Great Bustard!

I must confess, I don't spend much time thinking about extinct or even endangered species of animals. Do you?

I say, I say, Great Bustard's the name, jolly good, what?

I thought this bird was such a handsome fella - he made me think of a British Colonel stationed in India with that fierce eye and that enormous 'tache - so I snapped his photo.  Turns out he's not extinct, only endangered.  This poor guy was shot down in his prime, apparently, as the whiskers only sprout when they are in their breeding season.  Kinda sad, when you think about it.

I also snapped part of the text next to his display and so can also tell you about the Kakapo, in critical danger with only 131 members left - and all given names.  Personally, I think Kakapo is a pretty good name, too.

This is Felix.  Why does he remind me of
Barry Manilow?

And finally, we come to the Great Auk - all gone, but not forgotten.  He makes me think of Alice in Wonderland or something, and sure enough, these creatures have appeared in children's literature, though Lewis Carroll's books are not listed. 

Well, that's my public service announcement for this week.  Don't go killing anything unusual, you hear, not even for your museum!  One day, soon enough, there will only be the rats and the cockroaches left...

Sunderland Musem and Winter Gardens - The End

Given that the name of the place includes the Winter Gardens, it didn't seem right not to show them to you. 

Vivien and I went in August, but Bill and I went several years ago in actual winter, and I can tell you it is a wonderful place to be when it's cold and miserable outside.

 

Almost like a quickie trip to Africa or India, but without the  long flight or the foreign food.

On the surface, it's just a simple garden with a circular balcony, a tall waterfall and a big fish pond,

but I'm sure there is a lot of technical expertise that goes into keeping all those tropical plants happy.

There were plenty of lovely, colourful flowers, but my photography skills didn't do them justice.

Just in case you've never seen a banana plant, this is what one looks like.   Weird, isn't it?

I thought of Bill's cousin, Michael, when I saw these fish.  Some of them were enormous.

Outside was this faerie-tale (sorry) bridge.  Vivien couldn't get over how lucky these apartment dwellers were, being next door to all this glorious scenery, but it turns out that the Mowbray apartments are more like a hotel.   It did seem rather too good to be true. 

There was also a memorial to an event in 1883, about which we'd never heard. The Victoria Hall disaster of 1883 was like the Who concert in 1979 and the Hillsborough football disaster ten years later: a problem of crowd control.

Only this one involved children running down from the theatre gallery in order not to miss out on the treats being thrown to those below.  The stairwell door opened inward and the children in the front were unable to open it quickly enough; 183 were killed.

I was wondering if Victoria Hall had been renamed or torn down since.  Turns out it was destroyed by a 'parachute bomb' in 1941.

 

So, I'm thinking perhaps you've had enough of Sunderland Museum and Winter Gardens, lovely as they are.  I can almost hear you saying 'Enough already! Enough!'

In answer to your request, I'm leaving you with 'a nef'.  A silver nef to be more precise. 

 

I'm afraid the glass case and the lighting conspired to prevent my taking a really good photo.   What is it, you ask?  It's basically a ludicrously expensive and ornate salt shaker.

Or it might hold spices, which were very expensive in the Middle Ages.  Or cutlery, etc.

The detail on this piece was spectacular and I did my best - which isn't good - to capture some of it, particularly the places where salt might actually be found.

It has wheels so it can be shoved along rather than lifted - an expensive toy to amuse oneself and one's guests at dinner, no doubt.  More examples can be seen at the Wikipedia listing, of course.

Post Victorian or Contemporary Faerists

W.H. Auden (1907-1973) was born British, but later became an American citizen.  Bill's perception is that he ran away to the US in 1939 to escape WWII and that he was  consequently not held in very high esteem here in Britain.  His Wikipedia entry addresses the question of military service briefly, but I'm not sure what to think about it.  Never mind.  He was a brilliant poet and if you have ever seen the film Four Weddings and a Funeral, you're familiar with one of his most famous poems, Stop all the Clocks.   If you've never read it - as I had not until today - his other most famous poem certainly captures a sense of the time for which it is named, September 1, 1939.   In it I can read about his present, his past and his quiet patriotism.

So what has Auden to do with faeries?   He believed himself to be of Icelandic descent and was always fascinated with myths and sagas from that part of the world.  He was a student at Oxford and studied under J.R.R. Tolkien.  He later wrote a critique of the Lord of the Rings.  He has written at least one poem about fairies and is quoted as saying

“The way to read a fairy tale is to throw yourself in.”    

Even if you're not big on poetry - and I generally am not, but I could possibly make an exception in Auden's case - his quotes make for fascinating reading and really make me wish I'd known the man.

Right, now there are a few other names that cropped up at the museum exhibit who are quite modern, so much so that I couldn't find out a great deal about them. 

Charles Van Sandwyk (1966 - ) at least has a Wikipedia entry.  Born in South Africa, but now Canadian, he appears to be a well known illustrator author of children's books.  You can see some of his pictures here.

Sean Jefferson (?) simply has too ordinary a name for me to be sure, but perhaps there are not too many by that name who are artists of the faerie world.

Danuta Mayer (?) has a more Googleable name and her art is more affordable, but a little modern for my taste.  I will say it does seem a bit more wholesome and suitable for a child's room than some of the eerier work I've seen.

So now we come to the last of the names I wanted to share with you,

Brian Froud  and Alan Lee, both (1947-).  If you are familiar with the films The Dark Crystal or Labyrinth, these are part of Froud's 'conceptual work'.   As well as collaborating with Brian Froud, Alan Lee was behind the more recent Lord of the Rings films.   Froud has also done work with Terry Jones (1942-) of Monty Python fame.   Froud's official webpage links to a Faerieworld's website and an amazing trailer for an event that happened last summer involving Celtic music and the wearing of costumes, in some Mount Pisgah or other.  Personally, I think I'm happier just admiring the books and pictures.

Even a signed poster is very affordable (not that I need to own one, mind).   It is the ethereal nature of his work that really gets to me.  Having seen some of his actual paintings at the Sunderland museum, I'm not sure a poster would suffice.

Dreamweaver by Brian Froud

Froud has a number of illustrated books on offer and if I had a child on my Christmas list, I'd be tempted to give one:

Good Faeries, Bad Faeries

From the exhibit and from the 'look inside' option on Amazon, Froud gives a classification system of faeries (and of course I took notes).  His classifications don't always agree with Wikipedia, but I thought they were fun all the same.

Sylph - Flying faeries
Gnome - Earthy elves that live underground
Nymphs - Water faeries
Salamanders - Willo-the wisps (either Froud implies they are the same or my notes aren't legible)

The museum also made reference to 'Lady Angelica Cottington', the infamous faerie squaster'.   Investigation of this was initially quite confusing, given the - deliberate, I'm guessing - similarity to the name Cottingley.  The story also makes reference to the 'famous story' published in 1907 (not 1917) in a magazine.  So, Cottingley, but not at all.

Lady Cottington's Pressed Fairy Book was published in 2005 and there are newer versions published since.  This story is not that some young girls were photographed with faeries, but that this young lady decided to capture the faeries she saw in her album, sort of like pressed flowers, to prove to others that they existed.  The illustrations are quite cute, if you're not big into faerie rights activism or anything.  It does say that no actual faeries were harmed in the making of the book...

Amazon.co.uk's complete list of Brian Froud's books (many with the opportunity to look inside!) can be found here.  You'll either be relieved, disappointed, alarmed or indifferent to the fact that this concludes my series on faeries, but I'm not quite done with the Sunderland museum. 

Victorian Faerie History - Part II

I have Bill to thank for introducing me to the work of the Pre-Raphaelite artists.  I'm sure I'd some some of their paintings here and there, but I never identified them as a particular style and I didn't know anything about the specific artists.  I can't claim any particular expertise even now, though we did sit down and watch a television programme that explained what they were all about.

Basically they were rebels, turning away from the prescriptive style then taught at the English Academy of Art.   Their art initially shocked, as it was very realistic and natural.  They also broke many of the accepted rules about what characteristics were expected of a work, rules that do seem quite rigid now.   In any case, some of their paintings are incredibly beautiful.

The programme also discussed their personal lives, their models, their wives, other people's wives, their wives' sisters, sex partners and even unconsummated marriages.  It was all a big soap opera, which is moderately interesting, but I'd prefer to look at their paintings.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828-1882) was a founder of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.  One of his main models was Jane Burden Morris, wife of William Morris - another member of that society.  Morris is perhaps most famous for his wallpaper designs and for providing the Mission Statement for Unclutterer's.  You know that one? 

Rather than try to explain about faeries and the Pre-Raphaelites, I shall leave you with this wonderful post by someone far more expert on the matter. 

Veronica Veronese by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Lewis Carroll (1832-1898), AKA Charles Dodgson, of course wrote books such as Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass.  They belong to the genre called 'literary nonsense'!  I read both books as a child, but I can't say I cared much for them.  I found the complete unpredictability of Alice's stories to be rather upsetting; they didn't amuse me, they made me nervous.  I think I like order and predictability far too much to lose myself in nonsense (irrespective of what this blog leads you to believe).  Dodgson/Carroll hung out with the Pre-Raphaelites and whilst his Alice books aren't exactly faerie tales, they are certainly a form of fantasy.  You may or may not recall, I've written about this man before.

Now we come to a long list of illustrators and painters, some part of the Pre-Raphaelites, then they are associated with the Arts and Crafts movement, and then the Art Nouveau.   Actually, these links are even better - to the images of Arts and Crafts and of Art Nouveau. 

The following names from the Sunderland museum exhibit "The Truth about Faeries" are all people who were born in the Victorian era, though some of them are of quite contemporary fame, that is, Bill and Vivien have both heard of them.

Arthur Hughes (1832-1915)  was a painter, illustrator and a member of the Brotherhood of the Pre-Raphaelites.  He illustrated many of George MacDonald's books. 

Ophelia by Arthur Hughes

Walter Crane (1845-1915) was a prolific illustrator of children's books, interested in the Pre-Raphaelites' work, but also the Arts and Crafts Movement and he is associated with British Art Nouveau.  Definitely a man after my own heart, then.    (Note to self:  some of his work is in the Manchester Museum - go see it!!!).

Book Cover by Walter Crane

E. Gertrude Thompson (1850-1929)  was a friend of Lewis Carroll and illustrated his first book, originally titled, The Nursery "Alice"

Jessie Macgregor (c. 1850s - 1919) was born into a family of painters and studied at the Schools of the Royal Academy in London.  Some of her paintings show a Pre-Raphaelite influence. 

In the Reign of Terror by Jessie MacGregor

Heywood Sumner (1853 - 1940) was an illustrator and naturalist,associated with the Arts and Craft Movement.  The detail of his work is breathtaking.

Illustration from A Guide to the New Forest by Haywood Sumner

Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930) of course gave us Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.  What I hadn't realised was that he was an Edinburgh physician who basically had no patients and so had lots of time to write.  He was also interested in faeries and spiritualism - as many people were at the time.  This interest may have be due to the loss of a wife, a son, a brother, two nephews and two brothers-in-law, a toll that may have been difficult to accept.  He wrote a book, The Coming of the Fairies,  and was very much involved with the story of the Cottingley Fairies, about which more later.

Lawrence Housman (1865-1959) was an illustrator, writer and playwright, who turned more towards the latter occupations when his eyesight failed.  His illustrative style is considered to be Art Nouveau.  I'm enjoying writing about these people in part because I'm finding more amazingly beautiful weblogs, like this one.

From Jane Barlow's The End of Elfintown

Herbert Cole (1867 - 1930)  was another illustrator whose work included The Rubiyat of Omar Khayyam and The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes.  I could have shown you a really sweet illustration  of The Three Bears, but I couldn't resist choosing this one instead, about "the fruitlessness of earthly vanities and the inevitability of death".  It's called 'The Critic'.  I think Bill's love of Terry Pratchett is perhaps rubbing off on me.

Arthur Racham (1867 - 1939) is apparently a well known illustrator and many bloggers have dribbled on about how much they love his work, much as I'm doing here.  One site mentioned how his illustrations were highly popular after the death of Queen Victoria, because they helped keep the scary modern world at bay.  I understand that perfectly.

Girl Beside a Stream, by Arthur Rackham

Edward L. Gardner (1870-1970), oddly enough, has no Wikipedia page, in spite of being involved in story of the The Cottingley Fairies, part of which he captured in his book, Fairies:  A Book of Real Fairies.  The bigger picture is a rather daft story about some photographs taken in 1917 by a couple of young girls which were subsequently taken up by none other than Arthur Conan Doyle and raised a certain amount of interest - and skepticism.   Although both Vivien and Bill were born long after this story took place, they were both aware of the event.

W. Heath Robinson (1872-1944) wanted to be a landscape painter, but then realised that book illustrating was much more lucrative.  He did a lot of cartoons, some of which look quite Art Deco to me, but the range of his talent was quite wide.

Estella Canziani (1887-1964) was not only an artist, but an interior decorator, a travel writer and a folklorist.  Wikipedia notes that she lived all her life at the family home at 3 Palace Green in the Kensington Palace Gardens, now known as 'billionaires' row'.  I can only guess that real estate values have changed significantly, as her mother was another artist and her father an Italian civil engineer. 

With the exception of this bookplate, I can't say I like her work that much.

Dorothy P. Lathrop (1891 - 1980) was an American author and illustrator of children's books.   I can't say I recognise any of the titles of her books, written largely in the 1930s.  Her art looks fairly modern to me.

From Walter de la Mare's Book of Fairies

JRR Tolkien (1892-1973) of course wrote The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings.  He was a student at Oxford in the 1920s and later a professor there.  His biography on Wikipedia is both touching - he lost both of his parents by the age of 12 -and amusing, as he really does come across as a man dragged unwillingly from his time into the present.  He enjoyed the financial rewards of his writing and wished he'd retired earlier, but at the same time was not happy about becoming a cult figure in the counter-culture of the 1960s.  I think of him as an impressively erudite and imaginative man, but also a bit of an old fuddy-duddy as well.  What a hoot.

Cicely Mary Barker (1895-1973) was an English illustrator of children books best known for her 'flower faeries' or perhaps her alphabet fairies.  Vivien was pleased to see Barker's works on the wall, as she had enjoyed them as a child.  I must admit they look quite familiar to me, so she must have been published widely in the U.S. as well, though I don't recall having any of her books.    

She is said to have been influenced by the Pre-Raphaelite movement.

My mom taught me my numbers and letters by drawing a character around each form.  She added hats, shoes, moustaches, aprons, etc., to make them each a personality that would help me remember them.  I'd completely forgotten this until I was taking algebra in high school and was completely flummoxed by the idea of doing math with letters.   I just knew I was going to flunk the class and I guess all the worry made me dream about these early lessons.  Somehow after I'd had the dream about the number 8  (a nanny in a tightly tied apron) and the number 9 (a gunslinger with a Stetson and a gun on his hip), algebraic equations finally clicked in my brain and I really enjoyed them!

Tomorrow (eventually...these posts take a long time to write!) I'll finish this series with a few 'modern' artists, one of whom I suspect was the driving force behind the whole exhibit at the Sunderland museum.

Victorian Faerie History - Part I

I thought I'd just point out, for those who have never considered the matter, that 'the Victorians' were the people who lived during the reign of Queen Victoria (1837-1901).  Here in Britain, the scope of her Empire at the time was such that they tend to refer to the Victorian era as a world wide phenomenon.  Thinking back, I never heard much in US history referred to as 'Victorian', except perhaps when - was it the 1980s? - Victoria magazine became popular; I confess I was also a fan.  Be that as it may, if someone refers to 'Victorian', they are roughly talking about the 1800s - more often referred to as 'the Gilded Age' in the US. 

Anyhow, the Victorians were really in love with faeries.  I worked that out just from the sheer number of authors and illustrators who fell during this time period.  A little investigation comes up with a fairly obvious answer about why:  industrialisation.  Faeries are always in some way linked to nature and a lot of nature was being transformed into horrific industrial complexes.  Also linked to industrialisation is the growth of a wealthy middle class that had money for books. 

Finally, the way society viewed children and childhood began to change in Victorian times and there was not only an increased interest in the well-being of children but also a fascination with childhood itself.  Of course faerie stories are also linked with childhood.  I'm thinking a large number of gentlemen with money decided they never wanted to leave their childhood and faerie stories gave them a way to do this and make money - brilliant!  Of course child welfare was more for the middle classes, as working class children were still labouring in factories and fields under the 'Dickensian' (ie 'squalid and poverty stricken') conditions of the day.

Brothers Dalziel - George (1815-1902); Edward (1817-1905); Thomas (1823-1906); and John (?) were, I was excited to read, from Wooler, in Northumberland!  They were the 'pre-eminent engravers' of their time and worked extensively with Lewis Carroll and others of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.  (More about them later).

Engraved by the Brothers Dalziel

I know it's not a particularly sophisticated reaction, but one of the things I love about this engraving is that it makes me want to go out and buy some fine pointed markers with which to colour it in.  I got a Peter Max colouring poster for Christmas one year and I think it marked me for life.

Charles Kingsley (1819-1875) was the author of The Water Babies.   I've always heard of this story, but never read it (the link is to the book on Project Gutenburg).  According to Wikipedia, it is a moral story to do with Christian redemption.   Not surprising, as he was a priest in the Church of England.  On the other hand he was sympathetic to Charles Darwin's theories, which were quite shocking in their day.

Illustrated by Jessie Willcox Smith

Richard 'Dickie' Doyle (1824-1883) was an illustrator most well known for his work for Punch magazine, for which he designed the masthead and drew the first cover.   He signed his work with a little 'dickie bird' perched on top of his initials, RD.  This reminded me of the saying 'haven't heard a dickie bird' and as simple as the answer is, I never did know where the phrase originated.  Turns out it's Cockney rhyming slang ('haven't heard a word', rhymes with 'dickie bird'), which turns out is also Victorian in origin.

This illustration by Richard Dickie Doyle is of a fairy-ring.  For more information about fairy-rings, read here.  Another interesting thing about this man is that he had a nephew named Arthur Conan Doyle who was also a bit of a faerie-fancier it seems.


George MacDonald (1824-1905) was a Scottish author (poet, and Christian minister) who inspired and influenced many other writers, including W. H. Auden, J.R.R.  Tolkien, C. S. Lewis and even Mark Twain.   C. S.  Lewis' name doesn't appear on my list from the museum exhibit, but his book, The Chronicles of Narnia, is on my reading list for the near future.  George MacDonald's best known works are  fantasy novels:  Phantastes, The Princess and the Goblin, At the Back of the North Wind, and Lilith; and faerie stories including   "The Light Princess", "The Golden Key", and "The Wise Woman".

Sadly, I've never heard of him or any of his stories.  I guess Walt Disney wasn't impressed by his work?  MacDonald is quoted at the museum exhibit has having written: 

I write, not for children but for the child-like, whether they be of five, or fifty, or seventy-five.

Wikipedia attributes these words to Lewis Carroll, whom MacDonald also mentored.

Eleanor Vere Boyle (1825-1916) was an English artist and author, considered the most important female illustrator of the 1860s.  This is pretty impressive considering that her social position restricted her from exhibiting her work; when she did show it, she used her initials.  Her husband was a younger son of an earl, a rector, and later chaplain to Queen Victoria. 

Her Wikipedia entry provided me with several new - and challenging - vocabulary words.  Apparently, one of her books, an aid to meditation which combines poetry with her art, 'provides an example of the eschatological thrust of her work'.  That word made me think of Escher, but apparently eschatology is interested in the end of history, the destiny of humanity, the 'last four things:  death, judgement, heaven and hell.'  This faerie stuff wasn't taken up with people who took things lightly, it seems.

Also, EVB was interested in garden design and wrote several books on the subject, the last of which is titled The Peacock's Pleasaunce  which is a collection of belles-lettres.  A writer of belles-lettres is called bellatrist.  (I am resisting the temptation to ask if that isn't strange.).  So, a sentence please, using one of these new words...

Beauty and the Beast by E.V.B.

Right, I'm stopping here as it's time to get ready for the running club.  Tomorrow, I'm going to talk about the Pre-Raphaelites and tell you why I think they are fascinating!

Friggers, Joblings and the Lambton Worm

We are still at the Sunderland Museum and Winter Gardens...

Glass is a big deal in Sunderland, so of course they had a sizeable display in the museum.  There was a fair bit of explanatory text, but as usual I've learned much more here at home on the internet.  That learning is one of the principle things that makes blog writing enjoyable, I think.

I thought the 'Friggers' sign referred to a specific glass maker, but I was mistaken. 

In fact, that is a term that refers to unusual items made from glass, like walking canes, bells, paperweights or rolling pins.   



 Wikipedia says the term refers to trial or test pieces made in a factory, but most glass collector sites talk about the whimsical pieces. 

Joblings was a glass making factory - 'glassworks' in Sunderland, famous for several reasons and fascinating to me for all of them.  To start with, they partnered with the American company, Corning, in 1921 to make Pyrex dishes.  The link explains the historical significance of Pyrex in Britain.

I still have and use three blue and white patterned Corningware dishes that Mom owned, complete with lids and detachable handles.  I don't think they make this kind anymore, as you can use these in the freezer, the oven, the microwave (which came along after Corningware of course) and on the stove top.  We put one in the motorhome to use because it was the most versatile and would earn its space.  The one thing it doesn't have is a non-stick surface; however a soak in vinegar or bleach takes care of most problems without much work.

The other thing was that in the 1930s Jobling made pressed glass along the lines of Lalique designs: 

Art Deco Art Glass, which of course I think is beautiful.  I could see me collecting some of these items...as soon as I get rid of some of the stuff I already own. 

The funny thing is that in looking up information about these items, I found these bowls for sale.  



The are the exact same bowls I bought in Manchester - six for £6! 



We eat our fruit dessert out of these things every night.  I'm thinking I need to go back to Manchester and look around some more!

There was also a lot of information about etched and engraved glass, particularly about the collection of glassware referred to as the Londonderry table service. 

This service was used for the last course of the meal and, placed on a shiny
table, it glittered beautifully in the candlelight.  We really should
have more meals by candlelight...

It was made in 1824 for the Marquess of Londonderry who was married to a local heiress and through her acquired new titles and estates, including Wynyard Hall and Seaham Hall, both now hotels. 

The other service is called 'Lambton bowls' and for the life of me I cannot find it on the internet - I'm not interested in bowling, not even on a green!  



Never mind, they are part of a set made in 1823 for John George Lambton, later the first Earl of Durham.  (NB:  the current Earl of Durham's wikipedia page and the links there make for rather interesting reading.  Actually, that of his father is even better: see 'gardening and debauchery'.)  I'd not realised there was a Lambton castle, but I've long heard about the Lambton Worm, a local legend (you'll see what I mean about the Sunderland accent...).

Finally, in another part of the museum describing the work and living conditions of miners, I snapped a photo of this stained glass window.   Clean water, education, decent housing, a home for retirement (as many houses were supplied as part of one's work), a community centre, child care, were all aspirations of the working class.  I was thinking how much of this is readily accessible to most of us and how we take it all entirely for granted.   And now, having found links to all those castles, how great the divide between the aristocracy and the working people.