Museo de las Momias

© Anne Heusel

Whilst planning a forthcoming trip to Mexico, I was sent these macabre images by Anne Heusel, from a museum in the small village of Guanajuato, in the north-west of the country. The infamous Museo de las Momias contains disinterred corpses from the public cemetery. Between 1896 and 1958 the bodies of families who could no longer afford to pay the ‘grave tax’ for their plot would be disinterred. Due to the specific soil and climate conditions, many of the corpses were found mummified and strangely contorted. In 1900 some of the best ones were put on display in the local museum, where visitors could pay a few pesos to see them. The tradition continues, although no new mummies have been added since the grave tax was abandoned.�

Stockholm Stadsmuseum

In Stockholm at the Stadsmuseum in January 2007, we were greeted with an entire floor of the museum devoted entirely to folklore and old swedish customs (we'd actually gone there to see an exhibition about wallpaper). The folklore section had a vague sense of being an almost forgotten part of the building: in that traditional museum way, everything seemed to be covered in a thin layer of dust, and the figures used in the displays had a clunky quality about them. All qualities that assure me there will be something appealing somewhere. Unfortunately the captions were all in Swedish, so I everything I write is a half remembered interpretation of what I was told by a friend who was with us.

© Lizzie Ridout

The above image shows a bottle of dew, collected on Midsummer's day. This dew, if used in baking assured a good loaf and also a healthy constitution. The other option was to roll around in your neighbour's dew-laden field on Midsummer's morning to guarantee good luck through the rest of the year. In Finland anyone who finds the seed of a fern in bloom on Midsummer's night will be able to travel unseen and invisible.

© Lizzie Ridout

Above are photos taken of funeral sweets. The sweets were packaged in net and decorated with silk flowers and cut out paper images. Some of them even look like they incorporate woven hair. This custom of making sweets (which never get eaten and are instead saved as a memento) was also carried out at babies’ christenings. Nourishment for the beginning and the end of a life.

Dummy Boards

Source: Dummy Boards and Chimney Boards; Clare Graham

Last year I was contacted by Florizelle, a historian-come-curator (my definition) working with incredible zeal on a really interesting blog called Le Divan Fumoir Bohémien. The site documents a diverse selection of themes: a wandering journey through art, fashion, interiors, product design, history and more. As a result most weeks I've discovered something that has hit a chord. Florizelle introduced me to dummy boards. She showcased them on the site and I instantly went out and bought Shire Album number 214: Dummy Boards and Chimney Boards by Clare Graham. Dummy boards are the distant relatives of those figures that you still occasionally see outside restaurants, proffering menus to a world too busy to notice.

In the 17th and 18th centuries though, these fullsize and life-like flat wooden figures were found in domestic environments. Influenced by the trompe l'oeil style, they stood quietly in corners, often deliberately placed to take guests by surprise. They provided light, by holding lamps or candles, or conveniently covered fireplaces that weren't in use during the summer months.

Source: Dummy Boards and Chimney Boards; Clare Graham

Dummy boards modelled on servants were the most popular. The pair of boards above are Vanity and Industry and would probably have been placed in a hall. The figure would have been based around the lady of the house (look at her jewelley and lace), acting as a constant reminder to employees to work hard. This work hard ethic was further reiterated by Vanity.

Source: Dummy Boards and Chimney Boards; Clare Graham

Grafik

Homeward Bound proudly makes its way into the pages of this month's Grafik. (Volume 151, May 2007.)

Fait Accompli

Photos © Lizzie Ridout

All done.

Done and dusted

Photos © Lizzie Ridout

Two days of walking round a table picking up 36 loose-leaf sheets, booklets and posters, placing inside a jacket, slotting an introduction poster into the front cover and bagging the whole lot up. All in order to make up my 1000 copies of Homeward Bound. I actually lost my fingerprints through too much contact with paper! One of the printers delivered the jacket late, further heightening the pressure. The other printer (who did the rest of the work) was exemplary. Thank you Active Colour. Thank you my team of complilers (Paul, Iris, Ingrid, Tim and Mark) - you were flawless. And fast.

Time to breathe again.

Hair Jewellery

Source: Forget Me Not; Geoffrey Batchen

My time at the British Library has been hugely inspiring. Almost every source has something that could be the beginning of a whole new project. One of the things that encouraged me to start drawing again after a long spell of conceptualising, was this image of a piece of Victorian memorial jewellery, with ‘Lizzie’ engraved on the back of the clasp. This particular example has a strap woven out of human hair. That got me started...

And then I saw the real thing in the Manuscripts section of the Library. Two bracelets belonging to a member of the Trollope family, possibly Fanny, were enclosed in a box, alongside other containers holding a painted miniature, a watch and several private letters.

In the case of both bracelets, the clasps are made of metal and are the part that gives the jewellery weight. The straps, made of intricately braided hair, appear like very fine metal thread. It's the lightness and elasticity of the strap, and a few rogue hairs that have freed themselves that reveal that it is hair.

See one of the pen and ink results below.

Elf Lock © Lizzie Ridout

The drawing was named after the old belief that tangled hair was deliberately knotted by Queen Mab and her elves and would bring the wearer bad luck. As a result 'bed head' was then known as 'elf locks'.

Ghosts of Stockings

Source: A Discovery Concerning Ghosts; George Cruikshank

In an era when spirit photography was popular, George Cruikshank wrote an essay, mocking the mediums’ claims to be able to contact the dead. According to Cruikshank, if there are spirits of people, then for them to be able ‘to present themselves before company’, there must also be: ‘…the spirits of trousers, spirits of gaiters, waistcoats, neckties, spirits of buckles and shoes and knees; spirit of buttons, “bright gilt buttons”; spirits of caps, bonnets, gowns and petticoats; spirits of hoops and crinolines, of ghost’s stockings’.

A Discovery Concerning Ghosts; George Cruikshank; 1863

Reversed-heel Shoes

As my friend Susanne asked me: “What would backwards walking shoes sound like?” Patent 3,823,494: Reversed-heel shoes, patented July 16th 1974.

Teardrop Handkerchief

Detail taken from my sketchbook of one of Queen Victoria’s embroidered handkerchiefs. After the death of the Prince Consort, the Queen – and the nation – went into mourning. To show the extent of her bereavement, the Queen had all her monogrammed handkerchiefs stitched with white and black teardrops. (White was considered deeper mourning than both grey and mauve).

Electric Current

Source: The New York Historical Society

Mrs Cornelius Vanderbilt photographed in 1883 wearing an ‘Electric Light’ ballgown, designed by Frederick Ward.The ballgown, made in blue velvet and satin contained a tiny battery inside the bodice of the garment, off which miniature lamps set into the material of the rest of the garment were run. (Read more in Artificial Sunshine: A Social History of Domestic Lighting; Maureen Dillon; 2002).

In the 1880’s, excited by the novelty of electricity, personal electrical adornments became popular, initially for the stage but later as a fashion accessory. See below. (Read more in Like A Glow Worm Who Had Lost Its Glow: The Invention of the Incandescent Electric Lamp and the Development of Artificial Silk and Electric Jewellery; Maureen Dillon; Costume No.35; 2001)

Source: Like A Glow Worm Who Had Lost Its Glow; Maureen Dillon; 2001

Mrs Gordon, one of the first to wear electric jewels, described the perils in 1891 in her book Decorative Electricity:

Sometimes the battery heated, and leaked, and once I well remember, the old lamps having worn out, I had some new ones given to me that were a wrong resistance for the battery. It heated, and we barely had time to cast the battery into the bath before the gutta-percha sides gave way, and the acids poured out, taking off all the paint. So having spoilt a dress, a carpet, and a bath, I abandoned personal electric light decorations.

The Quick Change Act

Image © Lizzie Ridout

Clayton Hutton worked for MI9 designing and manufacturing escape aids for RAF officers fighting in enemy territory during WWII. These escape aids fitted into two categories: those which were 'pre-capture' devices and those which were surreptitiously sent to POW's in camps through a network of fake organisations.

This page from my sketchbook illustrates two designs.

The first on the left is an image of a design for a new flying boot. Hutton heard many complaints about boots from airmen returning to Britain. The boots became wet in damp weather and caused swelling in the feet and legs when marching for any length of time in dry weather. At all times they were noticeable because of their distinctive appearance.

The new escape boots contained a tiny blade in a cloth loop at the top of the boot, allowing the wearer to detach the bottom part, thereby creating an ordinary walking shoe. The leather-lined top half could be used to form a warm winter waistcoat. The laces also contained a powerful 'Gigli' saw and within the cavity of the heel were hidden silk maps, a compass and a small file.

On the right are sketches made whilst at the RAF Museum in Hendon. Here, I was shown the original artworks commissioned by Hutton for a pamphlet entitled 'The Quick Change Act', issued by MI9 to all officers. One item was an illustration of handkerchiefs wrapped in floral ribbon. It transpires that each combination of flower and leaf on the ribbon represents a letter of the alphabet in Morse code. Although there was no further information about precisely how this would have been used, I imagine that it would have been included in packs sent to POWs, alerting them to escape aids hidden elsewhere, either within the parcel, or on their own person.

For more information see: Official Secret; Clayton Hutton; 1960.

The things you can do with a wooden spoon...

Falmouth Car boot, Cornwall.
£1 each.
Sept 2006.

A Challenge

If anyone can persuade the Rural Life Museum in Farnham, Surrey, to part with the sampler in their schoolroom (the very same schoolroom that my boyriend’s mother was taught in) which we chanced upon in the summer, then I will agree to marry. I always said I would never take Tim’s name, but I’ll relent to the ring and (maybe) the ceremony bit, because here it is, stitched for all to see. A union written in the stars...�

Army & Navy

Whilst working on Tanks & Tablecloths, I started gathering labels from army and navy jumpers... a new element to add to my growing Memorial to the Named & the Faceless project.

Preamble

After updating this sketchbook in Dreamweaver since artsparklets.co.uk was launched, I decided pretty quickly that I needed a more straightforward platform for presenting work. I wasn't so keen on starting a blog (isn't everyone starting them?) simply because of the limitations in terms of the design, particularly when teamed with my paltry web skills. But for the time being, so I can finally start getting stuff up as quickly as I'm thinking about it, this will do. And I'll keep researching the other possiblilities.

So in the meantime, welcome!