The Cult of Byron

I spied this lithograph of George Gordon Byron (1788-1824) and his mistress Marianna Segati at a general antiques fair recently.

Lord Byron and Marianna. Lithograph with original colour by hand, by an unidentified printmaker. Possibly after William Drummond (fl. 1800-1850). [London: n.d., c.1840.]

The legendary Romantic poet is interrupted by his devoted lover as he writes to fellow poet Thomas Moore from Venice around 1817.  The letterpress caption is a quote from that very same letter, as reported by Moore in his Letters and Journals of Lord Byron (London: John Murray, 1830). Segati was Byron’s first mistress in Venice, the wife of his landlord, a draper near the Piazza San Marco. He wrote to his half-sister Augusta that “we are one of the happiest—unlawful couples this side of the Alps”, but was soon to become infatuated with Margarita Cogni, the wife of a baker.

Of course, as much as his words, the iconography of Byron shaped both perceptions in his lifetime and his legacy after his premature death of fever in Missolonghi in 1824. Famous in his lifetime after the publication of Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage (1812), and increasingly notorious when the scathing satire Don Juan (1819-24) appeared, he became an instant legend when he gave his life in the cause of liberation (of Greece).

Printed images of Byron circulated widely during his lifetime, and increasingly throughout the European Continent after his death – portraits of Byron were probably more numerous in the middle of the 19th century than of any other individual, except perhaps Napoleon.

Thomas Phillips‘ two portraits were exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1814 and caused a sensation. His Byron in exotic Albanian dress in 1814 was of particular appeal to popular Romantic sentiment and spawned a glut of engravings after the original passed to Byron’s daughter, Ada, in 1835.

Byron by Thomas Phillips, oil on canvas, 1813 [NPG 142]

My trimmed sheet credits no artist nor printmaker, and is undated. A mezzotint of c. 1840 by Georg Zobel after painter, draughtsman and lithographer William Drummond (fl. 1800-1850) depicts the same scene, with minor compositional differences and differences of detail.

I find the portrayal of the sitters in my print rather revealing, and helpful when it comes to putting a date on it.  Not intended for fine art lovers, this is barely a portrait at all, in the truest sense of the word. The black hair, curly and slightly wild, the big collar, are really mere signifiers: these were the characteristics the contemporary viewer expected to see in a Romantic poet, especially in Byron. Segati is allowed almost zero personality. The full, round faces are imbued with an early expression of the sentimentality that would come to characterize much Victorian popular art. Both protagonists are almost infantilized. Tenderness and affection are emphasized, and any hint of sexual desire relegated. This is a watered-down, family-friendly Byron.

This lithograph, published I would guess in the first few years of Victoria’s reign, seems to me to reflect the ambivalence towards the legacy of this reckless libertine in the face of a new morality.  Heroes of the Victorian age were Christian and of upright character, and ultimately they were team players.  For many years Byron’s individuality and uncompromising commitment to personal liberty sat rather uncomfortably with the official culture. That in part explains why it took until 1969 for the Byron memorial to be dedicated in Westminster Abbey.

My print is for sale as part of my Stock Showcase here:  Byron and Marianna

Something Fishy in Revolutionary New York

It’s often said that we humans see what we want to see, and particularly it seems when directed by an artwork’s title or caption.

The subliminal power of text to influence the way we look at an image always amazes me – it’s something I’m very aware of when I’m buying prints. It is all too easy to uncritically accept the identification of a sitter or location, or the attribution to an artist.

L’Arrive du Prince Ouillaume Henry a Nouvelle York. Etching with contemporary hand colouring by Balthasar Friedrich Leizel or Leizelt. Augsburg, Germany, c.1782.

I must confess when I first set eyes on this print I was guilty of reading the legend a little unquestioningly. The engraved lettering above and below the marine composition (in both French and German) proclaims the arrival of the ship carrying a young Prince William Henry, the future King William IV, into New York on the 16th October 1781.

Read the rest of Jasper’s article on the interplay of original art and print across international borders here:    ARTICLE for the January 2016 ABA Newsletter (PDF)

House Hunting

I get lots of requests from clients looking for old prints of their houses. We’re talking old houses natch, with considerable local history, connections to a good family name, and perhaps of some architectural significance. These are usually not houses of national, or international, renown. The lodge or gatehouse, but not the big house up the drive. You know what I mean.

These seekers often have to be very patient, sometimes not hearing from me for years, and I can empathize. For 15 years I have been on a personal quest for historical images of my parents’ house in Lincolnshire.

1820s hand-coloured engraving of Aslackby, Lincolnshire

My search has been frustrating at times – located in a part of the country not overly blessed with lavishly-illustrated county histories, the house has a somewhat obscure provenance and is not associated with any famous past residents, or great historical occasions.

I have heard tantalising tales of an engraved illustration in this or that book, maybe by one of the Buck brothers (Samuel and Nathaniel, prolific topographical draughtsmen in the eighteenth century), maybe by someone else. The closest geographically I have come so far in terms of old prints is a small c.1820s engraving of a neighbouring village, and two more substantial views of the nearest market town.

A fellow Ephemera Society member was kind enough to let me scan this postcard of my parents’ village – featuring the very house in the upper right corner. (He doesn’t want to sell.) He tells me he’s seen with his own eyes a postcard that is a full-size photo of the house alone. Wow.  Privately published, presumably in a very small print run, at the height of the postcard boom of the early 1900s. I could flick through the ‘Lincolnshire’ section of every stand at every postcard fair for the rest of my life and not come across it. Doesn’t quite seem worth it.

c.1910 photographic postcard of Dowsby, Lincolnshire

He did sell me a c.1910 handwritten bill from a local printer to a prominent former owner of the house, which is a nice little connection.

I was once very excited to see sale particulars of an early 20th century auction of the house offered very cheaply online – complete with interesting photographs and estate map – but was told the item had been sold a few days earlier and not removed from the website. Frustrated again.

I enjoy browsing old family scrap albums, all the rage in Victorian times, which can reveal very personal insights into the lives and times of their compilers, and the places in which they lived. What are the chances…?  Amateur watercolours from the 18th and 19th centuries vividly record not only architecture and topography, but can contain incidental details that have acquired considerable interest in their own right – for example fashions in dress or interior decoration. These drawings are often found in a diary or sketch book, often the work of a young lady of the house, and often very finely executed – wealthy families could afford to employ quality drawing masters.

I live in hope, dear reader.

“See you at Chelsea”

I will be exhibiting for the first time at The Chelsea Antiquarian Book Fair, held on November 6th – 7th at the stunning Chelsea Old Town Hall in the King’s Road, London SW3 5EE.

The Chelsea fair has become a fixture in the calendar for book and print collectors and dealers from Britain, Europe and America. Warmer than Boston, more intimate than York, less formal than Paris – Chelsea has it all. Customers return year after year to this lively and friendly event.

‘See you at Chelsea’ has become a phrase familiar to everyone in the British rare book and works on paper trade.

I look forward to meeting old friends, established clients and especially new collectors.  With Christmas around the corner, are you looking for an unusual and memorable present? Or is there a subject, artist, genre or period of history that especially attracts you?  Perhaps you are thinking of collecting books or prints but are unsure of where to start, what to look for, who to approach or what on earth I mean by half calf gilt, aquatint, or slightly foxed…

If so, come and talk to me on the Stage at the back of the Main Hall (Stand 87, you can’t miss it!).

Whether you are in the business, a collector or simply curious about rare, antiquarian and collectable books, prints, maps and ephemera, then the Chelsea Antiquarian Book Fair is not to be missed.

The Fair is Open on Friday 6th November 2pm to 7pm and Saturday 7th November 11am to 5pm.

To Find out More:  http://www.chelseabookfair.com/

For Free Tickets please click this link:  http://www.chelseabookfair.com/register-for-tickets/9e2ec72ab6aeb74beab8efce48491cbb

For a Preview of some of the Stock I will be bringing to Chelsea:  https://jenningsprints-public.sharepoint.com/SiteAssets/Bristol%20BF.pdf

People, Prints and Progress – Or, Why are Prints Important?

Though relatively scant scholarly attention has been paid to the subject, I would go so far as to suggest that the printed image is at least as important as the printed word to the progress of Western civilisation. The major scientific and technological advances of the post-Medieval world would surely have been impossible without what William M. Ivins called the “exactly repeatable pictorial statement”.

Read more of my article for the Antiquarian Booksellers’ Association (ABA) website.

Link: http://www.aba.org.uk/Book-Collecting-Details.aspx?bcid=102

Fake or Fortune?

Last week I gave a talk at Colet Court, the preparatory school of St Paul’s.

I encouraged the boys to take a closer look at the pictures, maps, family scrap albums and illustrated books in their homes.  Most people have got an old print somewhere, perhaps gathering dust in the attic, even if they don’t know it.

I gave the schoolboys some pointers to help identify a genuine antique print, and reproduce them here in the hope that you too, dear reader, might unearth a hidden gem.

Let me know if you come up with any interesting finds. Email a pic here: jasper@jenningsprints.com

Happy hunting!

• Signatures:  for an artist to sign a print was rare until the late 19th century, and they also often signed reproductions. Instead, look for Latin terms engraved or etched under the image to denote artist, draughtsman, printmaker, sometimes printer and publisher – in Britain this served as copyright.

• Plate mark:  can you see an indented line around the outer edge of the image?

• Paper:  does it look bright and new or has it dulled or browned with age? Can you see any rust-coloured spots (known as ‘foxing’)?
  Hold the paper close to a light: can you see the pattern of vertical lines (‘wire-marks’) crossed by horizontal ‘chain-lines’ from the wires in the papermaker’s tray.  This is evidence of ‘laid paper’, widely used in the 18th century before ‘wove’ papers took over, which have no such marks visible. European papers can be approximately dated from their appearance and feel, and often provide evidence of a modern reprint or facsimile.

• The Image:  look closely with a magnifying glass: is it made up of a mesh of tiny dots? If so it may be a photomechanical reproduction.

• Other Clues:  if the print is framed, is it an old frame and mount, perhaps with the original framer’s or printseller’s label on the backboard?

Australasian Odyssey

Please forgive the extended break between posts dear reader, I have been travelling in the Antipodes over the festive season. The dual purpose was a family wedding in Sydney and to lend my support to England’s cricketers; the less said about the exploits of our flannelled fools on the field the better.

Naturally I found some consolation in the company of a few select antiquarian printsellers.

A four day stop-over in Singapore yielded ample opportunity to visit that island nation’s sole ABA representative: Antiques of the Orient, in Tanglin Shopping Centre. Owner Ms. Julie Yeo was on hand to introduce me to an impressive stock of early views of the former British East India company trading post. Her company has published a number of scholarly reference works which have become indispensable collector’s guides to historical images of South East Asia.

No visit to Sydney would be complete for the bibliophile without a trip to Hordern House. Their impressive and wholly-suitable 19th century townhouse premises on Victoria Street was undergoing redecoration when I rang the doorbell on spec, and, though closed, Derek McDonnell kindly allowed me a peek at the main showrooms. Highlights in a high-calibre stock included an aquatint of Sydney Cove published a few years after the then British penal colony on the edge of the world was founded.

My eye was drawn to a cricket print I’d almost kill to own, hanging in a stairwell: a lithograph of the second-ever (more successful) English touring side playing on the hallowed Melbourne Cricket Ground, published in 1864 in Melbourne by Charles Troedel.

In the suburb of Kensington, to the south of the Sydney Cricket Ground, is situated the large and airy showroom of Josef Lebovic. His eclectic stock showcases a range of printmaking, both European and Australian, and encompases caricatures, Victorian genre, twentieth century etchings, elegant inter-war travel posters, and early photographs of Australian Aborigines and settlers.

On my way home to Blightly I stopped at Hong Kong. I simply had to potter down Hollywood Road, past dozens of antique shops, to the emporium of Jonathan Wattis. Over a coffee Jonathan and his charming wife showed me their fascinating display of early photographs of this one-time British outpost in Asia.

“They might as well be photographs of the moon”, quipped Jonathan. And he’s right. The sepia images I inspected, landscapes of lush vegetation dotted with pleasant-looking European-style villas, bore no resemblance to the overcrowded high-rise ‘entrepôt’ that confronts the modern visitor.

All four of the businesses featured have over a period of many years established reputations of integrity and expertise among the more enquiring minds within their respective communities. At a time of rapid development and change in all their territories, when a sense of place and identity are arguably more important than ever, let us hope that they – and others striving to engage people with their heritage – continue to thrive.

May I wish all my loyal subscribers a very happy and prosperous 2014.

The photographer’s art

For this post I’d like to focus on one area which I am conscious I have rather neglected in the past: the photograph. A visit to The London Photograph Fair at The Holiday Inn, Bloomsbury last Sunday prompted reflection on my somewhat ambiguous relationship with this all-conquering medium.

People often ask me if I deal in photographs alongside my traditional prints. I never have (though I do own the odd real photographic post card). It’s a fair enough question; major collections often group prints and photographs together into image archives, and they are often both sold by the same dealerships and auctioneers.

In the final analysis, developing a photograph is just another form of printmaking.

The majority of my stock pre-dates the advent of photographic processes in the 1840s and 1850s. The photograph market is frankly not one I understand and I am happy to leave it to the specialists.

I suppose if I’m honest I’ve always slightly looked down my nose at photographs. I tend to extoll the virtues of the labour-intensive craftsmanship that produced the hand-tooled engraving, and the dashing artistry of the master draughtsman who drew his design upon the limestone block. At a distance the photographer’s art seemed to me all too simply, and automatically, produced.

Over recent years I have come to a greater appreciation of the skill of the photographer, particularly during photography’s infancy. Apart from the technical accomplishment and compositional ability evident in the sepia images I saw last week, there is an undeniable art to capturing a moment in time which encapsulates the spirit of an age – and resonates down the decades to the modern viewer.

The impact of photography on printmaking, and consequently on the art world more generally – and indeed upon society at large – was and remains incalculably huge. The photographic image continues to inform our view of the world more than any other visual medium.

Within a relatively few short years, the advent of commercial photography supplanted the reproductive, illustrative ‘report’ function of the hand-tooled print, which for centuries had been the only means of mass visual communication. Printmakers were forced to seek other ways to make their craft relevant in this new photographic age – and the ramifications of that are impacting upon artists to this day.

Boom time… for some

I read an interesting piece by Ben Davis published on Artinfo this month (http://www.artinfo.com/news/story/856468/3-hard-truths-about-the-art-market-its-nasty-brutish-and-short).

He points to what he calls the “unsustainable contradictions” fuelling the contemporary art market. How do those buyers with the means to do so reconcile art as an investment with the current vogue for treating contemporary art as just another fashionable luxury (or perhaps, more accurately, accessory).

“For art to function as an effective investment vehicle”, says Davis, “it needs to increase in value steadily over a long period of time”.  But “…pop culture is by definition short-term culture, constantly changing and overwriting itself, the subject of explosive interest one second, a half-remembered curiosity the next…. If I were someone interested in contemporary art as an investment, nothing would chill me more than the fact that fashion brands are so obsessed with hooking themselves in to contemporary art”.

Fair point.

He touches on the question as to how far the contemporary market might have been distorted by buyers with one or other (or both) of these primary motivations. He quotes a study by economists showing “a one percentage point increase in the share of total income earned by the top 0.1 percent triggers an increase in art prices of about 14 percent… It is indeed the money of the wealthy that drives art prices”. It seems reasonable, as he says, to conclude that art booms occur whenever income inequality rises quickly.

So does boom lead inevitably to bust? It certainly appeared so in the immediate aftermath of the Lehmann Brothers collapse in September 2008, and contemporary sales at auction suffered through much of 2009. But prices achieved in the salerooms in the three years since have bounced back remarkably quickly, to new, unprecedented levels.

It seems that once the financial markets came to terms with the initial shock, the big players quickly saw new opportunities to buy art – and we know that economic inequalities are accentuated during recessions.

I think buyers will always be on the search for the ‘next big thing’. And because, after all, we can only live in the present, interest in the art of one’s own age will be paramount.

But the creative endeavours of our past will always be treasured, certainly by the art collector with more than a passing interest. Anyone developing a passion for contemporary art naturally wants to discover the artistic traditions that inspire today’s creations.

Furthermore, I would tactfully suggest to anyone who might be scanning my particular patch with an investor’s eye that long-term, sustainable returns can be achieved. And you don’t need to be a billionaire to grab a piece of this action.

One final thought. Davis, riding his hobbyhorse at full tilt, laments the supposedly unpleasant nature and alleged financial malfeasance of some of the speculators who have entered the art market.  If it matters any more, I can honestly say that I’ve met very few “terrible people” who collect antique prints.