Total internal reflections of Chaim Even Zohar at the Plumb Club Forum in New York + the issues related to the GIA Certifigate scandal + other viewpoints @ http://www.idexonline.com/portal_FullEditorial.asp
I can visualize myself as a consumer in bad times. I want to sell some of my diamonds in order to improve my households’ cash flow, only to find out that their grading reports had overstated reality, and that the color grade was lower, or that the natural stone was really treated. Who would be liable? Who would pay? What would the salesperson tell me? Not a pretty picture!
I think Chaim Even Zohar was spot on and may he live forever to write more about the real diamond world + the characters!
Saturday, March 08, 2008
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised : Democracy, the Internet, and the Overthrow of Everything by Joe Trippi is a great read + it gave me the insight into how new media/technology/open source works + the impact.
Useful link:
www.joetrippi.com
Useful link:
www.joetrippi.com
Early Parisian Cut Brilliants
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
Bernard Morel suggests that French master cutters of the mid-seventeenth century invented certain types of fancy cut Brilliants. I have examined several unusual diamonds fashioned in Paris, such as the French Blue, the de Guise and the Hortensia, with both symmetry and faceting deviating from the standard Baroque forms, but I have found no details which had not been applied to diamonds before, except possibly for the Sancy Cuts, which may have been a French innovation. The Grand Sancy may have been the first of its kind and was, according to Cletscher, fashioned in Paris. The Sancy Cut appears further to have been a kind of Pre-Brilliant. If we knew that the Wittelsbach was also fashioned in Paris, I might be tempted to agree with Morel. But was apparently cut in Lisbon, or possibly Venice, so one cannot say with certainity that all Brilliants of this type originated from Paris.
The Paris cutters were above all specialists at refashioning Louis XIV’s primitively cut Indian diamonds, the gems delivered to him by Tavernier, Bazu and other travelers to thte Far East. They also modernized numerous obsolete cuts. Obviously, many of these had to be fashioned according the shapes they had been given rather than those which the natural rough favored. And each gem presented a different problem, demanding a solution particular to itself. One of the greatest problems was how to refashion a shallow pavilion with a very large culet. This they overcame by applying almost horizontal culet facets, which presumably explains why so many of the refashioned French gems were Stellar Cut. This technique was not new either; it was illustrated on seventeenth-century Table Cuts, for example, in a drawing by Cletscher.
The reason for the existence of both sixfold and sevenfold symmetry and for the numerous fancy outlines also lies in the original gems. When they were refashioning old Table Cuts, cutters naturally got rid of broken or missing corners and disturbing flaws. Their main task was to transform, with a minimum of waste, old cuts into gems with maximum light effects, with no necessity to adhere to a ‘standard design’. In most cases a close examination reveals the original cut of the stone, but nevertheless the results of recutting are, for the most part, extremely beautiful and the craftsmanship masterly. According to a law drawn up in 1584, French cutters were not allowed to install more than two grinding mills; in 1625 they were given permission to have three. Clearly, there was no organised importing of rough on a large scale, but there was great competition among the small establishments, which resulting in work of a very high standard.
The description of the Peach Blossom diamond (Fleur de Pêcher) in the 1691 French Crown inventory is interesting: ‘Un autre crochet de chapeau d’un seul diamant, brilliant, plus étroit d’un bout que de l’autre, de belle eau, pezant 25ks, estimé quarante-trois mille huict cent soixante-six livres, cy 43.866 liv.’ It tells us first of all that no term had yet been introduced for modified Brilliant Cuts—the outline of the diamond is described simply as being narrower at one end. And the accuracy of the estimate indicates the price Louis XIV must have paid for it, probably in about 1678 to Alvarez. In 1791, exactly a hundred years later, the same stone was described as: ‘un grand diamant fort étendu, forme en poire, tirant sur la fleur-de-pêcher, pesant vingt-quatre karats, treize seize et un trente-deuxieme, estimé deux cents mille liveres, ci 24 k. 13/16 1/32 (i.e. 24 27/32 old French carats).'
The name given to the gem was taken from its color, a pale pink, the color of peach blossom. When it was finally disposed of by the French government at the great sale of 1887 and acquired by Tiffany, it was mistakenly described as one of the Mazarins (‘Un brilliant rosé, formé poiré). The Peach Blossom is, in fact, a Baroque Brilliant, and is not so much pear-shaped as trapezoid with rounded corners. Its faceting is of the standard eightfold type, and it shows pronounced spread compared with what Jeffries considered a correctly proportioned diamond. The spreading may have been deliberate, to enhance the color effect, and it is interesting to compare its proportions with those of the Dresden Green and other colored diamonds.
Bernard Morel suggests that French master cutters of the mid-seventeenth century invented certain types of fancy cut Brilliants. I have examined several unusual diamonds fashioned in Paris, such as the French Blue, the de Guise and the Hortensia, with both symmetry and faceting deviating from the standard Baroque forms, but I have found no details which had not been applied to diamonds before, except possibly for the Sancy Cuts, which may have been a French innovation. The Grand Sancy may have been the first of its kind and was, according to Cletscher, fashioned in Paris. The Sancy Cut appears further to have been a kind of Pre-Brilliant. If we knew that the Wittelsbach was also fashioned in Paris, I might be tempted to agree with Morel. But was apparently cut in Lisbon, or possibly Venice, so one cannot say with certainity that all Brilliants of this type originated from Paris.
The Paris cutters were above all specialists at refashioning Louis XIV’s primitively cut Indian diamonds, the gems delivered to him by Tavernier, Bazu and other travelers to thte Far East. They also modernized numerous obsolete cuts. Obviously, many of these had to be fashioned according the shapes they had been given rather than those which the natural rough favored. And each gem presented a different problem, demanding a solution particular to itself. One of the greatest problems was how to refashion a shallow pavilion with a very large culet. This they overcame by applying almost horizontal culet facets, which presumably explains why so many of the refashioned French gems were Stellar Cut. This technique was not new either; it was illustrated on seventeenth-century Table Cuts, for example, in a drawing by Cletscher.
The reason for the existence of both sixfold and sevenfold symmetry and for the numerous fancy outlines also lies in the original gems. When they were refashioning old Table Cuts, cutters naturally got rid of broken or missing corners and disturbing flaws. Their main task was to transform, with a minimum of waste, old cuts into gems with maximum light effects, with no necessity to adhere to a ‘standard design’. In most cases a close examination reveals the original cut of the stone, but nevertheless the results of recutting are, for the most part, extremely beautiful and the craftsmanship masterly. According to a law drawn up in 1584, French cutters were not allowed to install more than two grinding mills; in 1625 they were given permission to have three. Clearly, there was no organised importing of rough on a large scale, but there was great competition among the small establishments, which resulting in work of a very high standard.
The description of the Peach Blossom diamond (Fleur de Pêcher) in the 1691 French Crown inventory is interesting: ‘Un autre crochet de chapeau d’un seul diamant, brilliant, plus étroit d’un bout que de l’autre, de belle eau, pezant 25ks, estimé quarante-trois mille huict cent soixante-six livres, cy 43.866 liv.’ It tells us first of all that no term had yet been introduced for modified Brilliant Cuts—the outline of the diamond is described simply as being narrower at one end. And the accuracy of the estimate indicates the price Louis XIV must have paid for it, probably in about 1678 to Alvarez. In 1791, exactly a hundred years later, the same stone was described as: ‘un grand diamant fort étendu, forme en poire, tirant sur la fleur-de-pêcher, pesant vingt-quatre karats, treize seize et un trente-deuxieme, estimé deux cents mille liveres, ci 24 k. 13/16 1/32 (i.e. 24 27/32 old French carats).'
The name given to the gem was taken from its color, a pale pink, the color of peach blossom. When it was finally disposed of by the French government at the great sale of 1887 and acquired by Tiffany, it was mistakenly described as one of the Mazarins (‘Un brilliant rosé, formé poiré). The Peach Blossom is, in fact, a Baroque Brilliant, and is not so much pear-shaped as trapezoid with rounded corners. Its faceting is of the standard eightfold type, and it shows pronounced spread compared with what Jeffries considered a correctly proportioned diamond. The spreading may have been deliberate, to enhance the color effect, and it is interesting to compare its proportions with those of the Dresden Green and other colored diamonds.
The Victorian Age
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
Up to about 1820 his subjects had chiefly been dogs and horses, but he soon added other animals to his repertory. Among his father’s friends was the historical painter Benjamin Robert Haydon (1786-1846), and on the advice of this artist Landseer, while still an Academy student, learnt to dissect and make anatomical studies of animals. Taking advantage of the death of a lion in one of the menageries, he diligently studied its anatomy, and the knowledge thus gained gave him a power in the drawing of that animal notable in his future works. The first fruits of these studies were his future works. The first fruits of these studies were his pictures ‘A Prowling Lion’ in the Academy of 1821 and ‘A Lion Disturbed’ in the following year. In 1824 he exhibited ‘The Cat’s Paw’, a picture of a monkey seizing a cat’s paw to take roasting chestnuts from a fire, this being one of the first of his animal paintings in which an obvious moral was happily combined with humor.
In this year, when Landseer was twenty two, he accompanied his friend and fellow-student C R Leslie (1794-1859) on a visit to Scotland, where the two young artists had the honor of staying with Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford. Landseer drew the dogs of the author of Waverley, and was introduced by the novelist to the deer forests of Scotland. Henceforward the ‘monarch of the glen’ became one of Landseer’s favorite subjects, and deer-stalking was the sport which he loved beyond all others; but it is said that the sportsman was often vanquished by the artist, and that when a particularly noble animal came in sight, Landseer was apt to fling down his rifle and pick up instead his sketch-book and pencil.
In 1826 he was elected A.R.A and his prosperity being now assured he left his father’s house and established himself at 1 St John’s Wood Road, where he lived unmarried till the day of his death. Landseer now widened the field of his art, and painted pictures of various subjects, among them being several portraits. One of the most successful of the last was ‘Lord Cosmo Russell,’ a picture of a little boy on a rough pony scampering over the heather; but while he never lacked patrons even for portraiture, his fame and popularity depended chiefly on his animal pictures, and particularly on his paintings of dogs. A witty canon of St Paul’s who was advised to have his portrait painted by Landseer, laughingly declined with the remark, ‘Is they servant a dog that he should do this thing?’
In 1834 he exhibited at the Royal Academy ‘Bolton Abbey in the Older Time,’ one of the best known and most popular of all his works, which has been made familiar throughout Great Britain not only by engravings but also by innumerable copies in needlework. In 1837 he increased his already great reputation by his pictures of a faithful dog watching beside a coffin, entitled ‘The Old Shepherd’s Chief Mourner,’ a work of intense pathos, and in the following year he painted a noble Newfoundland dog as ‘A Distinguished Member of the Humane Society.’ No painter ever surpassed Landseer in rendering all the varied aspects of canine character, and while in some of his pictures he attained a sublimity of pathos so that some captions critics accused him of making his dogs ‘too human,’ in others he showed a subtle humor which is irresistible. Probably no English picture has ever enjoyed a wider popularity than ‘Dignity and Impudence’, in which Landseer amusingly contrasts an old bloodhound of the Duke of Grafton breed with a little Scotch terrier called ‘Scratch.’ Landseer loved dogs and kept a troop of them in his home at St John’s Wood.
From 1839 onwards the artist enjoyed a considerable intimacy with the Royal Family. He taught both Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort to etch and painted many pictures for them, one of his largest being ‘The Drive, Shooting Deer on the Pass.’ He had been elected R.A in 1831 and in 1850 he was knighted. He was a sculptor as well as a painter, and in 1859 he was commissioned to execute the lions for the base of Nelson’s Column in Trafalgar Square. On this work the artist was engaged, off and on, for some half a dozen years, and his lions were finally uncovered at Trafalgar Square in 1869. Two of the studies which Landseer made at the Zoo for these lions are now in the National Gallery.
Three years earlier, on the death of Sir Charles Eastlake (1793-1865), Landseer had been offered the Presidency of the Royal Academy, but he declined the honor, for though a general favorite, popular alike at Court, in society, and with the public, he was subject to fits of depression brought about by an almost morbid sensitiveness and a certain constitutional delicacy. Towards the end of his life he suffered continually from nerves, and his general state of health was sadly impaired by a railway accident in November 1868. This accident not only left a scar on his forehead but affected his memory, so that his last years were much clouded. He died in his house in St John’s Wood on October 1, 1873, and was buried in state at St Paul’s Cathedral.
The tradition of painting animals with affectionate insight, founded by Landseer, has been followed with success by many other British artists, prominent among them being Briton Rivière (1840-1920), who, after being influenced at first by the pictures of the Pre-Raphaelites and by Tennyson’s poetry, soon turned his attention to the painting of pictures in which animals played an important part. His well-known ‘Sympathy,’ in the Tate Gallery, is a characteristic Victorian picture in the Landseer tradition, but in gayer and more agreeable colors. It tells its own story clearly, and can never fail to appeal to all who love children and dogs and have noted the unspoken sympathy which exists between them.
The Victorian Age (continued)
Up to about 1820 his subjects had chiefly been dogs and horses, but he soon added other animals to his repertory. Among his father’s friends was the historical painter Benjamin Robert Haydon (1786-1846), and on the advice of this artist Landseer, while still an Academy student, learnt to dissect and make anatomical studies of animals. Taking advantage of the death of a lion in one of the menageries, he diligently studied its anatomy, and the knowledge thus gained gave him a power in the drawing of that animal notable in his future works. The first fruits of these studies were his future works. The first fruits of these studies were his pictures ‘A Prowling Lion’ in the Academy of 1821 and ‘A Lion Disturbed’ in the following year. In 1824 he exhibited ‘The Cat’s Paw’, a picture of a monkey seizing a cat’s paw to take roasting chestnuts from a fire, this being one of the first of his animal paintings in which an obvious moral was happily combined with humor.
In this year, when Landseer was twenty two, he accompanied his friend and fellow-student C R Leslie (1794-1859) on a visit to Scotland, where the two young artists had the honor of staying with Sir Walter Scott at Abbotsford. Landseer drew the dogs of the author of Waverley, and was introduced by the novelist to the deer forests of Scotland. Henceforward the ‘monarch of the glen’ became one of Landseer’s favorite subjects, and deer-stalking was the sport which he loved beyond all others; but it is said that the sportsman was often vanquished by the artist, and that when a particularly noble animal came in sight, Landseer was apt to fling down his rifle and pick up instead his sketch-book and pencil.
In 1826 he was elected A.R.A and his prosperity being now assured he left his father’s house and established himself at 1 St John’s Wood Road, where he lived unmarried till the day of his death. Landseer now widened the field of his art, and painted pictures of various subjects, among them being several portraits. One of the most successful of the last was ‘Lord Cosmo Russell,’ a picture of a little boy on a rough pony scampering over the heather; but while he never lacked patrons even for portraiture, his fame and popularity depended chiefly on his animal pictures, and particularly on his paintings of dogs. A witty canon of St Paul’s who was advised to have his portrait painted by Landseer, laughingly declined with the remark, ‘Is they servant a dog that he should do this thing?’
In 1834 he exhibited at the Royal Academy ‘Bolton Abbey in the Older Time,’ one of the best known and most popular of all his works, which has been made familiar throughout Great Britain not only by engravings but also by innumerable copies in needlework. In 1837 he increased his already great reputation by his pictures of a faithful dog watching beside a coffin, entitled ‘The Old Shepherd’s Chief Mourner,’ a work of intense pathos, and in the following year he painted a noble Newfoundland dog as ‘A Distinguished Member of the Humane Society.’ No painter ever surpassed Landseer in rendering all the varied aspects of canine character, and while in some of his pictures he attained a sublimity of pathos so that some captions critics accused him of making his dogs ‘too human,’ in others he showed a subtle humor which is irresistible. Probably no English picture has ever enjoyed a wider popularity than ‘Dignity and Impudence’, in which Landseer amusingly contrasts an old bloodhound of the Duke of Grafton breed with a little Scotch terrier called ‘Scratch.’ Landseer loved dogs and kept a troop of them in his home at St John’s Wood.
From 1839 onwards the artist enjoyed a considerable intimacy with the Royal Family. He taught both Queen Victoria and the Prince Consort to etch and painted many pictures for them, one of his largest being ‘The Drive, Shooting Deer on the Pass.’ He had been elected R.A in 1831 and in 1850 he was knighted. He was a sculptor as well as a painter, and in 1859 he was commissioned to execute the lions for the base of Nelson’s Column in Trafalgar Square. On this work the artist was engaged, off and on, for some half a dozen years, and his lions were finally uncovered at Trafalgar Square in 1869. Two of the studies which Landseer made at the Zoo for these lions are now in the National Gallery.
Three years earlier, on the death of Sir Charles Eastlake (1793-1865), Landseer had been offered the Presidency of the Royal Academy, but he declined the honor, for though a general favorite, popular alike at Court, in society, and with the public, he was subject to fits of depression brought about by an almost morbid sensitiveness and a certain constitutional delicacy. Towards the end of his life he suffered continually from nerves, and his general state of health was sadly impaired by a railway accident in November 1868. This accident not only left a scar on his forehead but affected his memory, so that his last years were much clouded. He died in his house in St John’s Wood on October 1, 1873, and was buried in state at St Paul’s Cathedral.
The tradition of painting animals with affectionate insight, founded by Landseer, has been followed with success by many other British artists, prominent among them being Briton Rivière (1840-1920), who, after being influenced at first by the pictures of the Pre-Raphaelites and by Tennyson’s poetry, soon turned his attention to the painting of pictures in which animals played an important part. His well-known ‘Sympathy,’ in the Tate Gallery, is a characteristic Victorian picture in the Landseer tradition, but in gayer and more agreeable colors. It tells its own story clearly, and can never fail to appeal to all who love children and dogs and have noted the unspoken sympathy which exists between them.
The Victorian Age (continued)
Heard On The Street
In gem/jewelry/art business all things are valued according to their scarcity + tastes change
Pearl Identification
In my view X-radiography + X-ray luminescence are useful tests for testing strands with a mixture of different types of pearls (natural pearls vs beadless freshwater cultured pearls) because today we are seeing a lot of Chinese freshwater cultured pearls in the market, possibly getting mixed them up with Southsea cultured pearls or with natural marine pearls. If doubtful always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory.
Gold Speculation
I found the article from the current issue (March 7, 2008) of 'The Economist' on gold's rise interesting because external factors are forcing gold prices to speculative extremes, hurting everyone.
Useful links:
http://www.economist.com/finance/displaystory.cfm?story_id=10809383
www.ibb.ubs.com
www.morganstanley.com
Useful links:
http://www.economist.com/finance/displaystory.cfm?story_id=10809383
www.ibb.ubs.com
www.morganstanley.com
Heard On The Street
The next bubble = the small unknowledged investors buy so the smart ones can sell = Explosion!
Underwater Inn
(via budgettravel) I found the world's first and only underwater inn Jules' Undersea Lodge really interesting + astonishingly beautiful. I liked the concept + I hope it's environment-friendly.
Useful link:
http://jul.com
Useful link:
http://jul.com
Friday, March 07, 2008
Manoel de Oliveira
Manoel Cândido Pinto de Oliveira is a Portuguese film director + he is believed to be the oldest active film director in the world + he keeps a low profile, away from the spotlights + he has been honored at Cannes, Venice and Montréal film festivals + his movies are a magic combination of history/philosophy/theology with unique luster/voice/color and that otherness.
Useful links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manoel_de_Oliveira
http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0210701/
Useful links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manoel_de_Oliveira
http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0210701/
Gemological Conference
Gemworld International, Inc., along with the American Gem Trade Association Gemological Testing Center will be organizing their first joint gemological conference on September 13-14, 2008 in Chicago, U.S.A + Gemworld is the producer of the GemGuide and GemGuide Appraisal Software + AGTA Gemological Testing Center is an independent major colored gemstone laboratory in New York + the key theme of the conference is 'Integration of Information.'
Useful links:
www.worldofgemsconference.com
www.agta.org
www.gemguide.com
Useful links:
www.worldofgemsconference.com
www.agta.org
www.gemguide.com
The Victorian Age
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
The Art of Landseer, Leighton, Poynter, Alfred Stevens, Albert Moore, Orchardson, And G F Watts
1
Several of the artists already mentioned in this Outline—among them being Turner, Cotman, and David Cox—were alive and working when Queen Victoria ascended the throne in 1837, but we are not in the habit of thinking of any of these as typical artists of the Victorian era. Even the Pre-Raphaelites, whose art, as described in the last chapter, shed so much luster on the Queen’s long reign, were a group apart from the general trend of the times, and none of these painters—with the one exception of Millais in his later years—showed in his art those peculiar characteristics which we are now inclined to label broadly as ‘Victorian.’
Just as in politics the reign of Victoria was distinguished, before all things, by the growth of Democracy, so painting during this reign approached more closely than it had ever done before to popular ideals. Under Queen Victoria English painting became a homely, easily understandable art, appealing to the people by clear representation of simple themes often founded on everyday life, and almost always tinged by a sentiment perceptible and congenial to the humblest intelligence. Subject was of paramount importance, every picture told a story, and the story was usually of a simple nature that required no erudition for its comprehension, one that all who ran could read.
Of a host of pictures of this description only a few can be mentioned here. The quintessence of Victorianism may be found in the paintings of William Powell Frith (1819-1909), whose ‘Derby Day’, now in the Tate Gallery, created a sensation in 1858, and whose ‘Railway Station,’ painted four years later, is a still more dramatic assemblage of the ‘all sorts and conditions of men’ who go to make the world. No knowledge of the Old Masters or of the technique of painting is needed to enjoy Frith’s ‘Railway Station’; everybody can recognize the bridal couple being ‘seen off’ by their friends, the boy who is going to school, the new recruit taking leave of his parents, and the criminal who is being arrested at the moment when he thought to escape. This picture is not only full of the incidents which may be seen at any railway station; it is full of the simple human emotions which all have experienced and all can understand.
Very much the same qualities—though the subjects are entirely different—can be found in the works of Sir Edwin Landseer, R.A (1802-1873), who was reputed to have been Queen Victoria’s favorite painter, and was certainly one of the most popular and most successful painters of his day. Edwin Henry Landseer was born in London and was one of a family of artists. He was the third son of John Landseer, A.R.A., a painter and engraver; his brother Charles Landseer (1799-1879) also became a successful painter of historical and animal pictures; and his eldest brother, Thomas Landseer, became an expert engraver, whose prints after his brother’s pictures materially contributed to the widespread fame and popularity which Edwin Landseer enjoyed. Animals specially appealed to the young artist, and some of his earliest studies were made in a menagerie at Exeter Exchange, where the Strant Palace Hotel now stands. The first distinction he received was a premium from the Society of Arts for his drawing of ‘A Horse for Hunting,’ and at the age of fourteen he was admitted as a student to the schools of the Royal Academy, where he had already made his debut as an exhibitor with a painting of ‘The Heads of a Poynter and Puppy.’
The Victorian Age (continued)
The Art of Landseer, Leighton, Poynter, Alfred Stevens, Albert Moore, Orchardson, And G F Watts
1
Several of the artists already mentioned in this Outline—among them being Turner, Cotman, and David Cox—were alive and working when Queen Victoria ascended the throne in 1837, but we are not in the habit of thinking of any of these as typical artists of the Victorian era. Even the Pre-Raphaelites, whose art, as described in the last chapter, shed so much luster on the Queen’s long reign, were a group apart from the general trend of the times, and none of these painters—with the one exception of Millais in his later years—showed in his art those peculiar characteristics which we are now inclined to label broadly as ‘Victorian.’
Just as in politics the reign of Victoria was distinguished, before all things, by the growth of Democracy, so painting during this reign approached more closely than it had ever done before to popular ideals. Under Queen Victoria English painting became a homely, easily understandable art, appealing to the people by clear representation of simple themes often founded on everyday life, and almost always tinged by a sentiment perceptible and congenial to the humblest intelligence. Subject was of paramount importance, every picture told a story, and the story was usually of a simple nature that required no erudition for its comprehension, one that all who ran could read.
Of a host of pictures of this description only a few can be mentioned here. The quintessence of Victorianism may be found in the paintings of William Powell Frith (1819-1909), whose ‘Derby Day’, now in the Tate Gallery, created a sensation in 1858, and whose ‘Railway Station,’ painted four years later, is a still more dramatic assemblage of the ‘all sorts and conditions of men’ who go to make the world. No knowledge of the Old Masters or of the technique of painting is needed to enjoy Frith’s ‘Railway Station’; everybody can recognize the bridal couple being ‘seen off’ by their friends, the boy who is going to school, the new recruit taking leave of his parents, and the criminal who is being arrested at the moment when he thought to escape. This picture is not only full of the incidents which may be seen at any railway station; it is full of the simple human emotions which all have experienced and all can understand.
Very much the same qualities—though the subjects are entirely different—can be found in the works of Sir Edwin Landseer, R.A (1802-1873), who was reputed to have been Queen Victoria’s favorite painter, and was certainly one of the most popular and most successful painters of his day. Edwin Henry Landseer was born in London and was one of a family of artists. He was the third son of John Landseer, A.R.A., a painter and engraver; his brother Charles Landseer (1799-1879) also became a successful painter of historical and animal pictures; and his eldest brother, Thomas Landseer, became an expert engraver, whose prints after his brother’s pictures materially contributed to the widespread fame and popularity which Edwin Landseer enjoyed. Animals specially appealed to the young artist, and some of his earliest studies were made in a menagerie at Exeter Exchange, where the Strant Palace Hotel now stands. The first distinction he received was a premium from the Society of Arts for his drawing of ‘A Horse for Hunting,’ and at the age of fourteen he was admitted as a student to the schools of the Royal Academy, where he had already made his debut as an exhibitor with a painting of ‘The Heads of a Poynter and Puppy.’
The Victorian Age (continued)
Smart Mobs
Smart Mobs: The Next Social Revolution by Howard Rheingold is a thought-provoking book + the amazing thing is it's really happening + this book is a must read.
Useful link:
www.smartmobs.com
Useful link:
www.smartmobs.com
Baroque Brilliants
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
The earliest commercially fashioned Brilliants developed, very logically, from dodecahedral cuts and crystals, and therefore had rounded outlines. The term Baroque, which derives from the period in which such diamonds were first fashioned, has a wider relevance. Seventeenth-century taste created a sudden admiration of and demand for an entirely new arrangement of facets—numerous small ones round an octagonal table, all sparkling as if they were full of light rays, some white, others in all the colors of the rainbow. Exact symmetry was not important; instead, we find attractive minor irregularities in both the shape and the size of the different facets. Many people, including myself, infinitely prefer this type of cut to the rigidly symmetrical Brilliants produced today. These old cuts may allow some leakage of light, but they have distinct personalities and immese charm. This charm was totally lost in the Brilliants that were mass produced by the large cutting centers of the nineteenth century, when a competitive price was far more important than brilliance and fire.
The term Baroque, therefore, should not be restricted to early cuts, but should apply to any similarly fashioned Brilliant of whatever period, including the Brilliants for which the London cutters were so famous in the eighteenth and the first half of the nineteenth centuries, producing such diamonds as the Regent and probably also the Dresden Green.
The earliest commercially fashioned Brilliants developed, very logically, from dodecahedral cuts and crystals, and therefore had rounded outlines. The term Baroque, which derives from the period in which such diamonds were first fashioned, has a wider relevance. Seventeenth-century taste created a sudden admiration of and demand for an entirely new arrangement of facets—numerous small ones round an octagonal table, all sparkling as if they were full of light rays, some white, others in all the colors of the rainbow. Exact symmetry was not important; instead, we find attractive minor irregularities in both the shape and the size of the different facets. Many people, including myself, infinitely prefer this type of cut to the rigidly symmetrical Brilliants produced today. These old cuts may allow some leakage of light, but they have distinct personalities and immese charm. This charm was totally lost in the Brilliants that were mass produced by the large cutting centers of the nineteenth century, when a competitive price was far more important than brilliance and fire.
The term Baroque, therefore, should not be restricted to early cuts, but should apply to any similarly fashioned Brilliant of whatever period, including the Brilliants for which the London cutters were so famous in the eighteenth and the first half of the nineteenth centuries, producing such diamonds as the Regent and probably also the Dresden Green.
The New World
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
Next we see the designers at work. They are seated at long tables, each man intent on some scheme of color and form which he is creating in pencil and water color. Full color is used on paper, which, being translucent, gives to the opaque white a brilliancy approaching that of light on polishied metal or stone. Gems are represented in color with meticulous exactness of size and placement.
The artist works out his design with due reference to the stock of stones on hand; yet, if his creative invention carries the design outside the limits of the stones in stock, he is not therefore obliged to dismiss his idea, because the gem he needs will be provided. Naturally, such freedom makes for the best creative work.
After the design is completed on paper, it is carried out in duplicate on a wax base; but in this case real gemstones are set in their places on the wax model in order to give an approximate representation of the finished piece. A customer having an invidivual piece of jewelry made to order can thus gain in advance quite an accurate idea of how the jewel will appear when carried to completion in metal and gems.
In this practice of making preliminary wax models we find one of those long continuities of custom that tie the present with the past. When Venice was at the peak of her magnificence Benvenuto Cellini, master of master-goldsmiths, followed the same custom. But Cellini, after making the design in wax, proceeded himself to work it out in its final form; whereas, in this day of specialists, the designer usually gives over his model to be wrought in metal by another specialist.
Coming to one of the rooms where metal and gems are actually assembled we see each man working with a designer’s drawing or wax model set before him. For instance, one man, beginning with a flat sheet of platinum, is making a brooch according to design. With an incredibly fine saw he cuts the precious metal into minute ornamental units which are to be fastened together and built up, tier on tier. Finally it will be mounted with diamonds of the first water, and the draftsman’s work on paper will stand translated into an actual jewel to flash a million tiny rainbows at every movement of its wearer.
One department is given over entirely to work in gold and silver. At the moment of our observation, a bracelet—evidently a special order—is being made. It is about an inch and a half broad, an intricate and beautiful pattern of open scrollwork which on close inspection proves to be composed of letters. Taken together the letters spell ‘Peggy’. Such jewelry holds the charm of the personal touch—surely Peggy will love that bracelet.
After a glimpse of the department where men are at work making the handsome little jewel-cases in which a ring, or perhaps a necklace, will be delivered to the purchaser, we return to the main display rooms on the ground floor. Here the latest achievements of the modern jeweler are sheltered by almost invisible glass. We see brooches of diamonds forming flowers or cones; rich colorful sapphires, luxurious rubies and pearls set in the elusive gleam of platinum. But a description is no adequate substitute for visual experience. The frontpiece of this book shows some of Cartier’s jewels, but one must still imagine the flashing radiance of its diamonds and the vivid green of marvelous emeralds which no picuture, even in full color, could truly represent.
We have seen the latest products of the modern jeweler—all up-to-the minute yet made (in the main) by methods men have used for centuries past.
While watching the jewelry-makers at work one has felt transported back into a former era—an era before the days of mass-production, time-clock punching, and speed-at-any price. Instead, there exists an atmosphere in the ancient tradition. Pride of workmanship and the inherent compelling desire of the true craftsman to turn out the most skillful and beautiful of work, is still, as it was centuries ago, the dynamic power that moves the maker of fine jewelry. Many of the workers are middle-aged—there is no royal shortcut to the jeweler’s craft.
True, machines have recently been invented which mechanically produce facets at the correct angle on diamonds, but such wholesale methods are not used for the faceting of the more valuable stones. Here, at any rate, the machine has not replaced the master-craftsman.
In general, the changes of fashion have but little effect on the demand for first-rank stones. Their value tends to rise and fall according to general business conditions. During the period following the unhappy Wall Street collapse of 1929, the diamond industry suffered such a setback that most of the Kimberley mines of South Africa were closed by the Diamond Corporation. The supply so far exceeded the demand that only drastic steps could prevent the bottom falling out of the diamond market. Following World War II the price of diamonds soared dramatically and a stone of the first water more than doubled in value.
Next we see the designers at work. They are seated at long tables, each man intent on some scheme of color and form which he is creating in pencil and water color. Full color is used on paper, which, being translucent, gives to the opaque white a brilliancy approaching that of light on polishied metal or stone. Gems are represented in color with meticulous exactness of size and placement.
The artist works out his design with due reference to the stock of stones on hand; yet, if his creative invention carries the design outside the limits of the stones in stock, he is not therefore obliged to dismiss his idea, because the gem he needs will be provided. Naturally, such freedom makes for the best creative work.
After the design is completed on paper, it is carried out in duplicate on a wax base; but in this case real gemstones are set in their places on the wax model in order to give an approximate representation of the finished piece. A customer having an invidivual piece of jewelry made to order can thus gain in advance quite an accurate idea of how the jewel will appear when carried to completion in metal and gems.
In this practice of making preliminary wax models we find one of those long continuities of custom that tie the present with the past. When Venice was at the peak of her magnificence Benvenuto Cellini, master of master-goldsmiths, followed the same custom. But Cellini, after making the design in wax, proceeded himself to work it out in its final form; whereas, in this day of specialists, the designer usually gives over his model to be wrought in metal by another specialist.
Coming to one of the rooms where metal and gems are actually assembled we see each man working with a designer’s drawing or wax model set before him. For instance, one man, beginning with a flat sheet of platinum, is making a brooch according to design. With an incredibly fine saw he cuts the precious metal into minute ornamental units which are to be fastened together and built up, tier on tier. Finally it will be mounted with diamonds of the first water, and the draftsman’s work on paper will stand translated into an actual jewel to flash a million tiny rainbows at every movement of its wearer.
One department is given over entirely to work in gold and silver. At the moment of our observation, a bracelet—evidently a special order—is being made. It is about an inch and a half broad, an intricate and beautiful pattern of open scrollwork which on close inspection proves to be composed of letters. Taken together the letters spell ‘Peggy’. Such jewelry holds the charm of the personal touch—surely Peggy will love that bracelet.
After a glimpse of the department where men are at work making the handsome little jewel-cases in which a ring, or perhaps a necklace, will be delivered to the purchaser, we return to the main display rooms on the ground floor. Here the latest achievements of the modern jeweler are sheltered by almost invisible glass. We see brooches of diamonds forming flowers or cones; rich colorful sapphires, luxurious rubies and pearls set in the elusive gleam of platinum. But a description is no adequate substitute for visual experience. The frontpiece of this book shows some of Cartier’s jewels, but one must still imagine the flashing radiance of its diamonds and the vivid green of marvelous emeralds which no picuture, even in full color, could truly represent.
We have seen the latest products of the modern jeweler—all up-to-the minute yet made (in the main) by methods men have used for centuries past.
While watching the jewelry-makers at work one has felt transported back into a former era—an era before the days of mass-production, time-clock punching, and speed-at-any price. Instead, there exists an atmosphere in the ancient tradition. Pride of workmanship and the inherent compelling desire of the true craftsman to turn out the most skillful and beautiful of work, is still, as it was centuries ago, the dynamic power that moves the maker of fine jewelry. Many of the workers are middle-aged—there is no royal shortcut to the jeweler’s craft.
True, machines have recently been invented which mechanically produce facets at the correct angle on diamonds, but such wholesale methods are not used for the faceting of the more valuable stones. Here, at any rate, the machine has not replaced the master-craftsman.
In general, the changes of fashion have but little effect on the demand for first-rank stones. Their value tends to rise and fall according to general business conditions. During the period following the unhappy Wall Street collapse of 1929, the diamond industry suffered such a setback that most of the Kimberley mines of South Africa were closed by the Diamond Corporation. The supply so far exceeded the demand that only drastic steps could prevent the bottom falling out of the diamond market. Following World War II the price of diamonds soared dramatically and a stone of the first water more than doubled in value.
The Brilliant Cut
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
The meaning of the word Brilliant has changed over the years. Today the term is restricted to the modern, round, Brilliant Cut diamond with a table and thirty two other facets in the crown, a culet and twenty four facets in the pavilion. Back in 1564 the name began in France to replace the term Mirroring. At first it was used adjectivally but from 1608 it occurred occasionally as a noun, though not then indicating any specific type of faceting. In the Crown inventory of 1691, drawn up for Louis XIV, it was used exclusively for Brilliant Cuts—except for three separate examples of other cuts with exceptional light effects, which were also described as Brilliants.
The 1691 inventory is particularly reliable because it was compiled with great care and accuracy by professionals. The various cuts were described by Louis Alvarez, a famous diamond expert, and by Pierre Montarsis, the leading Paris jeweler. The entries were also checked and supplemented in great detail by the king himself, assisted by his secretary and Minister of Finance, Pontchartrain. Two examples are of interest. The French blue diamond is described as ‘à facettes à la mode des deux côtés, coeur court à 8 pans’. The description of the stone having eight main facets is strange when we know that the symmetry was sevenfold; they must have included the table. The fact that the gem was Stellar Cut is not mentioned. The first diamond of an agraffe is described thus: ‘Fort, haut de forme, carré, à la monde, grande étendue, 42⅝ ct.’ In later inventories all these diamonds are described simply as Brilliants. By the beginning of the eighteenth century the Brilliant Cut was well established, but the term itself still embraced other cuts, including not only all the modified Brilliant Cuts but also Sancy’s and Briolettes.
The true history of the Brilliant Cut is far more interesting than the stories which simply attribute its creation to various inventors. The earliest Brilliants were fashioned from several obsolete diamond cuts such as Burgundian Point Cuts, Pointed Star Cuts and Tailles en Seize, all of which were once developed from dodecahedral rough. The squarish shapes, which appeared later, were either fashioned from octahedron or, at least to begin with, were recuts of old High Table Cuts.
The old cuts no longer appealed. People wanted diamonds that would sparkle in the candlelight at the now fashionable night parties. A new pavilion-based cut was needed to complement the flat-bottomed Rose Cuts, whose popularity grew rapidly in the second half of the seventeenth century. And it was essential to make the best use of crystals that were well developed.
The creators of the initial ‘round’ Brilliant met with no real problems in designing its faceting. After having applied a table, surviving diamonds served as models; the Sancy Cuts for the crown part and the Pointed Star Cut for the pavilion. Thus, starting from any available round Point Cut with its apex first removed, they arrived easily at a prototype of a Brilliant Cut. If the basis for the experiment was a Pointed Star Cut, which is likely, the facetings alone called for a retouch.
The meaning of the word Brilliant has changed over the years. Today the term is restricted to the modern, round, Brilliant Cut diamond with a table and thirty two other facets in the crown, a culet and twenty four facets in the pavilion. Back in 1564 the name began in France to replace the term Mirroring. At first it was used adjectivally but from 1608 it occurred occasionally as a noun, though not then indicating any specific type of faceting. In the Crown inventory of 1691, drawn up for Louis XIV, it was used exclusively for Brilliant Cuts—except for three separate examples of other cuts with exceptional light effects, which were also described as Brilliants.
The 1691 inventory is particularly reliable because it was compiled with great care and accuracy by professionals. The various cuts were described by Louis Alvarez, a famous diamond expert, and by Pierre Montarsis, the leading Paris jeweler. The entries were also checked and supplemented in great detail by the king himself, assisted by his secretary and Minister of Finance, Pontchartrain. Two examples are of interest. The French blue diamond is described as ‘à facettes à la mode des deux côtés, coeur court à 8 pans’. The description of the stone having eight main facets is strange when we know that the symmetry was sevenfold; they must have included the table. The fact that the gem was Stellar Cut is not mentioned. The first diamond of an agraffe is described thus: ‘Fort, haut de forme, carré, à la monde, grande étendue, 42⅝ ct.’ In later inventories all these diamonds are described simply as Brilliants. By the beginning of the eighteenth century the Brilliant Cut was well established, but the term itself still embraced other cuts, including not only all the modified Brilliant Cuts but also Sancy’s and Briolettes.
The true history of the Brilliant Cut is far more interesting than the stories which simply attribute its creation to various inventors. The earliest Brilliants were fashioned from several obsolete diamond cuts such as Burgundian Point Cuts, Pointed Star Cuts and Tailles en Seize, all of which were once developed from dodecahedral rough. The squarish shapes, which appeared later, were either fashioned from octahedron or, at least to begin with, were recuts of old High Table Cuts.
The old cuts no longer appealed. People wanted diamonds that would sparkle in the candlelight at the now fashionable night parties. A new pavilion-based cut was needed to complement the flat-bottomed Rose Cuts, whose popularity grew rapidly in the second half of the seventeenth century. And it was essential to make the best use of crystals that were well developed.
The creators of the initial ‘round’ Brilliant met with no real problems in designing its faceting. After having applied a table, surviving diamonds served as models; the Sancy Cuts for the crown part and the Pointed Star Cut for the pavilion. Thus, starting from any available round Point Cut with its apex first removed, they arrived easily at a prototype of a Brilliant Cut. If the basis for the experiment was a Pointed Star Cut, which is likely, the facetings alone called for a retouch.
Green Travel
The book Green Travel: The World's Best Eco-Lodges & Earth-Friendly Hotels by Fodor's is an excellent source of information on green travel experiences around the world + it's a must read.
A Great Bargain Or A Big Rip-Off
The article A Great Bargain Or Big Rip-Off @ http://knowledge.wharton.upenn.edu/article/1906.cfm was really educational + insightful because in my view there were valuable lessons for the gem and jewelry sector.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Spam Art Concept
Alex Dragulascu
www.sq.ro
I liked the way Alex Dragulascu morphed spams into some sort of an art format + they looked beautiful.
www.sq.ro
I liked the way Alex Dragulascu morphed spams into some sort of an art format + they looked beautiful.
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