Watermelon Season

Isabella reporting,

Not everything in the collections of Colonial Williamsburg relates to 18^th c. America.  The Art Museums of Colonial Williamsburg also houses the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum, which features  all manner of delightful pieces from the 18^th-21^st c. (including this early 20^th c. carousel cat from an earlier blog post) by artists and craftspeople working outside the mainstream of academic art.

This gargantuan wooden watermelon with a grapevine stem and its own handcart is one of my favorites in the entire collection, and it seems appropriate for the first sultry week of July. Carved around 1960 as an advertising sign, the watermelon’s history from its exhibition placard is worth repeating:

“Miles Carpenter (1889-1985) was born in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, where he and his brothers grew up working in a family-owned sawmill. By 1910, he had married and moved his family to Waverly, Virginia, where he set up a sawmill of his own. Millwork slowed with the onset of World War II, prompting Carpenter to begin making decorative carvings out of bits of leftover wood. By 1942, however, the pace of his primary business had resumed, and not until 1955 did he again find to time to whittle and paint.

To supplement his sawmill income, Carpenter peddled garden produce from a roadside stand using this watermelon as an advertisement. In 1972, a former curator of the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum spied the amusing melon when passing through Waverly, and eventually the oversized fruit was acquired for the museum. Carpenter enjoyed describing the incredulous reactions of passing motorists who had mistaken his carving for a work of nature.”

I bet those passing motorists were disappointed, too.

Above: Watermelon, by Miles Burkholder Carpenter, Waverly, VA, 1960. Oil on elm wood with natural grapevine stem. Art Museum of Colonial Williamsburg.

The duchess's tiara in a bag

All in One Basket

Loretta reports:

Here's some insight into wearing tiaras, including “the larger of the two Devonshire diamond tiaras [which] is indeed a whopper.”

“My mother-in-law, Mary Devonshire, was Mistress of the Robes to the Queen from 1953 to 1967.  Tall and beautiful, she looked magnificent when dressed for a grand occasion.  The big tiara suited her perfectly and anyone who saw her in close attendance on the young Queen at the coronation in 1953 will remember the perfection of her bearing on that famous day.  In the course of her duties, which included formal banquets for visiting heads of state and other ceremonial occasions, she used to fetch the jewels from the bank stowed in a Marks & Spencer carrier bag.

View at source here

“There can be no slouching with a tiara on your head.  It makes you stand and sit up straight.  In spite of combs, hairpins, and Kirby grips, there is always the possibility of it slipping, which makes the most dedicated teetotaler look the worse for wear.”

—Deborah Mitford, the Dowager Duchess of Devonshire, All in One Basket.

Image at right is the Duchess of Manchester (standing very straight, indeed) in February 1912, courtesy Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. 20540 USA.

Recreating George Washington's Field Case

Isabella reporting,

I’m in Colonial Williamsburg this week, where I never have far to look to discover fresh examples of Nerdy History. This morning, it appeared in the form of this unusual-looking leather case, left, sitting on a bench beside journeyman saddler Jay Howlett (We’ve seen Jay’s handiwork here on the blog before, here and here.) 

What is it? It’s a replica of one of George Washington’s field cases, or canteens, and would have been a common object in the luggage of any 18^th c. army officer. Field cases were used to carry the little niceties that an officer needed to supplement basic army rations, especially when entertaining as a gentleman should. This could include wine and other spirits, spices, a mustard pot, special sauces, a nutmeg grater, even silverware and serving pieces.  

This case is a recreation of one of a pair of cases once owned by George Washington while commander-in-chief of the Continental Army. It’s modeled closely on an original, now in the collection of the Mount Vernon Ladies' Association, Mount Vernon, and will eventually be on display at the Museum of the American Revolution, Philadelphia. The case will be part of the museum’s permanent exhibition of the First Oval Office, featuring a replica of General Washington’s field tent. 

The reproduction is the collaborative work of several branches of Colonial Williamsburg’s historic trades program. Just as it would have been 250 years ago, the inside box frame was made of cypress wood by the joiners, the hardware was made by the blacksmiths, the interior tray made by the tinsmiths, and Jay cut and sewed the leather casing. The interior fabric was woven by hand by the Marshfield School of Weaving. Amanda Isaac, Assistant Curator, Mount Vernon's Ladies' Association, let the craftspeople study the original closely in order to make replica as exact as possible. 

The case has two separate compartments. The first, lined with green bay (a soft, woven, napped wool) and checked linen, would most likely have held a pair of square case bottles, separated by a divider (now lost.) The second compartment contains a fitted tin tray or pan whose use is something of mystery today. The compartments were closed with the flap that fits snugly over the top, and could be padlocked shut both to prevent rattling and breakage, and to discourage a sneaky thief.

Empty, the case weighs about three pounds. Loaded, it could weigh as much as 25-30 lbs. The slanting handle was designed to be strapped onto pack-horse’s saddle. The original pair of cases would have been “mirrored” in design, to hang on either side of the horse’s back. Alternatively, the cases might have been stowed in the wagons carrying the general’s belongings. Considering his rank, Washington travelled very lightly, with only three wagons. In comparison, British generals could have as many as twelve wagons, filled with furniture, supplies, and cases like this one.

Many thanks to Jay Howlett for his assistance with this post!

All photographs ©2014 Susan Holloway Scott.

The Mars and Venus painting mystery

Wikipedia image here

Loretta reports:

Even Nerdy History Girls take artistic liberties. This is in addition to unfortunate accidental liberties—because, as I’ve said many times, “You don’t know what you don’t know.”

In the case of the Botticelli Mars and Venus, initial sleuthing showed me that it would not have been hanging in the British Institution in 1835.  But this painting, which kicks off Vixen in Velvet, was in my mind early in the book’s creation, and nothing else would do.  And then, as I dug a little deeper, it turned into one of those tantalizing historical mysteries.

You’d think, for instance, the subject matter would be obvious, but it wasn’t, as I soon discovered:
“This long narrow panel was probably originally intended to adorn the top of a doorway in one of the Medici palaces or villas, and remained in Florence until it came to England in the Barker collection some fifty years ago.* At the sale of that collection, in 1874, it was bought by the trustees of the National Gallery, acting under the advice of the newly- appointed director, Sir Frederic Burton.”

If you read the rest of the entry, you’ll discover the alternative interpretation of the subject matter. 

But who was Barker?  Another mystery.  Barker is a common enough name, and I didn’t know his first name.  So imagine my excitement to find news of the sale to the National Gallery:

Read at source here

And here’s an account of the sale:

“June 13, 1874

“Sandro Botticelli was well represented, especially by a beautiful series from Boccacio, for which Mr Barker paid 4,000l., but only two examples were purchased by Mr Burton—viz. the Mars and Venus Reclining with Cupids, and the Venus Reclining with three Amorini pelting her with Roses, the prices respectively being 1,050l. and 1627l.10s. These were the last lots purchased for the nation.”
By this time, apparently, Botticelli was coming back into fashion.  Mr. Barker might well have bought his works when they weren’t such hot commodities.  This would explain why he lent other paintings to exhibitions, but not, apparently, the Botticellis.  I wonder if that explains why the work isn’t mentioned here, in the Collection of Pictures Belonging to Alexander Barker, Esq. (Gustav Friedrich Waagen, Treasures of Art in Great Britain 1854)

I’m not an art historian, and there’s a limited amount of time I can spend on peripheral research—so I hope some of our historical experts can tell us more about the intriguing Mr. Barker.

*about 1854

Celebrating Independence Day

View at source here

Isabella and Loretta report:

Tomorrow the U.S. celebrates Independence Day,  and the Two Nerdy History Girls are taking a few days off to celebrate, too, with family and friends.

If you crave a dose of historical nerdiness in the meantime, I recommend the Library of Congress’s Today in History page for the Fourth of July.  It includes a letter from John Adams to his wife Abigail Adams, describing a spontaneous celebration.  Further down the page you’ll find a short, entertaining account of celebrations on the American frontier.

And since we in the U.S. can expect to hear “The Star Spangled Banner” quite a bit over the next couple of days, you might want to check out this New York Times article about our National Anthem.

Happy Independence Day!

Image courtesy Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. 20540 USA