I found Schmap with local listings + zoomable city maps interesting + the guides were useful for planning out a day's itinerary + I would also recommend Trip It.
Useful links:
www.schmap.com
www.tripit.com
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Battle At Kruger
Watching the Battle At Kruger video (what a lucky shot) is amazing + it's the difference in speed and resolve of predator vs prey + it all happens in the blink of an eye + there is a lesson for all.
Useful links:
Battle At Kruger: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU8DDYz68kM
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_at_Kruger
Useful links:
Battle At Kruger: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU8DDYz68kM
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_at_Kruger
Barbarians At The Gate
Barbarians At The Gate: The Fall Of RJR Nabisco by Bryan Burrough + John Helyar covers the management buy out of RJR and all the financial moves that took place to get it done + secret deals + stock market manipulation + flouting of laws + surprise plot twists + all of it almost unbelievable, but all of it true + it's well worth your time, effort, and energy.
Here is what the description of Barbarians At The Gate says (via Amazon):
Over six months on the New York Times bestseller list, Barbarians at the Gate is the definitive account of the largest takeover in Wall Street history. Bryan Burrough and John Helyar's gripping record of the frenzy that overtook Wall Street in October and November of 1988 is the story of deal makers and pulicity flaks, of strategy meetings and society dinners, of boardrooms and bedrooms, giving us not only an unprecedentedly detailed look at how financial operations at the highest levels are conducted but also a richly textured social history of wealth at the twilight of the Reagan era. As compelling as a novel, Barbarians at the Gate is must reading for everyone interested in the way today's world really works.
Color Association Of The United States
The Color Association of the United States (CAUS) is an independent color trend forecasting and color consulting service to the business community.
Useful links:
www.colorassociation.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Color_Association_of_the_United_States
Useful links:
www.colorassociation.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Color_Association_of_the_United_States
Coskata
According to the company officials, Coskata uses existing gasification technology to convert almost any organic material into synthesis gas + rather than fermenting that gas or using thermo-chemical catalysts to produce ethanol, Coskata pumps it into a reactor containing bacteria that consume the gas and excrete ethanol + the process yields 99.7 percent pure ethanol + Coskata's method generates more ethanol per ton of feedstock than corn-based ethanol + requires far less water, heat and pressure + those cost savings allow it to turn, say, two bales of hay into five gallons of ethanol for less than $1 a gallon + I think with proper distribution infrastructure + luck the business venture should succeed.
Useful links:
www.coskataenergy.com
www.ucsusa.org
www.nrdc.org
www.ethanolrfa.org
www.anl.gov
Useful links:
www.coskataenergy.com
www.ucsusa.org
www.nrdc.org
www.ethanolrfa.org
www.anl.gov
R E M
R E M is an American rock band formed in Athens, Georgia, in 1980 by Michael Stipe (lead vocals) + Peter Buck (guitar) + Mike Mills (bass guitar) + Bill Berry (drums and percussion) + their music is mid-tempo + enigmatic + semi-folk-rock-balladish + experimental + especially, Michael Stipe's distinctive metallic/vitreous voice + they were pivotal in the creation and development of the alternative rock genre + its members have sought to highlight social and political issues + I enjoy their music.
Useful links:
www.remhq.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R.E.M._(band)
Useful links:
www.remhq.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R.E.M._(band)
The Garibaldi Panorama
Brown University is bringing the 19th-century artwork, painted on a 136-foot paper canvas, fragile and large, into the 21st century, putting the painting online so that the Internet-viewing public can view it with a simple mouse click + the project allows historians and others access to a unique art form that was once used to convey current events to the public + according to the experts the watercolor panorama was painted on both sides of the 41/2 foot-tall canvas, and spans 273 feet + painted in either 1860 or 1861 + it chronicles the life of Giuseppe Garibaldi, a patriot regarded as one of modern Italy's founding fathers + at the time, panoramas were a popular art form, particularly in Europe + The Garibaldi Panorama is perceived as a 'moving' artwork.
Useful links:
http://dl.lib.brown.edu/garibaldi
Digital Initiatives: http://dl.lib.brown.edu
http://www.brown.edu/Administration/News_Bureau/2007-08/07-038.html
Useful links:
http://dl.lib.brown.edu/garibaldi
Digital Initiatives: http://dl.lib.brown.edu
http://www.brown.edu/Administration/News_Bureau/2007-08/07-038.html
Lifting Sightholder Suspensions In The Best Interest Of All
Chaim Even Zohar writes about DTC Sightholder issues + DTC's past/present practices + the impact + the importance of good governance + other viewpoints @ http://www.idexonline.com/portal_FullEditorial.asp
Early Jewelry Of The British Isles
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
1. Celtic Ornaments
The recorded history of England may be said to begin with the invasions of the Romans, and very little jewelry made before the Roman conquest has come to light. Such specimens as have been found consist of pins, rings, neck ornaments, discs and bracelets, made of bronze or gold, never of silver.
There were also beads. First, last and always there are beads in all ages and among all peoples, civilized or savage. The prehistoric beads of the British Isles were made of bone, amber, jet or glass. The latter probably supplied by Phœnician trading ships, since glass-making was unknown to the early inhabitants of England.
The gold they used was often so pure that it was quite flexible, and a small gold bar would be bent until its two ends all but touched. The ring thus formed was easily opened and a number of them could be linked together to make an ornamental chain. It is supposed that the rings were used as a medium of barter, therefore they are usually called ‘ring money’.
Many of the ancient ornaments were torques. A torque is an inflexible, rather massive ring of twisted gold which was usually worn as a neck ring. Any number of them have been unearthed in Ireland and one of these torques is so huge that it could not have been worn about the throat, but must have been hung over one shoulder to rest diagonally across the chest. It measures more than five feet in length.
The Emerald Isle is famed for the fine collection of ancient relics of pure gold that have been discovered there during the last few centuries. Among them are many dress-fasteners in the form of brooches.
As for the dress-fastener, one of the problems met by the first man who appropriated the pelt of an animal and tried wearing it on his own back, was how to keep if from falling off. A history of the varied inventions of mankind for the fastening of clothes would in itself fill a volume, which might bear the title, From Thorns to Zippers, for the first fun ‘coat’ ever worn by man was very likely pinned together with a thorn. Buttons with buttonholes, hooks and eyes, snappers and zippers were rather a long time coming to our aid.
The pin has been through many stages of evolution. At a very early period it was made of gold wire bent into a form somewhat resembling our safety pin of today. A later development of the simple pin with a catch was the Roman fibula, a two piece brooch consisting of a pin on a hinge and a bow.
The characteristic Celtic brooch was composed of a long pin an an incomplete ring. Untold numbers of these ancient ornaments were, in former years, sold by the men who found them for whatever the yellow metal would fetch.
Archeology is not a science that appeals to the man with a hoe. If the hoe chances to turn up some priceless piece of ancient jewelry the important thing to him is the intrinsic worth of the metal; so into the melting pot it goes, and, losing all those incalculable values given it by the history of its period and the hand of the goldsmith, becomes once again a soulless lump of metal.
However, this sad fate does not always fall to the lot of ancient Celtic ornaments of gold found by accident, as the following instance goes to prove.
One day in the year 1896 (as near to the present as that) a peasant was plowing a field. As the plow cut its way through a furrow of brown earth it met with some slight obstruction which, on examination, turned out to be nothing less than the now-famous Limavaday Treasure. It would be interesting to know what the man thought when first he saw the yellow gleam of gold, but we have only the statement of bald facts. At any rate, from that plowed field in the county of Londonderry, Ireland, was taken a little golden hoard such as one reads of in a romance of buried treasure. There were chains of gold, a torque made of thick twisted strands of rich yellow gold, and there was a collar of remarkable workmanship ornamented with repousśe work, which marks the period of its making as sometime about the first century A.D.
The year following their discovery the ornaments were sold to the British Museum, whereupon Ireland set up a violent protest. She claimed that the relics, having been found in Irish soil were treasure-trove and therefore belonged to Ireland. The British Museum authorities pointed out that the National Museum at Dublin had had a chance to buy them and had failed to do so. And further, they said that nobody could prove that the jewelry was made in Ireland—it might originally have come from England. The Press fanned the flames is dispute, and the matter was taken into the Court of Law. It took some six years before the law got around to deciding which contestant was right. And then, with the wisdom of Solomon, it favored neither one side or the other. Judgment was given that the jewelry was indeed treasure trove and therefore by virtue of the Prerogative Royal belonged to the King. Whereupon His Majesty, after receiving the treasure, tactfully turned about and presented it to the Irish National Museum. Altogether, it seems to have been a merry puss-in-the-corner game played in recent times by ornaments of precious metal that for centuries had lain untouched where they had been hidden in the ground, perhaps by some rich and important owner when the alarm of invasion rang through the land.
Early Jewelry Of The British Isles (continued)
1. Celtic Ornaments
The recorded history of England may be said to begin with the invasions of the Romans, and very little jewelry made before the Roman conquest has come to light. Such specimens as have been found consist of pins, rings, neck ornaments, discs and bracelets, made of bronze or gold, never of silver.
There were also beads. First, last and always there are beads in all ages and among all peoples, civilized or savage. The prehistoric beads of the British Isles were made of bone, amber, jet or glass. The latter probably supplied by Phœnician trading ships, since glass-making was unknown to the early inhabitants of England.
The gold they used was often so pure that it was quite flexible, and a small gold bar would be bent until its two ends all but touched. The ring thus formed was easily opened and a number of them could be linked together to make an ornamental chain. It is supposed that the rings were used as a medium of barter, therefore they are usually called ‘ring money’.
Many of the ancient ornaments were torques. A torque is an inflexible, rather massive ring of twisted gold which was usually worn as a neck ring. Any number of them have been unearthed in Ireland and one of these torques is so huge that it could not have been worn about the throat, but must have been hung over one shoulder to rest diagonally across the chest. It measures more than five feet in length.
The Emerald Isle is famed for the fine collection of ancient relics of pure gold that have been discovered there during the last few centuries. Among them are many dress-fasteners in the form of brooches.
As for the dress-fastener, one of the problems met by the first man who appropriated the pelt of an animal and tried wearing it on his own back, was how to keep if from falling off. A history of the varied inventions of mankind for the fastening of clothes would in itself fill a volume, which might bear the title, From Thorns to Zippers, for the first fun ‘coat’ ever worn by man was very likely pinned together with a thorn. Buttons with buttonholes, hooks and eyes, snappers and zippers were rather a long time coming to our aid.
The pin has been through many stages of evolution. At a very early period it was made of gold wire bent into a form somewhat resembling our safety pin of today. A later development of the simple pin with a catch was the Roman fibula, a two piece brooch consisting of a pin on a hinge and a bow.
The characteristic Celtic brooch was composed of a long pin an an incomplete ring. Untold numbers of these ancient ornaments were, in former years, sold by the men who found them for whatever the yellow metal would fetch.
Archeology is not a science that appeals to the man with a hoe. If the hoe chances to turn up some priceless piece of ancient jewelry the important thing to him is the intrinsic worth of the metal; so into the melting pot it goes, and, losing all those incalculable values given it by the history of its period and the hand of the goldsmith, becomes once again a soulless lump of metal.
However, this sad fate does not always fall to the lot of ancient Celtic ornaments of gold found by accident, as the following instance goes to prove.
One day in the year 1896 (as near to the present as that) a peasant was plowing a field. As the plow cut its way through a furrow of brown earth it met with some slight obstruction which, on examination, turned out to be nothing less than the now-famous Limavaday Treasure. It would be interesting to know what the man thought when first he saw the yellow gleam of gold, but we have only the statement of bald facts. At any rate, from that plowed field in the county of Londonderry, Ireland, was taken a little golden hoard such as one reads of in a romance of buried treasure. There were chains of gold, a torque made of thick twisted strands of rich yellow gold, and there was a collar of remarkable workmanship ornamented with repousśe work, which marks the period of its making as sometime about the first century A.D.
The year following their discovery the ornaments were sold to the British Museum, whereupon Ireland set up a violent protest. She claimed that the relics, having been found in Irish soil were treasure-trove and therefore belonged to Ireland. The British Museum authorities pointed out that the National Museum at Dublin had had a chance to buy them and had failed to do so. And further, they said that nobody could prove that the jewelry was made in Ireland—it might originally have come from England. The Press fanned the flames is dispute, and the matter was taken into the Court of Law. It took some six years before the law got around to deciding which contestant was right. And then, with the wisdom of Solomon, it favored neither one side or the other. Judgment was given that the jewelry was indeed treasure trove and therefore by virtue of the Prerogative Royal belonged to the King. Whereupon His Majesty, after receiving the treasure, tactfully turned about and presented it to the Irish National Museum. Altogether, it seems to have been a merry puss-in-the-corner game played in recent times by ornaments of precious metal that for centuries had lain untouched where they had been hidden in the ground, perhaps by some rich and important owner when the alarm of invasion rang through the land.
Early Jewelry Of The British Isles (continued)
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
The Art Of Gainsborough, Romney, Raeburn, Hoppner, And Lawrence
1
Shortly before little Joshua Reynolds celebrated his fourth birthday in the West of England, there was born in the Eastern Counties a babe destined to become his greatest rival in life and death. Thomas Gainsborough was born in 1727 at Sudbury, in Suffolk. He was one of a large family, his father being a wool manufacturer and clothier of moderate means, while his mother was a woman of education, the sister of a schoolmaster and herself a skillful painter of flowers. Thomas inherited his mother’s love of nature and her talent for art, and spend his boyhood rambling about the countryside and sketching the scenery round Sudbery. His gift for catching a likeness revealed itself early. One day, having seen a man robbing an orchard, he made a quick sketch of him, with the result that the robber was recognized from Gainsborough’s drawing and arrested. The boy’s faculty for copying, however, was not always exercised in the interests of law and order; and on another occasion, when he desired to play truant, he forged his father’s handwriting in a letter to the schoolmaster, asking for a day’s holiday. The ruse succeeded, but was subsequently found out, and seeing clearly that the boy would work at nothing but his drawing and sketching, the father wisely sent his son at the age of fifteen to London to study art under the French engraver Henri Gravelot. Young Gainsborough also studied at the St Martin’s Lane Academy, and later became the pupil of the portrait-painter Francis Hayman (1708-76), with whom he continued nearly four years. In 1745 he returned to his native town of Sudbury, where he began practice as a portrait painter and occasionally painted a small landscape for his own pleasure.
Unlike Reynolds, who was ‘wedded to his art,’ Gainsborough married when he was only nineteen. He fell in love with Margaret Burr, a beautiful girl of eighteen, who fortunately possessed an income of £200 a year of her own, and as no obstacles were raised to their wedding the boy-and-girl couple settled down at Ipswich, where Gainsborough soon acquired a considerable local reputation as a portrait painter. Here his two daughters were born and the painter led a happy domestic life, sketching in the country between the intervals of his professional portraiture and spending his evenings playing the violin—for he was devoted to music—either in his own home or in the houses of some of his friends.
In 1760 he was tempted to leave this simple life at Ipswich and moved to Bath, a fashionable center to which everyone who was anyone in London society came sooner of later. From a professional point of view this move was the beginning of Gainsborough’s fortune, for the fashionable world soon flocked to the studio of this ‘new man’ who made his sitters look so august and distinguished, and the modest provincial, who had begun painting three quarter lengths at five guineas apiece, now asked eight guineas, and was soon able to increase his figure to something nearer London prices. But while his fortune waxed, his happiness waned, and having now secured the entry into the fashionable world, Gainsborough began to pay attention to other ladies and so excite his wife’s jealousy. His home life was no longer simple or happy, and as time went on his private troubles increased, for both Mrs Gainsborough and his two daughters became subject to mental derangement. To the world, however, he continued to show a cheerful face, and his sprightly conversation and humor made Gainsborough a welcome favorite in all society.
In time the fame of the Bath painter spread to London, where Gainsborough occasionally exhibited at the Society of Artists, but though in 1768 he was chosen as one of the foundation members of the Royal Academy, he did not immediately leave Bath. He came there when he was thirty three; and it was not till he was forty seven that he was persuaded to move to London. In 1774 he took a part of Schomberg House in Pall Mall, and his success was immediate. ‘The King sent for him and Duchesses besieged his studio.’ Society was rent in twain, divided into a Reynold faction and a Gainsborough faction, and under these circumstances it is not altogether surprising that Sir Joshua’s jealousy did not allow him to be quite fair to his rival, whose power of securing a likeness he once formally denied.
Many stories are told of the rivalry between the two painters, and they have mostly increased with the telling in the course of years. As an example of the growth of legends, we may cite the widely circulated story that Reynolds at an Academy banquet once proposed the health of ‘Mr Gainsborough, the landscape-painter of the day,’ whereupon Richard Wilson is said to have retorted, ‘Ay, and the greatest portrait-painter too.’
The original version of this incident is told by Thomas Wright in his Life of Richard Wilson, published in 1824, and here we learn that the dialogue took place, not at an Academy banquet, but a the Turk’s Head in Gerrard Street, shortly after Gainsborough had arrived in London from Bath. Meeting Richard Wilson there, Reynolds in a bantering spirit said, ‘Have you heard sir, that our greatest landscape-painter has come to town?’
‘Nay, Sir Joshua,’ retorted Wilson, ‘you mean our greatest portrait-painter.’ Thus what was originally a piece of good humored chaff between two great artists has been twisted by inaccurate repetition into a display of maliciousness on both sides.
Nevertheless it must be admitted that there was a decided coolness between Reynolds and Gainsborough, and this was natural enough, for not only were the two men competitors for the patronage of Society, they were also temperamentally too far apart to understand one another completely. ‘With Reynolds,’ Sir Walter Armstrong has said, ‘deliberation counted for much; Gainsborough’s good things are impromptus.’ The seriousness and slight pomposity of Reynolds could not mix easily with the free-and-easy gaiety of Gainsborough. To Gainsborough, Reynolds seemed something of a pedant; to Reynolds, Gainsborough appeared rather a frivolous person. For many years neither missed many opportunities of getting a ‘dig’ at the other.
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)
The Art Of Gainsborough, Romney, Raeburn, Hoppner, And Lawrence
1
Shortly before little Joshua Reynolds celebrated his fourth birthday in the West of England, there was born in the Eastern Counties a babe destined to become his greatest rival in life and death. Thomas Gainsborough was born in 1727 at Sudbury, in Suffolk. He was one of a large family, his father being a wool manufacturer and clothier of moderate means, while his mother was a woman of education, the sister of a schoolmaster and herself a skillful painter of flowers. Thomas inherited his mother’s love of nature and her talent for art, and spend his boyhood rambling about the countryside and sketching the scenery round Sudbery. His gift for catching a likeness revealed itself early. One day, having seen a man robbing an orchard, he made a quick sketch of him, with the result that the robber was recognized from Gainsborough’s drawing and arrested. The boy’s faculty for copying, however, was not always exercised in the interests of law and order; and on another occasion, when he desired to play truant, he forged his father’s handwriting in a letter to the schoolmaster, asking for a day’s holiday. The ruse succeeded, but was subsequently found out, and seeing clearly that the boy would work at nothing but his drawing and sketching, the father wisely sent his son at the age of fifteen to London to study art under the French engraver Henri Gravelot. Young Gainsborough also studied at the St Martin’s Lane Academy, and later became the pupil of the portrait-painter Francis Hayman (1708-76), with whom he continued nearly four years. In 1745 he returned to his native town of Sudbury, where he began practice as a portrait painter and occasionally painted a small landscape for his own pleasure.
Unlike Reynolds, who was ‘wedded to his art,’ Gainsborough married when he was only nineteen. He fell in love with Margaret Burr, a beautiful girl of eighteen, who fortunately possessed an income of £200 a year of her own, and as no obstacles were raised to their wedding the boy-and-girl couple settled down at Ipswich, where Gainsborough soon acquired a considerable local reputation as a portrait painter. Here his two daughters were born and the painter led a happy domestic life, sketching in the country between the intervals of his professional portraiture and spending his evenings playing the violin—for he was devoted to music—either in his own home or in the houses of some of his friends.
In 1760 he was tempted to leave this simple life at Ipswich and moved to Bath, a fashionable center to which everyone who was anyone in London society came sooner of later. From a professional point of view this move was the beginning of Gainsborough’s fortune, for the fashionable world soon flocked to the studio of this ‘new man’ who made his sitters look so august and distinguished, and the modest provincial, who had begun painting three quarter lengths at five guineas apiece, now asked eight guineas, and was soon able to increase his figure to something nearer London prices. But while his fortune waxed, his happiness waned, and having now secured the entry into the fashionable world, Gainsborough began to pay attention to other ladies and so excite his wife’s jealousy. His home life was no longer simple or happy, and as time went on his private troubles increased, for both Mrs Gainsborough and his two daughters became subject to mental derangement. To the world, however, he continued to show a cheerful face, and his sprightly conversation and humor made Gainsborough a welcome favorite in all society.
In time the fame of the Bath painter spread to London, where Gainsborough occasionally exhibited at the Society of Artists, but though in 1768 he was chosen as one of the foundation members of the Royal Academy, he did not immediately leave Bath. He came there when he was thirty three; and it was not till he was forty seven that he was persuaded to move to London. In 1774 he took a part of Schomberg House in Pall Mall, and his success was immediate. ‘The King sent for him and Duchesses besieged his studio.’ Society was rent in twain, divided into a Reynold faction and a Gainsborough faction, and under these circumstances it is not altogether surprising that Sir Joshua’s jealousy did not allow him to be quite fair to his rival, whose power of securing a likeness he once formally denied.
Many stories are told of the rivalry between the two painters, and they have mostly increased with the telling in the course of years. As an example of the growth of legends, we may cite the widely circulated story that Reynolds at an Academy banquet once proposed the health of ‘Mr Gainsborough, the landscape-painter of the day,’ whereupon Richard Wilson is said to have retorted, ‘Ay, and the greatest portrait-painter too.’
The original version of this incident is told by Thomas Wright in his Life of Richard Wilson, published in 1824, and here we learn that the dialogue took place, not at an Academy banquet, but a the Turk’s Head in Gerrard Street, shortly after Gainsborough had arrived in London from Bath. Meeting Richard Wilson there, Reynolds in a bantering spirit said, ‘Have you heard sir, that our greatest landscape-painter has come to town?’
‘Nay, Sir Joshua,’ retorted Wilson, ‘you mean our greatest portrait-painter.’ Thus what was originally a piece of good humored chaff between two great artists has been twisted by inaccurate repetition into a display of maliciousness on both sides.
Nevertheless it must be admitted that there was a decided coolness between Reynolds and Gainsborough, and this was natural enough, for not only were the two men competitors for the patronage of Society, they were also temperamentally too far apart to understand one another completely. ‘With Reynolds,’ Sir Walter Armstrong has said, ‘deliberation counted for much; Gainsborough’s good things are impromptus.’ The seriousness and slight pomposity of Reynolds could not mix easily with the free-and-easy gaiety of Gainsborough. To Gainsborough, Reynolds seemed something of a pedant; to Reynolds, Gainsborough appeared rather a frivolous person. For many years neither missed many opportunities of getting a ‘dig’ at the other.
Eighteenth Century British Portraiture (continued)
Friday, January 25, 2008
China's Economic Growth
China's National Bureau of Statistics on Thursday released an official data on country’s economic growth at 11.4 percent in 2007, the highest in 13 years + the inflation rate rose by 4.8 per cent in 2007, the highest level in more than a decade + the growth has brought China closer to edge past Germany as the world's third largest economy after the US and Japan because of its booming exports + pumping in of massive investment on infrastructure.
Useful link:
www.stats.gov.cn/english
Useful link:
www.stats.gov.cn/english
Solazyme
Solazyme, a California biotech firm is betting algae is a fuel of the future + the company says Soladiesel will work in any diesel engine, in almost any climate + they say their technology combines all the key components: low carbon footprint + environmental sustainability + certified compatability with existing vehicles + infrastructure and energy security + they hope to mass produce Soladiesel at a competitive price within three years.
Useful link:
www.solazyme.com
Useful link:
www.solazyme.com
The Color Compendium
The Color Compendium by Augustine Hope + Margaret Walch is one of the most straightforward resources on color symbolism + it's user-friendly.
Here is what the description of The Color Compendium says (via Amazon):
The Color Compendium is the first comprehensive, illustrated encyclopedia entirely devoted to color. This extraordinary reference covers the full range of color-related subjects, including their scientific, technical, artistic, and historical aspects.
The Color Compendium features:
-An A to Z encyclopedia, extensively cross-referenced for easy access to all information
-A section of color systems, explaining their development and use- Sections on color communication and symbolism
-Biographies of leading historical and contemporary color theorists, and commentaries on their ideas
-A fully illustrated section of historic and twentieth century palettes and their source artifacts
Here is what the description of The Color Compendium says (via Amazon):
The Color Compendium is the first comprehensive, illustrated encyclopedia entirely devoted to color. This extraordinary reference covers the full range of color-related subjects, including their scientific, technical, artistic, and historical aspects.
The Color Compendium features:
-An A to Z encyclopedia, extensively cross-referenced for easy access to all information
-A section of color systems, explaining their development and use- Sections on color communication and symbolism
-Biographies of leading historical and contemporary color theorists, and commentaries on their ideas
-A fully illustrated section of historic and twentieth century palettes and their source artifacts
A R Rahman
A. R. Rahman is an award-winning composer + record producer + musician from India + he is one of the world's top 25 all-time top selling recording artists + his interest and outlook in music is said to stem from his love of experimentation covering a variety of genres.
Useful links:
www.arrahman.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A._R._Rahman
Useful links:
www.arrahman.com
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A._R._Rahman
Jewelers Directory
Here is an interesting concept: the just-launched European Jewellers Directory (EJD) is the brain child of former HRD marketing director Filip Van Laere + it offers listings of jewelers broken down by location, city size, type of goods sold and even scope of business @ www.jewellersdirectory.eu
John Currin
John Currin is an American painter + he is best known for satirical figurative paintings which deal with provocative sexual and social themes in a technically skillful manner + his work shows a wide range of influences, including sources as diverse as the Renaissance + popular culture magazines + contemporary fashion models + he often distorts or exaggerates the erotic forms of the female body.
Useful links:
http://www.gagosian.com/artists/john-currin
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Currin
Raw Art
http://www.newyorker.com/online/2008/01/28/slideshow_080128_currin
Useful links:
http://www.gagosian.com/artists/john-currin
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Currin
Raw Art
http://www.newyorker.com/online/2008/01/28/slideshow_080128_currin
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners
(via Diamond Cuts in Historic Jewelry:1381-1910) Herbert Tillander writes:
Blunt and missing corners usually resulted from the cutter’s efforts to achieve maximum show, and were accepted even though they reduced the value of the gems. Only very rarely was a corner broken through careless handling. French inventories include the following terms: ayant tous ses coings; escorné ďun coing; escorné de deux petits coings; escorné de trois coings; escorné des quatre coings.
There is a mid-sixteenth-century cross (in the Schmuckmuseum, Pforzheim) in enamelled gold set with a number of second-rate Table diamonds, with irregular outlines and haphazard faceting. This indicates that they originated in the early fifteenth century, if not in the fourteenth, and were handed down. Similar diamonds can be seen in a number of seventeenth-century jewels; they were not fit for recutting and eventually (since they were cheap) they found applications in later jewelry of lesser value.
When Francis I established the French Crown Jewels in 1530 he chose as one of the eight pieces for the Treasury a large Table Cut diamond valued at 25000 écus. No weight was recorded but according to Sancy’s price list and estimations it must have weighed 25-26 ct. Later the king bought another, much larger, Full Table Cut diamond which was only added to the Treasury in 1559, by Francis II. This second Grande Table was listed as ‘une fort grande table de dyaman carréè, without any estimated value. A year later it was listed in the inventory as ‘une fort grande table de dyaman à pleine fons un peu longuet que achepta le roy François 1er et lui cousta 65000 écuś. Again using Sancy’s calculations, it can be estimated that this second Grande Table weighed a little over 40 ct and measured more than 20mm in width: it is said to have been one of the largest and most beautiful diamonds in Europe. In 1570 the Crown inventory described te stone as ‘une fort grande table de dyaman á plein fons un peu longuette escornèe de deux coings’, still worth 65000 écus. Catherine de’ Medici tried to pawn it in 1568 but it was refused at her valuation of 75000 écus. It was successfully pawned in 1583 to a Florentine banker called Rucellai, who eventually disposed of it; no trace of it has ever been discovered. It is possible that these two Grandes Tables, refashioned into Brilliants, are still somewhere in existence.
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners (continued)
Blunt and missing corners usually resulted from the cutter’s efforts to achieve maximum show, and were accepted even though they reduced the value of the gems. Only very rarely was a corner broken through careless handling. French inventories include the following terms: ayant tous ses coings; escorné ďun coing; escorné de deux petits coings; escorné de trois coings; escorné des quatre coings.
There is a mid-sixteenth-century cross (in the Schmuckmuseum, Pforzheim) in enamelled gold set with a number of second-rate Table diamonds, with irregular outlines and haphazard faceting. This indicates that they originated in the early fifteenth century, if not in the fourteenth, and were handed down. Similar diamonds can be seen in a number of seventeenth-century jewels; they were not fit for recutting and eventually (since they were cheap) they found applications in later jewelry of lesser value.
When Francis I established the French Crown Jewels in 1530 he chose as one of the eight pieces for the Treasury a large Table Cut diamond valued at 25000 écus. No weight was recorded but according to Sancy’s price list and estimations it must have weighed 25-26 ct. Later the king bought another, much larger, Full Table Cut diamond which was only added to the Treasury in 1559, by Francis II. This second Grande Table was listed as ‘une fort grande table de dyaman carréè, without any estimated value. A year later it was listed in the inventory as ‘une fort grande table de dyaman à pleine fons un peu longuet que achepta le roy François 1er et lui cousta 65000 écuś. Again using Sancy’s calculations, it can be estimated that this second Grande Table weighed a little over 40 ct and measured more than 20mm in width: it is said to have been one of the largest and most beautiful diamonds in Europe. In 1570 the Crown inventory described te stone as ‘une fort grande table de dyaman á plein fons un peu longuette escornèe de deux coings’, still worth 65000 écus. Catherine de’ Medici tried to pawn it in 1568 but it was refused at her valuation of 75000 écus. It was successfully pawned in 1583 to a Florentine banker called Rucellai, who eventually disposed of it; no trace of it has ever been discovered. It is possible that these two Grandes Tables, refashioned into Brilliants, are still somewhere in existence.
Full Table Cuts With Blunt, Missing Or Broken Corners (continued)
Jewelers Of Italy
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
8. Byzantine Jewelry
When Constantine the Great, in 330 A.D had transferred the center of imperial power to Constantinople, the jewelers of the Empire were brought into contact with the great wealth of material and opulence of Oriental ornament. They were strongly influenced by it. Greco-Roman jewelry now lost its classical character and comparative simplicity and took on gorgeous color and Oriental symbolism. From the combined influences of Europe and the Orient developed Byzantine jewelry, whose characteristics were destined to last through the greater part of the Middle Ages.
Every once in a while during various periods of history the work of the jeweler has impinged on that of the clothier. Jewelry has been worn not only as an accessory but in the form of gold embroidery and insets of precious stones as an integral part of the garment itself. Such a period came in the sixth century. Of course only the very rich might indulge in the luxury and the very questionable comfort of these bejeweled garments.
In the Roman court at Constantinople, Justinian and his wife, Theodora, wore robes stiff with jewels. In their gorgeous, heavily weighted costumes there was no trace left of the soft-flowing Greek and Roman garments of earlier times. Theodora wore an elaborate diadem hung with precious stones. Ropes of pearls and emeralds encircled her throat and lay weightily upon her shoulders; and Justinian himself was scarcely outdone in splendor of jewels by his wife.
‘By the sixth century,’ says H G Wells, ‘the population of Europe and North Africa had been stirred up like sediment.’ And even when, in the course of the next two centuries the ‘sediment’ was allowed to settle down enough for various peoples to take on national characteristics, their jewelry was slow to develop any strongly localized individuality. Wherever the East and the West had mingled, the splendor of the Orient, with its symbolic mysticism, had left its mark on the jewelry of the country.
As the fabulous wealth in jewels grew, it rose like sparkling bubbles in a boiling pot to the top ranges of society, while the daily life of the common man grew ever more poverty stricken.
During miserable Dark Ages, famine and plague, always close comrades, stalked the earth together. The seventh century was one of the blackest periods of history. Bands of robbers unchecked by authority added their quota to terror and misery and no man by himself was safe. The few goldsmiths and lapidaries who had escaped with their lives either sought the protection of some powerful lord or joined certain other men who, gathering together in groups for mutual protection, lived apart in monasteries, devoting their lives to the new religion, Christianity, and to the preservation of various arts. These men were the monks. Each one was required to practise an art or a handicraft, and many of them were expert goldsmith.
Thus, in small havens of peace and safety, many knowledges of technique and art were preserved which otherwise would have been lost in the black chaos of the Dark Ages.
In the eighth century, under a decree issued by the Byzantine Emperor Leo, the Isaurian, there began an orgy of destruction aimed chiefly at the sacred images so numerously set in in the Christian Churches. Man’s inherent lust for destruction seems unquenchable, and when backed and encouraged by authority the joy smashing knows no bounds. Unhappily similar periods of delight have been frequent in history and are in force even at the present time.
With such fervent zeal did the iconoclast crusaders carry on their mission that even the artists and goldsmiths who made the offending images were included in the general havoc and had to flee for their lives. ‘The woods and caves,’ says one old record, ‘were filled with them.’
Many of them fled to France and to Germany. In Rome, monasteries welcomed the refugees and straightway set them to work, each man according to his own craft. And so it was that throughout the various countries giving asylum to artists, the Byzantine influence was brought to bear upon the arts and crafts of those countries.
8. Byzantine Jewelry
When Constantine the Great, in 330 A.D had transferred the center of imperial power to Constantinople, the jewelers of the Empire were brought into contact with the great wealth of material and opulence of Oriental ornament. They were strongly influenced by it. Greco-Roman jewelry now lost its classical character and comparative simplicity and took on gorgeous color and Oriental symbolism. From the combined influences of Europe and the Orient developed Byzantine jewelry, whose characteristics were destined to last through the greater part of the Middle Ages.
Every once in a while during various periods of history the work of the jeweler has impinged on that of the clothier. Jewelry has been worn not only as an accessory but in the form of gold embroidery and insets of precious stones as an integral part of the garment itself. Such a period came in the sixth century. Of course only the very rich might indulge in the luxury and the very questionable comfort of these bejeweled garments.
In the Roman court at Constantinople, Justinian and his wife, Theodora, wore robes stiff with jewels. In their gorgeous, heavily weighted costumes there was no trace left of the soft-flowing Greek and Roman garments of earlier times. Theodora wore an elaborate diadem hung with precious stones. Ropes of pearls and emeralds encircled her throat and lay weightily upon her shoulders; and Justinian himself was scarcely outdone in splendor of jewels by his wife.
‘By the sixth century,’ says H G Wells, ‘the population of Europe and North Africa had been stirred up like sediment.’ And even when, in the course of the next two centuries the ‘sediment’ was allowed to settle down enough for various peoples to take on national characteristics, their jewelry was slow to develop any strongly localized individuality. Wherever the East and the West had mingled, the splendor of the Orient, with its symbolic mysticism, had left its mark on the jewelry of the country.
As the fabulous wealth in jewels grew, it rose like sparkling bubbles in a boiling pot to the top ranges of society, while the daily life of the common man grew ever more poverty stricken.
During miserable Dark Ages, famine and plague, always close comrades, stalked the earth together. The seventh century was one of the blackest periods of history. Bands of robbers unchecked by authority added their quota to terror and misery and no man by himself was safe. The few goldsmiths and lapidaries who had escaped with their lives either sought the protection of some powerful lord or joined certain other men who, gathering together in groups for mutual protection, lived apart in monasteries, devoting their lives to the new religion, Christianity, and to the preservation of various arts. These men were the monks. Each one was required to practise an art or a handicraft, and many of them were expert goldsmith.
Thus, in small havens of peace and safety, many knowledges of technique and art were preserved which otherwise would have been lost in the black chaos of the Dark Ages.
In the eighth century, under a decree issued by the Byzantine Emperor Leo, the Isaurian, there began an orgy of destruction aimed chiefly at the sacred images so numerously set in in the Christian Churches. Man’s inherent lust for destruction seems unquenchable, and when backed and encouraged by authority the joy smashing knows no bounds. Unhappily similar periods of delight have been frequent in history and are in force even at the present time.
With such fervent zeal did the iconoclast crusaders carry on their mission that even the artists and goldsmiths who made the offending images were included in the general havoc and had to flee for their lives. ‘The woods and caves,’ says one old record, ‘were filled with them.’
Many of them fled to France and to Germany. In Rome, monasteries welcomed the refugees and straightway set them to work, each man according to his own craft. And so it was that throughout the various countries giving asylum to artists, the Byzantine influence was brought to bear upon the arts and crafts of those countries.
English Masters Of The Eighteenth Century
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
3
When Richard Wilson was already learning the business of portrait-painting in London, Joshua Reynolds was a little boy of six. He also was the son of a clergyman, the Rev. Samuel Reynolds of Plympton Earl, near Plymouth, where Joshua, the seventh son, was born on July 16, 1723. Sir Godfrey Kneller died the same year.
Nature and Fortune were both kind to Reynolds; the first endowed him with courtly manners as well as talent, the second gave him opportunities to use these to the best advantage. Doubtless Reynolds would have made his way to the front, by one path if not by another, but it was a piece of good luck for him when the Commodore Keppel of the Centurion put in at Plymouth for repairs, and met the young painter at the house of Lord Mount –Edgcumbe. Keppel took a liking to the painter and offered him a free passage on his ship to the Mediterranean. Reynolds gladly accepted, and after a long stay with Keppel at Minorca, went on to Rome, where he gave himself up to that worship of Michael Angelo that he retained all his life. His well-known deafness dates from this early period, and was the result of a cold which he caught while copying at the Vatican.
From Rome, Reynolds went to Florence, Venice, and other Italian cities, returning to England in 1753, and then he settled in London, never to leave it again except for a holiday. His younger sister Frances kept house for him, and he never married; like Michael Angelo, the object of his worship, Reynolds said he was ‘wedded to his art.’ After living for a time at 104 St Martin’s Lane, and then at 5 Great Newport Street, he made his permanent home at 47 Leicester Square, and Messrs. Puttick & Simpson now hold their auctions in the room that was once his studio.
Reynolds did not capture the town at first assault; the deep richness of the coloring he had adopted from the Venetian masters, and the atmospheric contours of his forms, did not appeal to connoisseurs accustomed to the lighter color and harder outlines of Kneller; but supported by the influence of Lord Mount-Edgcumbe and Admiral Keppel, he gradually became acknowledged as the head of his profession. When the Royal Academy was founded, his appointment as President met with universal approbation, for it was felt that no painter could fill the office so well. Reynolds, as Mr E V Lucas points out, ‘was sought not only for his brush, but also for his company; and though he did not court high society, he was sensible of the advantages it gave him. Other and finer intellects also welcomed him—such as Dr Johnson, Burke, and Goldsmith—and his house became a center of good talk.’
Reynolds was not only a great painter, but a great gentleman, for long before the King knighted him in 1769, five days before the opening of the first Academy exhibition, he had shown court and society ‘that a painter could be a wise man and a considerable man as well.’
The story of Sir Joshua’s life is not dramatic; it is the placid, smoothly running story of his art, of well-chosen friendships, of kindly actions, occasional displays of professional jealousy—for he was human and not an angel—and of a happy domestic life. When his brother-in-law Mr Palmer died in 1770, Sir Joshua adopted his daughter Theophila, then thirteen, and later her sister Mary Palmer also came to live with him, so that though a bachelor Reynolds was not without young people in his house. Both his nieces remained with him till they married, and it was Theophila’s daughter, little Theophila Gwatkin, who was the original of one of Reynold’s most charming and popular paintings, ‘The Age of Innocence.’
His grand-niece was six years old when Reynolds, in 1788, painted her portrait, a work which in conception and in every touch proclaims that it was ‘a labor of love.’ Indeed, nowhere do the simplicity, the benevolence, and the affectionate nature of the man shine out more beautifully than in his paintings of children. Splendid and decorative in its color-scheme and open air setting, his ‘Mrs Richard Hoare with her Infant Son’ in the Wallace Collection has the same winning simplicity of intention; for it is much more than a mere portrait, it is a grave and tender expression of a mother’s love. The other side of Sir Joshua’s art, ‘the grand manner,’ is seen in the famous ‘Mrs Siddons as the Tragic Muse’ and in ‘Miss Emily Pott as Thais’. This was the side most admired by his contemporaries, and we must admit that Reynolds had a rare power of dramatic presentation, which found its happiest outlet when he was dealing with contemporary subjects. ‘The Tragic Muse’ is something of a wreck today, because in his desire to emulate the deep, rich coloring of the Venetians, Reynolds made use of bitumen, a pigment which gives brilliant immediate results but never dries, and in time trickles down a canvas in channels, ruining its surface. This pigment, which liquefies like asphalt when the sun is hot, is chiefly responsible for the poor condition today of many paintings by Reynolds, and it must be admitted that as a craftsman he was not so particular as Wilson and Hogarth, who were more careful in their choice of pigments.
When Sir Joshua was sixty six he lost the sight of his left eye and from this calamity and the dread of losing the other, which was threatened, he never recovered. For three years he lingered on, seeing his friends and bearing his infirmity with fortitude, but the will to live was gone when he could no longer practice his art with assurance. He died on February 23, 1792, and was buried in state at St Paul’s Cathedral.
‘I know of no man who has passed through life with more observation than Reynolds,’ said Dr Johnson; ‘when Reynolds tells me anything, I consider myself as possessed of an idea the more.’ Sir Joshua himself was distinguished by his literary abilities, and his ‘Discourses on Painting,’ which formed his yearly address to the students of the Royal Academy, are treasured and read today both for their literary merit and their instructive art teaching.
3
When Richard Wilson was already learning the business of portrait-painting in London, Joshua Reynolds was a little boy of six. He also was the son of a clergyman, the Rev. Samuel Reynolds of Plympton Earl, near Plymouth, where Joshua, the seventh son, was born on July 16, 1723. Sir Godfrey Kneller died the same year.
Nature and Fortune were both kind to Reynolds; the first endowed him with courtly manners as well as talent, the second gave him opportunities to use these to the best advantage. Doubtless Reynolds would have made his way to the front, by one path if not by another, but it was a piece of good luck for him when the Commodore Keppel of the Centurion put in at Plymouth for repairs, and met the young painter at the house of Lord Mount –Edgcumbe. Keppel took a liking to the painter and offered him a free passage on his ship to the Mediterranean. Reynolds gladly accepted, and after a long stay with Keppel at Minorca, went on to Rome, where he gave himself up to that worship of Michael Angelo that he retained all his life. His well-known deafness dates from this early period, and was the result of a cold which he caught while copying at the Vatican.
From Rome, Reynolds went to Florence, Venice, and other Italian cities, returning to England in 1753, and then he settled in London, never to leave it again except for a holiday. His younger sister Frances kept house for him, and he never married; like Michael Angelo, the object of his worship, Reynolds said he was ‘wedded to his art.’ After living for a time at 104 St Martin’s Lane, and then at 5 Great Newport Street, he made his permanent home at 47 Leicester Square, and Messrs. Puttick & Simpson now hold their auctions in the room that was once his studio.
Reynolds did not capture the town at first assault; the deep richness of the coloring he had adopted from the Venetian masters, and the atmospheric contours of his forms, did not appeal to connoisseurs accustomed to the lighter color and harder outlines of Kneller; but supported by the influence of Lord Mount-Edgcumbe and Admiral Keppel, he gradually became acknowledged as the head of his profession. When the Royal Academy was founded, his appointment as President met with universal approbation, for it was felt that no painter could fill the office so well. Reynolds, as Mr E V Lucas points out, ‘was sought not only for his brush, but also for his company; and though he did not court high society, he was sensible of the advantages it gave him. Other and finer intellects also welcomed him—such as Dr Johnson, Burke, and Goldsmith—and his house became a center of good talk.’
Reynolds was not only a great painter, but a great gentleman, for long before the King knighted him in 1769, five days before the opening of the first Academy exhibition, he had shown court and society ‘that a painter could be a wise man and a considerable man as well.’
The story of Sir Joshua’s life is not dramatic; it is the placid, smoothly running story of his art, of well-chosen friendships, of kindly actions, occasional displays of professional jealousy—for he was human and not an angel—and of a happy domestic life. When his brother-in-law Mr Palmer died in 1770, Sir Joshua adopted his daughter Theophila, then thirteen, and later her sister Mary Palmer also came to live with him, so that though a bachelor Reynolds was not without young people in his house. Both his nieces remained with him till they married, and it was Theophila’s daughter, little Theophila Gwatkin, who was the original of one of Reynold’s most charming and popular paintings, ‘The Age of Innocence.’
His grand-niece was six years old when Reynolds, in 1788, painted her portrait, a work which in conception and in every touch proclaims that it was ‘a labor of love.’ Indeed, nowhere do the simplicity, the benevolence, and the affectionate nature of the man shine out more beautifully than in his paintings of children. Splendid and decorative in its color-scheme and open air setting, his ‘Mrs Richard Hoare with her Infant Son’ in the Wallace Collection has the same winning simplicity of intention; for it is much more than a mere portrait, it is a grave and tender expression of a mother’s love. The other side of Sir Joshua’s art, ‘the grand manner,’ is seen in the famous ‘Mrs Siddons as the Tragic Muse’ and in ‘Miss Emily Pott as Thais’. This was the side most admired by his contemporaries, and we must admit that Reynolds had a rare power of dramatic presentation, which found its happiest outlet when he was dealing with contemporary subjects. ‘The Tragic Muse’ is something of a wreck today, because in his desire to emulate the deep, rich coloring of the Venetians, Reynolds made use of bitumen, a pigment which gives brilliant immediate results but never dries, and in time trickles down a canvas in channels, ruining its surface. This pigment, which liquefies like asphalt when the sun is hot, is chiefly responsible for the poor condition today of many paintings by Reynolds, and it must be admitted that as a craftsman he was not so particular as Wilson and Hogarth, who were more careful in their choice of pigments.
When Sir Joshua was sixty six he lost the sight of his left eye and from this calamity and the dread of losing the other, which was threatened, he never recovered. For three years he lingered on, seeing his friends and bearing his infirmity with fortitude, but the will to live was gone when he could no longer practice his art with assurance. He died on February 23, 1792, and was buried in state at St Paul’s Cathedral.
‘I know of no man who has passed through life with more observation than Reynolds,’ said Dr Johnson; ‘when Reynolds tells me anything, I consider myself as possessed of an idea the more.’ Sir Joshua himself was distinguished by his literary abilities, and his ‘Discourses on Painting,’ which formed his yearly address to the students of the Royal Academy, are treasured and read today both for their literary merit and their instructive art teaching.
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