Miscellaneana: Getting the straight skinny on skeleton clocks

The James Condliff skeleton clock, circa 1840, pictured with its glass dome removed. It sold for £15,000. Photo Tennants Auctioneers

The James Condliff skeleton clock, circa 1840, pictured with its glass dome removed. It sold for £15,000. Photo Tennants Auctioneers

 

LONDON – It all started when my father and I started tinkering with an old wooden cuckoo clock he’d unearthed. Problem was it had no pendulum or weights. Actually, not a problem. The former was crafted from wire cut from a coat hanger pushed through the stem of a large coat button and weighted with modeling clay. The weights to make the thing tick and “cuckoo” were brown and red sauce bottles suspended respectively from each of the chains hanging from the clock.

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Miscellaneana: Art Union Parian ware

A pair of Copeland Parian busts of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales and Alexandra, Princess of Wales, produced for the Crystal Palace Art Union in 1863. The bust of the Prince of Wales was sculpted by Marshall Wood, and that of the Princess by F.M. Miller. Photo: Drove House Antiques

A pair of Copeland Parian busts of Albert Edward, Prince of Wales and Alexandra, Princess of Wales, produced for the Crystal Palace Art Union in 1863. The bust of the Prince of Wales was sculpted by Marshall Wood, and that of the Princess by F.M. Miller. Photo: Drove House Antiques

 

LONDON – Those of us who live in the UK have all heard of the so-called postcode lottery, but the People’s Postcode Lottery was a new one on me. If I’ve understood it correctly, every month all players in one postcode area share at least £2 million if that area is drawn.

Sounds good, but I’ve got a better idea. Instead of offering cash prizes, how about organizers commissioning living British artists to produce works of art – paintings, ceramics, sculpture, furniture and so on – who are paid for their labors by advance sales of lottery tickets.
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Miscellaneana: Studying up on library furniture

A fine and rare George IV period mahogany partners pedestal desk with faded green leather top and gilt tooled borders above three frieze drawers to each side, the pedestals each with three graduated drawers to one side and cupboards to the other. Photo W.R. Harvey Ltd.

A fine and rare George IV period mahogany partners pedestal desk with faded green leather top and gilt tooled borders above three frieze drawers to each side, the pedestals each with three graduated drawers to one side and cupboards to the other. Photo W.R. Harvey Ltd.

 

LONDON – Could it be that the popularity of Downton Abbey is having a positive effect on the UK antiques trade? I met one dealer this week who felt it might and he should know.

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Miscellaneana: Savoring antique jelly molds

Three molds engraved with the mark for Jones Bros of Down Street, London, one of the best-known retailers in the capital who supplied the Duke of Wellington. They were estimated at £150-£200. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

Three molds engraved with the mark for Jones Bros of Down Street, London, one of the best-known retailers in the capital who supplied the Duke of Wellington. They were estimated at £150-£200.  The Canterbury Auction Galleries photo

 

LONDON – Whisper it, but I’m not a fan of Downton Abbey, that is apart from savoring the period room settings and the chance to see how the landed gentry enjoyed their privileged surroundings.

Most episodes spend a good deal in the kitchens of the great house and we are treated to a glimpse of how the magnificent meals were created using what today look like the most primitive of cooking aids. Now there’s a collecting topic for you.

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Miscellaneana: British celebrity photographer Harry Goodwin

The Beatles by Harry Goodwin. Photo Ewbank’s auctioneers

The Beatles by Harry Goodwin. Photo Ewbank’s auctioneers

 

LONDON – In the ’60s and ’70s you couldn’t claim to be a pop sensation or sporting legend until you’d been photographed by Harry Goodwin. Later this month, two years after his death, more than 20,000 portraits from Goodwin’s converted church studio are to be sold and the money given to charity. Think of a name and ten to one he or she will be among them. Some are illustrated here.

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Miscellaneana: Paul Storr, silversmith and entrepreneur

The Penrhyn Castle wine coolers, commissioned from Paul Storr in 1816. Photo Koopman Rare Art

The Penrhyn Castle wine coolers, commissioned from Paul Storr in 1816. Photo Koopman Rare Art

 

LONDON – Paul Storr is one of England’s most famous, yet perhaps also most elusive, 19th century silversmiths. Some would say he was the greatest. Certainly, his magnificent creations set new standards during the Regency era of extravagance.

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Miscellaneana: Scarce tanzanite gemstones

An 18K white and yellow gold dress ring, the square-cut tanzanite weighing approximately 2 carats, shouldered by three-brilliant cut diamonds. It sold for £1,600. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

An 18K white and yellow gold dress ring, the square-cut tanzanite weighing approximately 2 carats, shouldered by three-brilliant cut diamonds. It sold for £1,600. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

 

LONDON – Our bejewelled friend suggested we take a look at a particular TV shopping channel. Broadcasting 24 hours a day, seven days a week all year round, it’s a cornucopia of glitzy jewelry, featuring gemstones sourced direct from the mines at bargain basement prices. She said we might learn something.

It had certainly worked for our friend. A customer for several years, she had built a substantial collection of highly wearable rings and bracelets, and it hadn’t broken the bank. More importantly, though, she has become something of an armchair gemmology expert.

So we tuned in. True, the presenters babbling incessantly, almost without pausing for breath, can quickly wear thin. But if you go beyond the nonstop, hard-sell commercialism, it soon became apparent that gemmology can be a fascinating topic for the amateur collector.

An 18K gold-mounted pendant, the oval cut tanzanite weighing approximately 29 carats, surrounded by 33 small brilliant-cut diamonds. Accompanied by a certificate confirming the tanzanite to be AAA quality, it sold for £3,600. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

An 18K gold-mounted pendant, the oval cut tanzanite weighing approximately 29 carats, surrounded by 33 small brilliant-cut diamonds. Accompanied by a certificate confirming the tanzanite to be AAA quality, it sold for £3,600. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

 

It helps that the presenters appear to know what they’re talking about, indeed, one we listened to said she was in the middle of exams to gain an internationally recognised gemmological qualification. Would we buy from it? Probably not, but with the 30-day, no quibble, money-back guarantee the channel offers, there seems no reason not to.

It was the stories behind the gems being sold that interested me most, particularly one found only in one location in the world and said to be many times rarer than diamonds: tanzanite and yes, it comes from Tanzania.

How it came to be discovered, marketed so successfully and now in increasingly short supply makes for fascinating, yet sobering, reading. The scarcer it becomes, the more likely the beautiful deep blue stone is to be faked by the unscrupulous.

Tanzanite is actually a variety of a mineral called zoisite. It ranges in color from blue, purple, green, brown, pink, yellow, gray or colorless, and was first found as far back as the 1800s, but tanzanite is special.

A dress ring mounted in 18K white gold by Theo Fennell, the oval-cut tanzanite of approximately 1.2 carats flanked by small pear-cut diamonds. It sold for £1,000. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

A dress ring mounted in 18K white gold by Theo Fennell, the oval-cut tanzanite of approximately 1.2 carats flanked by small pear-cut diamonds. It sold for £1,000. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

 

It’s a gem-quality zoisite ranging in color from deep blue to burgundy red through violet and purple and several gem hunters have claimed they were the first to find it.

It was discovered in the Mererani hills in the shadow of Mount Kilimanjaro, Northern Tanzania, as recently at 1967. It was formed probably by an eruption from the volcano, perhaps 500 million years ago.

An Indian tailor called Manuel de Souza, “Mad Manuel” as he was known, was an amateur prospector who made and mended clothes to pay his way around Africa searching for deposits of gold, rubies and diamonds.

In those early days fragments of the gem could be found lying on the ground, which is how Manuel stumbled across what he first believed to be sapphire. Although treacly-brown in its raw state, it is thought that heat from a huge grass fire had turned the deposits into a bright violet blue.

A suite of tanzanite jewellery comprising a line bracelet interspersed by point diamonds; a pair of drop earrings; a ring; and a pendant on a chain, all in 14ct gold, sold for £460. Photo Peter Wilson auctioneers

A suite of tanzanite jewelry comprising a line bracelet interspersed by point diamonds; a pair of drop earrings; a ring; and a pendant on a chain, all in 14K gold, sold for £460. Photo Peter Wilson Auctioneers

 

After registering a claim to mine the area, he showed samples to Dr. John Saul, a geologist based at the time in Nairobi. He in turn sent them to his father, Hyman Saul, who just happened to be vice-president of top New York department store Saks Fifth Avenue.

Saul Snr subsequently showed the gems to Henry Platt, the great grandson of Louis Comfort Tiffany, and Walter Hoving, president of the world famous jewelers and the rest, as they say, is history.

By then officially identified as zoisite by the august Gemmological Institute of America, the gem was named tanzanite by Hoving in honor of its country of origin. It was launched by Tiffany with a range of jewellery in 1978 amid great fanfare as “the most beautiful blue stone discovered in over 2,000 years.”

The imagination of jewelry buyers was instantly fired. Global sales skyrocketed and in 1998 and 1999, tanzanite was declared the world’s most popular colored gemstone. In 2002, it was adopted as the birthstone for December in the first change to the official list since 1912, boosting sales still further.

Tanzanite remains among the top 10 best sellers in the international gem market, but the mines producing it are situated in a tiny area of about eight square miles and they remain the only known source in the world. It is feared they will be worked out in less than 50 years.

Gem-5A tanzanite and diamond oval cluster ring, the central mixed cut stone surrounded by 30 brilliant diamonds, all set in 18ct white gold, sold for £1,500. Photo Peter Wilson auctioneers

A tanzanite and diamond oval cluster ring, the central mixed cut stone surrounded by 30 brilliant diamonds, all set in 18Kwhite gold, sold for £1,500. Photo Peter Wilson Auctioneers

 

Regrettably, scarcity means higher prices but worse, it has created a draw for the unscrupulous to get rich quick.

In its raw state, the dominant of three colors that make up tanzanite is brown. When it is heated in gemmological ovens, the brown is removed, leaving the blue and violet dominant and as might be expected, the deeper the blue, the greater the value.

This is an accepted process and virtually all the mineral goes through it before it is worked into jewelry. Without it, the beautiful blues for which the gem is treasured would not occur.

Unlike some gems, there is as yet no synthetic process capable of producing natural tanzanite. Should that ever be made possible, reputable dealers would identify any stones that were not natural, as is the case with, for example, rubies and emeralds made in the lab.

A tanzanite and diamond ring, the oval mixed-cut central stone weighing approximately 4.9cts, surrounded by brilliant-cut diamonds, set in 18ct white gold. Sold for £2,300. Photo Peter Wilson auctioneers

A tanzanite and diamond ring, the oval mixed-cut central stone weighing approximately 4.9 carats, surrounded by brilliant-cut diamonds, set in 18K white gold. Sold for £2,300. Photo Peter Wilson Auctioneers

 

There is no shortage of imitations, however. Cubic zirconia (CZ) best known as a diamond substitute, is now being produced to look like tanzanite, as are other manufactured materials such as laboratory-grown forsterite, coranite, tanavyte, corundum garnet and spinel.

With supplies dwindling, prices rising and demand surging, even blue glass has been passed off as tanzanite. The latest wheeze is to enhance the color of pale tanzanite with a coating of cobalt, which only a highly experienced specialist is able to spot.

Over time the covering is prone to wear, particularly on the edges of stones’ facets, but by then it’s too late.

The answer, of course, is to buy only from reliable sources you can trust. In every case, you should insist on a guarantee from the seller in the form of a written certificate and, where possible, one that quotes a gem’s position on an official tanzanite quality grading scale such as that used for diamonds covering the three C’s: color, clarity and cut.
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By CHRISTOPHER PROUDLOVE

ChristopherProudloveBoilerplate

Miscellaneana: Buttons, those age-old fascinating fasteners

Part of a group of late 19th century French gold-plated and enamel buttons decorated with flowers. They were among a lot sold for £290. Photo The Canterbury Auction Gallerie

Part of a group of late 19th century French gold-plated and enamel buttons decorated with flowers. They were among a lot sold for £290. Photo The Canterbury Auction Gallerie

 

LONDON – So there we were, tramping around the streets of Lille, France, for the annual braderie – the world’s biggest antiques fair cum car boot sale, pockets full of euros … and nothing to spend them on. Anything any good was either eye-wateringly expensive (and not worth it) or damaged (or both) or modern reproductions (fakes) and still expensive. What a disappointment.

And then we came across the traders’ stall pictured here. Each little brown paper parcel, prepared lovingly by German dealers Volker and Florian, contained a set of matching buttons from makers in Bärnau and Lüdenscheid that had been in business since the end of the 18th century but had ceased trading in the 1970s. The dealers had presumably emptied their stockrooms and warehouses.

Just one part of Volker and Florian’s stall containing hundreds of parcels of buttons. The button tied to the top of each parcel indicates its contents. Each parcel cost between 8 and 10 euros (£5-£7). Photo author

Just one part of Volker and Florian’s stall containing hundreds of parcels of buttons. The button tied to the top of each parcel indicates its contents. Each parcel cost between 8 and 10 euros (£5-£7). Photo author

 

The vast array included every type of button available to womankind. There were French jet ones made from rods of black glass, mother of pearl ones, ceramic ones, Art Deco plastic ones and metal ones, some of which were silver or gold plated. And they were cheap: the Business Manager (Mrs. P) bought several parcels at 8 and 10 euros (about £5-£7) a go for up to 30 euros, all of which had never been on a garment.

As the price of many antiques spiral beyond the means of most of us, button collecting is a hobby you could take up for, well, buttons. That said, it’s unlikely you’ll find (let alone afford) any button that dates before the 19th century, although buttons have been around since the sixth century.

Nineteenth and 20th century buttons in clear, blue and black glass. They sold for £110. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

Nineteenth and 20th century buttons in clear, blue and black glass. They sold for £110. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

 

Come the Industrial Revolution and British button makers led the world. Centered on Birmingham, a number of companies had established themselves, notably uniform button makers Firmin and Sons (founded 1667); Hammond Turner and Sons (1717) J.R. Gaunt (1750); Jennens and Co., (1800) together with individuals such as William Collins, William Bell and Matthew Boulton, were quick to adopt mechanisation that permitted mass-production on a mammoth scale.

Growth coincided with the demise of the crinoline dress and, while men’s somber-colored clothing used only cloth-covered or small gilt buttons, women’s outfits were smothered in a bewildering variety of shapes and sizes, hence the appearance of buttonhooks, another collectible today. The vogue continued to gather pace until the outbreak of World War I.

A group of stamped and pierced brass and metal buttons decorated with figural and designs. They sold as part of a lot for £170. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

A group of stamped and pierced brass and metal buttons decorated with figural and designs. They sold as part of a lot for £170. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

 

The Edwardian period from about 1880-1914 saw the button industry reach its peak. Rapidly changing fashion helped, as did the invention of the home sewing machine and the appearance of paper sewing patterns.

Fancy buttons, particularly elaborate examples in porcelain, enamel and artistically wrought metal, were adopted not just to act as fasteners but also as decorative adornments to clothes.

The sinuous designs of the Art Nouveau period are reflected in the shapes and styles of its buttons, although these are today comparatively expensive additions to a collection. Steel and glass buttons from this era are particularly desirable, but most sought after are in silver, with those decorated with la femme fleur, the flower girl, being priced at a premium.

Part of a collection of late 19th and early 20th century cast metal, ivory, plastic, wood and glass buttons the faces decorated with birds, insects and butterflies. The collection sold for £140. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

Part of a collection of late 19th and early 20th century cast metal, ivory, plastic, wood and glass buttons the faces decorated with birds, insects and butterflies. The collection sold for £140. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

 

Output slumped after 1914 and barely recovered before World War II. However, styles of women’s clothes prompted the production of buttons of huge circumference in wood and bone, although imports, notably from France, Germany and America, exceeded exports.

The period also saw the emergence of Art Deco design and buttons in glass, painted metal, vegetable ivory and celluloid, exhibiting the style of the New Age woman that are rapidly reaching the levels of Art Nouveau examples.

The shortage of labor, raw materials and factories following the war resulted in some of the most bizarre of all buttons. Novelties are found in plastic, Perspex, hardboard, cork, shells, plaster of paris and even rabbit fur.

American manufacturers were hit less hard than their British counterparts but were first to feel the draught from the invention of the zipper fastener and the modern washing machine with spin drier. From a collector’s point of view, that was the end of the button.

Deciding what type of button to collect is as hard as choosing a meal in a Chinese takeaway because the list is almost endless. Space does not permit an exhaustive list, but here are a few favorites.

Part of a group of late 19th century French gold plated and enamel buttons decorated with flowers. They were among a lot sold for £290. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

Part of a group of late 19th century French gold plated and enamel buttons decorated with flowers. They were among a lot sold for £290. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

 

Boxed sets of Art Nouveau silver buttons are desirable, if your pocket is deep enough. Silver was used for only a short period between about 1890-1910, mainly because it was quickly realized that the metal marked the clothing to which the buttons were attached. As a result, boxed sets are commonly found still intact.

Sheffield plate (in which a thin sheet of silver is fused to a copper base) and electroplated silver buttons were produced from about 1750. They do not mark fabric and consequently were used widely for military and civil uniforms and liveries of servants. Identifying the coats of arms and other decoration on such buttons makes a fascinating extra dimension to a collection.

Enameled buttons, in which a layer of finely ground glass of varying colours is applied to the metal surface and fired to an intense heat, date from either the 18th century or the Edwardian period when they enjoyed a revival. The former exhibit superb quality, the latter charming prettiness, although both have become relatively expensive.

Glass buttons are probably the most common and beautiful examples can be picked up for the proverbial song. Faceted black glass – in which a series of flat surfaces were first hand-cut and later molded into the surface – are known as French jet and sit happily on modern fashions.

A group of 20th century pressed glass buttons by Bimini and Orplid, part of a lots sold for £280. Bimini was a glassworks founded by Fritz Lampl in Vienna in 1923. Lampl changed the name to Orplid when he immigrated to England in 1938, building a furnace in the basement of his home in London. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

A group of 20th century pressed glass buttons by Bimini and Orplid, part of a lots sold for £280. Bimini was a glassworks founded by Fritz Lampl in Vienna in 1923. Lampl changed the name to Orplid when he immigrated to England in 1938, building a furnace in the basement of his home in London. Photo The Canterbury Auction Galleries

 

They should not be confused with true Whitby jet, which looks similar, but is a more valuable natural mineral. Jet was rarely used for buttons because it is soft and easily damaged. Tell the difference between it and black glass by rubbing the button against the enamel of your teeth: glass is rough and scratchy, jet glides smoothly without resistance.

Ceramic buttons (not to be confused with pressed clay) have never been mass-produced but made in limited quantities by such as Josiah Wedgwood, Copeland, Mintons, Manchester-based Pilkington, Ruskin, Brannam, Meissen, Limoges, Delft and superb Japanese Satsuma. Affordable examples of any of the above are rare finds today.

Pressed clay buttons, produced by the million by a mechanised process invented by Richard Prosser of Birmingham and later adapted for tile manufacture, are cheap enough, as are those produced during the 1930s from countless unidentifiable British studio potteries.

Investing in buttons is hardly likely to make anyone a fortune, but those made from Bakelite (invented in 1908 by Belgian chemist Dr. Leo Hendrick Baekeland); celluloid (an imitation ivory invented in 1869 by John W. Hyatt of New Jersey); plastic; Perspex and synthetic resin are sure to increase in value as they become more appreciated.

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By CHRISTOPHER PROUDLOVE

ChristopherProudloveBoilerplate

Miscellaneana: British artist Charles Spencelayh

Spencelayh-1“Antiques”, an oil on board by Charles Spencelayh, estimated at £20,000-30,000. Photo Peter Wilson auctioneers

‘Antiques,’ an oil on board by Charles Spencelayh, estimated at £20,000-30,000. Photo Peter Wilson auctioneers

 

LONDON – When a painting sells for a world record £280,000, it’s time to take notice. When you learn that the artist painted it while he was living and working under he patronage of a rich cotton merchant, you just have to learn more about the man whose name is spelled in such a strange way.

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Miscellaneana: Sunderland lustre ware

A 19th century Sunderland pottery lustre wall plaque, the pink and copper lustre framing a scene titled 'A West View of the Cast Iron Bridge over the River Wear, Sunderland. Built by R Burdon Esq MP Begun Sepr 24th 1793 Open'd Augt 9 1796 Span 236 feet Height 100 feet'. The 9-inch wide plaque sold for £70. Photo Ewbank’s auctioneers

A 19th century Sunderland pottery lustre wall plaque, the pink and copper lustre framing a scene titled ‘A West View of the Cast Iron Bridge over the River Wear, Sunderland. Built by R Burdon Esq MP Begun Sepr 24th 1793 Open’d Augt 9 1796 Span 236 feet Height 100 feet’. The 9-inch wide plaque sold for £70. Photo Ewbank’s auctioneers

LONDON – I’ve always been intrigued by Victorian lustre pottery, but it’s not until you start to learn more about the stuff that you discover the technique to make it dates back to the 9th century. Ironically, it was produced probably by accident.

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