Magna carta

The Conran Shop in London is selling a portfolio of 25 sheets of card of a map of Paris, originally published by Etienne Turgot in 1739. These can be pieced together to make a dramatic picture measuring 260 x 160cm. I'm thinking I might apply them to a row of built wardrobes in the bedroom in which I have a series of framed architectural prints.

But perhaps I'll need to take a course in architecture, or cartography before I produce anything too silly, because of course the cupboards are not the same size.

Good Schott!

This is out of my usual scope for auction items, but it is a very pretty piece - by Walter Schott (1861-1938) from the Gladenback Foundry, Berlin. Gilded bronze sculpture with chryselephantine face, arms, and including onyx base is 13 3/4" high, estimated at USD3,500-4,500.

Nothing will come of nothing

Another picture at auction that didn't make my sap rise, is this portrait supposedly by the English C18th artist George Romney, which I found very uninspiring, and as flat as the supposed Reynolds.

Below is a genuine Romney: Mrs & Mrs William Lindow 1772, at Tate Britain.

Clearly a masterpiece, with its brilliant depiction of the folds of the silk dress, and the enchanting colour combination. That being offered as genuine shows none of these qualities.

Still, a nice frame from the auction piece, but not worthy of a bid.

The real thing

Laurence Sterne, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, 1760. National Portrait Gallery.

Anne Seymour Damer, studio of Sir Joshua Reynolds, 1772-1773. National Portrait Gallery.

It's obvious from these two examples that Reynolds's work had more perspective and life than the Miss Norcliffe portrait featured in last week's post, and that includes the "studio of" portrait.

My voyage of discovery of two of England's great C18th portrait artists continues, and sadly it would appear that the latest offering from auction is a little vague on provenance too.

More later.

To bid or not to bid

This picture purportedly by the C18th artist Sir Joshua Reynolds, was up for auction last weekend. I was keen to bid, but my enthusiasm waned when it became difficult to find compelling evidence that this was indeed a genuine Reynolds. The style is different from many of Reynolds's, but he was a prolific portraitist, and unfortunately there was a "school of". My bid, had I made one would have been conservative, and as it turns out, it would have been eclipsed by the successful bidder.

Even if it is a "school of" Reynolds, the price paid is probably justified, but then I used that other criteria: did I really like it? And here the work fell short. The rendering is pleasant enough, but not overwhelmingly so, and the "clenched" teeth effect finally sealed the fate of Miss Norcliff.

My experience reminded me of a recent article I read about Philip Mould, and his joy at finding a Gainsborough.

Model behaviour

When I first saw this image on an auction website I immediately thought I would like to bid for it. There was only one picture, so I made further inquiries and the auctioneer produced several more images, including the one below. It was suggested in the particulars that it was "possibly part of a larger construction", and the new images proved that. But they also sealed my decision as far as not wishing to bid, as I felt unable to use the piece without a considerable amount of alteration.

And this was despite the starting bid being a relatively modest USD100. It sold for USD600. Also the size of the piece: 25" high and 32" long would have made it a rather large mistake.

This fruitwood and ebony model of the Temple of Neptune at Paestum c.1840 was offered by Christie's at a significantly higher estimate of USD3,800-6,000 and achieved USD7,652.

And finally, this architectural model of Easton Neston c.1694 by Nicholas Hawksmoor, is part of the collection owned by the Royal Institute of British Architects, and is being displayed at the V&A's Architectural Exhibition Gallery, which I shall go and visit next month, whilst in London.

The exhibition is centred on this Hawksmoor piece, and through architectural models by Wren, Vanbrugh, Hawksmoor and Talman, it traces how engravings of continental structures were translated into English buildings.

Somehow and from somewhere, I really would like to own an architectural model. I'm not suggesting that the V&A would be my source! But I shall be scanning auctions for this additional interest.

Man's folly

There's something rather charming about this story from The Telegraph.

Essential glossary

This new book should appeal to those of us interested in architecture, and sometimes unsure about the correct term for an architectural detail, or entablature.

My only concern is that it isn't too "dumbed down", and the lines:

some of the illustrations include charming cartoonish detail, (a couple of lager louts under a classical arch; a cycling vicar at the porch of a parish church; "smug undergraduates" walking past Doric engaged columns)...

may support this fear.

Martin eyes

Dorothy Parker's quip:

I like to have a martini,
Two at the very most.
After three I'm under the table,
After four I'm under the host.


is good advice I followed on Monday evening. A pity she didn't also state the obvious, that half a bottle of Pinot Grigio with dinner, and postprandial drinks wouldn't make for a very happy temperament the following day.

And the irony is that yesterday and today are important Buddhist days. Lent.

Clearly observed in alcohol abstention, I'm glad to say.

Morbid fascination

Entrance to Hitler's office.

Hitler's office in Munich.

A room in the Reichs Chancellory with some of the gifts presented to Hitler for his 5oth birthday.

The interior of Hitler's Berghof estate.

Inside Hitler's apartment

Following the last post about the origins of the swastika, I noticed these recently published images of Hitler's office and residence. I believe the environment you live in tells a lot about your personality, and I think these are no exception.

Time & Life Pictures/Getty Images