- Bruce Lee
Global Warming + Traditional Vineyards
(via The Guardian) Robert Joseph writes about the new challenges facing Europe's traditional vineyards + the effect of climate change to the wine industry + other viewpoints @ http://lifeandhealth.guardian.co.uk/drink/story/0,,2261841,00.html
Tools For Thought
Tools for Thought: The History and Future of Mind-Expanding Technology by Howard Rheingold is an interesting book about computing + insightful + I think this book is a valuable work.
Making 1,200 Museums Bloom
Barbara Pollack writes about the new challenges facing museum curators in China + absence of training programs for museum professionals + the impact + other viewpoints @ http://artnewsonline.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=2456
The New World
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
Certain parts or even whole designs were often wrought, with great skill, entirely of human hair glued to the background. Or the design might be a ‘hair painting’. We have no documents to explain the technique of this lost art, but microscopic examination discloses the fact that finely chopped hair was mixed with the pigments. Somewhat less gloomy was the miniature (portrait) of the deceased mounted on a background of his or her hair—excellent for a locket.
Miniature portrait painters found it expedient to add ‘hair work’ to their artistic accomplishments and accordingly placed in the newspapers of the day such advertisements as this:
Miniature Painting. Hair work, etc. done in the neatest manner.
Or, expressed with more distinction:
All Kinds of Hair Devices made in the most elegant style.
Watchchains and bracelets were made of hair intricately plaited in many strands. Sometimes the braid was caught at intervals by medallions of wrought gold. When the hair was rich in color the effect was surprisingly pleasing—if you did not stop to think about it.
Charles Dickens (1812-70) in Great Expectations draws attention to mourning jewelry as worn in England. America could claim an equivalent propensity to advertise bereavement in like manner.
I judged him to be a bachelor (says Dickens) from the frayed condition of his linen, and he appeared to have sustained a good many bereavements; for he wore at least four mourning rings, besides a brooch representing a lady and a weeping willow at a tomb with an urn on it. I noticed, too, several rings and seals hung at his watchchain, as if he were quite laden with rememberances of departed friends.
Of course, in inspite of fashionable gloom there was also a brighter side of life to be represented by jewelry of the Victorian period. Red coral delicately carved and mounted in gold; purple amethyst set with pearls; amber and carnelian were wont to add their charm of color to the costumes of dainty ladies.
A funnel-shaped bouquet, the flowers formally arranged in concentric rings, was in accessory to the ball gown, and to carry this, without danger to gloves, a silver filigree bouquet-holder was the last word of sophisticated elegance.
The year 1849 brought spectacular discovery of gold in the West and the consequent famous gold rush of the Forty-niners. As yet there was no railroad extending from coast to coast across the continent; but the avid fever of desire for gold travels regardless of highways. It gripped even those who lived on the far shores of the Atlantic, for news of gold is broadcast without benefit of airmail or radio. To many men gold was a loadstone of incalculable power—go they must, no matter how difficult. And the going was mighty difficult. The best they could do was to take ship down the coast to the Isthmus of Panama, where a crude railroad ran only part way across the Isthmus (there was no navigable canal in ’49). The road was still unfinished, its rails coming to an abrupt end in the wilderness. At the last tie, there was nothing for it but to get out and walk, crawl, climb, wade as best they could through tropical, fever-haunted jungles and swamps. But what matter? There was gold drawing them onward. Some died by the way, but a surprising number of men reached the Pacific Coast, where they again took ship and sailed toward their hearts’ desire. This time it was no mirage but real American gold not to be disproved.
Markets on the Atlantic Coast leaped to the new impetus and gold jewelry became the order of the day.
Some years before the famous gold rush (about 1837) a shop had been opened on Broadway in New York City. It carried stationery and fancy goods with a side-line of jewelry. At first the shop could not have been either very large or impressive, for it was originally established on a borrowed capital of only one thousand dollars. But it prospered from the start. The business was run by two young American merchants, John B Young and Charles Louis Tiffany.
Presently it was found that their stock of jewelry had to be increased because it was growing more important than the stationery. In ten years’ time the partners were manufacturing gold jewelry, and from then on the course of the great House of Tiffany was definitely set.
The next year, 1848, was a troublous year for the Old Country though not for the New. There was an epidemic of revolutions among the various peoples of Europe. One after another they began to rise and defy their governing classes. Those in office, from kings downwards, were sent flying for safety—anywhere so it was out of their own countries. Paris, never to be outdone in such matters, was staging a revolution of sorts. Aristrocrats in sudden flight from France must have money on the instant, and the quickest way to get it was to sell their jewels.
And because such a great number of diamonds had all at once been thrown on the market, their price dropped fifty per cent. Here was the chance of a century for a diamond merchant.
As it happened, John Young had gone to Paris that very year. Tiffany, in New York, sent hurried word to his partner to buy all the diamonds in Paris that he could lay hands on, and bring them back to America.
Americans were buying, not selling, diamonds. This move reaped a fortune and the growing business required more room; it moved and continued at intervals to move again, each time into larger and more impressive quarters. The firm name became Tiffany and Company in 1851. Branches were established in London and Paris, and today, as one of the leading jewelers of America, Tiffany’s imposing shop stands on the New World’s most famous highway—glamorous Fifth Avenue in New York City.
The New World (continued)
Certain parts or even whole designs were often wrought, with great skill, entirely of human hair glued to the background. Or the design might be a ‘hair painting’. We have no documents to explain the technique of this lost art, but microscopic examination discloses the fact that finely chopped hair was mixed with the pigments. Somewhat less gloomy was the miniature (portrait) of the deceased mounted on a background of his or her hair—excellent for a locket.
Miniature portrait painters found it expedient to add ‘hair work’ to their artistic accomplishments and accordingly placed in the newspapers of the day such advertisements as this:
Miniature Painting. Hair work, etc. done in the neatest manner.
Or, expressed with more distinction:
All Kinds of Hair Devices made in the most elegant style.
Watchchains and bracelets were made of hair intricately plaited in many strands. Sometimes the braid was caught at intervals by medallions of wrought gold. When the hair was rich in color the effect was surprisingly pleasing—if you did not stop to think about it.
Charles Dickens (1812-70) in Great Expectations draws attention to mourning jewelry as worn in England. America could claim an equivalent propensity to advertise bereavement in like manner.
I judged him to be a bachelor (says Dickens) from the frayed condition of his linen, and he appeared to have sustained a good many bereavements; for he wore at least four mourning rings, besides a brooch representing a lady and a weeping willow at a tomb with an urn on it. I noticed, too, several rings and seals hung at his watchchain, as if he were quite laden with rememberances of departed friends.
Of course, in inspite of fashionable gloom there was also a brighter side of life to be represented by jewelry of the Victorian period. Red coral delicately carved and mounted in gold; purple amethyst set with pearls; amber and carnelian were wont to add their charm of color to the costumes of dainty ladies.
A funnel-shaped bouquet, the flowers formally arranged in concentric rings, was in accessory to the ball gown, and to carry this, without danger to gloves, a silver filigree bouquet-holder was the last word of sophisticated elegance.
The year 1849 brought spectacular discovery of gold in the West and the consequent famous gold rush of the Forty-niners. As yet there was no railroad extending from coast to coast across the continent; but the avid fever of desire for gold travels regardless of highways. It gripped even those who lived on the far shores of the Atlantic, for news of gold is broadcast without benefit of airmail or radio. To many men gold was a loadstone of incalculable power—go they must, no matter how difficult. And the going was mighty difficult. The best they could do was to take ship down the coast to the Isthmus of Panama, where a crude railroad ran only part way across the Isthmus (there was no navigable canal in ’49). The road was still unfinished, its rails coming to an abrupt end in the wilderness. At the last tie, there was nothing for it but to get out and walk, crawl, climb, wade as best they could through tropical, fever-haunted jungles and swamps. But what matter? There was gold drawing them onward. Some died by the way, but a surprising number of men reached the Pacific Coast, where they again took ship and sailed toward their hearts’ desire. This time it was no mirage but real American gold not to be disproved.
Markets on the Atlantic Coast leaped to the new impetus and gold jewelry became the order of the day.
Some years before the famous gold rush (about 1837) a shop had been opened on Broadway in New York City. It carried stationery and fancy goods with a side-line of jewelry. At first the shop could not have been either very large or impressive, for it was originally established on a borrowed capital of only one thousand dollars. But it prospered from the start. The business was run by two young American merchants, John B Young and Charles Louis Tiffany.
Presently it was found that their stock of jewelry had to be increased because it was growing more important than the stationery. In ten years’ time the partners were manufacturing gold jewelry, and from then on the course of the great House of Tiffany was definitely set.
The next year, 1848, was a troublous year for the Old Country though not for the New. There was an epidemic of revolutions among the various peoples of Europe. One after another they began to rise and defy their governing classes. Those in office, from kings downwards, were sent flying for safety—anywhere so it was out of their own countries. Paris, never to be outdone in such matters, was staging a revolution of sorts. Aristrocrats in sudden flight from France must have money on the instant, and the quickest way to get it was to sell their jewels.
And because such a great number of diamonds had all at once been thrown on the market, their price dropped fifty per cent. Here was the chance of a century for a diamond merchant.
As it happened, John Young had gone to Paris that very year. Tiffany, in New York, sent hurried word to his partner to buy all the diamonds in Paris that he could lay hands on, and bring them back to America.
Americans were buying, not selling, diamonds. This move reaped a fortune and the growing business required more room; it moved and continued at intervals to move again, each time into larger and more impressive quarters. The firm name became Tiffany and Company in 1851. Branches were established in London and Paris, and today, as one of the leading jewelers of America, Tiffany’s imposing shop stands on the New World’s most famous highway—glamorous Fifth Avenue in New York City.
The New World (continued)
The Pre-Raphaelites
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
‘The Hireling Shepherd’ embodies the essence of Pre-Raphaelitism and indicates its high-water mark. In the heedless sheperd, who dallies with a coquettish beauty while a wolf is worrying his sheep, a worthy moral lesson is inculcated; while its bright, jewel-like color reveals the minute fidelity with which Nature has been painted. When it was shown in the Academy of 1852 the battle was nearly over, for though there was still considerable opposition, the Pre-Raphaelite picture had now become an accepted type of painting, and other Academy exhibitors were beginning to change their practice and paint in a similar style.
The battle was won, but the Brotherhood was beginning to break up; Woolner was in Australia, Collinson thinking about retiring to a monastery, William Rossetti and Stephens had definitely become writers, and worse still, Dante Gabriel Rossetti was beginning to drift away. From 1850 to 1853 Rossetti produced no large picture, he was steeping himself in Dantesque literature and his mind was more occupied with poetry; now and again he produced some lovely little water-colors, Ruskin, who had become his principal patron, encouraging him in this direction with his purse as well as his praise. In 1853—the year in which he painted ‘The Order of Release’—Millais was elected A.R.A and in the following year Holman Hunt, who had just painted and sold for £400 ‘The Light of the World,’ set sail for Palestine in order that he might be able to paint incidents from the life of Christ with literal truth to the nature of the country in which he lived. To the end Holman Hunt remained the most consistent of all to the principles of Pre-Raphaelitism.
For a little while after his departure the influence of Holman Hunt lingered in England. ‘Autumn Leaves’ and ‘The Blind Girl,’ both painted in 1855, are true Pre-Raphaelite pictures, and they were the last paintings by Millais that Ruskin blessed. But gradually, as he went on his way alone, Millais deteriorated, and though his work rapidly won public favor so that his career henceforward was, from a wordly point of view, one of uninterrupted success, his pictures ceased to be inspired by the noble seriousness of Holman Hunt or by the poetry of Rossetti. What had been sentiment degenerated into sentimentality, and as his subject matter became commoner in quality, so an increasing laxity crept into his style of painting. ‘Bubbles,’ the child picture so extensively popularized as an advertisement by a firm of soap makers, is thte best known example of his later style, but the achievementes which come nearest to the distinction of his early work are some of his portraits, notably that of John Charles Montague, an ex-sergeant of the 16th Lancers, whom Millais painted in the uniform of ‘The Yeoman of the Guard.’ This picture was painted in 1876, and thirteen years earlier Millais had been elected R.A. In 1885 he was created a baronet, and in 1896, after the death of Lord Leighton, he was made President of the Royal Academy; but already his health was failing, and shortly after his election he died, on August 13 of the same year, and was buried in St Paul’s Cathedral by te side of his mighty predecessor, Sir Joshua Reynolds.
The Pre-Raphaelites (continued)
‘The Hireling Shepherd’ embodies the essence of Pre-Raphaelitism and indicates its high-water mark. In the heedless sheperd, who dallies with a coquettish beauty while a wolf is worrying his sheep, a worthy moral lesson is inculcated; while its bright, jewel-like color reveals the minute fidelity with which Nature has been painted. When it was shown in the Academy of 1852 the battle was nearly over, for though there was still considerable opposition, the Pre-Raphaelite picture had now become an accepted type of painting, and other Academy exhibitors were beginning to change their practice and paint in a similar style.
The battle was won, but the Brotherhood was beginning to break up; Woolner was in Australia, Collinson thinking about retiring to a monastery, William Rossetti and Stephens had definitely become writers, and worse still, Dante Gabriel Rossetti was beginning to drift away. From 1850 to 1853 Rossetti produced no large picture, he was steeping himself in Dantesque literature and his mind was more occupied with poetry; now and again he produced some lovely little water-colors, Ruskin, who had become his principal patron, encouraging him in this direction with his purse as well as his praise. In 1853—the year in which he painted ‘The Order of Release’—Millais was elected A.R.A and in the following year Holman Hunt, who had just painted and sold for £400 ‘The Light of the World,’ set sail for Palestine in order that he might be able to paint incidents from the life of Christ with literal truth to the nature of the country in which he lived. To the end Holman Hunt remained the most consistent of all to the principles of Pre-Raphaelitism.
For a little while after his departure the influence of Holman Hunt lingered in England. ‘Autumn Leaves’ and ‘The Blind Girl,’ both painted in 1855, are true Pre-Raphaelite pictures, and they were the last paintings by Millais that Ruskin blessed. But gradually, as he went on his way alone, Millais deteriorated, and though his work rapidly won public favor so that his career henceforward was, from a wordly point of view, one of uninterrupted success, his pictures ceased to be inspired by the noble seriousness of Holman Hunt or by the poetry of Rossetti. What had been sentiment degenerated into sentimentality, and as his subject matter became commoner in quality, so an increasing laxity crept into his style of painting. ‘Bubbles,’ the child picture so extensively popularized as an advertisement by a firm of soap makers, is thte best known example of his later style, but the achievementes which come nearest to the distinction of his early work are some of his portraits, notably that of John Charles Montague, an ex-sergeant of the 16th Lancers, whom Millais painted in the uniform of ‘The Yeoman of the Guard.’ This picture was painted in 1876, and thirteen years earlier Millais had been elected R.A. In 1885 he was created a baronet, and in 1896, after the death of Lord Leighton, he was made President of the Royal Academy; but already his health was failing, and shortly after his election he died, on August 13 of the same year, and was buried in St Paul’s Cathedral by te side of his mighty predecessor, Sir Joshua Reynolds.
The Pre-Raphaelites (continued)
Music With No Hassle
I found www.kuppu.com interesting + I liked the interface that looks like a radio + choose a style – jazz, classic, rock, oldies, latin – and hit play.
Chocolate Gold Jewelry
Colored golds are becoming popular mediums in the jewelry industry; Mattioli’s rich chocolate gold pieces in the form of the Cacao line – a collection of bracelets and necklaces blended with brown/champagne diamonds looks magnificent + I think modern women will like it because of its otherness + wearable art concept.
Useful link:
www.mattioligioielli.it
Useful link:
www.mattioligioielli.it
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Diamond Trade In Dubai
According to the latest statistics released by the Dubai Diamond Exchange, Dubai’s total diamond trade increased by 53% in 2007 at US$11.23 billion + rough diamond trade, a 29% increase at US$6.41 billion + Dubai has also achieved the status of a mature diamond center/international hub/regional distribution center/local + regional consumer market + more rough diamonds are coming directly from producing countries, and more polished diamonds from established diamond centers like Bombay and Antwerp because of its superb business infrastructure + growing confidence in Dubai.
Useful link:
www.dde.ae
Useful link:
www.dde.ae
Out Of Control
The book Out of Control: The New Biology of Machines, Social Systems, & the Economic World by Kevin Kelly introduces the concept of the 'hive mind' + thought provoking ideas and ways of thinking + inspiring reflections on convergence of different faculties of knowledge + the impact + I liked it.
Useful link:
www.kk.org
Useful link:
www.kk.org
The Indecisive Image
Eric Bryant writes about a new wave photographers embracing abstract photography + other viewpoints @ http://artnewsonline.com/issues/article.asp?art_id=2457
The New World
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
2. Made In U.S.A
The trade of the jeweler is perhaps more sensitive than any other to the alternating waves of depression and prosperity. With every war and business panic it suffered then as now. Nevertheless, jewelry shops continued to multiply and find place in the various cities of the United States.
By 1800 or thereabouts, a shop in Providence, Rhode Island, offered a display of ‘Filled Work.’ It was an inexpensive form of jewelry in which a little gold was made to go a long way. The face of the ornament was stamped from a thin strip of gold; its back from another thin strip of inferior quality. The two parts, being put together, formed a hollow shell which was then filled with baser metal. This type of jewelry became popular with the less wealthy.
As for the rich, they still imported most of their fashions and their jewelry from abroad. The Greek influence which during the early eighteen hundreds so greatly shaped the styles of women’s clothes in Europe, crossed the sea and reached America. Our stylish great-great-grandmothers—then girls of the period—outdid the Greeks. They dipped their muslin dresses in water and wrung them out before putting them on, so that the dampened material would cling in classic folds. And for ornament, of course, the classic cameo and intaglio were the appropriate jewels.
By 1830, fashion had flown to the opposite extreme. Full skirts and puffed sleeves made a new silhouette but still the ladies wore their cameos.
During the last quarter of the eighteenth century much jewelry had been made with an eye to its emotional appeal—a tendency which lasted well into the nineteenth century. It was an era of romanticism and sentimentalism that held sway over the ways and manners of society and was reflected in the current jewelry. Posy rings with their inscribed doggerels were still going strong. But possibly even more highly favored than the cheerful posy ring was the dismal jewelry of grief. It typified in such convenient form the genteel sentiments of piety and sadness. Sentimental melancholy for its own sake stood as the hallmark of gentility and refinements. You could even assume the virtue if you had it not by wearing mourning jewelry. Youth might upon occasion afford to be gay, but the ‘heart bowed down by weight of woe’ was a characteristic note in popular music and fiction, and seems to have held more glamor than it does today.
At this time came the full flowering of that remarkable development known as ‘hair work’. Rings, lockets, brooches, bracelets, watchchains, scarfpins—almost any form of jewelry was likely to include human hair most ingeniously introduced one way or another into its design. Sometimes the hair was that of a living person, but more often that of some dear departed.
A lock of hair under crystal might be mounted in a ring, brooch, or locket. That was the most obvious and simple method of use. But it took skill and craftsmanship to create one of those amazing Allegories of Grief so profoundly esteemed by our great-great-grandparents. It was a curious attitudinizing of sentiment which impelled the gently bred to incite and stimulate their emotions in ways which we of today cannot but see as tragi-comic.
The standardized allegory, with slight variations of design, depicts a weeping female drooping, all disconsolate, over a large tomb; or perhaps she languishes amid a number of funeral urns. A weeping willow tree emphasizes the downward sweep of all-consuming depression. Done in the larger sizes this admired design lents its note of cheer to the living room wall, while in miniature size with setting of gold, jet or seed pearl, in ring, brooch or locket it graced the person of the bereaved.
The New World (continued)
2. Made In U.S.A
The trade of the jeweler is perhaps more sensitive than any other to the alternating waves of depression and prosperity. With every war and business panic it suffered then as now. Nevertheless, jewelry shops continued to multiply and find place in the various cities of the United States.
By 1800 or thereabouts, a shop in Providence, Rhode Island, offered a display of ‘Filled Work.’ It was an inexpensive form of jewelry in which a little gold was made to go a long way. The face of the ornament was stamped from a thin strip of gold; its back from another thin strip of inferior quality. The two parts, being put together, formed a hollow shell which was then filled with baser metal. This type of jewelry became popular with the less wealthy.
As for the rich, they still imported most of their fashions and their jewelry from abroad. The Greek influence which during the early eighteen hundreds so greatly shaped the styles of women’s clothes in Europe, crossed the sea and reached America. Our stylish great-great-grandmothers—then girls of the period—outdid the Greeks. They dipped their muslin dresses in water and wrung them out before putting them on, so that the dampened material would cling in classic folds. And for ornament, of course, the classic cameo and intaglio were the appropriate jewels.
By 1830, fashion had flown to the opposite extreme. Full skirts and puffed sleeves made a new silhouette but still the ladies wore their cameos.
During the last quarter of the eighteenth century much jewelry had been made with an eye to its emotional appeal—a tendency which lasted well into the nineteenth century. It was an era of romanticism and sentimentalism that held sway over the ways and manners of society and was reflected in the current jewelry. Posy rings with their inscribed doggerels were still going strong. But possibly even more highly favored than the cheerful posy ring was the dismal jewelry of grief. It typified in such convenient form the genteel sentiments of piety and sadness. Sentimental melancholy for its own sake stood as the hallmark of gentility and refinements. You could even assume the virtue if you had it not by wearing mourning jewelry. Youth might upon occasion afford to be gay, but the ‘heart bowed down by weight of woe’ was a characteristic note in popular music and fiction, and seems to have held more glamor than it does today.
At this time came the full flowering of that remarkable development known as ‘hair work’. Rings, lockets, brooches, bracelets, watchchains, scarfpins—almost any form of jewelry was likely to include human hair most ingeniously introduced one way or another into its design. Sometimes the hair was that of a living person, but more often that of some dear departed.
A lock of hair under crystal might be mounted in a ring, brooch, or locket. That was the most obvious and simple method of use. But it took skill and craftsmanship to create one of those amazing Allegories of Grief so profoundly esteemed by our great-great-grandparents. It was a curious attitudinizing of sentiment which impelled the gently bred to incite and stimulate their emotions in ways which we of today cannot but see as tragi-comic.
The standardized allegory, with slight variations of design, depicts a weeping female drooping, all disconsolate, over a large tomb; or perhaps she languishes amid a number of funeral urns. A weeping willow tree emphasizes the downward sweep of all-consuming depression. Done in the larger sizes this admired design lents its note of cheer to the living room wall, while in miniature size with setting of gold, jet or seed pearl, in ring, brooch or locket it graced the person of the bereaved.
The New World (continued)
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