Mystery tile part 3

Jun12

I’ve written two posts previously about a mystery tile of mine, one that was similar to an Iznik tile design, but not quite right for a confident identification as such. The first post is here, where I describe the tile, and the second is here, where I went in to a bit more detail about possible Iznik parallels. The skilled ceramists of Iznik in Turkey produced exquisite tiles, tableware and other decorated and glazed objects from the last quarter of the 15th century until the end of the 17th century AD.

The mystery tile. 22 cm x 22 cm.

The Iznik tiles didn’t quite match my tile, though. The interior of the flower spike in the Iznik examples have a painted fish-scale like decoration motif, whereas my tile had less-defined lumpy blobs with a fuzzier appearance. The background underglaze colours were different too: a crisper whiter colour in the Iznik examples versus the bluey-greyish off white of my tile. So it seemed likely that these were takes on the same design by different ceramic producers. Was one a copy of the other? I would assume mine was a copy of the Iznik tile, as it is less refined and cruder in execution.

After I wrote the second post I contacted Anthony Slayter-Ralph, whose company, Anthony Slayter-Ralph fine art, was selling one of the Iznik tiles I had used to illustrate the post. He very kindly informed me that he thought my tile was Syrian, dating from the 16th or 17th century.

Syrian! That made me wonder—had the local ceramicists seen the beautiful Iznik tiles in the tomb of Muhi al-Din Ibn ‘Arabi (known as Ibn ‘Arabi for short) in the Sheikh Muhiddin Mosque in Damascus, and decided to make their own versions? Ibn ‘Arabi was buried in 1240 AD, but the Iznik tiles were added during a later remodelling of the site.

So armed with this knowledge, I was able to refine my searches a bit. I came up with this page from a Christie’s 2006 auction, with an illustration of four tiles, including one, lot number 353, that looked a dead ringer for mine. Excitement! Closely followed by disappointment when it became apparent that the details for that particular lot were not available on the website for some reason. So close and yet so far!

A tile similar to mine (no 353, top left) sold in an auction of Indian and Islamic works of art, Christie’s, London, 7 April 2006.

Detail of the tile.

My tile.

It’s not a perfect match—again, the ‘pine cone/fish scales’ are painted, unlike on my example, and as there are no details for the Christie’s example—size, country of origin, etc—I am not much nearer knowing. But it’s the best match yet.

In my searches I came across this example too, one of a pair:

Damascus or Jerusalem, 18th century. Sold at Christie’s.

which is not such a close match, but it’s the same design, albeit a rather fancier interpretation. This one is attributed to either a Damascus or Jerusalem manufacturer, and dating from later, from the 18th century. It shows how the design retained its popularity.

UPDATE 18 October 2015: A very kind gentleman, Peter Malone, left a comment on my second post about this tile, saying that he thought it was an 18th century Damascus tile, and that the motif was a stylised cypress tree. So that ties in with the general provenance being Syria rather than Turkey. He mentioned a newly-published book which might be of interest: Damascus Tiles: Mamluk and Ottoman Architectural ceramics from Syria by Arthur Millner, published on 1 September 2015 by Prestel, and said that a similar tile was recently offered for sale at Rosebery’s Auction house in London:

Tile for sale at Rosebery's Auctuon, October 2015, described as 'A Persian tile, 19th century, decorated with stylised foliage and leaves, 23 x 23cm'.

Tile for sale at Rosebery’s Auction house, London, 6 October 2015, described in the catalogue as ‘A Persian tile, 19th century, decorated with stylised foliage and leaves, 23 x 23cm’.

It’s the same design, but again, the treatment of the interior of the cypress tree (as I must now call it) is painted cross-hatching rather than raised bobbles as on mine. It’s also almost the same size as mine. Interesting!

Sunday stroll: Tyneham and Worbarrow Bay

May25

Yesterday Chap and I headed south, to Tyneham and Worbarrow Bay in the Purbeck Hills of Dorset.

Tyneham has a fascinating and rather sad history. For centuries it was a small, isolated village near the Dorset coast, its inhabitants subsisting mainly by agriculture and fishing. In 1943, the Army took over the area for training and preparations for the D-Day invasions, and this required the evacuation of the 225 inhabitants of Tyneham. They were given just 28 days’ notice. The villagers left, believing they would return after the war, but 72 years on they have not been allowed back to Tyneham, nor are they ever likely to be. The area is still used as an Army Firing Range, and access is limited.

The road down into Tyneham.

We have previously visited Imber, a similar deserted village on the Salisbury Plain Training Area, where the houses are closed up but well preserved. Tyneham is very different. All the buildings apart from the church and the school house are dilapidated, with roofs missing, no floors, no windows and generally in a really ruinous state: the once-beautiful family homes are now just shells.

The approach to the village. Army ‘keep out’ sign to the right of the road.

Row of four cottages. The village has been 'prettified' for the visitors: the pavement and kerbing postdate the village's abandonment.

Row of four cottages, and an old phone box. The village has been ‘prettified’ for the visitors: the pavement and kerbing postdate the village’s abandonment.

Fireplaces inside one of the cottages.

Another ruined cottage. The tie bars are holding the walls upright – without the roof they have started to spread quite markedly.

The Rectory.

Noticeboard at the Rectory. The photo shows that it was once a beautiful Georgian building.

A picturesuw ruin now. Since the village's abandonment, trees have grown where would once have been beautifully-tended gardens.

A picturesque ruin now. Since the village’s abandonment, trees have grown where would once have been beautifully-tended gardens.

It really brings it home to you on a visit to Tyneham how much a community is about the place as well as the people. And when the people were moved away from the place they loved, and settled in different locations, their community died.

The last villagers to leave pinned a poignant note to the door of the church:

Sadly the houses were not treated with care. I don’t know whether Tyneham itself was used for target practice, as were and are the surrounding hills, or quite how they came to be so ruinous in such a short period. Certainly the Army is trying to keep them from further decay, but in general their repairs are very unsympathetic to the fabric of the old buildings, with hard Portland cement being used rather than lime mortar, and infills and repairs made with engineering bricks and cement. I know the Army is not a conservation body, but it is so sad to see the buildings as they are.

View on the way down to Worbarrow Bay.

Worbarrow Bay. Lots of landslips round here.

Thrift or Sea pink (Armeria maritima).

Bulbarrow Tout, and a party of kayakers who pulled up on the beach.

Worbarrow Tout, and a party of kayakers who pulled up on the beach.

May blossom. The hawthorn flowers certainly look nicer than they smell! (Crataegus monogyna).

A pretty small area of meadow planted at Tyneham Farm barn.

Another abandoned farm on the way out of Tyneham.

We drove past this on our (circuitous) way home: the Osmington White Horse, a hill figure created in 1808, and 85 m (280 feet) long and 98 m (323 feet) high.

Tyneham and Worbarrow Bay are open to visitors at certain times: check the visitors page on the Tyneham PC website for details.

Stourhead in May

May20

Yesterday Chap and I took a day off work and spent the day at Stourhead with Elizabeth, a family friend of old, and her friend Sue. The day started gloomily, with dark lowering clouds and heavy rain showers. But we were so lucky: the sun came out and the rain held off, although the impressive clouds remained. Sue hadn’t visited Stourhead before, so it was a joy seeing her delight at meeting this stunning garden for the first time.

I’ll let the photos do the talking. Click on any to embiggen/bigify:

Stourhead: The Palladian Bridge and in the background, the Pantheon.

Stourhead: The view from the Temple of Apollo. The colours are so zingy at this time of year, and the rhododendrons and azaleas were looking amazing.

Stourhead: The Temple of Apollo. The lake is off to the left of shot.

Stourhead: The Temple of Flora, the Palladian Bridge and the Bristol Cross photographed from outside the Pantheon.

Stourhead: Inside the Pantheon.

Stourhead: The deliberately wonky, shonky windows of the Gothic Cottage.

A memory board within the Gothic Cottage.

Stourhead: The memory board within the Gothic Cottage.

Stourhead: A lovely note pinned on the memory board. Ah, huge congratulations to Ben and Vicki.

Stourhead: Naughty Grace!

Stourhead: View across the lake to the Temple of Apollo.

Stourhead: Gaudy rhododendrons and azaleas among the acers and other trees.

Stourhead: View from outside the Temple of Flora to the Pantheon.

Stourhead: The Palladian Bridge from the Temple of Flora.

Stourhead: Big skies over the lake and the Pantheon.

Cottages and the National Trust estate office at the village of Stourton, just outside the Stourhead landscape gardens.

And this is the view from just by those cottages: the Bristol Cross, the Palladian Bridge and the Pantheon.

Stourton Church, viewed from the same spot as the previous photograph.

Stourhead: National Trust gardeners training some young fruit trees in the walled kitchen gardens. Allium ‘Purple Sensation’ popping up between lavender within box hedges in the foreground.

Stourhead: The restored glasshouse with the beautiful collection of species and variety pelargoniums.

A wonderful bee, insect and other critter hotel made out of pallets, old terracotta roof tiles and ridge tiles and bamboo, among other things.

Stourhead: A wonderful bee, insect and small critter hotel made out of pallets, old terracotta roof tiles, ridge tiles and drainage pipes with bamboo, among other things, against a wall in the walled garden.

Rosa banksiae 'Lutea' growing against an outbuilding. Gorgeous.

Stourhead; Rosa banksiae ‘Lutea’ with its tiny yellow pompom flowers growing against an outbuilding. Gorgeous.

And watching the Chelsea Flower Show coverage on the Beeb yesterday evening after our return, what do I hear but architecture critic and broadcaster Tom Dyckhoff say this:

‘In fact, I would go so far as to say that the greatest contribution that Britain has made to worldwide design has been the landscape garden and its relationship to architecture. I mean particularly from the classic periods, the late 18th century, that kind of period of picturesque garden design, places like Stourhead. That was arguably our greatest design moment, certainly our greatest contribution.’

(edited slightly to remove ‘you knows’ and ‘like’s)

I couldn’t agree more. And we are so lucky to live so close and to be able to visit its wonders frequently.

National Trust visitor information for Stourhead.

The Salisbury Cathedral peregrines are back

Apr17

I wrote last year about the peregrines that were nesting on the spire of Salisbury Cathedral, and for the first time in 61 years had successfully hatched chicks—three of them.

Last year: peregrine parent and three chicks, Salisbury Cathedral, 27 May 2014.

Good news—they’re back, they’ve nested, and this year they’ve laid four eggs!

The eggs were laid over Holy Week and over Easter, which seems satisfyingly appropriate for an ecclesiastical nest site. The first egg was laid on Tuesday 31 March 2015, and with an approximately 33-day incubation period, it should hatch in the first few days of May, with the others hatching around the end of the first week of May (the Cathedral’s press release says mid-May. I’m not sure how they arrived at that date).

Last year there was a live webcam on which you could follow the progress of the family. The press release says the nest is being monitored by two cameras, but I’ve had a good poke around on the Cathedral’s website and they don’t seem to have provided a link to them yet. Maybe they’re going to wait until the eggs have hatched. I’ll add the link (or write a new post) as soon as I find it.

2 MAY UPDATE: The webcam is back – link here (webcam at the bottom of the page).

Even without pics, this is terrific news.

Young peregrine fledging, Salisbury Cathedral, 2014.

The last year that peregrines successfully nested at Salisbury Cathedral prior to last year’s brood was 1953. And lo! One of my favourite websites, Britain From Above, has a series of photos taken of the Cathedral in September 1953. I like to think that as the pilot circled above the Cathedral, somewhere alongside him in this photograph are the fledged chicks from that year’s brood:

Salisbury Cathedral, 5 September 1953. Image from the Britain From Above website: click on photo for details.

Salisbury Cathedral website.

Rather belated update: A total of four eggs were laid in the 2015 breeding season, and all four chicks fledged successfully in mid July.

Stoneywell, an Arts and Crafts house

Apr15

Stoneywell is a wonderful Arts and Crafts house built by designer-architect Ernest Gimson (1864-1919) for his brother Sydney in Ulverscroft in the Leicestershire countryside between 1897 and 1899, and lived in by Sydney’s family until 2012. It has been bought by the National Trust and restored to the state it was in in the 1950s, and is now open to the public, opening for the first time ever this spring.

Stoneywell. Photo by Joe Giddens/PA.

Stoneywell, drawn by Ernest Gimson in July 1898.

Stoneywell is in Charnwood Forest, north-west of Leicester, and I know the area well because I grew up in Leicester, and Charnwood Forest and Bradgate Park (‘Braggy Park’) were favourite weekend family walk spots. I’m also familiar with the work of Ernest Gimson, because there were a couple of his houses just around the corner from where I lived in Leicester, Inglewood on Ratcliffe Road and The White House on North Avenue.

Inglewood (1892), a house by Ernest Gimson on Ratcliffe Road. Photo by NotFromUtrecht.

Inglewood (1892), a house by Ernest Gimson on Ratcliffe Road, Leicester. Photo by NotFromUtrecht.

The White House (1898), a house by Ernest Gimson on North Avenue, Leicester. Photo by NotFromUtrecht.

Gimson built several houses at Ulverscroft for his family. Stoneywell is special because it was furnished by Gimson and his furniture-making colleagues the Barnsleys, and as the family never left the house, much of the original furniture remains.

The kitchen at Stoneywell. Photo by Joe Giddens/PA.

The living room at Stoneywell. Photo by Joe Giddens/PA.

The master bedroom at Stoneywell. Photo by Joe Giddens/PA.

Now here’s a little story. When I was about 14, on one of our weekend trips to Charnwood Forest we passed an antiques shop—I can’t remember where it was: Woodhouse Eaves, maybe?—and some of its wares were displayed out on the pavement. My eye was caught by a beautiful chair with a twisted cord seat, and I asked my Dad to stop so I could look at it. I found out how much it was from the shop owner (I think he might have taken pity on me and given me a good price), worked out how many months-worth of pocket money that would be, asked for a sub from my parents, and bought the chair. Luckily our car was big enough to take it home in the back.

I still have it: such a pretty little Arts and Crafts chair. Maybe this is a little fanciful of me, but I like to think it could have been a Gimson or a Barnsley chair, from one of the Gimson houses in the area. Whoever it was made by, I haven’t ever seen another like it. Update December 2016: an extremely knowledgeable Arts and Crafts collector tells me that my chair is by William Birch. At last I know who made it. Thank you, Vanessa!

aDSCF2401 (2)

National Trust information on Stoneywell.

Gardens I’ve made: Devon

Feb25

An occasional series on gardens I have designed and planted. First up is a garden in Devon, made for my younger sister. In 2001 she moved into her present home, a Georgian house with a small, sloping, south facing stone walled garden at the front. Her brief was ‘jungly, exotic, subtropical’. She loves acers, hostas, bamboos and ferns in particular. She wanted a garden full of foliage interest: different shapes and colours and textures, and the bigger the better. Flowers weren’t the top of the list, but if they were to sneak in there, she wouldn’t mind …

The main emphasis in the garden is on the foliage. The large-leaved plant is a Paulownia tomentosa which is cut right back every year to encourage the large leaves to grow. Other plants seen here include Aralia elata ‘Aureovariegata’, Euphorbia mellifera, Nandina domestica and Aruncus dioicus. There’s a banana lurking in the background too.

The garden had a few mature trees around the edge and a grand old apple tree on one of the terraces: everything else was old or diseased or unwanted, and so they went, leaving a daunting area of naked ground. After the cull, the first thing we had to do was weed, weed and weed, and then weed some more, and then leave the garden fallow for a whole year before we could plant anything. The reason? Ground elder (Aegopodium podagraria). It was everywhere in the garden, its roots reaching sometimes 50 or 60 cm deep, and getting into the stonework of walls and under the paths. The trouble with ground elder is it is highly invasive, smothering out other plants, and it can regenerate from the smallest fragment of root left in the soil. So we dug out as much as we could, and then waited to see what sprouted, and gave it another digging over. We preferred to do the weed control manually and organiicaly, rather than go the quicker chemicals-based route of zapping the lot with weedkiller.

After over a year, in spring 2003, we were able to start planting. The hard landscaping for the garden wasn’t too attractive, but it was too big (and expensive) a project to redo it as well as completely replant the garden, so we made do. We were lucky in that the garden was completely surrounded by a beautiful old stone wall, made from the local Devonian shillet.

My sister decided she wanted an alley of pompom trees (as we inelegantly call them) to flank the central path up to the house. We planted eight magnificent Elaeagnus x ebbingei trees from Architectural Plants in West Sussex. On either side of this I planted matching jewel beds that were inspired by the beautiful show-winning Evolution Garden by Piet Oudolf and Arne Maynard that I’d seen at the Chelsea Flower Show in 2000.

The jewel beds, with Allium ‘Globemaster’, Cirsium rivulare ‘Atropurpureum’, Veronica austriaca subsp. teucrium ‘Knallblau’, Veronica spicata ‘Romiley Purple’, Convolvulus cneorum, Centranthus ruber var. coccineus, Persicaria microcephala ‘Red Dragon’, Alchemilla mollis, and others underneath the eight Elaeagnus x ebbingei trees.

We made a pond, and a tree fern grove underplanted with ferns, and shrubby beds at the bottom end of the garden to provide some privacy from the street.

There’s a pond in here somewhere, honest! Plants include the massive Zantedeschia aethiopica ‘Gigantea’, Arundo donax, Darmera peltata, Cynara cardunculus and good old Geranium palmatum that self-seeds with wild abandon.

My sister opened the garden for a weekend in the end of May for three years (2005, 2006 and 2007) for the National Gardens Scheme: all moneys collected go to various charities, and over the three years she raised a truly amazing £3,300 from entrance fees, the sale of cakes and refreshments, and in the second and third years we ran a plant stall as well as so many people were asking for plants that were in the garden. I started potting up all the Echium pininana seedlings I could find, plus Geranium palmatum ones and splitting off bits of the Cirsium rivulare ‘Atropurpureum’ and potting on as well. They all went like hot cakes!

The central jewel beds edged in box (Buxus sempervirens). The yellow plant is the lovely but thuggish Phlomis russeliana. The amazing plant in the pot on the terrace is Dasylirion acrotrichum.

The left hand lawn surrounded by shrubs and trees including Cercidiphyllum japonicum (Katsura, a tree that smells of candy floss in the autumn when the leaves are colouring up), Euphorbia mellifera, with flowers that smell of honey, and Melianthus major, with leaves that smell like peanut butter when bruised and flowers that smell like honey! The Allium ‘Globemaster’ heads are just going over in this photo.

View from one of the top terraces looking across the garden.

Lots of pots everywhere, including beautiful fragrant Lilium regale looming in on the right.

The conservatory. This is an Edwardian addition to the front of the house, and is a beautiful, restful space. The pale blue flowered plant is Plectranthus zuluensis, with a pinky purple-flowered passion flower growing above it, and of course there’s a grape vine.

National Gardens Scheme website.

Sunday stroll: Cold Kitchen Hill

Jan11

It was a chilly and blustery day today, and we went on a lunchtime walk up on Cold Kitchen Hill, which rises above the Deverills in southern Wiltshire. The Deverills are a set of villages in the Deverill River valley which wends its way between between chalk downs, and there are five of them: Longbridge Deverill, Hill Deverill, Brixton Deverill, Monkton Deverill, and Kingston Deverill. We parked by Kingston Deverill Church, where we saw our first flowering snowdrops of the season in the churchyard.

Scattered snowdrops in the strangely headstone-free churchyard of Kingston Deverill church.

Spring is definitely on its way—the birds are twittering and the buds are fattening. The cow parsley is starting to grow—it always strikes me how early in the season it gets going, but then again it has to be at full height and flowering by late April, so that’s not such a surprise really, I suppose. A raven cronked overhead as we walked away from the church.

As we walked along the road two racehorses were being unloaded from a horsebox and were ridden off. We followed the road to one of the many footpaths and bridleways that cross the hill, meeting the racehorses and their riders. Later, as we climbed the grassy slope, we could see them being ridden at a fair lick over the hill in the distance.

Looking south towards Kingston Deverill.

Looking south from the lower slopes of Cold Kitchen Hill, towards Kingston Deverill.

Looking eastwards from the lower slopes of Cold Kitchen Hill, looking up the valley towards Monkton Deverill.

From the same spot, looking eastwards up the valley towards Monkton Deverill.

A lovely flock of fieldfare, maybe fifty or so, flew over us, and reminded us of our lone visitor (he was still there this morning patrolling the lost garden—I check every day to see if he is still with us). We met a lady, flushed of face and runny of nose, with two serious looking walking sticks, and we stopped and had a natter. She hadn’t seen the fieldfare or the raven but introduced us to a wonderful new term—crookdaws—for flocks of indeterminate black corvids/mixtures of crows, rooks and jackdaws.

Lovely chalk downland from Cold Kitchen Hill.

Then onwards and upwards. We startled a hare and it hared off, making a wide circle around us. We wandered over to the trig point on the summit (a mighty 257 metres above sea level). The trig points are built on high points around the country by the Ordnance Survey, the veritable surveying and mapping agency for the UK. The trig point (or trigonometry point, to give it its proper name) is a concrete obelisk with a flat upper surface, into which are set the fittings to accommodate the base of a theodolite.

The top of the trig point, showing attachment fittings for a theodolite. In the blurry middle distance is the beacon, a metal basket atop a high pole.

On the site of the trig point is a bench mark, the height of the top of the horizontal line of which is established in metres above sea level (m ASL). They are invaluable not only for map makers, but for archaeologists and architects and builders and surveyors—in fact, anyone who needs to know the absolute height of where they are. In our archaeologising days Chap and I frequently had to go hunting for bench marks. Their location is marked on OS 1:2,500 maps, along with their value in m ASL, and they are usually on buildings like churches or other structures that are assumed likely always to be there, and unlikely to be demolished.

The bench mark on the trig point on Cold Kitchen Hill.

Anyhow, one of the basic features of a bench mark that it has to be level and unlikely to move, as of course this will alter its height and thus make any readings taken from it inaccurate. So we were somewhat amused by the appearance of the one on Cold Kitchen Hill. The ground at one side has been poached out into a hollow, presumably by cattle or sheep trampling there and resting against it, and so the whole thing leans at a drunken angle, making both the theodolite base and the bench mark, both of which need to be level to be of any use, rather useless.

Chap and the drunken trig point on Cold Kitchen Hill.

In the distance we could see the beacon which had held the ceremonial bonfires that were last lit across the country in 2012 to celebrate the queen’s diamond jubilee, a rekindled (sorry, couldn’t help it) tradition that harks back to the days when the fastest method of transport was by horse, and so lighting fires in beacons on prominent hills was a far quicker way of relaying a message. Beacon Hill is a very common hill name in the UK, for just this reason. Beyond that, on the horizon, is Alfred’s Tower, a fantastic folly near Stourhead. In another direction we could see Duncliffe Hill and the escarpment on which Shaftesbury sits. And to the north-east was Salisbury Plain. Gliders were flying from the nearby Bath, Wilts and North Dorset Gliding Club.

Beautiful skyscape, looking north from Cold Kitchen Hill towards Salisbury Plain.

Beautiful skyscape, looking NNE from Cold Kitchen Hill towards Warminster.

It was very windy and pretty cold—the kind of keen wind that makes your mandibles/ears ache, for some reason, so we headed back down the hill. We scared a lark from its roost in the grass, but it settled nearby very quickly. On the way we noticed an abandoned ranging rod in the fenceline by the Mid Wilts Way, the sort we have used many times on archaeological sites, for surveying and to serve as 2 metre scales in photographs. I assume it was left by a surveyor, possibly an archaeologist, and forgotten. It was a wooden one, which dates it—most are metal and come in two parts these days.

The abandoned ranging rod. Note the bottom hinge on the gate made of the farmer’s best friend, baler twine.

When we got back to the car we decided to have a look around the church—but that’s for another post, I think.

Favourite websites: Britain From Above

Dec11

My heart is in the past, and that is why I love this website: Britain From Above. In 2007 English Heritage, the Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland (RCAHMS), and the Royal Commission on the Ancient and Historical Monuments of Wales (RCAHMW) acquired the historic oblique aerial photography archive of Aerofilms, a company set up in 1919 for commercial photography from the air. Usually the photos were taken for clients, maybe to establish the location of a building plot within the landscape, or to show the progress of a large construction site or the condition of a property, or as views to be sold to postcard manufacturers, but they have other significances too: the most important part of the collection spans the years from 1919—1953, and document a now-lost England, Wales and Scotland (sadly Northern Ireland is not part of the project). Currently there are over 96,000 digitised images in the collection.

Padstow, Cornwall. July 1930.

I can—and do—lose hours on the Aerofilms website. If you register as a member (it’s very easy to do so, and free), you are able to zoom in on the photographs. The negatives have been scanned at such a high resolution that the tiniest details become clearly visible. They show snapshots of a long-lost Britain: stooks of wheat in a field after harvest; horse-drawn ploughs; airmeets for the dashing 1920s and 1930s aviators where planes are simply landed in a suitable flat field; steam engines puffing along pre-Beecham railway lines; film sets from the 1930s; even the R-101 on its first test flight. You can search by date, by co-ordinate, or by placename.

Salisbury Cathedral, May 1933.

The project encourages users to contribute information on places by tagging the images or adding data, photos, videos or links in a free text area. There are galleries which include all the images taken on a single flight, and even a gallery for so-far unidentified images, where the information accompanying them is lost or incorrect, and members have helped successfully re-attribute many of the photos in the collection. Some of the photos are on glass plate negatives which have been damaged—yet another reminder of a lost time.

Many of the photos are of cities and built-up areas, but as my heart is in the countryside as well as in the past, I tend to stick to looking at the photos of rural areas.

An unlocated country house and countryside. July 1938.

Not a real castle - an unlocated film set for a so-far unidentified film.

Not a real castle—an unlocated film set for a so-far unidentified movie. November 1928.

I have used Britain From Above for my archaeological research work: sometimes I undertake projects where I have to find out as much as I can about a particular area or site, and how it has developed over time. For this I will use documentary sources (books and articles, plus written documents such as letters, wills, diaries, estate accounts etc), maps and plans, drawings, paintings and sketches, and where available, photographs. The Aerofilm vertical photos at 1:10,000 scale are an amazing resource for identifying landscape features such as earthworks, and the oblique photos on Britain From Above are also very useful as they are often taken from a much lower altitude and so have much more detail. Earlier this year I worked on a project for the history of a house and plot near to Hampton Court Palace in Richmond upon Thames, London: the Aerofilm photos provided great details about its development from the 1920s onwards.

Hampton Court Palace, Hampton Court Park and environs, Hampton Court Park, 1948.

Hampton Court Palace, Hampton Court Park and environs, April 1948.

Britain From Above is a fantastic resource (especially for schools) and a complete time-sink. Once I log on, that’s it for a couple of hours …

Filming locations: Wilton House

Nov28

I’ve been meaning to write about Wilton House for a while, but was spurred on today when I sold a little brooch in my Etsy shop. I sent a thank-you notecard with the order, one from a set I’d bought many years ago from the Wiltshire Records Office (as was: now the Wiltshire and Swindon History Centre), and the one I chose featured a late 18th century engraving of Wilton House:

Wilton House. Late 18th century engraving, showing the south front of the house on the left and the Palladian Bridge on the right.

(Or perhaps more accurately, an engraving of a couple of lovely trees and a party of people, with a section of Wilton House and the Palladian Bridge lurking in the background.)

I regularly drive past the impressive gates of Wilton House—so regularly that I’ve almost stopped noticing them. Not an easy feat: just look at them! Isn’t it terrible to take something so spectacular so for granted?

The impressive gates to Wilton House. Photo by MrsCommons.

Unlike many of the other grand houses I’ve written about, Wilton House is still a family home, the seat of the Earls of Pembroke for the last 400 years. The first building on the site was a priory founded in c. 871 AD; the first Earl of Pembroke took possession of the site in 1542. Relatively little of the first, Tudor house survives: what is visible today is mostly the Palladian building of the 1630s and 1640s, designed with the involvement of Inigo Jones, and later alterations by James Wyatt in the early 19th century.

The south front of Wilton House. Photo by John Chapman.

Wilton House, south and east fronts. Photo by Henry Kellner.

Wilton House, east front. Photo by Mike Searle.

Wilton House, east front, with the Tudor tower in the centre. Photo by Mike Searle.

The interiors of Wilton House are sumptuous, and among the state rooms designed by Inigo Jones are the Single Cube Room (measuring 30 feet (9.14 m) long, wide and high, and the Double Cube Room, which is 60 feet (18.29 m) long and 30 feet (9.14 m) wide and high.

Wilton House, the Double Cube Room.

The grounds and gardens are beautiful, with one of only a handful of Palladian bridges in the country, built over the River Nadder.

Wilton House, the Palladian Birdge. Photo by Mike Searle.

Wilton House, the Palladian Bridge. Photo by Mike Searle.

Such stunning locations have not surprisingly been used a lot in movie and television filming.

The Music Lovers, directed by Ken Russell (1970), including scenes filmed in the Double Cube Room.
Lady Caroline Lamb (1973), partly filmed at Wilton House.
Romance with a Double Bass (1974), a John Cleese short feature, has scenes filmed in the Double Cube Room.
Barry Lyndon, directed by Stanley Kubrick (1975), includes scenes set at Castle Hackton, and filmed in the Double Cube Room.
The Bounty (1984) uses the Double Cube Room to represent the Admiralty building for the court martial of Captain Bligh for the loss of the Bounty.
The Blackadder II (1986) episode “Bells” features the Palladian bridge and gardens, and the end titles of all episodes from the second series were filmed in the parterre.
The Madness of King George (1994) features scenes shot in the Double Cube Room: the concert with the bell-ringers, and two later scenes with the Prince of Wales.
The 1995 film adaptation of Jane Austen’s novel Sense and Sensibility has a London ballroom scene, filmed at Wilton House.
Mrs Brown (1997) has scenes filmed in the Double Cube Room, again portraying the interior of Windsor Castle.
The 2005 film adaptation of Jane Austen’s novel Pride and Prejudice has interior scenes set at Pemberley that were filmed at Wilton House (Chatsworth House was used for external shots).
Beau Brummell: This Charming Man, a 2006 television drama, contained scenes filmed at Wilton House.
The Young Victoria, a 2009 film about the early years of Queen Victoria’s reign, has scenes filmed at Wilton House.

There is a much more comprehensive list on the Wilton House website location filming page.

A scene from Pride and Prejudice filmed at Wilton House in the Double Cube Room.

Update 10 August 2015: I’ve just learned that the television series Outlander has just finished two weeks’ filming at Wilton House, which is standing in for the Palace of Versailles. Apparently the British furniture and furnishings were moved out, and appropriate French ones were moved in for the duration of the filming. Plus the candle budget was £1000 a day! Simon Callow was one of the actors.

Jessie M King, Arts and Crafts jewellery designer

Nov6

Jessie Marion King (1875—1949) was a Scottish designer and illustrator. She is perhaps best known for her work as a book illustrator, mostly of children’s books, but her many and varied skills included bookbinding, the decoration of ceramics and tiles, and book cover, wallpaper, textile and jewellery design. I love her jewellery designs so decided to write a short piece about her: her Wikipedia page focuses solely on her book illustrating career so I thought I’d try to fill the gap a little. If you want to know more about her book illustrations, here is a good starting point. But I am here for the jewels!

Jessie M King by J. Craig Annan (autochrome, 1908).

Jessie M King by James Craig Annan (autochrome, 1908).

Jessie enjoyed a successful career teaching and illustrating books and book covers, but as multi-talented and artistic people are often wont to do, she worked just as successfully in several other disciplines. From what I can gather, she first worked for Liberty in the very early 1900s designing wallpaper and fabrics, with commissions to design jewellery and silverwork for Liberty’s Cymric range following soon afterwards. She designed the jewellery but did not make it – that was undertaken by jewellers employed by Liberty.

Jessie’s jewellery designs can be broadly split into two types: pieces made with silver and enamel, often in quite large panels, only very occasionally with a freshwater pearl dangle, and generally more “Art Nouveauy” in feel:

Jessie M King design: silver and enamel pendant necklace and chain, dating from 1905. Made for Liberty & Co, its design is in the Liberty Pattern Book, no 8809. In the collections of the National Museums of Scotland.

Jessie M King design: silver and enamel pendant necklace and chain, dating from 1905. Made for Liberty & Co, its design is in the Liberty Pattern Book, model 8809. In the collections of the National Museums of Scotland.

Pendant necklace of silver, enamel and mother of pearl, designed by Jessie Marion King for Liberty & Co, 1904-1906. Collection of Cheltenham Art Gallery & Museum, UK.

Pendant necklace of silver, enamel and mother of pearl, designed by Jessie M King for Liberty & Co, 1904-1906. Collection of Cheltenham Art Gallery & Museum, UK.

Silver and enamel buckle, designed by Jessie M King for Liberty & Co.

and those made with precious metals (often just gold, or gold with silver, or just silver), precious and semi-precious stones and/or pearls, and only small areas of enamel detailing, which are generally more “Arts and Craftsy” in feel:

Jessie M King brooch design for Liberty & Co. Gold, moonstone and enamel. Liberty model number 1800. Sold by Tadema Gallery.

Jessie M King design for Liberty & Co. Gold, moonstone and enamel brooch. Liberty model number 1800. Sold by Tadema Gallery.

Jessie M King design for Liberty & Co. Gold, silver, enamel and chrysoprase ring. Sold by Tadema Gallery.

Jessie M King enamel and blister pearl pendant. The drop is a later replacement. Sold by HomeFarmCottage on Etsy.

Jessie M King design for Liberty & Co. Gold, sapphire, moonstone and green enamel necklace. Sold by Van Den Bosch.

Jessie Marion King for Liberty & Co. Gold, enamel and amethyst pendant, c. 1900. H: 5.5 cm (2.17 in) W: 2.2 cm (0.87 in) British, c.1900 Fitted Case Minor repair to enamel Literature: cf. Liberty Jewellery sketch-book, page 290 Model number: 8603

Jessie M King design for Liberty & Co. Gold, enamel and amethyst pendant. Liberty model number 8603. Sold by Tadema Gallery. Shows both of her common enamel motifs, the bud and the ‘lily of the valley’/three pointed flower.

Jessie M King for Liberty & Co. Silver, pearl and enamel pendant. Liberty model number 9257. Sold by Tadema Gallery.

Jessie M King moonstone and enamel necklace, for sale at Tennants Auctions.

Jessie M King (attrib). Silver, citrine and enamel pendant. For sale at VictoriaSterling at Etsy (click on photo for details).

Jessie M King design (attrib). Silver, citrine and enamel pendant. For sale at VictoriaSterling at Etsy (click on photo for details).

Jessie M King for Liberty & Co. Moonstone, enamel and silver pendant. Sold at Tadema Gallery.

Jessie M King design for Liberty & Co. Moonstone, enamel and silver pendant. Sold at Tadema Gallery.

Jessie M King design for Liberty & Co. A Glasgow School gold and sapphire necklace, Liberty Pattern Book model 8498. Sold by Van Den Bosch.

Her colour palette is overwhelmingly blue, green and purple. I have to add this is my personal take on her jewellery and I am no expert!

The Liberty Pattern Book holds many of her original designs, each one numbered.

Some of Jessie M King's jewellery designs in the Liberty book.

Some of Jessie M King’s jewellery designs in the Liberty Pattern Book, with model number. Pattern 8605 (bottom right of the drawings) is shown in its realised form below.

Jessie M King design for Liberty & Co. Gold, amethyst and enamel pendant. Liberty Pattern Book 8605.

Jessie M King design for Liberty & Co. Gold, amethyst and enamel pendant. Liberty Pattern Book model 8605, shown above.

UPDATE 10 November 2015: Last Sunday’s Antiques Roadshow featured a necklace that I am 100% certain was designed by Jessie, although it was not identified as such. I grabbed a few screenshots and wrote a blog post on the necklace, with illustrations of other, similar design by Jessie.

A brief biography:

Jessie was born in New Kilpatrick, near Bearsden in Dunbartonshire, and studied at the Glasgow School of Art from 1892. Here she was influenced by, and later herself influenced the world famous Glasgow Style, a development of Art Nouveau and Arts and Crafts movements. While at the School she was a member of what was later known as the “Glasgow Girls” group of female artists, and met and formed lifelong friendships with artists such as Helen Paxton Brown and Mary Thew.

Jessie was an award-winning student, and in 1899, the same year that she graduated, she was appointed Tutor in Book Decoration and Design at the School of Art, where she continued to teach until 1908. Her first commissions were for book covers, with book illustrations following in 1902, and it was around 1904 that she started to design fabrics for the famous firm of Liberty & Co. of London and just a little later jewellery, also for Liberty.

She embarked on a study tour of Italy and Germany in 1902, and the next year became a committee member of the Glasgow Society of Artists. In 1905 she joined the Glasgow Society of Lady Artists. Her first solo exhibitions were at the Bruton Street Gallery in London in 1905 and at the studio of T and R Annan (Annan’s Gallery) in Sauchiehall Street, Glasgow, in 1907.

Glasgow School of Art, designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh. Photo by Ad Meskens.

After a ten year engagement, in September 1909 Jessie married the artist E A (Ernest Archibald) Taylor, and moved with him to Salford where he worked designing for the firm of George Wragge Ltd. Here their only child, Merle Elspeth, was born. The family moved to Paris in 1910, again for Ernest’s career as he had gained a teaching position at Ernest Percyval Tudor-Hart’s studios. In 1911 Jessie and Ernest set up their own art teaching school, the Shealing Atelier. While in Paris Jessie met and was influenced by artists including Henri Matisse, Marie Laurencin, Théophile Steinlen, John Duncan Fergusson, and Samuel Peploe; she also learned the art of batik. The couple ran summer schools on the Isle of Arran in Scotland.

The progress of World War I meant that Jessie and her family had to return to Scotland in 1915, and they settled in Kirkcudbright, at Greengate, a house on the High Street Jessie had bought in 1907 before she was married, and where she was to live for the rest of her life.

Jessie M King and E A's house, Greengate, in Kircudbright. The entrance to the 'Greengate Close' is through the open gate on the right.

Jessie M King and E A Taylor’s house, Greengate, in Kirkcudbright. The entrance to the ‘Greengate Close’ is through the open gate on the right.

Jessie and Ernest gathered artists around them, and an artists’ colony known as the “Greengate Close Coterie” became established in the cottages along an alley behind their home. Friends and visiting artists would stay, sometimes for extended periods, and “according to Robert Burns, of Edinburgh College of Art, no student’s training was complete without a stay in one of the cottages at their home, Greengate.” The cottages in the Close were known by the colour of their front doors.

Jessie was an eccentric character. She dressed flamboyantly, with a fondness for wide-brimmed hats and buckled shoes, long after these had gone out of fashion. One woman, recalling her childhood in Kirkcudbright, remembered Jessie “riding through the streets on her bicycle … We all thought she was a witch!”. Jessie believed that she had second sight, and had been strongly influenced by Mary McNab (d. 1938), her devoted Gaelic-speaking nursemaid and later housekeeper who possessed a wealth of folk tales. Jessie was so connected with Mary that her ashes were scattered on Mary’s grave.

By the way, if you want a Greengate Close Coterie holiday, the house in which Jessie and Ernest lived in Kirkcudbright is now a B&B.

Portraits of Jessie:

Jessie M King.

Jessie M King painted by her husband E A Taylor. Undated.

Jessie M King.

Jessie M King by James Craig Annan.

Jessie M King by Ernest Archibald Taylor.

Portriat of Jessie M King by Helen Paxton Brown, undated. In the collections of the national Portrait Gallery of Scotland.

Portrait of Jessie M King by Helen Paxton Brown, undated. In the collections of the National Portrait Gallery of Scotland.

Portrait of Jessie M King by Helen Paxton Brown, undated. In the collections of the National Portrait Gallery of Scotland.

Jessie M King by Lena Alexander. (c) Dumfries and Galloway Council (Kirkcudbright); Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

Jessie M King.

Sources: Jewelry and Metalwork in the Arts and Crafts Tradition by Elyse Zorn Karlin, 1993, 139-140; Oxford Dictionary of National Biography entry for Jessie Marion King by Jan Marsh; Jessie M King entry in the ExploreArt at Gracefield Arts Centre website; Jessie Marion King entry in Artists in Britain Since 1945—Chapter K by the Goldmark Gallery; the Jessie Marion King Papers at the University of Glasgow; Jessie Marion King entry in In the Artists’ Footsteps; Jessie M King page on Wikipedia.

This great blog has lots of photographs of Jessie’s illustrations, book covers, painted pottery and other artworks.

Further reading: The Enchanted World of Jessie M King by Colin White, Canongate Publishing Limited, 1989; Jessie M. King and E. A. Taylor: Illustrator and Designer. Sotheby’s Sale of 21 June 1977 at the Charles Rennie Mackintosh Society. Glasgow: Sotheby’s Begravia, 1977. No. 169; Glasgow Style by Gerald and Celia Larner, Paul Harris Publishing, Edinburgh, 1979; Glasgow Girls: Women in Art and Design 1880—1920 edited by Jude Burkhauser, Canongate, Edinburgh, 1990; Tales of the Kirkcudbright Artists by Haig Gordon, Galloway Publishing, Kirkcudbright, 2006; Glasgow Girls: Artists and Designers 1890—1930 by Liz Arthur, Kirkcudbright, 2010.

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Stoneywell, an Arts and Crafts house

Gardens I’ve made: Devon

Sunday stroll: Cold Kitchen Hill

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Filming locations: Wilton House

Jessie M King, Arts and Crafts jewellery designer