My Top 10 Pincushions (part 2) – A Guest Blog by Zoe-Marie Dobbs

Read part 1 for an introduction and numbers 10-6

From the Elizabethan Age until the 19th Century, the pincushion was seen as an essential element of a woman’s boudoir with a beautiful, decorative cushion needed to house her large collection of costly pins. A well-equipped lady would need to own several thousand pins for dressmaking purposes. As well as for needlework and lace-making, pins were also used to fasten garments. A woman would also need to carry a small supply of emergency pins while she was out in case she needed to fix any mishap with her dress. These were often carried in small cylindrical cases known as pincushion boxes or pin poppets.

The ownership of a beautiful, skilfully embellished pincushion (usually handmade and hand embroidered by the owner) was also used as a way to demonstrate a women’s female accomplishments and needlework abilities. This would denote a woman’s capacity to manage her household through the making, mending and decoration of clothes for herself and her family.

In the past, pincushions were not merely seen as practical household items but as keepsakes, decorative objet d’art, trinkets, souvenirs, treasured gifts and even family heirlooms.

Here are my final 5 pincushions.

5 – ‘Sweetheart’ pincushion, 19th century

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Object number – TWCMS : J11773

Large ‘Sweetheart’ pincushions such as this one appear frequently during the Victorian era and are often richly embellished with glass topped pins, metal sequins and fringed edging. They were commonly given as gifts and love tokens. This pincushion was presumably given by a man from Aldershot as a present to his wife of girlfriend. The front of this highly decorative pincushion is of burgundy velvet and decorated with glass topped pins which form the inscription ‘A present love from Aldershot’. Pins are arranged in flowers and star shapes on either side of the pincushion. There is a contrasting heart-shaped piece of cream silk satin in the centre of the pincushion with the inscription ‘J + O’. This example dates from 1800-1899.

4 – Souvenir pincushion, early 20th century

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Object number – TWCMS : J13114

This pincushion dates from 1899-1919 and was most likely purchased as a souvenir keepsake during a seaside holiday. The front and back are surrounded by a border of small iridescent moon shells. On the front is a painted scene of three children playing on the beach with boats in the background. Pins would have been stuck around the outside of this pincushion.

Towards the end of the Georgian era, a London manufacturer, of Paternoster Row, began to make some of the first souvenir pincushions with picturesque views or buildings of historical interest, printed on silk, to be sold as souvenirs at popular bars and pubs. Pin wheel cushions of this time often feature similar decoration with a picture painted on silk or fine fabric. Handmade crafts and artwork made with seashells was very popular in during 19th century. During this period several magazines offered instructions in shell handicrafts and sold quantities of shells of various shapes and sizes to be used for different projects.

3 – Brocade pincushion, 19th century

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Object number – TWCMS : J13127

This gold and cream brocade pincushion is encased with cream lace and decorated with canary yellow silk ribbon and bows on each side. This pincushion dates from 1800-1899. Many court dressmakers made extra money by selling scraps of costly, embroidered cloth to be made into pincushions. Pincushions were made from material used from unwanted articles of clothing such as embroidered waistcoats or brocaded gold and silver gowns.  Pincushions would even be constructed out of scraps from an outfit worn during a special occasion.

Some Pincushions of this period were embroidered with political messages or slogans as well as bible verses and religious sentiments. Such items could be used to display the personal views or pious high-mindedness of the owner.

2 – Embellished pincushion, 19th century

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Object number – TWCMS : J11798

This large, richly embellished pincushion dating from 1800-1899 is densely covered with clear glass seed beads and bugle beads of grey, yellow, red, green and blue. It is decorated with image of a pouring jug with a small bird resting on the handle and is edged with a decoration of looped clear seed beads. Items like these could be bought, or made at home. In the 19th Century, magazines like ‘The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine’ showed readers how to make various needlework objects including pincushions. The fine needlework skills honed by ladies in the embroidery of samplers in the 19th century was put to good use in the making of attractive personalised pincushions.

During the Victoria Era, with the advent of the Industrial Revolution and mass production, pincushions and other sewing tools were produced more cheaply and at a faster rate than ever before. Highly decorative pincushions were produced in large number in a wide variety of shapes including crinoline dolls, fruit, wheelbarrows, books, hats and animals.

Pincushions become more of a necessity in the home during this time.  ‘The Ladies’ Work Table Book’ (published in 1858) decreed: “A large pincushion, having two covers on it should belong to each toilet table. The covers are merely a bag into which the cushion is slipped. This may be either worked or plain and should have small tassels in each corner and a frill fringe all round.”

1 – Soldier’s pincushion, 19th century

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Object number – TWCMS : J13106

This elaborate pincushion dating from 1800-1899 would have been made by a soldier who was away fighting at war as a gift for his wife or girlfriend. From the Boer War until WW2, it was traditional for British soldiers and sailors to make pincushions for their wives, mothers and girlfriends at home. Queen Victoria who was very fond of needlework, first suggested that soldiers be encouraged to take up needlework as a therapeutic distraction from the rigours of battle. Many soldiers were given special commercially sold kits to make pincushions such as this one. Many pincushions were made using feed sacks, horsehair, scraps and velvet ribbon and felt. This type of pincushion is usually heart shaped and highly decorative. This pincushion is decorated with glass-topped pins stuck through beads and features a coloured woven silk message, flags and the regimental name and badge. The woven silk squares with the messages which decorate either side of the pincushion are known as cigarette silks. A cigarette silk is a small piece of printed or woven satin which was given away in men’s cigarette packets as part of a marketing ploy. Similar silks were also given away in cigar packets. Many of these types of pincushion were preserved as important family keepsakes.

This Pincushion from the Imperial War Museum’s collections was made using the same cigarette silk design: http://www.iwm.org.uk/collections/item/object/30083766

I hope you have enjoyed this blog post – thank you for reading.

Putting The Hatton Hat On

‘I look ridiculous.’

‘No you don’t, you look great.’

This brief call-and-response has been played out between myself and my partner many times over the years as she has repeatedly persuaded me, against my better judgement, to become ‘a man of hats’. Under the onslaught of relentless flattery I usually acquiesce, a decision instantly regretted the moment I leave the store. Consequently I am now the less-than-proud owner of several Fedoras and one notable Heisenberg that I only ever wear abroad. I look less Breaking Bad more Breaking Wind. Some men have a head for heights and hats, I have neither.

However certain hat occasions are unavoidable and on visiting the Hatton recently to catch up on the renovation work, I was required to wear the classic building site hard hat, despite making me resemble part of a Village People tribute act.

If you’ve ever had any building work done at home you’ll know how disruptive it can be. In refitting an entire gallery I was expecting Sodom and Gomorrah just after the moment Lot’s wife realises she’s forgotten her keys. Yet on meeting Senior Site manager Stevie Forster the immediate impression on entering the gallery was, frankly, a bit disappointing. I wanted Chaos, I wanted Shouting, I wanted Mountains of Debris and a Death Metal soundtrack that promised a lifetime of tinnitus. It was all rather calm and orderly, with neatly stacked piles of demolition detritus and nary a hint of dust. Maybe they’d had a quick tidy up before I arrived.

All the exhibition spaces will be relined with new lighting and climate controls (all new images courtesy of LDN Architects):

Former gallery 6 and proposed new design

Former Gallery 6 and proposed new design

Former Gallery 3 and propsed new design

Former Gallery 3 and proposed new design

There’ll be a new Shop and Reception Desk:

New Shop and Reception desk

A dedicated Learning Zone for schools, workshops and art classes:

Dedicated Learning Zone for schools, workshops and art classes

And the Kurt Schwitter’s Merz Barn will be restored with its own gallery:

Artist design for interior exhibition space

Impressive, huh? But wait, there’s more! The Stores will be extended and upgraded while a new Public Study Zone will give everyone, students and public alike, unprecedented access to the Hatton’s collection:

Artist desing modern interior room with large glass table, chairs, glass entry screen and art on walls

Artist design – Hatton Public Study Zone

The project is currently nearing the end of Phase I. This will be followed by Phase II. You might detect here that I’m rather winging it when it comes to my in-depth knowledge of Building Project Management. As far as I can make out, Phase I is ripping out the old stuff, Phase II is putting in the new stuff (it’s probably a bit more complicated than that). With the Gallery currently back to its roots and bare walls, it has thrown up a few surprises from its rather chequered construction past.

Originally built in 1912, the Hatton was extended to almost double its size in 1965 with further modifications in 1984. The renovations have exposed a lot of that later work, not all of which met with Stevie’s approval: ‘He must have got his brickie’s ticket off the back of a Cornflakes packet’. Exposing one wall revealed an original 1912 window that had been had been replaced in 1965 by a large steel grille – which was then electrified. Do that today and you’d probably nail the Turner Prize. And the most unusual discovery was an exhibition display case that appears in photos from the 1984 development but at some point was subsequently walled up:

Large wooden and glass display cabinet on wall of building site interior

Hatton exhibition cabinet circa 1984

The University are keen to hang on to it after its removal except there’s one slight problem: it’s locked. So if you’ve been around the Fine Art Department in the last thirty years and know where the keys are then please get in touch. Failing that, if anyone has a number for Fast Eddie Fingers…

When the Hatton reopens next Autumn it will not only signify a new era but also enrich its heritage of tales and yarns, something of which Stevie is clearly proud: ‘With a job like this you can look back and know you’re part of its history. Some day I can come here with my grandkids and say “I did that”’.

www.hattongallery.org.uk

‘Revitalising The Hatton Gallery’ is funded by Heritage Lottery Fund.

                                                                                                        Logo for heritage Lottery Fund

5 things you may not have known about mourning in Victorian times – a guest blog by Lee Joseph Peacock

In Fabricating Histories, Northumbria University, in collaboration with Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums, are exhibiting a collection of objects from the nineteenth century and exploring ideas around historical fashion, technology, science, literature, and art. Why is the nineteenth century so interesting to us from today’s perspective? Our guest blogger, Lee Joseph Peacock, is studying BA (Hons) Fashion Communication at Northumbria University. His upcoming dissertation project involves the weird and wonderful world of Victorian England and the mourning customs of the time.

5 things you may not have known about mourning in Victorian times.

In a time where death was acknowledged more often than life, Victorians developed many different traditions surrounding their mourning practices. With a combination of art, superstition, fashion, and technology, we are taking a look at five of the different areas linked with death formalities of the time.

1 – The dress and duration of mourning.

Mourning clothes were taken extremely seriously within Victorian times. For the lower classes, their mourning attire would have most likely been some of their most expensive clothing. Men had it simple ­- dark suits accompanied with black gloves, hatbands and cravats – whereas the women had the more uncomfortable ordeal of wearing heavy, thick fabrics to emulate the emotions of the day (and beyond). This would be paired with jet-black jewellery often combined with hair of the deceased.

The duration of wearing these clothes depended on how well the wearer knew the recently departed. A new widow would be expected to mourn her husband (and wear the full attire) for two years, unless the woman was deemed old and in that case she was expected to mourn until her own passing. Everybody else was presumed to be easier to lose! Mourning a parent would be expected to take one year, whereas grandparents and siblings would be mourned for six months. With such low age expectancies and large families, Victorians were in mourning more than they weren’t throughout their lives.

2 – Mourning dressmakers would have been some of the wealthiest members of society.

Due to mass religious practice, large families and a high death rate from undiagnosed or underlining diseases, there was always work in dressing the recently bereaved. Holding onto your mourning wear was believed to be bad luck and would bring untimely death onto the family, so most would discard their outfits after wearing them. This meant that once another family member inevitably died abruptly, more clothing would need to be made and paid for. This often gave the dressmakers – ironically – customers for life.

Mourning dresses

3 – Hair of the dead.

Hair of the deceased was used in many different ornamental ways. It was worn in jewellery such as brooches, hair accessories and pendants, but it was also used to make wreaths. These would be displayed in the home proudly for all to see. The idea of the hair wreaths had many symbolic meanings: it showcased the connections of those who had passed with the living, entwining the hair of both the deceased and living together in a decorative form.

Swivel two-faced medallion, one side with plaited hair, blonde and brunette, the side empty, displaying a black background bordered with gold band, medallion set in pinchbeck frame of intertwined design.

4 – Photographs of the deceased.  

Another popular way to commemorate the dead was having one last family portrait taken, posing the deceased with their remaining, living family members shortly after they had passed. Due to the nature of photography and technology surrounding it at the time, the deceased were always sharper in photograph than the living. This was due to photographers needing to use long exposure times when taking photographs. Long exposure time meant capturing every slight, natural movement of the living, whereas the deceased and their obvious lack of movement kept them still and in focus. Although sounding extremely disturbing in comparison to the modern day, the photographs often had the dead posed in ways that gave them the illusion of sleeping or at rest. This was especially popular with stillborn children.

Deceased child

5 – Safety Coffins.

Not strictly about the mourning practice itself, the safety coffin is one of the most iconic totems surrounding the topic of death in the nineteenth century. Due to limitations in medical science and technology, many people were pronounced dead (and in some cases rumoured to be put into the ground) prematurely. There were outbreaks of many diseases at the time that would leave the body in a comatose or trance-like state. This would then take nothing more than a careless physician or an underlying disease to pronounce the sufferer as deceased, and for the funeral preparations to begin almost instantly. Due to rumours of this spreading fast and far, large amounts of the population understandably developed Taphophobia (a fear of being buried alive). An answer to this dilemma was the safety coffin. One style of safety coffin had a bell waiting upon the grave with a chain or sturdy rope leading down to the body; the idea was that if a body awoke they would pull the chain and sound the bell for help. In theory a perfectly good idea, but in reality, unless a gravedigger was being paid to watch over the graves, there would be nobody around to hear the ringing of the bell.

Safety coffin

Table, Conversation, Interaction – a guest blog by Stephen Graham MA RCA

Stephen Graham is a previous recipient of the Henry Rothschild Ceramics Bursary. In this guest blog, he describes his experience of winning the prize and the work it allowed him to pursue.

On reflection, the resulting work I’ve made for the Shipley/Rothschild Bursary started when I was studying at the Royal College of Arts. I don’t think I realised how connected the work was at the time. It almost draws this body of work to a conclusion yet opens up many potential future projects and ideas.

SDG TCI pic 1

When I was at the RCA I researched the idea that objects can affect the way we interact with one another through exploring tea drinking. I developed pieces that made the users dependent on a central saucer/tray for their cups to function. This concept underpins my work to the present day and I’ve approached this idea from varying angles.

stephen graham 5

One thing that became apparent to me was that I was making pieces that were about creating rituals, yet I had never recorded the pieces in use or held an event in which people came together and used the ceramics. The Rothschild Bursary gave me the opportunity to think about ceramics as a performance and consider the work in action as opposed to a still object. Through doing this, I’ve been able to work on a bigger scale and for the first time work with film.

SDG TCI pic 3

Over the 2 years of the bursary, I produced, changed and changed again the design and size of the piece. It’s also allowed me to work with new materials and processes I haven’t worked with before.

SDG TCI pic 4

The final piece is a table. The wooden central leg rises up to hold six metal arms curving slightly upward with uprights on each end. The arms hold profiled ceramic saucers/plates, which create a visual of two rings of ceramic. A cup, a jug and a sugar bowl nestle into each profiled saucer and the inner plate is empty for food. Finishing at the top of the central leg a ceramic pedestal holds the teapot.

Print

Each arm is balanced so once the cups are filled and/or the cups are removed to drink from it causes the opposite users saucer to move up or down. The intention is for the users to become more aware of the other user’s movements and when they are about to drink (the plates for food also move when food is lifted).

Once the piece had been made I had to go and find a venue to shoot the work in use. I already had ideas for this after seeing the recent refurbishment at the Whitworth Art Gallery (Manchester). Their new cafe was perfect. It is set amongst the trees of Whitworth Park. The cafe walls are glass and so the light in the space is beautiful which complements the work perfectly. The light on the porcelain emphasised the curves and detail in the work but also created shadows which highlight the movement in the piece when there was a shift in balance.

SDG TCI pic 5

I invited a range of people to come to tea (who were happy to be part of my film); these people included curators from Manchester Art Gallery, a local potter and artist, a member of the ceramics biennial (Stoke) and a member of a Manchester based arts organisation.

This was the first film I’ve made and was a real learning experience! I was lucky to work with an experienced filmmaker and although we’d talked about how we’d organise the shoot, directing a film is a very different process to ceramics. It’s quick and everything has to be organised as there is only one opportunity to capture the footage. It was also interesting collaborating with a filmmaker as it removes a level of control. I relied on the filmmaker to trust he understood my vision for the film. The language of film is so different to material language and I felt it was important that the two were cohesive. It came together in the end, but I learned a lot on this journey which I will consider on future film work.

SDG TCI pic 6a

This project has pushed me and inspired me with new pieces of work, with film involved.

I look forward to presenting the completed project at the next Rothschild Memorial Lecture and look forward to exhibiting it at a range of venues in the near future.

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HENRY ROTHSCHILD MEMORIAL BURSARY LOGO ART 2

 

Out of Chaos – art that makes you think

Guler Ates (2) blogOne of the important things in our lives is our idea of who we are and where we belong. But our settled sense of identity can be uncomfortably challenged by new situations and places. Güler Ates’ photograph dramatically conveys the feeling of a surreal collision of two worlds. The artwork records her performance piece, titled Home (2014, © the artist), which she presented in in the Brazilian city of Rio de Janeiro. She drags a small hut, an emblem of the early life that shapes us as a person, but the fabric draping her figure obscures her individuality. The action takes place in front of massive railway arches that add to the sculptural qualities of the forms in the scene while also bringing to mind the long journeys that migrants and refugees make, sometimes knowing nothing of the place they might end up. Güler Ates was born in in Eastern Turkey and has been living and working in London for the past 17 years. Her photograph is one of the contemporary artworks in the exhibition Out of Chaos, currently on display at the Laing Art Gallery. The exhibition is full of powerful and thought-provoking art, both historical and modern.

BREAK (2)blogThe movement of migrants and refugees across Europe is currently headlining many of our news broadcasts. Edwin Mingard has addressed the personal story of an individual migrant in his fictionalised film Break (2015, Ben Uri Collection) set in a London restaurant (the photo shows a snapshot from the video on display in the exhibition). In the film, the character Yousef is shown on the point of physical collapse as he struggles to make a living in London. At the same time, Yousef attempts to keep life going by phone with his family in Egypt. Film-maker Edwin Mingard is a Fellow of Teesside University’s Digital Cities programme (and also recently made a film of Byker Metro).

Herman - RefugeesMany people have felt forced from their homes to escape poverty. Others have fled desperate danger. The cat gripping a mouse in its jaws in Josef Herman’s painting Refugees provides a vivid image of the plight of people fleeing persecution the world over. The picture was painted during the Second World War after the artist fled Poland, eventually arriving in Glasgow in 1941. Tragically, Herman subsequently learnt that all his family had been killed in the Warsaw Ghetto. The beautiful blue colour that Herman used in Refugees (about 1941, Ben Uri Collection, © the artist’s family) was a hymn to the night skies over his home city of Warsaw. In his new country, Herman’s art added energy to the development of Scottish Colourist painting.

Kiss sculpture (3) blogLike Josef Herman, Edith Kiss’s life was turned upside down by the Second World War. Her career as a sculptor in Hungary came to a halt when, as a Jew, she was arrested by the Nazis in 1944, and sent to Ravensbrück concentration camp in Germany. After a period as a forced labourer, she made a desperate escape from guards during a march. She was eventually able to make her way back to Hungary. Though traumatised by her experiences, she re-established her career, and her untitled marble sculpture (Ben Uri collection, © the artist’s family) is on show in the exhibition.

abdulla blog xMore recent conflict caused artist Behjat Omer Abdulla to flee Kurdistan in 1997. The two massive drawings in the exhibition depict Kurdish asylum seekers and are from the artist’s In Limbo series of portraits of people who have fled a danger in a variety of places, including Syria and Zimbabwe. These pictures raise the issue of the impossibility of capturing a person’s identity in an ID-photo. Yet, says the artist, ‘The desire to reduce a person to only their photographic image is widespread.’ Our Customer Services Assistant Mark is pictured admiring the detail in the drawing In Limbo: Hajy Khalil (2010, © the artist/ Counterpoint Arts). Sadly, a note on the back of this portrait records that the elderly man was refused asylum in Sweden and was subsequently killed on his return to Iraq.

The Out of Chaos exhibition is full of big themes and interesting narratives, resulting in a fascinating exhibition with impressive artwork. As well as tours, there is a lively programme of talks for the exhibition. These take place in the Laing Function Room, 12.30-1.15pm. They can be booked in the Gallery or online.

David Bomberg and the Whitechapel BoysFriday 11 November, £4. Sarah Richardson, Keeper, Laing Art Gallery discusses art by the Whitechapel Boys, including David Bomberg, Mark Gertler, Jacob Epstein, and Clare Winsten, with special reference to the Out of Chaos exhibition.

Exile and the Jewish imagination: understanding Jewish cultural displacement and migration in the twentieth century. Tuesday 22 November, £4, students free. Ian Biddle (Senior Lecturer in Music and Cultural Theory, Newcastle University) discusses the special Jewish understanding of ‘exile’ and shows how this helps us understand the works being shown in the Out of Chaos exhibition.

The Psyche, the Artist, and Aesthetics as Spaces of Refuge. Thursday 26 January, £4, students free. An illuminating talk by Dr Dariusz Gafijczuk, (Lecturer in Sociology, Newcastle University) explores Sigmund Freud’s concept of art as a space of refuge as it relates to artworks in the Out of Chaos exhibition.

Diaspora and post-war painting.  Thursday 23rd February, £4, students free. Stephen Moonie (Lecturer in Art History, Newcastle University) discusses issues of Jewish identity and displacement in relation to the painting of the post-war period, including important works by R B Kitaj, Leon Kossoff and Frank Auerbach.