A holiday gift suggestion--and a perfect for the library of your choice. To learn more and to order, click here.
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I have succumbed and joined Facebook. Find me as Myrna Bloch Schkolne and follow blog updates. I will also put fabulous pottery finds on my Facebook wall for all to share. Please post your treasures and finds too!
This week, I posted two items from Aurea Carter’s stock in the Showcase. As I did so, I recalled my time in London this February, when Aurea took me as her guest to the Morley College Ceramics Circle’s monthly meeting. The lecture was on porcelain figures, but I am always on the lookout for links between pottery and porcelain figures and the evening didn’t disappoint. Admittedly I was probably the youngest member of the audience, but the lecture was excellent, the room was packed, and collectors were interested and enthusiastic. Roger Massey, the lecturer, brought along a porcelain figure that was a dead look alike of the Neale pottery figure representing Winter. Sitting two rows in front of me were two little old ladies, and one had a pottery figure in front of her. The figure was small and anything-but- grand, yet it beckoned as Roger talked. In fact, it was quite distracting because there was something about it that made me want to pick it up SO badly. I just knew it would fit into my hand perfectly and warm to my touch. When the lecture was over, I pounced. One of the ladies explained that she and her friend had collected forever and they liked loaning each other items from their collections. They had brought along three pieces, including a nice version of the London barber…but I loved the simple little figure portraying Winter. The lady who owned the figure said she had no family and was at a very advanced age so she wanted to put my name under the figure! I was very embarrassed and hastily told her that she should do nothing but enjoy her figure forever. And I hope she does. As Aurea and I drove home across the Thames on Westminster Bridge, a great evening packed with little surprises delivered one last punch: a picture postcard view of the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, all lit up.
In 1777, Samuel Johnson said “when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.” I have been to London umpteen times, have yet to run out of things I want to do, and never fail to find a ceramics surprise along the way. The wording on the bottom of this figure is the clue to its identity. It reads:It’s quite hoptional you know --but here’s sixpence for you!--it’s between you and the Guard!” These are lines from a play. The same lines appears on a print in the V&A. The print is not on display--no, not even on the website, where it is described as John Liston in the role of Lubin Log. That squares with my long-held belief that this figure is John Liston in one of his most popular roles. On Nov 20, 1812, John Liston appeared at Covent Garden as Lubin Log in the then new play Love, Law and Physic written by James Kenney. Lubin Log is a conceited, ignorant, mean and rather vulgar cockney, He inherits a fortune and sets out to York to marry a yound lady. The suitor she prefers plots to outwit Log.The wording on the figure draws from the play. Alighting from the coach, mean-spirited Log takes his time giving the coach man a sixpenny tip, impressing on him that it is quite optional on his part. Liston superbly personified cockneyism and his success inspired future cockney characters. Aside from the V&A's hidden print, there are other design sources for this figure. Apparently Richard Dighton's caricature of Liston as Lubin Log dates to 1819. Also, there was a print published by Ingrey & Madeley circa 1825. There seems little doubt that the figure is indeed Lubin Log personified. And just when it was all settled in my mind, I found this in my archive! The same figure form, titled Paul Pry. Paul Pry was yet another of Liston's roles. I can only conclude that the painter made a mistake. BTW, this figure is impressed SALT and can be seen among the other marked SALT figures here. And here is another example. This one is from the V&A Collection. No title. But we know who it is! And this lovely example is ready to join your collection. From the stock of Andrew Dando, where it is correctly described at John Liston in the role of Lubin Log. Thought you might enjoy this pair of figures. Aren't they simply charming? They embody everything that Staffordshire is about. Yes, they are a true pair, despite the different flowers on each bocage. They were made thus and have lived side by side for around two centuries. Each figure is about 4" tall and sits comfortably on the palm of the hand. Who made them? I don't know. Interestingly, the bocages are unpainted on the rear. I have recorded two other similar pairs, each made by a different potbank. Here is the second example. So which do you prefer? It's OK to like them equally. I do. The third pairing you can see in my book, p.239. Those figures both bear the impressed mark of John Dale. They live on either side of the Atlantic, in two different collections. Hunt for them on the page of marked Dale figures on this site by going to the drop-down MAKERS menu at the top of this page.
Instead of my usual blog entry--these happen every four days--I am going to direct you to some of the other work I have put up elsewhere on this site.
In the 1800s, a prosperous Brighton gentleman, a brewer by trade, named Henry Willett formed a collection of predominantly pre-Victorian English pottery. The heart of the collection was history, and in particular social history. Mr. Willett chose objects because of "the human interest each object represents." What is more engaging and interesting than a figure? Mr. Willett's collection abounded with figures showing both important people and ordinary people going about their daily activities. "The history of the country may to a large extent be traced on its homely pottery" he wrote--and Mr. Willett's large collection remains the ultimate visual representation of English life in the pre-Victorian era. So what happened to the collection? Well, back then, it wasn't considered very grand. The Victoria and Albert Museum exhibited it at its Bethnal Green Branch, so poor people might enjoy it. Everyday life was probably not for affluent visitors to the main museum location, and I believe the V&A declined the collection. So Mr. WIllett founded the Brighton Museum and gave his collection to that institution, and it remains there to this day. Objects in museums are often just stray objects being warehoused. On the other hand, the Willett Collection is the heart of the Brighton Museum. It is prominently displayed, and it has been unsullied by the addition of sundry other objects. Its theme remains powerful and pertinent, and when you tear yourself away you realize you didn't just look at shelves of ceramics. You peeped into the past, courtesy of Mr. Willett. Today we look at three figures that are not from the Willett Collection, but they too give us a glimpse of a long-forgotten past. These three pearlware figures range in height from about 3" to 8" and they all represent Turks. An unlikely subject for a Staffordshire figure, you may think, but exotically attired entertainers, complete with robes and turbans, were commonplace sights at England's fairs, theatres, and shows in the pre-Victorian era. Their existence could so easily be forgotten, were it not for these Staffordshire mementos.
A couple of years ago (was it 2008?), an unusual pair of figures came up for auction in the UK: a small cat and mouse. How I yearned to own them! I had never seen an early Staffordshire mouse and none had been recorded. But the condition report indicated that the back half of the mouse--the half with the cute twisty tail--was significantly restored. I just didn't want to look at that tail and forever wonder how it really should have looked. I passed. To be honest, I wouldn't have prevailed at auction because the pair went for a lot of money, crossing over the GBP1,000 threshold. Hmm....I was surprised. Fast forward a while, and I came across a beautiful little pearlware mouse. Perfect, right down to the tip of its tail. Here comes the good part: the owner thought it was a particularly ugly cat and wanted just over $100. I was delighted. For once, things had gone right. I subsequently saw another mouse in the stock of John Howard. A sweet little thing, it jumped quickly off his shelf into the arms of a buyer. So what happened to the cat-and-mouse pair I passed on? They went into the stock of Sampson Horne and featured in Jonathan Horne's last Exhibition catalogue in 2009. That honor was justified for they are rare little gems. Jonathan knew a rarity when he saw it. Sadly, the pair again came to auction early this year when Sampson Horne's stock was dispersed. This time the condition report was thorough and the mouse had apparently had an even rougher life than I had thought! Didn't stop a buyer paying over GBP2,000 for the pair. So what happened to my lone mouse? I am pleased to tell you my story had a happy ending. I found the cat that paired with it. Now what are the chances of that happening? Almost zero....which is why I sometimes think there is a Pottery God looking out for us collectors. Here they are. My ruler is nowhere to be found, but each is under 3" long. The bases are formed identically beneath so I am sure they are from the same potbank, and they look as if they were painted at the same time. The mouse sits on a longer base....but how else to accommodate that tail? In fact the mouse's nose actually peeps over the front edge of the base, a sweet touch.
FYI, my cat has been reattached to its base, but I am very tolerant of such repair because all the orginal material is there. The only other issues were base and ear chips. A dog fight? We will never know. Those of you who followed the story of the eBay faker who overpainted luster plaques to make them more marketable must read the update on Stephen Smith's amazing site devoted to plaques. Even if you are not a plaque person, you will be fascinated by the lengths this faker will go to purely to deceive. His handiwork reduces the value of plaques, but he just can't help himself. I just can't help myself either: although eBay does nothing, I persist in reporting these items. And Stephen is indefatigable! Thanks Stephen for trying to keep the ceramics market on track. Read all about it here
A few years back, these pre-Victorian figures sold in the UK. The Victoria and Albert Museum has a particularly nice example of the same figure form in its collection. The person with riding crop and breeches is actually a woman, the actress Maria Foote. She was loved for her role as "The Little Jockey" in Youth, Love, & Folly, a comic opera in two acts, authored by William Dimond and Michael Kelly. The play debuted at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, circa 1805. Notable for the role of a female actress disguised as a jockey named Arinette, the play was subsequently dubbed The Little Jockey, and appeared on many provincial stages. Staffordshire potters captured Maria Foote in her most popular role in the early decades of the 19th century. Similar Staffordshire figures continued to be made into the early Victorian period--probably intended to portray the role rather than the actress because Maria Foote retired from the stage in 1831. There are also Derby porcelain look-alikes of the figure, but I like to think our Staffordshire potters were the first to pay tribute to one of the most popular actresses of their day.
Fascinating Factoids. Maria Foote was born into a theatrical family in 1798. She debuted on the London stage in 1814. In 1821 and 1824, she bore children to Colonel Berkeley, who had promised her he would marry her when issues resolving his inheritance were resolved, but in 1824 it was apparent that was not to be and their association ended. Around that time, Jospeph Hayne proposed marriage to Miss Foote. This very indecisive young man left her standing at the altar not once but twice. Thereafter, she sued him for GPB20,000 for breach of contract, The case was heard in December 1824, but when it became apparent that Miss Foote had initially concealed from Mr. Hayne both her relationship with Colonel Berkeley and her second pregnancy, the jury awarded her a mere GBP3000, most of which went to her attorneys…some things never change! But, like today’s actresses, Maria Foote had a way of landing on both feet. She had been poorly parented, so she was pitied rather than blamed, and public outpouring for her was immense. A February 1825 benefit for her at the Covent Garden Theatre was packed. Maria Foote ultimately went a long way from her rather sordid beginnings. Her theatrical career ended on 11 March 1831, and the next month she married Charles Stanhope, fourth earl of Harrington, thereby becoming the Countess of Harrington. She died on 27 December 1867. |
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