Nic Saintey - Blog

The antique wine glass, sand, sundry vegetables and boots

Nic Saintey — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 19:07:37 GMT

It was the mid 17^th century before glass was really considered as a useful medium to drink from - before this period the English drank from a variety of metal, wooden and leather vessels – this led to a contemporary French source suggesting that ‘we were wont to drink from our boots’. I wonder which troubled mind was the first to consider melting sand with a flux and various chunks of vegetable matter – it all seems a bit arbitrary to me?

Whilst the variation in the shape of the foot and the bowl of an antique wine glass can seem infinite it is the form of the stem that is generally used to age a glass. Dating from the late 17^th century the first generic type of English antique wine glass is known as the baluster and tends to have a heavy stem with large bead like swellings known as knops. Excise duty on glass during the 1740’s led to a stem that although similar in form was thinner and often had decorative bubbles within them these required less material and are often referred to as balustroids or lighter balusters. Although more delicate than their counterparts it was suggested in a clever piece of marketing that they were designed to allow gouty fingers a good anchorage!

Perhaps the most technically beautiful forms of antique wine glass were the airtwist - popular from the mid century and the opaque twist stem in the 1760’s and 70’s. Although produced with straight and knopped stems they literally enclosed an intricate spiral of air or fine spiralling webs of predominantly white glass.

The Excise Act of 1777 doubled the tax on glass and so the only way open for makers of antique wine glasses to further reduce the volume of glass in a stem was to shave off tiny diamond shaped slithers to produce a faceted stem.

I am in utmost admiration of the latent beauty of an antique wine glass and how fit for purpose it is, but what perplexes me more than anything is considering their age and delicacy and that their sole purpose was to transport intoxicating liquor to eager lips. How in the devil did so many survive?

This weblog is produced by Bearnes Hampton & Littlewood.

It's Art Darling (Part III) Alchemy, Murano Glass and Monkey Business

Nic Saintey — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 20:19:16 GMT

Originally conceived with a more practical purpose in life glass has always been sought after since the earliest times to quote a contemporary source it took 'a rare kind of Knowledg and chymistry to transmute Dust and Sand to such a diaphanous pellucid dainty body as you see a Crystall-Glasse is' to put it more bluntly who woke up one morning and decided 'hey you know what, I'm going to heat up a pile of sand and mix it with some wood ash or burnt seaweed and see what I get' ?

Whilst the Romans and Egyptians certainly used this high status medium to produce things of a more 'artistic' nature it was the Venetians that picked up the ball and ran with it particularly those on the island of Murano. There are two schools of thought as to why this highly skilled process was restricted to Murano rather than elsewhere on the lagoon. Some consider that the high temperatures involved in glass making led Venetians to fear immolation, but being surrounded by water and stone buildings that surely can't have been the case - it seems more likely that it was easier to guard and maintain the profitable secrets of glass making by restricting production to the smaller island of Murano.

As innovators they seemed second to none producing dainty glasses, brightly coloured beads and complex paperweights, however it was the twenty century that saw Murano produce glass as sculptural art in it's own right. If one puts aside the technically painful skills involved in moulding, manipulating and joining molten glass without cracking or blurring the constituent parts, if one ignores the fragility of the finished product (both part of the attraction for some) then one can marvel at the vivid colours of Murano glass, a medium that never fades and remains as bright as the day you bought it.

The first fifteen lots of our forthcoming July auction are from a collection of Murano glass, so is it art darling - of course it is, but you make your own mind up. Unlike some contemporary art I defy you say that a monkey could have done that? What monkey would be stupid enough to burn sand and seaweed?

This weblog is produced by Bearnes Hampton & Littlewood.

Bloor Derby; Nantgarw; Lord Ongley and a Creme de Menthe Cocktail

Nic Saintey — Tue, 31 Mar 2009 14:48:52 GMT

It was the start of British Summer Time yesterday, now there’s an oxymoron, so of course I woke up this morning and it was three degrees below – there was ice on my car. If one wasn’t British one would consider that cold weather and the summer just don’t go together – just like Bloor Derby and the Nantgarw works in Swansea, snowballs and the Mediterranean or Claude Lorrain and Naples harbour. Only a mad dog or an Englishman could link these disparate features together – so perhaps I’ll try.

I recently came across a copy of the Antique Collector magazine for June 1984, nearly an antique in its own right and found an article entitled ‘The Ongley Service lost for a Century’. Kind of strange I thought that the singularly most expensive service that the Derby porcelain works produced in the 1820’s went and got forgotten - The Derby Mercury of 1825 wrote that ‘Admirers of the fine arts … will be highly gratified (with) a most magnificent service of china which has been completed by … Mr Bloor, for the express use of a nobleman in a distant part of England’. If Muncaster Castle in Cumbria seemed a great distance then the designs on the Ongley service were a world away.

One plate depicts a view of Naples Harbour that very obviously is derived form a Claude Lorrain sketch of 1636. Nothing strange in a Grand Tour image on a nobleman’s service is there? Another is derived from a source much closer to home that was originally painted by James Plant for the Nantgarw works in Swansea and subsequently repeated for Bloor Derby by William Corden it depicts a charming snowballing scene something far more appropriate whatever the season it seems.

If the mixture of Nantgarw, Swansea and Bloor Derby seems something of an acquired (all be it an expensive) taste one might be unsurprised to learn that other subject matter in this service included scenes of juvenile affection and a view of Moscow. A sophisticated and wise purchase from a man with money or something of a crème de menthe cocktail with a glace cherry and an umbrella in it, ask me on July 1^st when I have sold the above plates?

This weblog is produced by Bearnes Hampton & Littlewood.

It's Art Darling (Part II) Royal Doulton, an Ape and Nigeria

Nic Saintey — Fri, 20 Mar 2009 12:13:07 GMT

How many times have you heard the response ‘Huh, a monkey could have done that’? Generally from experience usually the words fall dismissively from the lips of someone faced with a material piece of human endeavour (the wider word calls ‘art’) that they just can’t understand. Perhaps the next step up from this forthright type of criticism is ‘My three year old could have done that’.

Whilst children occur regularly as the subject of art it is perhaps unsurprising from a Western European perspective that monkeys don’t! Aside from King Kong and Tarzan and Disney’s version of Jungle Book I can’t think of many instances of the ape as subject matter. When one does appear it is in a subservient or unflattering role.

However recently I bumped into two apes that have made me reconsider. Firstly I sold a Royal Doulton Character Ape, a humorous figure which shows the seated individual with a book in its lap something which suggests a sideswipe to Darwinism. Although relatively mass produced it is the tongue in cheek face of art from a Western standpoint.

In my second encounter I came across a Nigerian, Yoruba carved figure of a monkey. This one was different, but equally engaging, unlike the Royal Doulton Character Ape which was one of an identical number, this was completely bespoke. I am familiar with Royal Doulton, but understandably am less so with ethnic carving, let alone the products of Yoruba.

Rather than a purely decorative object it was obviously intended to have some function – though I have no idea what. Frankly it has a disproportionately large head and teeth and seems pretty unfriendly, but then I do realise it wasn’t made for me. I suspect, even though this is not my field of expertise, it had some ritualistic, religious or social function and I guess it was no fertility symbol (work it out for yourself) he looks pretty aggressive and strong and doesn’t seem to be wholly ape, just like the Doulton Character Ape, there is an anthropomorphic aspect to him, but why is he holding a cup?

Is it now art - well why ever not? I liked the Yoruba monkey so he is now nakedly presiding over my kitchen, my wife has made no comment, but then our terrier also roams nakedly around our kitchen, but I can assure you he is definitely no work of art!

This weblog is produced by Bearnes Hampton & Littlewood.

It's Art Darling (Part 1) - Edwin Beer Fishley and The Dead Frog

Nic Saintey — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 12:09:21 GMT

Now here's a few questions, are animals in aspic Art and is Damien Hurst avant garde or just recycling an old idea?

In a few words I cannot possibly approach a definition of the concept of 'Art', but I can comment on the work of Edwin Beer Fishley because; one as a professional antiques valuer I genuinely admire his work; two because I was actually brought up in Bideford (a stones throw from Fremington): and three because I am about to sell a collection of North Devon Art Pottery that belonged to the late Audrey Edgeler.

Edwin Beer Fishley came from a dynasty of Fishley potters based in North Devon who in turn absorbed their influence from their landscape and a long traditional of artisan potters typical to the area.

'To Mother Earth I owe my birth, then formed a jug by man' - so reads the caption on many Fishley pottery pieces any bunny hugger, son of the soil or potter cannot fail to be moved by the sentiment and not understand the emotive connection between art and nature.

So what of Damien Hurst and North Devon, where am I going with this? Well one of the more unusual pieces of the Edgeler collection is a pottery frog, the late owner's son wonders whether it was formed using a real one. I hope not, but can't help admiring anything of a seemingly everyday nature, meticulously observed, created with intent for its own sake and above all formed from the sod itself. Was it not a medieval superstition that believed the frogs were physical born out of mud itself?

I don't know whether the pictured Edwin Beer Fishley object is a paperweight, a Victorian art pottery tile or whether it is a sculpture in its own right, does it matter? I am drawn to it, it speaks to me in so many ways, unobtrusively beautiful, it reminds me of my home and my job, but above all it's a beautifully rendered dead frog and I think it's Art with a capital 'A'.

Saatchi eat your heart out and Damien, you were beaten by a century, keep up!

This weblog is produced by Bearnes Hampton & Littlewood.

Flawed beauty; Tulipmania; Broken Isnik Dishes

Nic Saintey — Tue, 10 Feb 2009 15:56:24 GMT

When I started out on this, my second incarnation, a life that centred on antiques I was asked at a very early age – so what are you going to specialise in? I hadn’t initially given it much thought, but then for a number of reasons mostly boring I decided on ceramics, probably driven by the fact that every house has pots in it so you are never short of something to do.

So in my time I have kissed a hell of a lot of frogs and as a result found just a few princesses. So it was, just recently, though my relationship with Lot 23 in our sale of 28^th January was a fleeting one full of hope, desire and admiration, but alas ultimately out of my reach. True platonic love some would say. I am unsure whether these dishes came from the reign of Selim II or Murad III, however despite their age these dishes were far from naively decorated having stark simple, recognisable, but striking renderings of, amongst other plants, carnations and tulips. Tulips were an indigenous species of Turkey a flower that created a mania amongst the European glitterati at the time – they were the must have item of the 16^th and 17^th centuries. Despite being no horticulturalist these Isnik dishes were truly beautiful despite some pretty large chips and more than a few good old fashioned rusty staple repairs.

They were broken, but gorgeous and as a result of their less than perfect nature I thought they might be the achievable object of my desires, but alas it was not to be. What would you prefer a flawed beauty or perfect banality? I leave the final sentiments to Leonard Cohen ‘There’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in’.

This weblog is produced by Bearnes Hampton & Littlewood.

Carl Theodor: Frankenthal Porcelain and Best Intentions

Nic Saintey — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 21:23:02 GMT

Of all the major porcelain manufactories in Germany perhaps the least known and the shortest lived was Frankenthal. Karl Hannong the brains behind a French faience workshop moved his staff in the late 1750’s to an empty army camp in Frankenthal. After a difficult start the death of Karl and an internecine struggle over the secret recipe for ‘porcelain pots’ meant that the surviving brothers Joseph and Peter had to rely increasingly on Carl Theodor Prince Elector, Count Palatine and Duke of Bavaria.

It was not long before Carl a long time patron of the arts and founder of a Science Academy took over the administration of the Franthenthal works. This led to a period of relative stability and arguably produced some of the best quality porcelain outside of Meissen during the 1760’s.

So its Hats off to Carl, patron of the arts and all round good guy – unfortunately as a monarch and politician he rather failed at his day job by leading his country into some ill considered conflicts and dodgy blue sky thinking when he proffered a playground swap for the less interesting bits of his country with the then neighbouring Austrians. Eventually when he shuffled off this mortal coil after suffering from a stroke, did his citizens rush out in patriotic fervour and buy up all his remaining pots as future antiques and collectors items? No, apparently not , instead they celebrated for three days, so much then for best intentions.

This weblog is produced by Bearnes Hampton & Littlewood.

Elsmore & Forster: Their role in sleepless nights

Nic Saintey — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 14:30:01 GMT

I don’t know about you, but I often wonder what singular piece of inspiration caused the first person to consider using ground up swim bladder to clear wine. What arbitrary series of events occurred in the mind of the individual who mixed tobacco spit and urine because it made a ‘nice pattern’ on Mocha Ware – a man could lose sleep over things like that.

So it is with Lot 365 in tomorrow’s sale. I have nothing against pottery jugs, how could I, they are inoffensive enough and are often beautiful works of art in their own right? Elsemore & Forster were a rather small concern based in Tunstall between 1853 and 1871 that made useful objects in Ironstone (a sort of robust pottery that has some of the characteristics of porcelain). Don’t get me wrong it is a great jug, a little on the large size, probably on the edge of being practical when full, but who in their right mind conceived the decorative scheme on it. Who stood back and said yep that’s good, I’m pleased with that?

Often referred to as a ‘Grimaldi’ jug in deference to the two passable portraits of the late great celebrated British Clown it also has a rather sweet if eclectic series of domestic and wild animal portraits that a nightingale, cats, frogs, bears, zebras, tigers, a race horse and others including a rather distressed beached whale. It looks like the kind of jug a Victorian child might covet, a pleasant distraction that had the advantage of passing educational value.

That is it would have been had not the design department of Elsmore & Forster considered that the ideal decoration for the rim was a series of cock fighting prints that include gory images of the ‘Knock Down’ and ‘The Kill’. Was this just a collage of spare or off cut transfers, it seems not, several similar have come to market in the last few years? Was this a jug for grown ups – maybe? However this jug has a name and a date 1860 which indicates it was a present for a youngster, perhaps for a birthday. I wonder if master Joseph Morgan had nightmares, whether he grew up to be a pillar of society, or whether he sought solace in pulling the legs off spiders?

This weblog is produced by Bearnes Hampton & Littlewood.

Wedgwood: The Ceramic Coffin

Nic Saintey — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 15:36:50 GMT

If I told you that Josiah Wedgwood was buried in a ceramic coffin you would probably be right to distrust me. However, whatever vessel he resides in he must surely be spinning in it now with the very sad news that his once proud ‘pottery business’ has gone the way of nearly every other domestic ceramic concern in this country.

Josiah Wedgwood the man who invented Black Basalt and every conceivable colour of Jasper Ware, the individual who improved the quality of fine bodied Cream Ware made pottery not just a poor cousin to porcelain, but a very real competitor to it in every sense.

Even better I just loved the idea that even a grand ‘art house’ concern such as Wedgwood also made toilets, sanitary wares, tiles and things of a more mundane nature, something that should have made it a resilient business.

The company continued it's enterprising spirit through the 19th and on into the 20th century with Wedgwood employing striking and radical designers such as Keith Murray and Eric Ravilious and on occasion the downright bizarre if you consider the ‘Fairyland Lustre’ of Daisy Makieg Jones! Just where did it all go wrong?

Is the concept of a ceramic coffin equally as bizarre? Apparently not, several examples have been unearthed in the Hamadan area of Iran, most recently in 2001.

This weblog is produced by Bearnes Hampton & Littlewood.

Donyatt Puzzle Jug

Nic Saintey — Sun, 11 Jan 2009 02:31:31 GMT

Perhaps because I’m flawed myself, I despise perfection – perfection has no character – no matter how great its quality. Perfection in porcelain is something to be admired in itself, the skill and dexterity to make something so perfect it could have been made by a machine!

For me there can be nothing greater than the naive charm of an object that shows the ‘free’ hand of its artisan maker, a comforting earthiness, an accidental fingerprint perhaps. Peasant art, and rather backward looking maybe, but a Donyatt puzzle jug has all the warmth, comfort and character that anyone could wish for from a ‘useful’ object.

I was bought up in Bideford and now live in Somerset, literally miles from the site of the old Donyatt pottery – of course I’m biased. Donyatt shows all the character of the popular, but unaffordable Bideford and Barnstaple harvest jugs, probably because the raw material was the same in both places and because one John Jewell made the trip from Bideford to nearby Chard in the 1690s.

The body, glaze and style of decoration remained fairly consistent for centuries. The example illustrated is from the latter years of the Donyatt pottery and was probably produced by the Arlidge family.

This weblog is produced by Bearnes Hampton & Littlewood.