Tag Archives: cats

Whimsical Whiskered Wednesday

26 Wednesday Nov 2014

Posted by in History, Museums, Research

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A quintetto. Musical Amateurs. Hand colored etching by Piercy Roberts, after George Moutard Woodward, 1803. British Museum1981,U.199

A quintetto. Musical Amateurs. Hand colored etching by Piercy Roberts, after George Moutard Woodward, 1803. British Museum1981,U.199

E’en Age itself is cheard with Music. It wakes a glad Remembrance of our Youth, Calls back past Joy’s and warms us into Transport. Vide Rowe read the lines at the top of this engraving, and while I’m fairly confident the Rowe referred to is Nicholas Rowe, I have not connected the quote to him.

Instead, you’re treated to the image that struck me as I searched for 1820s maids at the British Museum. Happily, my household is one cat and one cockatoo short of this reality, but it pretty much sums up breakfast time Chez Calash, when I am too slow with the breakfast portions, and the beasts begin to sing.

Happy Thanksgiving, American readers. I’m taking a short break from museum thinking to wrangle our dinner to the table, attempt to finish a gown, and catch up on some sleep.

Frivolous Friday: Comforts of a Rumpford

10 Friday Oct 2014

Posted by in Frivolous Friday, History, Research

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A companion pl. to BMSat 9813. A pretty young woman wearing a décolleté négligé, stands with her back to the fire, her gown raised to leave her posterior naked. She holds a book: 'The Monk - a Novel by M' ['G. Lewis', cf. BMSat 9932]; another is open on the floor: 'Œconomy of Love by Dr Arm[strong', 1736]. A cat rolls on its back. On a table are a decanter of 'Creme de Noyau', and an open book: 'The Kisses'. On the mantelpiece are flowers and an ornate clock with embracing cupids. A picture partly covered by a curtain represents Danaë receiving the golden shower. The room, apparently that of a courtesan, is luxuriously furnished. 26 February 1801 Hand-coloured etching, British Museum, 1935,0522.7.12

A companion pl. to BMSat 9813. A pretty young woman wearing a décolleté négligé, stands with her back to the fire, her gown raised to leave her posterior naked. She holds a book: ‘The Monk – a Novel by M’ [‘G. Lewis’, cf. BMSat 9932]; another is open on the floor: ‘Œconomy of Love by Dr Arm[strong’, 1736]. A cat rolls on its back. On a table are a decanter of ‘Creme de Noyau’, and an open book: ‘The Kisses’. On the mantelpiece are flowers and an ornate clock with embracing cupids. A picture partly covered by a curtain represents Danaë receiving the golden shower. The room, apparently that of a courtesan, is luxuriously furnished. 26 February 1801
Hand-coloured etching, British Museum, 1935,0522.7.12

I’ve left that caption intact, though it seems quite long enough for a blog post itself. This image turned up on Twitter (you can follow me there @kittycalash, expect randomness) and delighted me at the end of a long, tough week. I’m particularly taken with the cat, which resonates with an lolcat that floated about the interwebs last winter. The interwebs can be a strange place…

But aside from that silly cat, there are a wealth of details in this image, some of which are explicated in the caption.

What struck me- after the cat– was the slipcover on the sofa. How lame is that– but it’s true. Floral print, I suspect, but possibly woven, it’s loosely draped and long. I’m more familiar with the checked linen slipcovers seen in representation of New England interiors, so the floral really struck me. I suppose those linen checks symbolize all the puritanical uprightness and restraint of early Federal New England dons (if you believe in that kind of thing), while the loose floral print drapery tells you everything you need to know about our Rumpford friend.

We all see what we want to see…cats, slip covers, or courtesans.

Discipline’s the Thing

18 Tuesday Feb 2014

Posted by in personal, Snark

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Warning: Gratuitous Cat Photos

The Howling Assistant attempts to build her core

The Howling Assistant attempts to build her core

As the Howling Assistant will attest, Pilates can be brutal. Here she is, stuck over her blubberous expanse of belly. To be fair, she was very sick as a kitten and as a result seems to gain weight no matter what she eats.

She watches from the sofa every morning while I collapse in a heap of quivering, cat-fur-accented jelly. At least she’s entertained.

The Cat Family Folk Portrait

There was entertainment in abundance in Pawtucket yesterday, where I spotted a new genre of folk art I had not seen before. By the time you strip off the layers of weirdness, you’ve moved through appropriation, jokiness and Post Modernism to sincerity and then I’m not sure quite where you end up. I’ve seen the “historic portraits with cats and dogs” genre before, done well and done poorly, but never anything quite so home-grown as this. I have to agree with my friend that the carpet’s pretty wonderful, and the details captured in he Hitchcock chairs are well-observed. Art’s a curious thing, and observation. It pleased me to find this, and I hope in some way it will please you to see it. We’re strange creatures; enjoy the ride.

“Unsuspected Cat”

04 Wednesday Dec 2013

Posted by in Clothing, History, Museums, Research

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Squatting plump on an unsuspected cat in your chair!! George Cruikshank [1800]. Lewis Walpole Library, Image ID lwlpr09721 Call Number 800.00.00.176+

The Lewis Walpole Library provides endless amusement, and searching by subject yields some fun. People have had curious relationships with domestic pets for a centuries, and thank goodness cats invented the interwebs so we could get real perspective on this.

Quite aside from the minor domestic comedy of this engraving (I dislike the dark of winter and take my fun where I can), we can learn a lot. The domestic comedy itself helps remind us that while the people of the past saw the world differently, they were as foolish, bawdy and rude (or more so) than we are.

From a material culture perspective, we have (among many things):

  • a geometrically-patterned floor covering, probably a carpet but possibly painted.
  • floor-length curtains
  • looking glasses, paired
  • a slip-covered easy chair, matching the curtains and the cat’s cushion
  • two candles (only two!)
  • glasses with the characteristic straight temple pieces that end in loops
  • a colored open robe over a white muslin petticoat
  • a young gentleman in trousers, an old gentleman in breeches

I can imagine this depicting Emma and Mr Knightley (after their marriage) at home after dinner with her father and their young son: Mr Woodhouse in his nightcap and banyan, reading; Mr Knightley upset by the cat, while the Spaniel barks at the excitement.  All in all, highly satisfying.

Found: Limits

15 Tuesday Oct 2013

Posted by in Events, Fail, Living History

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I try to have good sense, but I am sometimes overwhelmed by my intentions. On Saturday, I was supposed to go up to Boston to the Paul Revere House, and I was planning to take the train. It’s an easy trip between the commuter rail and the Orange Line, followed by a short walk. How hard is that?

Too hard, it seems. I’m not sure how it happened, but I missed the commuter train, and made it to Smith and Canal just in time to see the train pulling away from the platform. Regular work day? Forget 11:20, try 11:23. You have a cushion. Weekend? Those trains run right on time, but still about 90 minutes apart, which means missing the train will make you three hours late for a three hour event, and then you are not “really reliable and right on time.” The guys had the car for the day, so it was train or nothing.

I had a period lunch, and planned to take my stool. I had shirts-in-progress packed into a knapsack along with documents about what garments soldiers were issued, the average cost of those garments, as well as a finished blue check shirt typical of those worn by New England men in the last quarter of the 18th century. I’d re-read the The Needles’ Eye, and was prepared to talk about the difference between seamstresses, tailors, mantua makers and milliners.

Take some time to snooze under the sofa– Mr Whiskers

Instead, I went back home and slept most of the afternoon. Mr Whiskers had the right idea, as usual.  You cannot burn the tallow candle at both ends while the farm cat gnaws the middle. I feel bad about missing that train, but I think I’ve learned my limits. At least for this month.