Tag Archives: resources

Dresses and Evidence

09 Wednesday Jan 2013

Posted by in Clothing, Museums

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Sandby: Sara Hough, YCBA

Here is Sara Hough, Mrs. T. P. Sandby’s Nursery Maid drawn by Paul Sandby ca. 1805, from the Yale Center for British art. She’s rather lovely, and though I’d tend to put her date earlier than 1805 based on the clothing, I don’t know enough (anything) about the Sandbys, and it may be that the dates of Sara’s employment fixed the date of the drawing. But doesn’t that robe and train look distinctly 1790s?

What I like about it is that here is a maid wearing an open robe and train–how impractical, especially in a nursery–so the drawing makes a third kind of evidence in addition to fashion plates and extant examples.

1794, V&A

1794, V&A

1795, MMA

1795, MMA

1794 and 1795 fashion plates from the V&A and the Met show similar robes, though the V&A is described as a walking dress, and the Met’s plate shows evening dress. Extant examples include the Kyoto chintz gown, and this chintz gown at the V&A.

1795-1800, V&A

1795-1800, V&A

1780s, KCI

1780s, KCI

I like how art once again blows up my expectations and makes me think more about the time frame when styles can be worn, and why: maids lag mistresses in style? Comfort and personal taste? or is the assigned date just not right? It’s an evasive “circa,” which can wiggle 5 to 10 years either way, depending on the collection’s standards. The drawing could be 1795, and it’s not later than 1809, when Sandby died.

Aside from the questions and quibbles over the date, the image gives us great information about how to wear an open robe with an apron, how to carry scissors, what watering cans looked like around 1800, the profile of shoes and caps, and how hair might be styled.

Sleeping 18th Century-Style

07 Monday Jan 2013

Posted by in History, Living History

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the_idle_servant1There was a mild flurry about a year ago around the release of Evening’s Empire, by Craig Koslofsky. Like the 2005 book by Roger Ekirch, At Day’s Close: Night in Times Past, Koslofsky’s book examines pre-electric lighting patterns of behaviour at night, including sleep patterns.  The BBC has a nice article on the two here. Both Koslofsky and Ekirch assert that until the 19th century, humans typically slept in two blocks of about 4 hours each, and scientists confirm this natural tendency.

Last year, between December and March, I had the luck to test this theory, and once again, it seems I will be sleeping old school, in blocks of time. Unfortunately, these blocks of time are often 2 hours and not 4 hours, as the scientists and historians claim we need. User testing of one shows me that 2 hour sleep blocks (or 4 hours followed by 2 hours) are inadequate and I may be near-hallucinatory by March, just as I was last year.

When doing living history, its always better not to skimp on resources.

Light & Night

04 Friday Jan 2013

Posted by in History

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Morland: Woman Reading by a Paper-Bell Shade: YCBA

Winter’s hard for me. I don’t like the lack of light, I don’t like the shortness of the days and how the sky is pale and stretched in these months. But this is a good time to think about basic needs, like light and heat and warm clothing.

The New York Times came to my rescue this morning with the article by Holland Cotter (and others) on “Artworks That Shine in New York Museums.” Cotter is one of my favorite critics and writers, and he, along with Karen Rosenberg, Roberta Smith, and other NYT critics, have selected some interesting pieces.

De La Tour: Penitent Magdalen, MMA

Ken Johnson leads with Georges De La Tour’s Penitent Magdalen. It’s earlier than my usual era but I was attracted to the image of the flame in the mirror; it’s not just a lighting device, of course, it’s a metaphor, but the rendering of the candlelight, and the use of the mirror to boost that light, tells us about how 17th and 18th century painters saw light, and how light was manipulated. We know from our simple experiments at work that mirrors really do amplify light, and that large stately rooms would only glitter with lots of candles and lots of mirrors. Light gives us a window on economy and wealth, as a precious commodity that cost money or labor to have.

Vermeer: Mistress and Maid, The Frick

Vermeer: Mistress and Maid, The Frick

Cotter looks at Vermeer’s Mistress and Maid at the Frick, and notes the lack of obvious natural light or other light sources, and the overall dark mood of the scene. But Cotter’s writing shines, as he concludes the little essay: Whatever Vermeer’s anxious thoughts, light stayed on his mind. It scintillates in the pearls the woman wears in her hair and shines in the butter-yellow silk of her jacket. And the blacked-out space the women occupy turns out to have sunlit windows after all. We see them reflected in glassware on the writing table as tiny lozenges of light, far in the distance, as if at the end of a tunnel, but there.

Writing like that is its own kind of light, a joy to have in the daily newspaper on a cold, short day. In all, four critics look at five paintings each from a range of cultures and time periods. It’s enough to make one want to hop a train south.

What Pinterest Can Do, or, Asher Durand

22 Saturday Dec 2012

Posted by in History, Museums

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BRM-Landscape, Wood Scene

BRM-Landscape, Wood Scene

At the Brandywine River Museum, I saw an Asher B. Durand landscape and said, “I haven’t thought about Asher Durand in a long time.” My mother, ever the realist, muttered just-loud-enough, “Well, why would you?!” She studied art history for real, me, I only went to art school. It’s a wonder I can even feed myself.

Getting my stimulating-image fix last night on Pinterest: lo and behold, Asher B. Durand! Buddy! Good to see you! Even better, the side of Asher Durand you never get in those American Art History classes taught by a disheartened adjunct on a three-year contract trying to beat Manifest Destiny into you.

If you’re like me, Asher Durand’s the original Jersey Boy member of the Hudson River School, all Thanatopsis and metaphors, machine-in-the-garden, acolyte of Thomas Cole. But it’s better than that–he’s also Mr. Awesome Portrait.

MMA-Mrs Winfield Scott

Thanks to Cassidy, Mrs. Winfield Scott gazed calmly from the screen last night, lovely in her golden silk gown with fine silk over sleeves not even as heavy as butterfly wings. Lovely Mrs. Scott, against a backdrop of a…finely painted river scene, highly detailed and with a looming cloud… That painter guy seems to know what he’s doing, why, Asher B. Durand, you scamp! You worked landscape magic into the background of that money-making, pay-the-bills portrait.

Grey Collection-Summer Afternoon

Cows won’t pay for portraits of themselves, so the history and landscape painters of the past generally had to shill the portraits (G.C. Bingham did it, but without Asher B’s grace). Lucky for us, they were good at people, too, though I think you can tell their first love is landscape.

PAFA-Creek & Rocks

PAFA-Creek & Rocks

Art History Secrets Revealed: I have a friend who paints rocks in streams (and other things), but Ken’s paintings of rocks are incredibly beautiful. He studied at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, which is home to…did you guess? Asher B. Durand’s painting of rocks in a stream.

So while Pinterest can be home to horrors (go see for yourself, I’m not looking), it can lead you to places you didn’t expect to go, or back to things you’d forgotten about, like Asher B. Durand. He was useful to know about when I worked in the Midwest, photo editing a history journal.  I’m glad I’ve met him again.

Portrait of a Waistcoat

21 Friday Dec 2012

Posted by in Clothing, History, Museums

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RIHS-Robert Jenkins

Meet Mr. Jenkins. There are references to a Robert Jenkins, Vestryman of Christ Church, Boston and merchant of Salem, MA and Newport, RI. A Robert Jenkins married Elizabeth Champlin of Newport, and we have a pendant portrait of Betsey Jenkins, suggesting stronger ties to Newport. The records are confusing, but one thing is clear: that’s his waistcoat and he’s happy to have you see it.

This 1748 portrait by John Greenwood shows a man associated with a port city, perhaps connected with shipping and mercantile trade (see the ships in the background), and who has made enough money to a) commission a portrait and b) either own that sweet silk velvet waistcoat or to have one painted. It is entirely possible that he owned it.

Met-Waistcoat

And it probably looked a lot like this 1750-1755 one from the Met, but without the sleeves. There is fragment (two fronts) of one very like this in the collection at work. It’s not Robert Jenkins’, but it is Rhode Island, so we know these kind of garments were available and worn. The last piece to track down would be an account book, to get some idea of what this might have cost.

What I like in particular about the Met’s waistcoat is the cuff detail. The sleeve, which would be heavy if fully made of velvet, is not. Only the cuff is the velvet, while the sleeve itself is lighter weight silk.