Monthly Archives: November 2011

Great Food, Beautiful Books

I am really not that interested in cooking (unusual for a blogger, I know), but for some reason I have always liked to read about food.  I also appreciate beautiful books, so Penguin UK’s Great Food series is just up my alley.  It includes 20 culinary classics from several centuries, all encased in beautiful covers crafted by the justly-famous British book designer Coralie Bickford-Smith. The series was released in Britain in late Spring, and in the US last month.

Two Trios of Titles and the Entire Stack.

Let’s look at a few titles in more detail.  There is a nice transition here from yesterday’s post on illustrator Frederick Stuart Church, who illustrated an edition of the early nineteenth-century English essayist Charles Lamb’s charmingly-titled A Dissertation upon Roast Pig.  So first we have the new Penguin edition, followed by an equally beautiful Wayside Arts & Crafts copy from the turn of the last century, and finally the Church illustration.  Great additions to the history of barbecue!

Gervase Markham, author of one of the first manuals for “hus-wives” in the seventeenth century, is offered to twenty-first century audiences in Penguin’s The Well-kept Kitchen. Markham has always offered a window into the early modern domestic world for both myself and my students, as has the eighteenth-century cookery writer, Hannah Glasse, whose Arte of Cookery has been refashioned as Everlasting Syllabub and the Art of Carving.  Below the modern variants are the title page to the 1831 edition of Markham’s English House-wife. Containing the inward and outward Virtues which ought to be in a complete Woman and (since we were on the topic), Hannah Glasse’s original recipe for roast pig.



Church on Sunday; or, Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!

No, this is not a religious post, but rather a brief look at some of the works of the American artist and illustrator Frederick Stuart Church (1842-1924), not to be confused with his better-known, near-contemporary Frederic Edwin Church (1826-1900) of the Hudson River School and Olana fame.  During a brief dusting stint this weekend, I found myself admiring one of my F.S. Church etchings, bought in my early 20s, and it occurred to me that there are very few things I purchased over 20 years ago that I still like, must less admire.  This particular etching, entitled Hop-Frog, is not exactly representative of Church’s work as it is the accompanying illustration to a rather dark story by Edgar Allen Poe.  Nevertheless, it immediately charmed me then and continues to do so now.

Church was a Michigan-born artist who came to New York City in 1873 and seldom left afterwards. Over his long career he published more than a thousand illustrations in popular periodicals like Harper’s Weekly, Century Magazine, and Scribner’s, along with illustrations for several editions of classic children’s books like Aesop’s Fables  and Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Wonder Book for Boys and Girls.  From his Carnegie Hall studio, he ventured out to the Bronx Zoo, the Central Park Menagerie, and performances of Barnum and Bailey’s Circus, inspiration for the whimsical animals that adorn his etchings, prints, letters and notebooks.  My other two Church etchings are The Mermaid (with a seahorse) and Tiger and Bird (the former gazing longingly–but not hungrily–at the latter); these creatures appear often in his works, along with lions, bears (lots of polar bears), owls, and all manner of fauna—sometimes depicted anthropomorphically but always fancifully.


The Lion in Love, 1883. Harvard University Museums

Church’s whimsy is continued in the twentieth century, and in his paintings, including my favorite Tiger Having Eaten the Professor (1905) and the popular Rites of Spring (1908) with its dancing polar bears.

Animals appear in nearly all his works, and Church himself wrote a reflective piece in Scribner’s Magazine entitled “An Artist among Animals” (1893), but there is also a strong feminine presence in his art, though his romantic young women are generally interacting with members of the animal kingdom.  You can see Church’s sylphs above, and below, in print and painting versions of  The Witch’s Daughter (1881, Library of Congress and Smithsonian Institution of American Art), as well as in The Dreamers, Girl with Rabbits (etching and watercolor, both 1886, Smithsonian Institution), and another one of my favorites, The Mirror (1891).

The Mirror (1891, 1898 Print), New York Public Library Digital Gallery.

Over his lifetime, Church seems to have bridged the gap between the fine arts and the commercial arts quite gracefully.  He had his artist friends (including William Merritt Chase, who painted his portrait), and his prominent patrons (to whom he wrote illustrated letters) but also steady publishing work.  He was that rare creature:  a popular artist.  As I began with a Church illustration of a Poe composition, so I will end:  with The Devil in the Belfry, the title page to Volume IV of the collected Works of Edgar Allen Poe, published in 1884 by A.C. Armstrong & Sons.


Armistice Day

As the enormity of loss in the Civil War created Memorial Day, the traumatic experience of World War One, the “Great War”, led to Armistice Day, celebrated in Great Britain and the Commonwealth countries as “Remembrance Day” and in the US as Veterans Day after 1954.  Remembrance Day is marked by a two-minute collective silence, at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, and the placement of poppies, representing both blood (death) and life in Flanders’ fields.

I can understand why Armistice Day was changed to Veterans’ Day in the United States, as the term “Armistice” specifically refers to World War I and a more general name was needed for the national holiday after World War II and the Korean War.  But the wars of the first half of the twentieth century were “total wars” demanding contributions and sacrifice on the part of the entire population, so I think I prefer the even more-inclusive “Remembrance Day”.  The posters below, from 1917-1918 and the Library of Congress, illustrate how the home front supported the war front during the Great War.

Eat less, waste nothing, fill in for the boys, buy war bonds and stamps; even children had their part to play:

The Food Will Win the War message/mission must have been a drumbeat, enforced by ration cards like the examples below.  The second card is from the impressive archive of local collector and historian Nelson Dionne.

Mr. Dionne also sent along this amazing photographic collage by commercial photographer Leland Tilford of the new draftees of Salem leaving for the war, so determined. Many of these young men would be dead within a few years, either from the conflict itself or from some disease contracted on the field, in the trenches, or in a military hospital.  When browsing through the Report of the Commission on Massachusetts’ Part in the World War, Part II:  The Gold Star Record of Massachusetts (1929), it was immediately apparent just how many soldiers from Salem (over half the casualties I surveyed) died from an unidentified “disease”, most likely the deadly post-war flu pandemic.

When the soldiers of the Great War returned, if they returned, it was to a grateful nation, parades, and the first national programs for veterans.  Unfortunately, the Great War was only the first World War, and as the twentieth century produced more wars and more veterans, Armistice Day evolved into Veterans Day, a day of reflection and remembrance.

Scenes from a post-war world:  Department of Labor poster and “Back to the Farm” (with a prostheses) exhibit, 1918-1919 (Library of Congress) and an Armistice Day parade on Tremont Street in Boston, 1929 (Boston Public Library).


Fall for Salem

I love November: the absence of Halloween crowds and traffic, the turning leaves, the chilly (but not freezing) weather, and above all, the light.  It’s a nice time on the academic calendar that directs my life (between midterms and finals) and it has a relatively no-pressure holiday at its end.  With the exception of the late October storm, we’ve had a beautiful fall, and when I took a walk yesterday I was in short sleeves.  It might have been the last warm day of 2011, but who knows with this changing climate?  Here are some photographs taken on a particularly golden November day (Election Day) in Salem:

An ivy-covered house turned red, along with a beautiful doorway, both on Chestnut Street.

Bittersweet trim and some of my favorite houses on and around Federal Street.

The Japanese garden at the Peabody Essex Museum (which just announced a $200 million expansion after an extremely successful fundraising campaign), the Common and one of its inhabitants.

Looking out at the Harbor, light and color between Derby and Essex Streets.


Salem Artisans on Etsy

By using the local search function on Etsy rather than merely searching for “Salem” items I can avoid all the witchcraft wares and get to the good stuff:  there are a lot of artists and artisans working in Salem and their creativity and productivity is impressive.  I haven’t done an Etsy post in a while and Christmas is right around the corner (apparently—so sad that we all seem to overlook Thanksgiving, one of my favorite holidays) so it seemed like  a good time.  Here’s a few of my recent Salem Etsy finds:  you can click on the image and go directly to the site.

Vintage recycled “Mr. Blandings Builds his Dream House” Journal/Sketchbook by Etsy Seller kissykissykatie.  This seller makes journals and sketchbooks out of old books and has a large selection on Etsy.  Mr. Blandings Builds his Dream House (Cary Grant and Myrna Loy!) just happens to be my favorite movie of all time, so this particular journal caught my eye.

“Fall Harvest” silver and gold stacking rings by Etsy Seller DangerousByDesign.  Beautiful minimalist jewelry in a mix of metals from this Etsy seller.

Spoon Busk Corded Corset by Etsy Seller JanesCorsets.  You’ve got to love a town that has a corset maker!

Red Lotus Medallion Little Girls Day Dress by Etsy Seller littlebirdsfly.  This seller produces dresses for little girls from really lovely not-so-little-girl fabrics.

“The Sweet Talk” knitted capelet by Etsy Seller Toil&Trouble.  I like the color combination of this “shoulder warmer” and it would come in handy in a house with 10-foot ceilings!

Soy candles in blood orange and absinthe by Etsy Seller WitchCityWicks.  Very distinct scents (anise, mead) as well as labels on these Salem-made candles.


Three Towers

One last “global” past and then I’ll get back to the streets of Salem, which are much more quiet now that Halloween is over.  While in New York last weekend, I took a photograph of an amazing etching in my brother and brother-in-law’s apartment, an etching that they bought nearly ten years ago while we were all on vacation in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico.  I was present at the “moment of purchase” and remember the event very clearly:  we pulled the image out of a folder in a small gallery in the center of the city and were immediately taken with it:  “El Mas Alla”, by the Mexican printmaker Nicolas De Jesus, was a striking image then and remains so now. (The photographs are not perfect because the flash reflected off the glass, but I think you can still grasp the urgency of the piece).

Bear in mind, when we first saw this hand-colored etching it was less than six months after September 11, so the image of the terrorists in the cockpit bearing down on the twin towers made us catch our collective breath, literally.  For me, the additional/traditional Day of the Dead imagery only intensifies its message by mixing past and present, always a powerful combination!  Nicolas De Jesus apparently specializes in this potent blend of current content and traditional motifs, as illustrated by another work on papel amates (bark paper):  Wake Up America.  More images of the artist’s work and a brief biographies are available here and here.

Ten years on, the Nicolas De Jesus etching in my brothers’ Brooklyn Heights apartment is all the more compelling because of its placement:  on a wall adjacent to a large casement window overlooking New York Harbor, the Statue of Liberty, and the rising One World Trade Center at Ground Zero, pictured below on the evening of September 10, 2011 and last weekend.


Guy Fawkes, Then and Now

Remember, remember, the Fifth of November.  Today is an important British holiday:  Guy Fawkes Day, commemorating the foiling of the 1605 plot hatched by a group of Catholic conspirators to blow up the House of Lords upon the occasion of the opening of Parliament, when King James I and his family were in attendance.  Even though the plot was led by a zealous English Catholic named Robert Catesby, his accomplice Guy Fawkes somehow became more identified with the conspiracy.  The unsuccessful plot (and its holiday), along with the earlier attack of the Spanish Armada and the machinations of the later Stuarts, fueled English anti-Catholicism for quite some time.

Two early seventeenth-century broadsides from the British Museum:  the Conspirators and their fate; God points out Guy Fawkes as he approaches the House of Lords.

The Gunpowder Plot (along with its Day and Bonfire Night) have strict historical associations but have also been used in more metaphorical (and secular) ways in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, to raise a collective patriotic awareness of any attack on Britain.  No one could have been more threatening to Great Britain than Napoleon in the early nineteenth century, and so here he is strung up alongside “Guy Faux” in a Thomas Rowlandson print from 1813.

Two centuries later, Guy Fawkes seems to have evolved from a seditious conspirator against Britain to a rebellious liberator for Britain, or at least the British people (and even the global 99% around the world).  This remarkable development is largely due to the V for Vendetta comic books in general and 2006 film in particular, which broadcast the “Guy Fawkes mask” around the world and made it a symbol of popular movements.  Guy Fawkes masks are clearly playing a prominent role in Occupy London, and not only on Guy Fawkes Day.  It certainly is an interesting time to be a historian!

Occupy London protesters with their masks in October, from the Time Out blog and Ed London Photography.


Mirror, Mirror

The convex mirror in the corner of my very favorite painting, The Goldsmith in His Shop by Petrus Christus, was not the only curved looking glass I saw in New York last weekend.  During my time in the American period rooms, I spotted several Federal girandole mirrors, and in the paintings gallery I encountered a work by one of Christus’s near-contemporaries, The Marriage Feast at Cana (c. 1500-1504) by Juan de Flandes, and the charming Victorian painting In the Studio (1888) by Albert Stevens.  Two very different paintings with similar mirrors in the background, projecting out to us, the viewers.

Of course Renaissance artists, particularly northern Renaissance artists, loved their mirrors and used them not only in their paintings but (probably) as a device to perfect their technical skills.  The three most common examples of the “mirror painting” are Jan van Eyck’s Arnolfini Portrait (1434, National Gallery, London), which never fails to produce an intense questioning scrutiny on the part of my students, The Money Changer and His Wife by Quentin Massys (1514, the Louvre), which is very reminiscent of The Goldsmith, and Parmigianino’s Self-portrait in a Convex Mirror (1524, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna), which seems to capture the very essence of the Renaissance.

I had no idea that the use of the convex mirror persisted into the modern age until I saw the Stevens painting above.  Apparently there was a revival in its appearance as a background emblem and device at the turn of the last century, exemplified perfectly in several works of the Irish artist William Orpen (1878-1931), generally classified as a portrait or “war painter” but obviously possessing a broad range of ability.  I had never heard of Orpen before (shame on me) but did see his dashing Self-portrait (1910–a mirror, but not a convex mirror) at the Met last weekend and made a mental note to look him up.  Then came my escalating convex fascination, which led me to his other works.  Below is the Self-portrait, followed by The Mirror (1900, the Tate), A Mere Fracture (1901, with a girandole mirror in the background), and The Bloomsbury Family (1907, National Gallery of Scotland), with Orpen himself (just like van Eyck!!!) reflected in the convex mirror.

I’m really impressed with Orpen’s paintings, and apparently they impressed his contemporaries as well if my last painted convex mirror is any indication:  the Australian artist George Lambert’s Convex Mirror, which really moves the mirror to the foreground, like Parmigianino’s Self-portrait above.

George Lambert, The Convex Mirror, 1916.  National Gallery of Australia.

Wow!

We did manage to do some shopping this past weekend, after the weather cleared to produce a glorious Sunday.  At the John Derian shop I encountered (of course) more convex mirrors. Small and black-framed, and very elegant.  I have some lovely period mirrors, gilt and brass and very Federal, but decidedly square and flat.  Perhaps the cosmos is telling me that I need my own convex mirror.  After the John Derian mirrors below are some high ($$$$, Richard Rothstein–a reproduction of the van Eyck mirror), moderate ($$$, Twos Company), and low ($$, West Elm) options for consideration.


My Met Birthday

My birthday always closely coincides with Halloween, and since I didn’t want to spend it in the Witch City this year, I fled to New York City along with husband and parents.  My brother and brother-in-law live in Brooklyn Heights, it’s NYC, and I had a long shopping list.  We had a lovely Friday evening in Brooklyn, with a firework display in New York Harbor (no, not for me but for the Statue of Liberty; apparently it was HER birthday weekend as well), which we watched from my brother’s apartment window with cocktails in hand.  The next day, however, we all awoke to a slushy and snowy New York (as everyone in the Northeast knows).  Of course, it was all about me and I was quite dismayed to have a birthday like this but I tried to control my bitchiness as we made a collective decision to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art–along with 25,000 other people that day.

The museum was indeed crowded and the lines were long for everything–tickets, coat check, lunch–but a good system was in place and everyone was patient and in good spirits.  In retrospect, it was a great place to spend a birthday.  I hadn’t been to the Met since my teens and I had forgotten the sheer extent and diversity of their collections; I spent time amongst the medieval armor and in a Renaissance studiolo, roaming around the galleries of European decorative arts and looking at cabinets of all sorts in a special exhibition of  the best examples from the permanent collection.  I never even made it to the exhibition that was on my preliminary New York “to do/see” list, Infinite Jest, preferring to spend a good chunk of times in the period rooms of the American Wing.  Lots of Salem furniture, of course, in the midst of all this splendor.  The galleries adjacent to Central Park were full of people looking as much at the snow outside as at the items inside.

Here are a few photographs but they’re not that great; the Met lets you take photos of everything, but (quite reasonably) asks you to turn off your flash.  First, the entrance to the American Wing followed by some of my favorite items inside:  a Nathaniel Gould Salem desk and bookcase, chairs and the perfect chair from the second quarter of the nineteenth century, an empire scene, including an amazing Duncan Phyfe settee, an early medieval statue of a decapitated bishop/saint, armor, and some images from the cabinet exhibition.

The most magical moment of the afternoon happened when I got separated from my pack and turned a corner to come face to face (really) in a small, still, empty room with my absolute favorite painting:  A Goldsmith in his Shop, possibly St. Eligius by Petrus Christus (1449).  I had completely forgotten it was in the Met and thrilled to see it in person for the first time.  Here are two images from the museum’s great website, including a detail of the convex mirror in the corner which reflects the street outside the shop.

After the intimate experience with The Goldsmith (or St. Eligius), it was time to leave the comfort of the museum for the snowy landscape which we had been viewing from the park-side galleries all through the afternoon.  Scenes of these galleries are below, as well as one of a townhouse across from the Museum, elaborately decorated for Halloween and all covered with icy snow. (Yay!  Halloween is over!!!)