01 February 2017

Bamboo: Symbol of the Upright Scholar

Making a few notes re. my birthday visit a week or so ago to the Museum of Fine Arts Houston with my dear friend since college days. We've been walking through that museum together for almost 50 years. Such a friendship is the best gift!

MFAH Emperors Treasures: Chinese Art from the National Palace Museum, Taipei

Cathey noted the dynasty changes and interactions with other world cultures. This was particularly noteworthy in the interactions of Taoist and Buddhist Emperors and the art they collected.
In the 14th Century, world trade gave Chinese potters access to Persian Cobalt and the pottery changed from exquisite white and pale green solids to blue and white that is now almost a cliché of Asian art.
 I noted how each emperor and the single empress appeared to demonstrate artistic taste and literary skill as proof of their qualifications to lead. The arts which the emperors both made (the royal calligraphy was done in a special red ink) and collected in some sense legitimized their reigns.
Each change of dynasty required those artists who were part of the court to decide whether they would remain loyal to the overthrown dynasty and lose their positions or whether they would support the new emperor.
We also wondered if art projects, especially the large pottery collections, might have been employment programs, an economic alliance, a sort of quid pro quo.
Funny how the past reverberates into the present. The day we visited Mr. Trump had proclaimed that he would not fund the National Endowment for the Arts and National Endowment for the Humanities. I wept.
I  noted a calligraphic quote from Kangxi, Emperor of the Qing dynasty, which may prove good advice for the times in which we are living:
"A kind edict: Heed rashness and persevere."

When I was a sophomore at Floydada High School, the world history teacher was Mr. O. W. Lewis who loved Chinese history. I was surprised and grateful at how much I remembered. I wish he could have walked through this exhibition with me.
I am grateful for so many teachers, past and present.
My very most favorite things were small painted cards that were made as gifts for friends: "Bamboo, symbol of the upright scholar." So the little public domain illustration at the top of this post is for all the "upright scholars" in my life.
I've always subscribed to the "don't draw what you can trace, don't trace what you can photocopy, and don't photocopy what you can cut and paste" theory of illustration. I fear I have little artistic talent like Kubla Khan who "expressed his artistic inclinations through appreciation."

Another great favorite was the gourd (also Kangxi, I think) which had been encased in a patterned wooden or ceramic mold so that as it grew the mold transferred the pattern to the gourd.  A difficult art combining both human artistry and the work of nature. Here is a link to a piece that is very similar if not the same one in the exhibit: http://treasure.chinesecio.com/en/article/2009-08/25/content_13735.htm

Let's heed poet Mary Oliver's quote and "think again of dangerous and noble things." Let's all strive to be "upright scholars" and "be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing."
Remember, emperors live and die, dynasties rise and fall, but art and literature and things of "beauty are a joy forever." Let's save as much of it as we can.



23 January 2017

Victorian Flower Gems: My Feminist Brooch


My love of costume jewelry is well known to my friends. I am blessed to have several pieces that belonged to my grandmothers and at least one that belonged to a great grandmother. When I shop an antique store, a pawn shop, or an estate sale, I always browse the jewelry for something interesting or pretty. My collecting rule is simply that I must be able to afford it and I must like it. If I see something of intrinsic value that is under priced, I buy it. Once I told a pair of weeping sisters at their mother’s estate sale to reconsider selling a couple of sterling silver earrings bearing a well-known designer mark for $2.00 because I heard them talking about how their parents had honeymooned in Mexico and I knew those earrings to be of that vintage and that they were really worth at least several hundred dollars. Knowing that, they decided to keep them. I felt good about that. (I might have been less generous if I had liked the earrings better.)
I often grab up odds and ends, even broken jewelry that is cheap with good stones or interesting beads because I do a bit of beading and some jewelry repair. Many a friend has asked me to replace a missing stone in a treasured family heirloom or to go through the contents of her mother’s or grandmother’s treasure boxes to help decide what to keep, what to have appraised, what to sell, and what to discard. Some have brought me baggies of old jewelry because “no one wants these but I thought of you.” Such a haphazard collection is better described as an accumulation because few of my pieces have been cataloged or documented.

If I had more money, it is possible I’d collect the real thing but perhaps not. One of the things I love about this old jewelry is that it was the pride and joy of ordinary women who pinned it on their best dresses or coat lapels and wore it to town, to work, to parties, to weddings, to social and civic events, and to church. These sparkly items made those middle class or poor women feel pretty, rich, and valued. They contributed to their identities. These brooches and pins are the ones displayed in old photographs. Those pieces that are passed down through families become a connection to history that is both personal and cultural. Such women’s history is not always recorded elsewhere. There is something in me that says these things that have been so treasured are not (or should not be) rubbish.

Many of the pieces reflect the aesthetics of their time and may be considered works of art. I have several pieces that I never wear but display on my dresser top or enjoy as beautiful art that I can hold in the palm of my hand.

A couple of decades ago for my birthday, my sister-in-law gave me a vintage brooch. She had bought it at an estate sale from a mutual friend (who is a bit older than I) who thought it might have once belonged to her grandmother or one of her aunts. She had no memories associated with it and needed a bit of cash and to unclutter her house. My sister-in-law was very pleased at my delight upon unwrapping it, saying, “It looked like something you might like even if it is missing several stones. I thought about trying to clean it up a bit but decided you would prefer to do it yourself.”

She was right. I gently cleaned the brooch with a soft brush and some canned air. I decided not to risk unsetting the stones with a more vigorous or liquid based cleaning. I judged there to have been at least two previous attempts at repair. When one of those ordinary women has tried to repair a family piece, I see it as an indicator of the value attached to the piece by its owner. My advice is that unless you can pay a professional to do a repair, unless they or you have access to matching stones, don’t do anything. Consider the missing stone part of the history and charm of the piece, pin it on your shoulder or lapel and wear it with pride and joy as our foremothers did.

I wish I had taken a “before” picture.
An original “ruby” had been reset but poorly and there is visible glue residue that obscures the sparkle. A second “ruby” had also been replaced with a slightly smaller but well matched red glass stone and again I note glue residue. One of the “emeralds” had also been reset or replaced; that stone is a lighter color and perhaps just a bit smaller so it could be a near miss replacement. Since glue residue is again visible, it could be that the glue has damaged the foil backing of the green glass stone which would dull the color. Fearing I might damage those stones I left most of the glue residue in place.  I left all those stones in place since I thought they enhanced rather than detracted from the brooch and were a part of its history that I wished to honor.
There is one large pearl and its setting entirely missing which leaves a small gap in the lower left center of the brooch.
A poorly executed replacement had been attempted for the missing smaller pearl. I removed a simulated pearl glass bead that was too large for the setting with the hole in that bead distractingly visible. I may one day attempt a repair if/when I find a well-matched replacement pearl.
There were several odd beads stuck onto the ends of some of the prongs along the bottom of the pin. Wrong materials, wrong color, wrong style, and clearly not elements that were original to the brooch. I removed and discarded them. I suppose there might have been something on those prongs but I cannot imagine what, and this large brooch with multiple stones and settings is certainly enough. At that point I had a small, sculptural piece to lay on an antique handkerchief on the dresser in my flowers and lace over-the-top-Victorian bathroom in my previous house. I loved it there and had no intention to wear it.
  
Then one day a few years later, I saw a near identical piece with genuine gem stones in either a museum’s exhibition catalog (a reliable source) or a vendor’s catalog (a not so reliable source.)
For this blog post, I cannot find the citation and it’s possible it was among the notes I lost in a computer crash that I could not recover. (Yes, I know. I thought I was backed up. Early auto back-up technology failed me. Alas!)
If memory serves, the original was a 19th Century brooch with emeralds, rubies, pearls, diamonds, amethysts, and smaller pearls in an 18-carat gold setting. The description named the original owner saying it had been custom made for her to proclaim her support for both Women’s Suffrage and Christian Temperance. My memory of the description of this original museum quality piece is that it dated to about 1850. The presence of three large diamonds could be indicative of a date after 1867 when South African diamonds were discovered and diamonds became more available.

A few other dates may be helpful in considering the dating of my brooch and the original upon which it is based.
The British Association for the Promotion of Temperance was established in 1835 and in 1884 the National Temperance Federation was founded.
The Earl of Carlyle introduced a bill for female suffrage in 1851, and Jacob Bright introduced a bill for woman suffrage in the House of Commons in 1870. In 1897 local British societies that were advocating women’s suffrage merged into the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies. In 1903 the more militant Suffragettes emerged.
The “language of flowers” expressed in fine jewelry was at its most popular in Victorian Britain between 1837 (or a bit earlier) and about 1850 and remained popular with the rising middle class and in America to 1880 or so.  
Late Victorian author Evelyn Whitaker (I archive books and ephemeral materials pertaining to her life and work) made extensive use of the language of flowers in her books, particularly in her novel Laddie. In 1876 Laddie was the prize story for the Christmas number of The Monthly Packet of Evening Readings for Members of the English Church. Its first book edition, published anonymously, was in 1879 by Walter Smith, London.

At first glance, my brooch appears to be a late 19th or early 20th Century (circa 1897) reproduction of the circa 1851 museum quality piece that once belonged to a wealthy woman who supported both Women’s Suffrage and Christian Temperance.
The brooch has a stamped brass filigree base with multiple adjustable settings connected to a second brass setting atop it that contains multiple settings for various floral elements and settings for stones and beads. The brooch is very 3 dimensional and mimics a floral gathering. The workmanship is excellent.
The aesthetic is pure 19th Century but the locking C-clasp which appears to be original is a strong argument that my brooch may be a WWII era American Victorian Revival reproduction. The gem stones with the possible exception of the pearls are all imitation.
In any case, the meanings behind the stones and setting make this brooch a strong feminist statement and I wear it with pride and joy on appropriate occasions.

Now a close reading of the brooch:

A double infinity bow at the top indicates two things “tied together forever” a symbol of unity.
The ivy leaves scattered throughout the brooch’s setting symbolize fidelity, eternal faithfulness, and friendship.
The presence of a diamond, symbol of purity and eternity, is intended to bring the wearer strength.

3 Emeralds  Emeralds are the gemstone for Venus signifying womanhood as a giver of life.             In Christian symbology it is the color of the evergreen, eternally green and growing                         Eternal life.  Emeralds are believed to enable clear thinking about past, present, future.                   Suffragette green represented hope and spring, the season of new life.
The emeralds are in a 3-petal floral setting which I don’t recognize. The three petals could reinforce the idea of past, present, future.  If it is a stylized pansy, it would signify remembrance.
Given its location in the setting and its proximity to two of the rubies , this emerald element might say “Remember all life flows through women/mothers.”

3 Rubies    "Who can find a worthy woman, a woman of valor. Her value is greater than rubies.”  The image from  Proverbs 31 is a salute to wisdom, particularly feminine wisdom.  A ruby may also represent courage.
Each ruby is set in six-petal rosette, associated with Aphrodite and represents sexual energy, and femininity. Six is a perfect number. It is sometimes called the “Seed of Life” and represents Creation. 

Beside one of the ruby rosettes is a diamond to signify purity and strength.
Beside the second ruby rosette is a large pearl, “the pearl of great price” from the parables of Jesus. Pearls are sometimes viewed as symbols of purity and feminine wisdom.
The third ruby is flanked by a diamond and a large pearl which is missing in my brooch.

3 Amethysts     The purple amethyst is the symbol of royalty and political power.
The ancients thought it was formed from Dionysus’ drunken tears, a meaning that may be reinforced by the tear drop shape. Victorians often used seed pearls to symbolize tears but these seem a bit too big.
For the suffragette, purple is not only the color of royalty but of freedom and dignity. 
Amethysts also symbolize chastity, sobriety, and self-control.

5 pearls around each amethyst  Victorians often used seed pearls to symbolize tears but these seem a bit too big. I think they are again“the pearl of great price”  representing the thing of such value that it is worth pursuing at all costs.
For the suffragette, white is the color of purity in both private and public lives and pearls are often used in suffragette jewelry.
For the temperance advocate, the goal would be sobriety.
Five is a significant number in biblical numerology and indicates the grace of God.
"The goals of both Women's Suffrage and Christian Temperance are worth pursuing at all costs and are achievable by the grace of God."

Emeralds, Pearls, and Amethysts may represent the green (Give), white (Women), and violet (Votes) of the suffragette banners.
Rubies, Amethysts, Pearls, and Emeralds may also mean “for the sake of your dear mother/wife pledge yourself to sobriety and the pearl of great price, everlasting life.”

On Friday 20 January 2017, Inauguration Day I dressed in all black as a sign of mourning and I wore this brooch. I wore it again on Saturday. I couldn’t march but I did go to the Museum of Fine Arts Houston which one of my friends had suggested as an alternative activity to affirm support for the National Endowment for the Arts.

The other jewelry is this picture:
Birthstone amethyst earrings that belonged to my paternal grandmother, Oma Calahan Cummings.
The gold cross belonged to my mother, Dorthy Wieland Cummings, who bought it at a “junk shop” and wore it throughout her teen years as a profession of faith.
I beaded my necklace of natural garnets (my birth stone) and antique Czechoslovakian ruby glass beads. My mother loved it at first sight and also had a January birthday so I loaned it to her for a decade or so.
The pink stone and pearl pin ornamenting the hanger is one of my first pieces of jewelry. I've had the Victorian reproduction piece since about the seventh grade. The dress is the one I wore for my sister’s wedding as her matron of honor.

Do you know something about my brooch that I don’t?

Have you perhaps seen the original in a museum?
                                                                                                                                                                    Do you have a special piece of jewelry?

Name your favorite feminist/suffragette. Mine is whoever wore the original of my brooch. 

18 September 2015

" Goosedom" notes


NINETEENTH-CENTURY GENDER STUDIES 
ISSUE 8.1 (SPRING 2012)

Charlotte Yonge’s “Goosedom”
By Georgina O’Brien Hill, University of Chester

http://www.ncgsjournal.com/issue81/hill.htm


Charlotte Yonge's essay society for teenage girls and young women

THE GOSLING SOCIETY

1859-1877

Unidentified Goslings
PETREL
OWL
PENA
HUMMING BIRD
OSTRICH
ROWAN TREE

17 September 2015

Allingham's Old Worn Woman

This painting by Helen Allingham (1848-1926) "Old Worn Woman" reminds me of an illustration in one of Evelyn Whitaker's books or maybe its cover.
I need to follow-up. No time just now.
 A link to the blog where  I found it from the BWWA facebook group.
 https://reveriesunderthesignofausten.wordpress.com/2015/08/19/helen-allingham-1848-1926/

Sometimes I need a Yia Yia...


from Mrs. Beeton's Everyday Cookery
I am not feeling well today and what I really, really want is a huge bowl of Yia Yia's Chicken Soup from my favorite Greek restaurant which closed several years ago when the owners went home to Greece to care for an aging mother. I miss them, I miss the restaurant, I miss the herbed lamb souvlaki, but most of all I miss Yia Yia's chicken soup.

The healing powers of chicken soup are legendary. I was never really sure if it was the soup or the maternal hands that prepared and served it.

My own mother, an excellent cook, did not often make soups. She made stews laden with big chunks of meat and home grown vegetables. Her chicken and homemade egg noodles can warm a winter's night and right a world turned upside down.
Both my grandmothers cooked much like my mother. My maternal grandmother, Mary B. Wieland's German heritage added thick stews made with sausage and cabbage and beets and potatoes, lots of potatoes--all delicious but none serving much medicinal purpose.
We are a generally healthy clan with appetites to match and have little need for "invalid cookery."*

"Invalid" is an interesting word rooted {and now I'm down the rabbit hole} in the Latin, meaning"not strong" or "without strength" which in the 17th Century came to be used for the sick and infirm. It is a word that now may be considered politically incorrect, as are a couple of its synonyms e.g. "illegitimate" and "illegal."
Adjectives applied to people are increasingly at issue. I think that sometimes we use language to define, to limit, to stereotype, to divide, to disempower. Our words reveal our thinking of "them" as something other, of something less than I. It can say "you are not one of us, you do not matter." It comes as no surprise that people may be hurt (which might have been part of our intent) and may become angry and object to our attitude and to our words. Those "words that never hurt" can lead to  "sticks and stones" and suddenly the issue becomes political. To me it is seems less "political correctness" and more a matter of "treating others as you would like to be treated."
{Dear reader,  these rabbit holes and my compulsion to explore the world of words is one reason I never seem to get anything done. I've been lost in the dictionary, multiple cookbooks, a nursing archive, and the interwebs for hours. I usually call it research and I justify this excursion by noting that Evelyn Whitaker features many a sick room in her novels. In truth, I'm indulging myself because I'm not well.}

Returning to the subject at hand:
My husband's mother never enjoyed cooking and produced a brood of picky eaters who often prefer the pale store bought version to yummy homemade. David once said he thought it was "tragic that a cook of your skill and taste is married to a man who can so little appreciate really good food." His comfort food of choice is Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup.
Campbell's out-of-a-can-with-too-much-salt-and-very-little-Chicken-with-overcooked-limp-pasty-Noodles-Soup that I find unbearably bland and barely edible. Nonetheless, there are always several cans in my pantry because "the healing powers of chicken soup are legendary" and an ailing husband must be comforted with chicken soup like his mother made.

I'm going to share a secret. The  woman who owned that Greek restaurant and made her Yia Yia's chicken soup said, "almost any soup can be turned into Avgolemono soup, even that nasty canned stuff can be improved with an egg and some lemon juice. Just remember to add lots of extra dill. Most of the recipes don't call for dill but that's how my Yia Yia made it and that's what you like."

Yes, I sometimes make Yia Yia's Chicken Soup using a classic recipe for Avgolemono (Egg & Lemon) Chicken Soup and I add dill, dried or fresh and lots of it. Like my Greek friend I may use the traditional pasta but "sometimes I make it with rice because you Houstonians like rice" and often I have rice already cooked in my fridge.
While I never had a Yia Yia, my soup is always very, very good.

1907 edition from my collection
Today I'm sick, much too sick to cook and I understand Mrs. Beeton's admonishment to ". . . give such food as affords most nourishment for the least work. . . ."* 
Especially when the cook is also the patient.

Needing the legendary healing powers of chicken soup, I grab that Campbell's can from the pantry. I put it in a pan and add half a can of water. Then I add a lot of dill, dried and handy in my spice rack. (Sometimes I add a dash of onion powder and some celery seed but not today.) While it heats, I separate an egg and beat the yolk very well. I whisk the juice of a lemon into the yolk. Temper it with hot broth, then stir it into the soup.  I sometimes strain out those limp noodles and I hope there's some crusty bread or a few croutons, but, whatever is at hand,  I eat and feel better.

*Here is link to the 1907 edition of Mrs. Beeton's Everyday Cookery. London: Ward & Lock, which is in my collection. Her advice for Invalid Cookery is on pages 107-109 and there is no mention of chicken soup.
Here is another link with recipes from those chapters from an earlier edition. I think I'll just skip the Eel Broth and the Rabbits Cooked in Milk.

{Dear reader, Yes! It is really research since finding this recipe may explain a rabbit included in the "Notices to Correspondents" of The Monthly Packet (Charolotte Yonge, ed.) 1884: "For the Buttercups Building Fund, gratefully acknowledged. Mrs. Barnett, £2; Stamps, 6d.; Lady returned from Berks, £l; N. H., 5s.; a Rabbit, 2s.; privately acknowledged, £3 16s.
Miss Whitaker, Hinton, Twyford, Berks"
Alas!
For those of us who visualized the bunny frolicking on the meadows lawn and being petted by sweet children, it may well have been so until it was prepared per Mrs. Beeton's recipe for invalid cookery.}

19 March 2015

Abandoned in a shoe box...

A few days ago, "my memory turning to lace" could not produce the name of a woman I met at the British Women Writers Conference 2010 and with whom I had had a lovely conversation re. Christian Rossetti. I know that all my conference notes are carefully put away somewhere. Where? Not found. In turning a closet and one room into a disaster area, what I found was an archival box labeled: "K To Do" which I had not seen since we moved in 2012. Oh, my! Most stuff went straight to recycle but buried away were some pages torn from spiral notebooks. I usually keep a notebook at hand to scribble random thoughts, notes, to do lists, my journal. When a notebook is full I rip out the scribble pages, put an end date on the cover, and put it on the shelf on my other journals. I am always left with a few things that need to be transcribed to one of my projects. Such were the items that I simply abandoned and forgot.

"Among those whom I like or admire, I can find no common denominator, but among those whom I love, I can: all of them make me laugh."  W.H. Auden (1907 - 1973) I have no idea where I read this quote or why I noted it. For me it's not particularly true. The paper indicates that I noted it in the early 1980s and also has a tree of computer commands that I think are probably for my first computer, a KayproII which David bought for me the first year it came out (1982) and I most happily used well into the 1990s until I finally had to give up and buy something that could run Microsoft Word.

"If my life was, in my view, finite, how would I change my life today? Today is finite. Indeed, each moment is finite. "Today while it is yet today..." Choose. Is my current choice the best choice for me? Is the continual laying aside (putting off) my dreams a lofty self-sacrifice for the greater good? Or, is it, in truth, a betrayal of myself? If I made the best choice for me, without regard for others, would I do more good, ultimately, for others, too?" The type of notebook page and the pen I was using indicate that this note dates much later, the late 1990s. The first sentence may have been a writing prompt (I'm fairly certain that I would have written, "if my life were... finite... It's one of my grammarly sore spots.) from some psychological and spiritual guru or self-help book that I engaged before or during my Jubilee sabbatical in 1999. Still a good question for me to consider.

Pages torn from another notebook (later, I think probably about 10 years ago) continue those thoughts about choices in a list:

  1. Go see Mother & Daddy 4x/year Fall Spring Since they moved to Clifton I have gone much more often and Daddy died last year. I think that four times might be a better choice for me than the every couple of months that I try to keep on my current calendar.
  2. ??? Ladies Bible Class  ??? Church Library both of which I have now intentionally cut from my life
  3. need to stretch muslces: hamstrings! calves! I still need to do that
  4. If someone told me what I'm telling me, I'd say, "Different times in life demand different priorities. It's okay to back off and do what you need/want to do for your family." I'd still say the same except "family" might be changed to "yourself."
  5. Mother and Daddy said, "You've been good your whole life, we think you should have fun." I remember when they said that. We were lingering over breakfast before I left Clifton to go home. Often when Daddy said bye to one of his kids/grandkids/brothers/cousins, he'd say, "you be good now." Mother interrupted him and said, "No, Kendall. Don't you remember what we said we were going to tell her from now on." And they said in unison, "You've been good your whole life, we think you should have fun." Made me cry then. Makes me cry now.

The crumpled edges of the ripped spiral holes of the next page are interlocked with the previous, perhaps indicating a response to my parents' instruction, and that page is another list titled What's Fun?:

  1. playing with Mandy
  2. puttering in my house & yard  plant flowers! birds!
  3. writing - my creative work
  4. reading
  5. daydreaming about my trip to UK
  6. music
  7. Rice baseball
  8. dinner parties

I could have written that list yesterday.

In 2000 as they do every four years, Weiss Tabletop Theater at Rice University staged an updated version of George Greanias's Hello, Hamlet! (1964) which David and I attended with classmates with whom we had seen the second production in 1968. The program from that production enclosed a  page from another notebook, from the time when I was using blue legal pads. In May 2003, we adopted Miss Mandy Whitepaws and I made a few notes for a musical a la Grenaias. Here is a list of songs to be adapted:
The portrait photo of Mandy
made three weeks after we got her.
Hello, Mandy! 
"Well, hello, Mandy. Welcome home, Mandy. It's so nice to have a dog where she belongs..." I still sing this one to her.
"I Enjoy Being a Dog..." to the tune of "I Enjoy Being a Girl" to be reprised as a duet "I Enjoy Having a Dog..."
"Crazy..."
"What Kind of Dog (Fool) Am I?"
"Look, I'm a Lassie tonight!" to "Luck, be a lady..."
"Some Bark, Some Don't" to Freddie Hart's Some do, some don't
"Bark, Bark, Mandy" to "Bye, Bye Birdie
and the grand finale
"Glory, Glory, Mandy Whitepaws (Hallelulja!)


Other items will be going back into the box for K To Do later.