The drop-dead-gorgeous equestrians spill vase shown below is in Brighton Museum's Willett Collection, and it truly is the most eye-catching of Staffordshire pottery groups.

Also in the Willett Collection is the  coursing spill vase, below. Like the equestrians vase, it can be attributed to the Leather Leaf Group. Although both vases are from the same pot bank, I would not have thought them to be companion pieces...but read along and learn with me!

A while ago, I visited a private collection. The collectors own an equestrians spill vase (very like that at the top of this column.) They also own the spill vase below, which I had not seen before. To my eye, this vase with its single equestrian seemed to be the companion to the coursing spill vase shown immediately above.  

When I visit collections, I often find collectors have things tucked away, and this visit was no exception. As we got talking after dinner, we opened up a lower cabinet housing items that were not on display.  To my surprise, a coursing spill vase emerged. We placed it alongside the vase with a single male equestrian, and the match was perfect.

A light bulb went on in my rather slow brain: surely these two vases belonged with the equestrians vase that the collector had in a distant room? I couldn't reach for it fast enough...and sure enough, all three vases were painted in the same palette. I arranged them side by side, and lo and behold: we had a stunning garniture. Below is a rather inadequate picture that I snapped with my camera in that first flush of excitement. See what I mean?

I believe that this garniture portrays a circus routine rather than real-life hunting. Remember, in those days ladies did not hunt....but the circus staged re-enactments of hunts, complete with baying hounds, and many of the circus's performers were skilled horse women, who who took part in these staged entertainments.

The collector who owns this garniture was delighted to discover he had it! He had acquired a collection of figures very many years ago, but he had not realized that these three vases belonged together. He has stuck a note in each vase to remind future owners (and sloppy auction houses) that each vase is related to the others.

I had assumed that three was the sum total of the related vases in this garniture, but something else has turned up. Just recently, this lot went through auction.

The group on the right is rather like the one  in the three-piece garniture, but this time the dog is standing rather than lying. On the other hand, the group on the left is quite different.. Hmm, does this mean that garniture could potentially have five pieces or seven or nine.? Of course, we will never know. Meanwhile, just one of these vases stands very handsomely on its own!

Another strange thing about the newly-discovered vase on the left is the small cottage perched atop it. It does make me wonder whether there was once a cottage atop the steps on the vase on the left of the three-piece garniture. I have otherwise seen a cottage of this form only once, as below.

Whereas all the spill vases shown here can be attributed to the Leather Leaf Group, I have no basis for attributing this petite cottage, but is it not the sweetest treasure?

This post raises more questions than it answers, but if collecting were not mentally stimulating it would be a rather boring pastime, would it not?

The Staffordshire pottery figure group below is known as Liberty and Matrimony, the idea being that the bird on her hand represents Freedom, while the cage he holds symbolizes the restraints of marriage. Made by Ralph Wood circa 1785, it may well be the earliest bocage group in my collection Although I have seen similar examples over the years, this is the first that has been right for my collection. Firstly, it is a very attractive example in really nice condition. Secondly and unusually, much of the bocage is intact--and what a lovely bocage too. And thirdly, it is impressed "89" beneath. Yes, I would have preferred it to have been marked "Ra. Wood Burslem," but the impressed number is the next closest thing to the Ralph Wood mark.

Titled COURTSHIP and MATRIMONY, they read, 

I bought my pearlware Liberty and Matrimony group on eBay, where it was listed initially as Italian porcelain. By the time the seller learned the error of his ways and corrected the mistake it seems to have been too late, because I bought it for a ridiculously small amount of money. Price aside, I am thrilled to have it.

Another recent purchase--this time not at a given-away price--is a splendid pair of figures of Simon and Iphigenia. I first saw a pair just like this when I photographed at the Wisbech and Fenland Museum. My friend Nick Burton was with me, and we were both really taken with the museum's pair. The figures are taller than most. He is 9.5" and she is a hair under 9", and they have a presence that a photo just doesn't capture.​

Simon (spelled Cymon) is the hero in The Decameron, a novella set in Cyprus and written around 1350 by Giovanni Boccaccio. The narrative tells of Cymon, who, deemed a dolt by his aristocratic father, is sent to live and work with his father’s slaves in the countryside. In this environment, Cymon becomes increasingly coarse. One day, he comes upon highborn Iphigenia, slumbering in a field. He is so smitten by her beauty that his noble bearing surfaces and his father reinstates him. Iphigenia was promised to another, but this tale of wars and abduction in the name of love ends happily with Cymon and Iphigenia united for life. In 1700, John Dryden published his Fables, Ancient and Modern, containing the story as a poem. For the record, the figure of Simon is modeled from a figure Paul Louis Cyfflé made for Lunéville, but the origins of Iphigenia are not known.

Although my figures of Simon and Iphigenia are unmarked, I believe Ralph Wedgwood made them circa 1795, and I say this because the titles are impressed in a small serif font found only on figures associated with Wedgwood. Below is my Wedgwood "Charity," and you can see she is marked (on the reverse) and titled in the same font.

The devil is in the details when it comes to attributing figures, and it is easy to slip up, which I have done with this pair of figures of Neptune and Venus.

Venus is titled (twice) in small impressed serif font on the reverse, and for that reason I attributed this pair to Wedgwood. My conclusion has always nagged at  me a little because the enamels on this pair are streets superior to those found on other figures made by Wedgwood or by any other potter for that matter. The silky touch of the glaze and the color palette shouts "Neale," and that made me look at the font more closely. Indeed, the font used for VENUS differs from that used on marked Wedgwood figures in that:

• Wedgwood letters are all the same size, whereas the "V" in Venus is larger than the other letters.
• Wedgood letters are a tad blockier.  

 I have to conclude that Wedgwood did not make my Venus and Neptune!

So who did make Venus and Neptune? I fall back on my Neale hypothesis. Add to this, the combination of  circles and dots  on the garment Venus wears is similar to that frequently seen on other Neale figures...but  also on a few figures I just can't attribute. Possibly Neale made this Neptune and Venus, but I have no argument that would hold up in court. On the other hand, trying to disprove theories is how scientific reasoning evolves, so why should our approach to pottery be any different? I look forward to someone stepping forth with a better hypothesis.

And while I am eating humble pie and pointing out errors, here's one more. In Staffordshire Figures 1780-1840, I show the figure of a horse, below. I could not examine the figure because all I had was this one gritty photo of it, but I included it in  the HORSES chapter, because I really thought it was a horse.

Then a year or two ago, the figure below appeared, complete with horn. Clearly my "horse" was intended to be a unicorn!

If I live long enough, I am sure I will find that each and every early Staffordshire figure has a companion, and so I was delighted to receive the photo below just this past week. Sure enough, the unicorn's companion is a lion. As these beasts are the supporters on either side of England's royal coat of arms, the pairing is quite appropriate. Aren't they lovely?

I hate making mistakes--let's face it, nobody enjoys being wrong--but nothing ventured nothing gained. Each mistake teaches me a little more and helps me inch along the learning curve.

Every six months or so, I brace for the tedious task of updating my other website, earlystaffordshirefigures.com. That site hosts newly discovered Staffordshire figures, variations on figures, and anything and everything I have gleaned since publishing Staffordshire Figures 1780-1840, vols. 1-4. Each time I update, I am amazed at how much I have learned in the process.

Several of the new additions to earlystaffordshirefigures.com have helped me fill in blanks in our knowledge base. For example,  I have long owned the single figure of the season Summer, seen below. The figure is of dazzlingly fine quality, and she stands well on her own. The garlands on the base are akin to "Sherratt'' signatures, so I confidently attribute the figure to "Sherratt."  Perplexingly, she has been the only "Sherratt" Season known to me, but I have firmly believed that  "Sherratt" would have made all four Seasons, not just one.

The long dry spell on "Sherratt" Seasons ended last month with the appearance of the figure below, a "Sherratt" Autumn.

The "Sherratt" Autumn appears to be of the same fine quality as the "Sherratt" Summer, and, as you see, those same garlands are atop his base. Although these two figures had different homes for Lord knows how long, I am working on reuniting them. May I only live long enough to discover the  remaining "Sherratt" Seasons!

The little reading boy below has long been an attribution riddle. I have always been sure he was made by John Dale--the facial features are so like those of many other Dale figures--but I lacked evidence that would stand up in court!

I was doubly delighted when not one but two figures appeared recently confirming a Dale attribution. The floral garlands on the base of the boy below are a definitive Dale feature, and the companion girl--a hitherto unrecorded figure--has them too. 

The sweet small pair below are new additions to my knowledge base, and like all things newly discovered or unrecorded in today's post, you will also find them at earlystaffordshirefigures.com

A collector contacted me recently about the little bust below. Any idea who she is? Her hauntingly sweet face is impressed on my mind, but I am stumped as to whom she might portray. If you know, please shout. I will be adding her to earlystaffordshirefigures.com next go-around, and I hope we can collectively identify her by then.

A new discovery that may not be everyone's cup of tea is the figure of St. Anne below. It would have been made by Enoch Wood in the mid-1820sa for the Portuguese market.

This plump theatrical figure portrays an actor in the role of the broom lady, and I have not seen another quite like it. The figure's rather beefy form hints at it being Mr. Liston, the renowned comic, who appeared as the Broom Lady in the 1820s. The figure is decorated in colors that suggest it was made in Scotland or perhaps by one of the northeast pot banks.

I had not seen the model of Shakespeare below until it cropped up recently. It is quite unlike the more classical, refined models we usually see. In short, it looks more like pottery than porcelain, and the red and yellow enamels are eye-catching.

The figure below was known to me only from a small black and white photo, so I was thrilled to see it in full color when it went through auction at Skinners recently. The carefully posed youth is Adonis, known to the Greeks for his remarkable beauty. The figure is important because it is unique and it is marked WEDGWOOD, so it was made by Ralph Wedgwood in the late eighteenth century. Its rarity was appreciated, and it made a good price at auction.

The Grand Finale for my roundup of some recent discoveries is this very large figure that probably portrays the nymph Salmacis, whose body was united with that of Hermaphroditus to form a single being that was both male and female. At 73 cms or 28.74 inches, it is the second tallest figure on record. 

Collecting for pure beauty is pleasurable enough, but knowing the features that make a figure rare or unusual adds another very rewarding dimension to my collecting journey. 

Collecting old objects, I am told, has fallen from favor with millennials, who are said to believe that money is for buying memories, not material objects. They prefer splurging on fleeting pleasures--think spa time, rock concert tickets, sky diving adventures--that involve no long-term commitment. In short, millennials want to spend on experiences rather than "things."  They believe that their adventures will give them more social media sharing opportunities, more to talk (or boast) about with their friends (all those people that they encounter predominantly in cyberspace.) As millennials sit in their boringly bare minimalist homes gazing at their iPads, they have a lot to learn!  We collectors know that owning a beautiful object is an enduringly thrilling experience. Again and again, handling it makes your heart beat a little faster, and you catch your breath as its sheer beauty overwhelms you. Who can say that about a long-gone frivolous pleasure? 

​I bought the plaque below known as Patricia and her Lover many years ago.  Each time I look at it or even think of it, I catch my breath. It is impressively large at 13.8" and was made circa 1785. It is attributed to Ralph Wood.

In my early collecting days, I fell in love with this plaque, pictured (but the negative was flipped) in John Hall's Staffordshire Portrait Figures, and I often opened that little book just to gaze at it. The colors are particularly strong, and they are in the glaze itself, which makes them especially vibrant. Patricia and her admirer  are in super-high relief...but it is the faces that grab my attention. Clearly, Patricia is flirting with him, and they both know it. Her coquetry, his lust, and the little dog's playfulness are age-old emotions that bring to life an object made about 230 years ago. 
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In the 1990s we regularly visited New York, and I would admire the pottery displayed in Leo Kaplan’s beautiful Madison Avenue shop window. For a while the window held a pair of separate plaques of Patricia and her lover, like the pair below.

Below is the source engraving for these plaques. It is titled  Jack on a Cruise and sub-titled Avast there! Back your mainsail.” Patricia’s billowing skirt is no doubt the “mainsail,”and it has been suggested that the plaque was perhaps a commentary on “the extravagant millinery of the end of the 18th century.” Clearly, the plaque should also be called "Jack on a Cruise" rather than "Patricia and her Lover," and I don't know why it is not.

​A similar engraving on the same theme is also found transfer-printed on mugs, as seen on the creamware mug alongside.

For completion, I note that Ralph Wood is thought to be the potter who also made this subject on a square plaque, as shown below. I know of only this colored example (again, does it still exist?), as well as one plaque that was left in the white (in the Willett Collection). As you see, the figures on the square plaque differ from those on the oval one. And I suspect the design does not have the astonishingly high relief found on the oval plaque.

My oval plaque pictured at the top of this post is an awesome object—and I mean that in the literal sense of the words.  I pause in silent homage each time I look at it. When I take it off the wall to handle it—which I do always for special visitors—I still get goosebumps. Despite its size, it is very light because it is so thinly potted. The relief is very high. The back is dry (unglazed) and coated with dirt from the kiln and from hanging in rooms heated by coal. The inked mark on the reverse  reads “ASPATRIA CUMBERLAND” and is probably the mark of a former owner who lived in the Cumberland town of Aspatria.

Because plaques like this have been documented in the literature for many years, it is easy to conclude that a plethora of them exist. Not so! Rather, best I can tell, the same two plaques seem to have been recorded again and again--although telling one from the other in old, black and white photographs is exacting.

Today, I looked up my collection records to see what I paid for our Patricia and her Lover, and it was shockingly expensive.....but it was worth every penny because it is an experience in pleasure that I have enjoyed for ages and intend enjoying for the rest of my days. Will younger generations feel the same way about their frivolous pleasurable experiences? I doubt it. They believe objects depreciate while memories appreciate. Oh, do they have a lot to learn! 

In the last century, several gentlemen collectors shared their collections within the pages of volumes that I still treasure today. As I turn the yellowed pages of those old books and peer at each faded black and white photo, I wish I had known these extraordinary men---but, above all, I wish they had shared the behind-the-scenes stories of how they built their amazing collections.
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As we all know, a large part of collecting pleasure is the thrill of the chase, that often-bumpy journey along the path to ownership. For we collectors, each long-sought-after object ultimately is both a beautiful object and a memory capsule of sorts. Yet when we die, our collections die too; they become mere assemblages of objects seeking new homes. One day, my much-loved ceramic children will find new resting places. To share their tales with their future owners, I have written my collecting memoir. It narrates my journey through the collecting world--how I bought each item, where I found it, why I wanted it. It is copiously illustrated with beautiful photographs of the ceramic figures, plaques, and busts that are its stars.

Good news: the book is jam-packed with the large pictures we collectors want and it is available as a FREE download on this site. Go to the "Books" tab in the menu bar at the top of this page, where you will find links for downloading Obsession.

Staffordshire pottery busts of the Rev. John Wesley.... do I  hear you yawn? Surely there are more Staffordshire pottery busts of this Evangelical preacher than there are of any other individual, and most hardly set the collector's heart a-flutter. But the story behind the Wesley busts is rather interesting, so bear with me for a little while.

In 1781, Enoch Wood, just 22 years old, modeled a bust of the Rev. John Wesley, then 78. Wesley sat for Wood five times, and he was well pleased with the likeness the young modeler rendered. From the start, Enoch Wood's model was widely acclaimed as the most realistic resemblance of Wesley ever produced. Wood placed a plaque behind each pottery version of the bust. The plaque on the example below reads "ThE REVD. JOHN WESLEY M.A. AGED 81."
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As Wesley was 81 years old in 1784-85, we know the bust was made in that narrow period.  But what was Enoch Wood to do as Wesley aged? The answer seemed simple: adjust the age on the medallion. On the fabulous bust below, Wesley's age is given as 88.

Of course, mistakes happened along the way. Although Wesley died at the age of 87, more than one example of this bust notes his age as 88. Worse still, at least one instance of age 90 is documented! 

Wesley died in 1791, and sometime in the next few years Enoch Wood took another look at his bust. He was rightly pleased with the likeness, but two things bothered him:

• The gown looked flat because it had been modeled from the rather rumpled everyday gown that Wesley wore on his travels, and the gown's lack of artistry did not reflect the wearer's status.
• When Wesley sat for the bust, he had suggested that Enoch Wood  place a plaque on the reverse showing a very young John Wesley being saved from his father's burning house, along with the text  "Is not this a brand plucked from the fire?" 

In the 1790s, Wood still had no sketch of the burning house to use as a design source, but he wanted to at least elaborate on the text at the back of the bust and to improve the gown. So he reworked his model, keeping the face the same but changing the drapery and adding a medallion elaborating on the clergyman's life.

As you see the result is larger (approximately 12.5" rather than 11") and suitably impressive--but to my eye it lacks the humility and humanity that the original model oozed.

The back of the remodeled bust is enclosed and the inset medallion reads  "THE REV.D JOHN WESLEY M.A., DIED MAR 2, 1791, AGED 88. ENOCH WOOD SCULP., BURSLEM."  

One bothersome thing: Wesley was born in June 1703 and died in March 1791, so by my reckoning he was 87, not 88, at the time of his death.

Enoch Wood continued producing this model for many more decades. And as the years marched on and the figure potting industry expanded, other potters emulated the Wood bust because it  had set the "look."  To my eye, the standard seemed to go down hill, and you really, really have to be a Wesley enthusiast to find much merit in some of the later busts.  

This is the "Sherratt" pot bank's Wesley bust---nice enough but hardly "Sherratt's" finest piece of work.​

John Dale made the bust below in the 1820s, and it is far cry from the splendor of the early Wood busts. It is impressed behind "THE REV JOHN WESLEY M.A. BORN AT EPWORTH JUNE 17TH 1703 DIED MAR 1791 AGED 88" and "I. DALE BURSLEM " (Again,  the age is incorrect!)  Don't get me wrong: I am a great fan of Dale figures...but here he was out of his depth.

One of my many personal imperfections is my almost total inability to recognize a face. This is rather embarrassing at times. Yes, I am that idiot who will be introduced to you three times in the same day. On the other hand, if you had bocage leaves attached to you, I would remember you immediately! Strangely,  when it comes to figures, my recall is remarkably good.  One little figure group that I remember crossing my path several times in recent years is that below.

Hindsight is always 20:20, and, as I look at this group today, I ask myself whether the awkward positioning of the bocage should have raised a red flag. It is perched rather awkwardly, is it not?

Most importantly, the bocage on this group is an old bocage that, like the group, was made circa 1825. The problem is that the bocage was made by one pot bank (the Patriotic Group pot bank)  and the rest of the group was made by another (the Box Title Group pot bank). The two were united courtesy of a modern restorer. This is what the group should look like.  Much more balanced, don't you think?

I first spotted the problem group in the stock of a UK dealer. I pointed out my concerns. Sure enough, he had discerned a join where the bocage had been professionally attached, but he had assumed that the correct bocage had snapped off and had been put back into place. When he realized that this was not so, he disposed of the group at auction. Ah, if only all dealers were as selective, so insistent on only selling what they know to be right.

Auctions are not for the unwary. They are sometimes said to be the places dealers send their mistakes, but they are also the places that dealers make mistakes. Sure enough, another dealer bought the mismatched group, and I stumbled across it yet again at a show in the US. Again, I pointed out the issue. This time the dealer's response was not quite as heart warming. "Well," he said, "if someone asks me, I will say that the bocage has been reattached." Hmm....THE bocage or A bocage??? 

The mismatched group surfaced again in a US collection shared on FaceBook recently. Mismatched figures are really not that common, but they are common enough that you should buy your figures from a dealer who can help you avoid this trap. The first one I encountered was a Walton figure of an apostle, with a transplanted Sherratt bocage.  Similarly, you can see a "Sherratt" bocage on a cow of the type that "Sherratt" never made. On the left is the mismatched bovine; on the right is a correct example.

In the case of the elephant, the first red flag might be the very obvious difference between the flowers on the base and those on the bocage--but it is conceivable that flowers differ. Remember though that elephants of this sort all seem to have been made by Enoch Wood, while the bocage here is a form commonly used by Ralph Salt and other potters. Looking carefully at the back, you can see the fault line where the bocage has been attached--but the wrong bocage.

The elephant should correctly look more like one of these.

Truth be told, the elephant in the middle too has a transplanted bocage, but it is an  Enoch Wood bocage. The restoration was done ethically and responsibly.On a good note, the elephant with the incorrect transplanted bocage sold honestly  to a fully informed buyer, but transparency is the exception rather than the rule in these cases. That doesn't mean that the trade is necessarily dishonest. Rather, it means that dealers don't always know. 

I am always reluctant to let a reattached bocage influence my decision on attribution. Case in point is the cottage below.

The cottage below provided an important clue in unravelling the vexing cottage riddle. Importantly, it has  a diminutive "turquoise bocage" of the type that only "Sherratt" used, and indeed the base is in that turquoise palette "Sherratt" liked. 

Recently, my adult son expressed his frustration with a colleague who had asked his advice but had failed to follow his recommendation. He thought this damaged their relationship and asked if I had felt the same way in similar situations. I had to laugh! "Steven," I replied, "try being a parent! My kids don't listen to me...yet I am still advising."  I added that I routinely give collectors guidance, but always with the caveat that my free opinion is only worth its price.

My feelings are not dented if collectors ignore my opinions. After all, why should my recommendation be worth anything?I usually tell them that I respect their right to make their own decisions, and whatever they decide we stay friends. But today,  I impart a pearl of wisdom that collectors ignore at immense peril: 

IF YOU FAIL TO ASK ABOUT CONDITION WHEN PURCHASING A FIGURE, YOU MAY BE A SUCKER, A FOOL JUST BEGGING TO BE PARTED FROM YOUR MONEY.

Don't get me wrong: I am not telling you to only buy perfect figures. I accept that many very desirable figures have some restoration or repair. On the other hand, some figures have extensive restoration or repair. As you fall in love with a figure, as your heart beats a little faster and you are overwhelmed with that warm glow of excitement, the condition may not matter to you at all. But believe me, if you ever want to sell that figure, condition will matter a lot. So when you purchase a figure, insist that the dealer note any restoration on the receipt. That way, you know what you have. There can be no confusion, no he-said or he-didn't- say.

Does this sound harsh? I mean it to be! Again and again, dealers tell me (sometimes in amazement, sometimes with a smirk) that collectors routinely buy without a single enquiry about condition. I am stunned! These "collectors" are the same individuals who caress and squeeze every piece of fruit in the supermarket before deciding on the perfect one....yet when it comes to a costly Staffordshire figure, they just point at it (or click the mouse) and buy. 

This begs the question: what kind of collection are you assembling if you care not about the integrity of the objects in it? If you just want pretty things, you can find plenty at a fraction of the price of an early Staffordshire figure. Is it that you prefer owning something old? I understand....but a heavily restored figure can be largely new!

Dear Collector, I believe a nice early Staffordshire figure warrants a fine price. On the other hand. a heavily restored example of that same figure is worth a whole lot less...but if we collectors fail to ask, what stops the trade pricing that heavily restored figure as if it were perfect?
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If it is all about eye-candy for you and you don't care, go ahead. But when you want to sell your very restored figure some day, don't be surprised if you have great difficulty doing so.  

Two examples make my point: Recently, I viewed a private collection, which held the object below, bought years ago from a now-retired dealer with whom the collector had a long-standing and trusting relationship. The price ticket beneath indicated that it had changed hands for a substantial price. 

I told the collector that, sadly, his treasure was nigh valueless because it was missing critical components. Once upon a time, it looked like this.

The collector could not recall being told about any loss or damage to the object at the time he bought it. In truth, I am sure he didn't ask! He simply bought with misplaced trust. But, as Ronald Reagan cautioned, "Trust but verify."

My second example is this sweet little church that appeared on eBay a few months ago. It was honestly described as missing critical components, as you see in the picture below.

Because of its condition, there was no interest. It is the only known example and I was tormented at the thought of it being tossed. I just couldn't help myself, so I bid GBP45, against no competing bids.
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The church is a petite little things, just 5" to the top of the steeple. The buidling itself was intact, and there never had been bocage leaves on those trees, but all the figures in the foreground were missing. Clearly, the back figure on the right had been a man because his lower trouser legs remained. Right next to him were two smaller feet that had to have belonged to a woman.  The figure on the far left had broken away entirely, leaving an oval patch that corresponds to the way a vicar’s coat might fall, so I deduced that this group was once a christening. This made the fourth missing figure (one largish foot remained) the clerk.

I added the group to my Wreck Collection, and I could have happily lived with it as it was--in fact, I preferred living with it as it was! But once it became mine, I felt responsible for its future...and I was haunted by the certainty of it being discarded at the end of my days. Restoring it, to my mind, added absolutely no value, but unrestored it would almost certainly be tossed. I couldn’t justify costly professional restoration, so I decided to have a shot at replacing the missing figures myself. The task was way above my very amateur pay grade. How was I to make the figures? Which figures should I try to copy? All except one christening group recorded to date are from the “Sherratt” pot bank, and the figures on it are much too large for this group. Also, “Sherratt” christenings have two women (the godmothers) rather than a man and woman, who I believed had stood to the right of the church originally.
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The tiniest figures in our collection are the man and woman shown below. I made models from these figures in clay and tooled them to remove his hat (which in this case is lying on the ground) and her dog (which I replaced with a small handbag). I fired them in a little kiln, and, as expected, the clay shrank, making the figures about ten percent smaller than the originals. Next, I fitted them onto the base so as not to damage any original material. In other words, it would have been easier to remove the feet and legs remaining on the base to position my figures, but instead I removed the feet and legs from my figures and fitted them to the original body parts. The result looked reasonable, so I continued.

The Staffordshire Figure Association conference in Dallas last month was a resounding success, and viewing stunning private collections of early figures inspired many purchases at the sale that wrapped up events. As I watched collectors swoop and grab, I concluded that I still don't understand the collecting mentality at all. Are some people buying by the pound or by the inch? Do rarity, superb quality, and fine condition weigh into the equation at all? As I continue to mull the issues, I recall some of the smaller collections I have seen, collections that are mind-blowingly impressive, not because of their size or value but because of their focus.

Recently, a collector sent me a photograph of shelves housing his and his wife's treasures. The shelves, beautifully painted in an dusky turquoise shade, were stacked with interesting books. Guarding them were figures, arranged in rows in front of the books. Among them were very many figure of Charlotte at the Tomb of Werther, lined up alongside each other. The result was stunning.

Figures of Charlotte at the Tomb of Werther are among the most attractive of the early classical figures, all of which, sadly have lost favor with collectors who want the cute and colorful (even when very restored) rather than the serenely beautiful (even when very gorgeous). Charlotte at the Tomb figures are consistently rather fabulous. Each oozes the tragedy it portrays. Assembled together, these hauntingly beautiful artifacts are an interesting ceramics study. Their variations and their similarities  point to who might have made them and when.

The photograph so kindly shared remains seared on my brain. It reflects the collectors' discriminating taste and artistic inquisitiveness. Theirs is not a mindless collection assembled as a capricious fancy. It is not governed by whim. Instead, it was assembled with thought and appreciation.

If you were to assemble a collection of one figure form, what would it be? My choice would be Flemish Music figures. They are tranquilly beautiful, and small variations abound that pique my curiosity. When found in pairs, the figures gaze  into each others' eyes with love that transcends time.

​​Flemish Music figures can be traced back to Ralph Wood, who made the earliest of these figures, best we know. This pair is impressed "Ra. Wood Burslem" beneath.

Ralph Wood was active from 1782-1795.  During that period, he impressed numbers on some figures, and the numbers 131 and 132 were assigned to Flemish musicians. The pair below is impressed "132" in that way. Because the range of Ralph Wood numbers was chronologic, Flemish musicians might have been introduced later in the Ralph Wood era, around 1790.

Flemish musicians  must have been a hit in their time because other potters soon mimicked them in their pursuit of profit. Ralph Wedgwood copied these figures (see www.earlystaffordshirefigures.com/26-music.html), as did Ralph Wood's cousin Enoch Wood, who I suspect made the pair below.

And then there was the creative potter who decided to place his Flemish musicians on plinths. How lovely is this? Compared to the original Ralph Wood models, the lady's face and hat seem to have been reworked.

The prize for creativity goes to the pair below, which can be attributed to the Dudson pot bank. Again there may be a little  reworking, I think, of the hat, and the lady holds her lute in a peculiar manner, to say the least. 

The story does not end here, and, as with any good tale, there are twists and turns along the way. Flemish musicians also occur decorated under the glaze.

But the story must eventually end, and I think that by the 1820s Flemish musicians had seen their day. Notable no Flemish musician has a bocage, and for that reason I surmise that by the 1820s the model was obsolete. 

The variations in Flemish Music figures are numerous, and you can see other examples of these figures  in Staffordshire Figures 1780-1840 Vol. 1 and on earlystaffordshirefigures.com, the site that  supplements the book. This blog posting has merely skimmed the surface when it comes to Flemish Music figures, but it reinforces how much can be discovered by drilling down into one particular subject. Focusing in this way is so very rewarding, and along the way you can build a collection that is unique, aesthetically pleasing, and mentally satisfying. What more could a true collector want?

Members of the Staffordshire Figure Association are counting the days to this year's conference in Dallas, Texas, this week. Dallas is an epicenter for antique Staffordshire pottery. It is home to more early figures than any other spot on earth, and, to top it all, the collections are located within a ten minute radius of each other. Dallas boasts 13 menageries, more than can be found in the rest of America or all England, so members are in for a real treat. Among the many other rarities will be four Red Barns standing together on one shelf, and as I have their pictures in my archive, I thought we should sneak a peep.

The Red Barn murder--so called because the victim was buried beneath the floor of the Red Barn-- is an eternally perplexing "who dunnit." In 1828, William Corder was tried and hanged for murdering Maria Marten, but fascination with his crime did not die on the gallows with him. The murder, replete with unanswered questions and salacious details, was very much in the news in its day, and Staffordshire models of the Red Barn were potted as chilling souvenirs of Corder's deed. Examples are uncommon, supporting my belief that most early nineteenth century figures were made for respectable middle-class households in which the Red Barn murder was a distasteful subject.

Interest in the Red Barn murder persists to this day, and Staffordshire Red Barns are among the most desirable of early pottery figures. All were made around 1828. The most well-known model was made by the "Sherratt" pot bank, and one is below.

Although a number of "Sherratt" Red Barns are recorded, finding one in pleasing condition is challenging. All too often the bocage has been lost, or, worse yet, poorly restored. Add to that, the small figures frequently have been knocked off the base and replaced. The example you see above, housed in Dallas, is original, but for a restoration to Corder's hands--yes, the very hands said to have committed the dastardly deed. It is quite lovely, and I hope no future owner is ever tempted to restore the little bit of missing bocage.

The Red Barn below seems to have come from the very same molds, yet it was made by a quite different pot bank. This model can be attributed to the "Patriotic Group" pot bank, and, unlike the "Sherratt" barn, it was made without figures of Corder and Marten. 

I have recorded four examples of this Red Barn. Notice that this one is actually titled THE RAD BARN. The other three Patriotic Group barns read RED BARN. On one, the "E" looks halfway between an "A" and an "E," as if the potter couldn't quite decide and wanted to hedge his bets. 

The third Red Barn is made from different molds than were used for the previous two Red Barn models. It is known from only three examples. Two of these are in Dallas collections that the Staffordshire Figure Association will visit. 

Notice that the name of the site of the terrible crime, the hamlet of Polstead, is here spelled POULSTO (presumably intended to be "Poulston.") On the other examples from this pot bank it is either "Polstead" or "Polestead." This reminds us that in those times literacy rates were low, and, as the dictionary had not yet been created, spellings generally were rather ill defined!

And last but certainly not least is the tiniest of Red Barns, known from only this example. This little gem was made by the "Sherratt" pot bank. It really is small, with a foot print around the size of a small iPhone. Small does not mean inexpensive when it comes to rarities, and I tease the owner that on a square foot basis this is the most expensive piece of English property ever. 

I have been to Polstead, and Maria Marten's home still stands, as does the home of William Corder. But as for the Red Barn itself, it was carried off piecemeal within a short time of the murder by souvenir seekers wanting a little piece of the action. The curious came from as far afield as France to claim a chunk of timber. Fortunately, crude engravings show us what the barn looked like in its last days, and, as you see, Staffordshire models resemble it closely. 

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I doubt the Staffordshire Figure Association can ever again visit as many rare figures in one location, but each conference presents new opportunities to feast the eyes, feed the mind, and make new friends. If you are interested in joining, visit the SFA site at staffordshirefigureassociation.com.