Friday, February 3, 2012

Object of the Day, Museum Edition: A Pulcinella Mask, c. 1670-1700

Leather Mask of Pulcinella
Naples, Italy, Late Seventeenth to Early Eighteenth Centuries
The Victoria & Albert Museum



In the Seventeenth Century, street performers, pantomime actors, opera stars and puppeteers across Europe were, unbeknownst to each other, developing a set of common characters who would eventually join into one great satirical genre populated by stock characters which endure to this day. While these characters still retain their individual identities in their countries of origin, they all married to produce, in Britain, Mr. Punch and his companions.

The main source for Mr. Punch, as we know, is his Italian cousin, Pulcinella from the Commedia dell’arte who not only gave birth to Punch, but also lent some of his puppet DNA to France’s pig-tailed Guignol. We must remember, however, that before these little fellows (with the exception of Guignol who was born as and remained a puppet) initially strutted for the delight of society as masked human actors in a tradition that is still enjoyed today.

This molded leather mask is from an Italian Commedia dell'arte troupe which performed in Naples around 1700. This black mask is immediately recognizable as that of Pulcinella. In fact he still wears a similar mask.

Pulcinella was initially portrayed as a dimwitted servant, known for his big beaky nose, hunchback, distended stomach and a prominent wart on his forehead. By the time he became Mr. Punch, he had had his wart removed and lost the black mask, but the other characteristics remained. As the Seventeenth Century progressed, the character of Pulcinella became more well-rounded. By the time this mask was made and used, he was not necessarily a servant, but rather a trickster peasant, a dentist (like his cousin, Guignol), a physician, a painter or a soldier.

As Pulcinella changed, the mask also changed. The earliest versions of the mask featured a moustache and beard which served to obscure most of the actor's face. But, by the time Pulcinella reached Britain where he would become Punchinello, and ultimately, Mr. Punch, the character donned a half-mask like this one.

Curiously, as Italian performers of the period traveled to England to seek new audiences, the retained some of the old Commedia dell'arte characters, creating a type of early pantomime called a “harlequinade” (which is great with ice on a warm day). But, Pulcinella was not among them. He, in typical Punchinello fashion broke out on his own. Ever the independent spirit, Punchinello was a star in his own right and the English embraced his shocking and amusing antics, calling him “Mr. Punch” and making him the voice of the people. Mr. Punch introduced new versions of some of the traditional stock characters, assigning them characteristics and roles which better suited his own story.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Gratuitous Bertie Dog Picture: The Stray Snack

"I'm pretty sure we can't eat it."



*Click image to enlarge*





Image: The Stray Shuttlecock, Frank Dillon, 1878, The Victoria & Albert Museum






Don't forget our special Bertie Dog designs available exclusively in our online store.

Mastery of Design: The Lady Bettine Abbingdon Pink Pearls, 1900-1910

Pink Cultured Pearls, Japan, 1900-1910
The Victoria & Albert Museum

This necklace of four strands of pink pearls of graduated size closes with a gold clasp set with sapphires and diamonds. It was made in London between 1900 and 1910 using Japanese pearls. By the early Twentieth Century, the Japanese had perfected a technique for cultivating pearls which imitated the process by which a natural pearl is formed. The process involves inserting a small irritant into a farmed oyster. The oyster, then, slowly coats the foreign particle with layers of iridescent nacre (mother-of-pearl), eventually producing a perfect pearl.

The necklace was made for Lady Bettine Abbingdon who bequeathed this exceptional piece to the V&A.

Her Majesty’s Furniture: The Brighton Pavilion Clothes Press, 1815

Clothes Press
Made for the Prince Regent, 1815
The Victoria & Albert Museum




A triumph of high-quality japanning, this cabinet and stand are inset with cartouches of actual Chinese lacquer-work. The cartouches are set in a background which has been adorned with delicate touches of gold paint to imitate the look of lacquered snakeskin. The doors of the case open to reveal three trays which have been veneered in expensive rosewood, exceptionally, on all sides.

This magnificent piece once belonged to a suite of furniture which (including a day bed and a sécretaire) which was designed by Frederick Crace for a bedroom at the Brighton Pavilion, the Orientalist fantasy palace commissioned by the Prince Regent (later King George IV).

Frederick Crace (1779-1859) was the son of the fashionable and celebrated decorator John Crace (1754-1819). Together, they supplied their high-tone London customers with numerous objects for the home ranging from textiles and ivories to furniture and art—mostly from East Asia.

Precious Time: The Markwick Tall-case Clock, 1725

The Victoria & Albert Museum



This japanned tall-case clock shows the Eighteenth Century desire to imitate the expensive imported lacquer from Japan and China. It is decorated with Chinese figures, vases and flowering shrubs. Like many works of Japanning, the effect on this clockcase was achieved by applying coats of colored varnish over a gesso base layer. This layer has been built up in relief for a three-dimensional effect.

This masterpiece is the work of James Markwick the Younger, who made this clock around 1725. Markwick was a member of the Clock Makers Company in London, becoming master of the Company in 1720.

Punch’s Cousin, Chapter 452

I can’t walk no more.” Marie Laveau moaned to her daughter.

“We’ll stop soon, Mama.” Young Marie answered. She tightened her grip around her mother’s waist.

“The baby,” Marie mumbled.

“I know, Mama.” Young Marie sniffed, trying to hold back her tears.

“I’ll make that Iolanthe pay for this.” Marie trembled.

“You won’t have to do it alone, Mama.” Young Marie growled.

“All my plans…” Marie Laveau groaned. She paused and gripped her abdomen.

“Why don’t we stop here?” Young Marie pointed to a tavern to their left. “We can get you some water.”

“We can’t go in there.” Marie snapped.

“Sure we can. There’s a place for colored folks through the alley.”

“How you know that?” Marie narrowed her eyes.

“Cuz some o’ the men talk ‘bout it.” Young Marie sighed.

“Fine, fine.” Marie croaked.

Young Marie helped her mother through the alleyway and into the rear door of the tavern. With considerable effort, she helped her mother sit upon a stiff, mean wooden chair.

Marie moaned as her daughter waved for help.

“How’d you know where to find me?” Marie whispered to her eldest child. “How’d you know where I was?”

“That Italian man.” Young Marie answered, cringing as she spoke, knowing that the answer would anger her mother further.

“What Italian man?”

“Calls himself Charles. He’s always with that Barbara Allen.”

“Why? How’d you see him?”

“He came by the house after the fire marshal.”

“Fire marshal?” Marie squinted.

“I know now that it was a trick. That Charles was tryin’ for to get Mrs. Routhe.”

“And did he?”

“Yes, Mama.” Young Marie lowered her head.

Marie was silent for a few minutes. Finally, she spoke. “Don’t matter now. Ain’t no baby for her to…” She grunted. “Don’t matter now.” Sighing, she looked around the tavern. Suddenly, she spotted Ty Odo who, next to the ample frame of Amber, was crouched by the lattice-work screen which separated the two sections of the tavern.

“Ain’t that Edward Cage’s man?” Marie asked.

“The wiry little runt? Yes.” Young Marie nodded.

“Odo!” Marie Laveau barked.

Odo turned around, his eyes widening when he spotted Marie Laveau.

Marie crooked her finger at him.

Odo shook his head.

“Come over here, Odo!” Marie snarled.

Odo put his finger to his lips. He didn’t want Barbara, Ulrika and Giovanni to hear her from the other side of the screen.

“Keep your eye on them.” Odo whispered to Amber.

“Sure, Sugar.” Amber winked. “For a price.”

“Whatever you want.” Odo grumbled.

He approached Marie and recoiled when he saw her bloody dress.

“What happened?” He gasped.

“Iolanthe Evangeline.” Marie growled.

“Did ya…”

“Yes.” Marie said.

“I’m sorry.” Odo answered sincerely.

“I believe you are.” Marie replied.

Odo wiped his eyes. “Long, long ago,” he began, “I had a bride. Well, she weren’t really my bride, but we loved each other. She died tryin’ to have our chil’.”

“So, that’s why you’re so cruel?” Marie grinned.

“Maybe.” Odo shrugged. “I never was very kind.”

“Join us, Odo.” Marie pointed to the chair next to her daughter.

“Forgive me, Miss Laveau, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m doin’ somethin’.”

“What?”

Odo inhaled.

“You got somethin’ goin’. Huh? Don’t bother lyin’ to me, Odo. I’ll find out anyway.”

“Wasn’t my plan.” Odo said.

“Whose?”

Odo sniffed.

“Whose, Odo?”

“Barbara Allen, Miss.”

“Tell me more, Odo.” Marie grinned through her pain. “Tell me all ‘bout it.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-451? If so, you can read them here.

The Home Beautiful: The Duke of Beaufort’s Dressing Table, 1754

Dressing Table, 1754
The Victoria & Albert Museum


Designed by John Linnell (1729 - 1796) and supplied by his father, William (1703 - 1763), this dressing table is made of gilded, painted and japanned pinewood and mahogany, with lattice doors in the Chinese style. It was made around 1754 for Noel Somerset, 4th Duke of Beaufort (1709 - 1756). The Duke used the table at his home, Badminton House, Gloucestershire. The Duke of Beaufort was considered the leading authority on Shakespeare at the time.

John Linnell, the designer, had been a pupil of St. Martin's Lane Academy, and was celebrated for his Chinese-inspired furnishings. Another of his pieces, a lovely chair, is housed in the V&A. This chair is very similar to a group of eight made for Duke's bedchamber at Badminton House.

This style was all the rage in the mid Eighteenth Century. William Halfpenny's “New Designs for Chinese Temples” (1750) and Thomas Chippendale's “Gentleman and Cabinet-Maker's Director” (1754) helped incite the fashion for all things Chinese. Wealthy home-owners, always eager to stay in fashion, commissioned many Chinese-inspired pieces.

This dressing table is an excellent example of the fashion. This japanned (a technique which arose in the Seventeenth Century to replicate costly oriental lacquers wherein layers of shellac are built up and dried before being polished to a high sheen) and parcel-gilt pinewood and mahogany cabinet is decorated with Chinese landscapes and figures, pagodas and animals as well as a complicated lattice-work pattern on the face and a fretted gallery.

When Dr. Richard Pococke visited Badminton in 1754 he wrote of the “Bedchamber finished and furnished very elegantly in the Chinese Manner” (Travels through England, II, p.31). An inventory of Badminton House from 1835 mentions “a Chinese sideboard with Drawers” which was then located in the South Breakfast Room. It is called a “Wide Queen Anne Lac Cabinet fitted three drawers in centre at six ditto at sides the latter enclosed by trellis doors, decorated Chinese landscapes river scenes pagodas set in gilt top with pierced gallery shaped from on square legs.”

The table was sold at Christie's on June 20, 1921, later passing through the ownership of Sir Philip Fandel Philips, Lady Ludlow and Mrs. James Rank before finally being purchased by the V & A in 1952.