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Kitty Calash

~ Confessions of a Known Bonnet-Wearer

Kitty Calash

Tag Archives: living history

Undocumented but Not Alien

07 Sunday Feb 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Events, Living History, personal, Philosophy, Reenacting, Research

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

18th century, authenticity, common people, Events, interpretation, living history, Reenacting, Research

Cherries. The Itinerant Traders of London in their Ordinary Costume, from Modern London; being the history and present state of the British Metropolis. Illustrated with numerous copper plates - British Library

Cherries. The Itinerant Traders of London in their Ordinary Costume, from Modern London; being the history and present state of the British Metropolis. Illustrated with numerous copper plates – British Library

Sometimes it’s hard to know how a riot gets started; other times, the cause is pretty clear. I’ve started one or two myself. The latest stems from Our Girl History’s musings on the Massacre.

There’s a lot to unpack, and it’s been happening online and in private conversations. Yes, children, Aunt Kitty pays attention, even if she’s silent. This is a tough topic: how can modern feminists represent historical women in a patriarchal culture without losing their minds? How can events better reflect the actual past? The population has, historically, always been about 50-50 male-female. We understand why there aren’t women on battlefields. We get that traditional events (by which I mean the ritualized commemorations of battles) have ridiculously gender-segregated and inauthentic roles. We get that it’s hard to adapt to new ideas, even free, documented ones.

The irritation and anxiety I feel as I expand the kinds of events I attend is actually reassuring: that’s how I know I’m learning. The frustration we feel means we’re banging up against a wall that we can break down with research.

Paul Sandby, London Cries: Black Heart cherries... ca. 1759. YCBA, B1975.3.206

Paul Sandby, London Cries: Black Heart cherries… ca. 1759. YCBA, B1975.3.206

It’s not easy research: women not married to or otherwise affiliated with prominent men are poorly documented. We may never know their names– or we may have a name from a census, newspaper ad, or city directory, and nothing more. But we can fill in the gaps with interpretation. (As it happens, I’ll be talking about this very idea in just a few weeks. Come taunt me in person.)

There’s a lot to think about in recreating the past, in particular at this event. The organizers have done a phenomenal amount of research, gathered the details, sorted them out, assigned roles, scripted and timed an event, and recruited a chorus of characters that reflects the texture of a tense city in 1770.

Building an event, even one that recreates an actual moment in the past, is as much as work of theatre or fiction as it is of fact: character development, motivations, costuming, setting, all of those combine with the documented words to create a scene that conveys an interpretive point for the public. It’s similar to a museum exhibition– it’s interpreted.

Traditionally, living history has interpreted the past with a bias to men’s roles (that’s the nature of our society, folks) and with a tendency to assign roles and activities by gender (again, the nature of our society for centuries). Our task in breaking that pattern is not to right the injustices of the past, for we cannot, but to interpret them.

Playing the game at quadrille : from an original painting in Vauxhall Gardens. London : Robert Sayer, ca. 1750. Lewis Walpole Library, 750.00.00.14

What about the people in the background? Playing the game at quadrille : from an original painting in Vauxhall Gardens. London : Robert Sayer, ca. 1750. Lewis Walpole Library, 750.00.00.14

One way to do that is to bring the undocumented, or poorly documented, people of the past to light. I tried to do that in exploring Bridget Connor. I’ve tried to do that by interpreting a late 18th/early 19th century servant. It’s a long and frustrating process, reading letters and diaries for scraps of information, usually casual references to servants and cooks.  But in the frustration lies the promise: we will find the people on the margins, and bring them in to clearer focus.

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Frivolous Friday: Checkin’ it Out

29 Friday Jan 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Clothing, Frivolous Friday, Making Things

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

19th century clothing, checks, Costume, fashion, fashion plates, Federal style, living history, Making Things

Costume Parisien 1808 Cornette et Robe de Marcelline

Costume Parisien 1808
Cornette et Robe de Marcelline

One gets ideas. I often get ideas about checks. In particular, I get ideas about loud checks. The gown in the fashion plate is appealing, when you’re looking for checks, and all the more so when you know how similar it is to an extant garment in your actual location.  The cornette I can do without– that’s the headgear, which looks like she’s crammed a sugar Easter egg on her head– but at least it could hide a short hair cut or the melting pomade of humid summer.

Costume Parisien 1808 Chapeaux et Capotes en Paille Blanche et Rubans

Costume Parisien 1808
Chapeaux et Capotes en Paille Blanche et Rubans

But wait! What check through yonder tastefulness breaks? It is the fashion plate, and  the checked bonnet is my sun. My goodness, that bonnet on the lower left is satisfying. It appeals to me the most because it is by far the most check-heavy bonnet I’ve seen, and making it would not involve plaiting straw, which I know nothing about. It’s a direct trip to obnoxious via silk taffeta, and that’s a trip I’ll buy a ticket for.

Top: check silk taffeta, Artee Fabrics Bottom: check cotton, Mood Fabrics

Top: check silk taffeta, Artee Fabrics
Bottom: check cotton, Mood Fabrics

Actually, as the result of a train ticket last August, I am the proud possessor of some delightfully bright lightweight cotton check in search of a fashion plate. The year I’m targeting (which is not 1808, but 1818) hasn’t yet provided published inspiration, but there are more places to search. In any case, an orange check gown with a blue check bonnet is pretty much crying out to be made. Bring your hanky, in case your eyes water, but make sure it’s check, too.

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Transparent Visions

20 Wednesday Jan 2016

Posted by kittycalash in History, Living History, Philosophy

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

authenticity, history, interpretation, living history, watercolor, watercolors

With armloads of cash, the NPYL has, as I’m sure you know, digitized thousands of items which are now available on a ridiculously procrastination-worthy (it’s research, I tell you) site.

Carl H. Pforzheimer Collection of Shelley and His Circle, The New York Public Library. (1795 - 1834). Portrait silhouette.

Carl H. Pforzheimer Collection of Shelley and His Circle, The New York Public Library. (1795 – 1834). Portrait silhouette.

In my current quest for watercolor boxes and miniature inspiration, I found the Anne Wagner album particularly interesting. The pages in the book compile verses, mottoes, collages, locks of hair, and a portrait silhouette. In all likelihood, Anne Wagner had a watercolor box not unlike this one coming up at Sotheby’s on Thursday.

Lot 738, Sotheby's Sale N09466 REGENCY MAHOGANY PAINT BOX BY W. REEVES & WOODYER, FIRST QUARTER 19TH CENTURY

Lot 738, Sotheby’s Sale N09466
REGENCY MAHOGANY PAINT BOX BY W. REEVES & WOODYER, FIRST QUARTER 19TH CENTURY

Every young lady of some means would have had a watercolor box suited to her station (they came in a variety of sizes), and young ladies with leisure time occupied themselves with diaries, commonplace books, amateur silhouettes, and paintings. Diana Sperling is one of the better-known examples of amateur artists, with drawings occasionally appearing at auction. The best of these watercolors give us a literally transparent look at the long 18th century from inside.

 May 25th. Henry Van electrifying - Mrs Van, Diana, Harry, Isabella, Mum and HGS. Dynes Hall.

May 25th. Henry Van electrifying – Mrs Van, Diana, Harry, Isabella, Mum and HGS. Dynes Hall.

Museums try to connect the people of the past to the people of the present, and sometimes in focusing on similarities critical differences are missed.

It’s not just that the people of the past accepted racism, slavery, and sexism. They literally saw the world differently. I’ve watched contemporary amateur artists try to recreate the imagery of the past, and it’s hard. I wonder, as I try my own had at the task, if we can manage it. Color sensibilities were different; taste was different (checks from hell, remember?). My own style is more graphic and bold than an 18th or 19th century artists’– more Fairfield Porter than Edward Malbone.

Carl H. Pforzheimer Collection of Shelley and His Circle, The New York Public Library. (1795 - 1834). Threaded shells.

Carl H. Pforzheimer Collection of Shelley and His Circle, The New York Public Library. (1795 – 1834). Threaded shells.

We are, each of us, products of our environment and our time. Can we really recreate the past? We can dress correctly, carry the right stuff (or almost no stuff at all), but how can we overcome our own thought barriers, our own vision? I think it’s by attempting that effort that we can do better at replicating the past whether we try in four dimensions, or in two– and acknowledge the unbridgeable gap to the past.

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Objectification

14 Thursday Jan 2016

Posted by kittycalash in History, Museums, personal, Philosophy, Reenacting

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

chairs, historic house museums, historic interiors, interpretation, living history, Museums, objects

Corner chair. Mahogany with fabric-covered slip seat. John Goddard, 1763. RIHS 1990.36.1 RHix5136

Corner chair. Mahogany with fabric-covered slip seat. John Goddard, 1763. RIHS 1990.36.1 RHix5136

I’ve had more alone time than usual at work, which is to say, I’ve been the only living creature in 16,000 SF for multiple consecutive days, which allows me both time to get lots of work done but also permits my mind to wander more than it might otherwise. One of the ideas I continually return to is about the objectification of objects. That’s a terrible phrase, isn’t it? What is the essential thingness of any given thing?

Let’s take chairs: I really like chairs, which is to say that I have, at last, succumbed to the seductive qualities of chairs.[i] But what makes a chair a chair?

Most simply, a chair is to be sat upon. Keeps your rump off the cold, cold ground. Supports your legs and back. Sometimes a chair is for lolling. Sometimes it’s for working. Sometimes it’s for projecting power. But essential, a chair is for sitting.

If use– specifically human use[ii]– is what chairs are for, what happens when a chair is removed from use, and placed on display in a museum?[iii] And what difference does it make whether that chair is on a white plinth in an art museum, or in a historic house, or in the historic house where it was used? When is a chair most a chair, other than the times you are sitting in one?

As I said: a lot of alone time.

servant mannequin in 18th century room

That’s no ghost, that’s my kid. Corner chair just in front of the ghost.

Within a historic house, it seems that the ideal situation is the chair in the room in the house.

That would seem to maximize the “realness” of the thing, right? But we don’t always have the chair, and even when we do, we may not know which room it was used in most often.

The way a chair is displayed and understood in an art museum: Object of Beauty is very different from the way a chair is displayed and understood in a history: Who Sat Here? It’s a conundrum though, because just as the chair become Beautiful Thing in an art museum, it can become Story from the Past in a history museum. Neither presentation/interpretation really gets at Chairness, which is really best experienced by sitting in the chair yourself.

Did I mention I spend a lot of time alone with objects?

Storeroom, Rhode Island Historical Society. RHix17 399

Storeroom, Rhode Island Historical Society. RHix17 399

The way that I think these questions about Chairness relate to living history is by realizing that just as museums fetishize objects on white pedestals, living history interpreters/reenactors sometimes fetishize objects without contextualizing them. You know: Muskets. Clothes. Spinning Wheels.[iv]

Putting the chair in the room where it was used gives it context, and the visitor a new perspective that wouldn’t be gained from a white pedestal, or from the curb. The same is true of the things that we carry as interpreters. Context matters. It’s how meaning is derived and understood. Like repetition, isolation can rob an object—or a person—of meaning. Not that I’m lonely. I have all those chairs, after all.

____________________________

[i] Not to get too weird, though: I won’t rhapsodize (yet) about the sensual curve of a chair leg, or a delicate, finely-turned ankle, as I have heard some (fetishistic?) curators so. Yet: there’s still time.

[ii] Sorry cats: chairs were not actually made for you. Now get down!

[iii] If you know anything about art history and theory, you can probably guess which decade I was in graduate seminars.

[iv] My *favorite* thing to see in a military setting.

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Small Obsessions

09 Saturday Jan 2016

Posted by kittycalash in Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

18th century, 19th century clothing, art, art history, interpretation, living history, miniatures, paint boxes, paintings, Rhode Island, Rhode Island history, women's work

IMG_5625Some of you may recall that I am a recovering artist with a fairly constant need to keep my hands busy. To encourage industry and the domestic arts, and to keep me out of trouble generally, a thoughtful friend provided me with a start to furnishing an early nineteenth century-style paint box. They’re hard to come by, these paint boxes, and extant examples fetch far more than we can afford chez Calash, being in somewhat reduced circumstances of late.

Thomas Reeves & Son Artists watercolor paint box c. 1784 to 1794. Whimsie Virtual Museum of Watercolor Materials

Thomas Reeves & Son
Artists watercolor paint box c. 1784 to 1794. Whimsie Virtual Museum of Watercolor Materials

Researching paint boxes and miniature painting in the early Federal era has been a happy fall down a deep rabbit hole. It’s clear that Reeves watercolors were being sold in Providence in the early 19th century; Peter Grinnell & Sons include “Reeves watercolor boxes” among the extensive list of items for sale in an 1809 newspaper ad. Frames and cases were also to be had; John Jenckes, gold and silver-smith and jeweler, advertised gold miniature cases in 1800.

Distraction is always easy to come by, tunnels leading from main entrance to the warren. Painting manuals, scholarly articles, and extant examples, which prove most distracting of all. SO shiny.

George Catlin Artist: John Wood Dodge (1807–1893) Date: 1835 Medium: Watercolor on ivory Dimensions: 2 3/16 x 1 13/16 in. (5.6 x 4.6 cm) Classification: Paintings Credit Line: Rogers Fund, 1926 Accession Number: 26.47

George Catlin byJohn Wood Dodge, 1835, MMA 26.47

Searching the Met’s collection, I found a portrait of George Catlin, remarkably similar in pose to an image of a friend I considered copying, but had thought too modern. My assumption has been proved wrong, and I am delighted. And then I found the HIDEOUS checked neck wear, always distracting. Historic New England provided super-tiny-bowtie man, and then I really had to focus, since I’m only enabling, not making, neck wear.

My real focus, of course, is on female miniaturists, especially in Rhode Island (gallery of RI miniatures can be found here.) From the scant number of women I’ve found advertising in the local papers, (okay, two: Miss Mary R. Smith, in 1820, and Mrs Partridge in 1829) I’ll have to expand my search geographically. Nantucket Historical Association had an image attributed to Anna Swain, and ten attributed to Sally Gardner.

Eye

The Met, repository of so many wonders, has works by six women miniaturists, including Sarah “Wowza” Goodridge and Anna Claypoole Peale. For all we know, some of the works by unidentified makers might be the work of female painters. The extant miniatures in all collections, range in quality from excellent to amateur, giving hope to those of us unpracticed in portraiture, and regaining our hand.

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