Journeys

Every funeral this year has started with a journey west. To Torquay in February and then Hereford yesterday. I don't mind travelling long distances to say goodbye; the physical miles ensure time and space to deal with memories. A retracing of the doodles or flourishes on the map of my mind, if you like. But first this.

We were sat in uncle Steven's gleaming car in the crematorium car park this morning. We watched a careless driver cut across a grassy corner and crash into a wooden 'no exit' sign. He stopped, eyed up the wreckage, raised his hands in disbelief/embarrassment/exasperation and then drove on. Happily for my uncle Steven's pride and joy, this mechanical menace decided to park a long way from us.

Elector and Engineer

A kindly pink face peers down at the bookish historians,

Handling mysterious metal pieces and glowing wood.

They give him an occasional glance, a flirtatious smile,

Comments made quietly as wunderkammer shimmers,

A nod to Papi, an acknowledgment of mastery.

A Saxon prince argues with his smouldering engineer.

Roles reversed as he belabours the capstan;

Pincers attack and pull at the gleaming wires,

'Nein, ziehen, sanft ziehen', croons the gentleman.

As in fairy tales, so magically the gold is woven.

The gruff engineer deftly adjusts the die, just so

And carefully wipes the hot wax from the cold steel

His hands see the bench, but his noble unskilled

Apprentice clumsily works, looking, checking, sweating.

An orderly world overturned by a mechanical universe.

An efficiency of tools and the process changes;

Sheets of fresh traded wood from the east, fragrant lie

To be tortured gently to make furniture pieces.

The engineer stands to the side and the Elector presses;

People, nobles, Emperors, timber bending to his will.

These Promethean princes each praying for knowledge;

Reforming Kingdoms under a new God of reading,

Remanufacturing their states and forcing their will with

Steely determination and ballistic intelligence.

Stamping paternal authority over the natural unnatural land.

Le banc d'orfèvre : L'électeur de Saxe: Book Review

This collection of essays is the eighth in the National Museum of the Renaissance series of specialist guidebooks. Covering fascinating exhibits such as petit point embroidery from 1570-1610, painted marriage chests or cassoni, renaissance bronze reliefs, and a 16th century Mexican crucifixion triptych, this new volume in the series is dedicated to one item from the museum's collection.

The Elector of Saxony's wire drawing bench arrived in Paris in the late 19th century's when the royal Dresden collection was dispersed after the economic disaster which succeeded the Napoleonic wars. In the 1880s the bench was initially destined for the Musee Carnavalet but when they decided to dedicate it to the history of Paris they looked to sell off the bench and its tools. In a sculptural exchange with the Musee de Cluny, it joined that collection until war broke out in 1939. Afterwards, the Cluny decided to focus on an earlier historic period, so the bench remained in safe storage until 1977 when the dedicated Renaissance museum in Ecouen was opened. From 1981, inspired by 16th century etchings, it was presented to the public as part of a goldsmith's workshop. However in 2010 both its technical and artistic aspects were reappraised and it was put in room reflecting the nature of a prince's kunstkammer - surrounded by beautiful scientific objects. 

Work in Progress: Digitisation Projects in Museums

This is part of a wider project that I am currently working on. I am about to start on the actual evaluation of what the National Museum of the Renaissance, has achieved with its partners regarding Leonhard Danner's goldsmith's bench. However the digital art history aspect has been fascinating to read about.