Desk Calendars, Looking Back...

The 2016 desk calendar from Parvum Opus... How the time has flown!

As our new calendar for the coming year is flying out the door (I'm impressed at how organized our clientele is, as always-- I won't start my own holiday shopping for quite some time!), I'm feeling nostalgic for all of the beautiful objets d'art that I've had the privilege to study and paint over the last five years. Here, starting with the new batch, is a little trip down memory lane...

The paintings for 2016 include beautiful objects from all over the world, and spanning thousands of years in age. Click here to learn more.

The paintings for 2015-- that tea caddy in the top row is one of my personal favorites:

And here are the motifs from 2014:

 And 2013:

And lastly, 2012:

We actually began producing calendars on a very small scale for friends and family in 2010, but sadly, those images have been lost. Even still, it's lovely to look back through five years' worth of these small jewels and think of all the hours happily spent minutely observing these beautiful treasures of the decorative arts. We certainly hope that all of you who have purchased calendars for yourselves and as gifts will find them beautiful and useful throughout the coming year!

Parvum Opus desk calendars are available for purchase as a boxed set, refill folio, or simply the cards and easels 'a la carte'. We invite you to visit The Parvum Opus Shop to learn more.

A Collection of Antique Islamic Pottery

Our May 2014 calendar illustration: an Iranian fritware beaker, 
from the 12th-13th centuries. Image copyright Parvum Opus. 

When I was searching for subjects to paint for our 2014 calendar, I came across the beautiful beaker you see above in the collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. I was instantly drawn to the colors and imagery in this ancient piece, although I had no knowledge of this category of objects. It's one of the things I love most about creating our calendar: a piece will catch my eye, and then, wonderfully, lead me down a path of investigation and discovery that I may have missed otherwise! 

An Iranian fritware bowl with a horseman, female figures, 

and pseudo-kufic inscription, late 12th-early 13th centuries.

Image courtesy the Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford.

This class of pottery is referred to as Islamic stonepaste or fritware, among other names. According to Wikipedia, "frit is a ceramic composition that has been fused in a special fusing oven, quenched to form a glass, and granulated." Islamic pottery of this period incorporated frit with the clay to produce a mixture that could be fired at a lower temperature than pure clay. Interestingly, a 'how-to' book on this specialized form of pottery survives. It was written in about the year 1300 by Abu'l Qasim bin Ali bin Muhammed bin Abu Tahir. Abu'l Qasim was member of an important family of potters as well as a historian to the Mongol court. His recipes for fritware and lusterware are part of a larger work entitled The Virtues of Jewels and the Delicacies of Perfume. 

An Iranian fritware ewer, ca. 11th-13th centuries.
Image courtesy The Louvre.

I came across a scholarly translation of this work by J. W. Allan, and found myself marveling at these words, written so long ago. Below is an intriguing excerpt, could it perhaps be the recipe used by the potters to create our beautiful beaker?? 

An Iranian bowl, similar to our inspirational beaker, with a horseman, 

female figures, and pseudo-kufic inscription. 

Image courtesy the Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford

"§25. The vessels are then coated with a glaze frit which has been ground up, finely sifted, and dissolved in water, and are stood on top of a broad-meshed sieve, which is the lid of a trough, so that excess of colour drips away. They are dried in the sun. If they want a green ground they coat on a mixture of ten parts powdered glaze to a quarter of a part of [a mithqal of] roasted copper. The craftsmen call this tini. It comes out of the firing transparent green, like green glass. If they use one part of [brayed] lajvard to forty parts of glaze frit it becomes transparent blue like a sapphire. If for every ten [or: two] parts of glaze frit they add 1 part of maghnisiya it comes out black as shabeh, and if they add less it comes out a red the colour of an eggplant. If they want an opaque colour such as turquoise they add for every man of ground tin ten dirhams of ground roasted cooper [sic: copper?], and coat this on. If they want lajvard colour they add [to the glaze frit] ten dirhams of Sulaimani lajvard and daub and coat the vessels with that. If they want a greyer tone they put in less lajvard and add a small amount of red sirinj. If they use an absolutely plain colour the vessels come out of the heat white."

A Persian pottery vase , ca. 17th-18th centuries.
Image courtesy Kaminski Auctioneers.

"§27. Those that come out of the firing white they paint with the enamel of two firings, or with lajvard, or with pure turquoise. [Or they are translucent and require no enamel painting.] The enamel is composed as follows: Take one and a half mans [or: parts] of red and yellow arsenic, one man [or: part] of gold and silver marcasite, one batman [or: half a part] of Tisi [or: Tabasi or Cypriot] yellow vitriol and a quarter [of a part] of roasted copper, and mix it to a paste and grind it. A quarter of this is mixed with six dirhams of pure silver which has been burned and ground [with sulphur] and is ground on a stone for twenty-four hours until it is extremely fine. Dissolve this in some grape juice or vinegar and paint it onto the vessels as desired, and place them in a second kiln specially made for this purpose, and give them light smoke for seventy-two hours until they acquire the colour of two firings [which is like gold]. When they are cold take them out and rub them with damp earth so that the colour of gold comes out. Other people add certain preparations like sirinj and zanjar to this enamel. In fact, shadanaj stone with roasted silver serves the same purpose. That which has been evenly fired reflects like red gold and shines like the light of the sun."

How wonderfully descriptive! One can find poetry and beauty in the most unexpected places, even an old 'recipe' book.

An Antique Tortoiseshell Tea Caddy



A late18th century green tortoiseshell tea caddy, painted for our desk calendar.

 

Where have the weeks gone?! I must beg your forgiveness once again for the long delay in posting here-- we have been wonderfully busy here at the bindery, and have hardly been able to keep up with all of the wonderful bespoke projects that have come our way! I send warm greetings to all of our wonderful clientele and blogging friends-- it's so nice to be back.

 

Today, I thought I'd continue using our calendar motifs as a point of departure and share this painting of a beautiful octagonal green tortoiseshell tea caddy. This is an object whose materials and fine craftsmanship define it as particularly of its time and place. It's English, dating from the late 18th century when tea was an expensive and highly prized commodity in Europe. In England especially, the18th and 19th centuries saw the confluence of a mature craft tradition, new availability of exotic materials from around the world, and a growing consumer culture ready to collect the exquisite objects being produced. It was a perfect combination of artists, materials and audience that inspired what I consider to be some of the most beautiful objects in decorative arts history.  

A George III Tea Caddy, courtesy Nick Brock Antiques.

In my research, I came across an illuminating article from Mallett Antiques in New York on the history of the use of tortoiseshell as a material in the decorative arts. Interestingly, the article includes some fascinating information about the material itself:

 

"[The Hawksbill tortoise's] shell is an interesting material because it is a living substance, made of keratin. It is an insoluble protein composed of 55% carbon, 20% oxygen, 16% nitrogen, 6% hydrogen, and 2% sulphur. The shell thickens with age of the turtle, and can get to 8 mm for the Hawksbill turtle. Its density is of 1.29 and its hardness on Mohs scale is 2.5. The reason why it is the Hawksbill turtle that was mainly used in France in the 17th and 18th centuries is because of its very thick shell and rich colours."

 

A green tortoiseshell tea caddy similar to the one I painted, with a beautiful pink velvet lining
from Richard Gardner Antiques.

"Moreover, another very interesting property for furniture makers is the discovery that the shell has the characteristic of being able to auto-graft itself. The discovery in the 19th century of the possibility of auto-grafting enabled a higher volume of work, and considerably extended the applications. Turtle-shell could be welded, turned, sculpted, shaped and this enabled craftsmen to create work of lace-like dexterity." In fact, when heated, the tortoiseshell will expand and "fuse"  itself to a delicate silver inlay as in the box below.

  A  good example of how the "auto-grafting" tortoiseshell could be used in combination with silver:
a small round silver and tortoiseshell trinket box, the top with silver appliqué work,
by William Comyns & Sons, London, ca. 1909. Image courtesy Richard Gardner Antiques.

Continuing from the Mallett article: "The green turtle tortoiseshell (chelonia mydas), is much thinner and little coloured for the adult turtle, offers less interests and has much more difficulty to auto graft itself. Though the preferred choice was to work with hawksbill tortoises, the 19th century under Napoleon III’s reign, saw a massive use of green turtle tortoiseshell to make veneer, mainly because of its low price and easy supply compared to hawksbill."

A rare red tortoiseshell, ivory and silver tea caddy, ca. 1790.
Image courtesy Hampton Antiques.

Of course, the amazing properties of tortoiseshell as a material were nearly disastrous for the beautiful tortoises, and, as much as I admire the beauty and craftsmanship of these tea caddies and boxes, I'm happy that the age of tortoiseshell as a craft material is in the past. After all, no man-made object can compete with the beauty of nature.

Image courtesy Center for Biological Diversity