Showing posts with label Bronze Sculpture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bronze Sculpture. Show all posts

Sunday 6 March 2022

Antiques Roadshow Coming To Liverpools Sefton Park Palmhouse.

 Sefton Park Palm House. Will host the Antiques Roadshow for a Valuation day on the 28th June 2022.

The magnificent structure in its wonderful parkland setting will see over a thousand people bring their cherished items, and car boot finds along for appraisal.

I was so proud to be invited to become a member of the Antiques Roadshow team and to be hosting a Roadshow day in my home town, well it does not get better than that.

For decades every Sunday night I watched the programme. The programme that inspired me to become an antique specialist.

I said to my mate Eric Knowles, when I joined the team.

I can remember sitting there in me short pants, watching you talk about Art Deco figurines”.

Cheeky Monkey” he said in his Burnley accent “I'm not that old”

Sefton Park built by Liverpools forefathers to give gentle relaxation and greenery to both the gentry and the working classes. And an escape from the industrial grime. 

It is a place I have visited all my life. From a very early age. During school holidays, unable to afford a week away we would go on days out. On bus trips and spend the whole day walking around the park. Though we lived closer to Stanley park with its boating lake which too has a Palm House it was a special treat to visit the mini Kew Gardens with its gigantic plants and its Aviary with its exotic species. The colours of the birds a complete eye opening contrast to the soot covered monochrome world not far from the docks where we lived and my father worked. 

I would sit and draw birds for hours on end during primary school taking paper home to do voluntary homework. I trained a Kestrel.

Then we could meander over to the bandstand and visit the famous cafe, still thriving today.

And there we would see the Peter Pan statue which was a treat for childrens sore eyes. And of course the famous Eros statue that is just by the cafe.

As you walk today watch carefully and you may see a wild Parakeet flying overhead, that had escaped from the cages that held the birds.

Then as a teenager and member of an infamous Fishing club I would sometimes, weather permiiting, in the summertime, board our clapped out smiley faced Charabang after doing my paper round and wolfing down my tea. And then we would drive to the lake to set the tackle up and pitch a line and a float in hoping to catch a perch or a roach. 

There on the bank sitting still against a mirror like calm, occasionally broken by a swan or two and a gaggling group of Canada Geese landing. And those quacking ducks that gorged themselves on the loaves of bread they were fed by children with their parents or grandparents escaping the humdrum of everyday life.

Years later I laughed in sadness at that wonderful sketch in 'Boys From The Blackstuff' where Yozzer Hughes who had gone slowly mad after losing his wife and children and fed up trolling the boards asking all and sundry to “Giz a Job” wades in to the lake. Sefton Park Lake. To drown himself. 
He went to see the Priest pleading with him
 “I am desperate”  over and over again, pleading with him. 
“I am desperate" in a sadder pitch. 

The other side of the confessional screen and the Priest feeling his desperation says “Call me Dan”

I'm Desperate Dan” he replies. He went mad.

There was nothing left to do. He had given up. He waded into the lake.

Only to get half way across and the water only came up to his knees.

Life was so bad for Yozzer he couldn't even end it all.

He just can't do anything right. When life goes against you. 

And it was like that in Liverpool at the time.

The decline of the docks. Industry had gone and unemployment was high.

This was the time that Sefton Park Palm house fell into dis-repair. It was a sorry state. There was no money, so it was claimed by the City Council. This was the Hatton era. 
And it started to get vandalised.


I recall stopping my car once and walking through the missing panes of glass and almost crying at the sad state of neglect and the sorry state of the place. The plants had all died. There were no avaries. 

I did not cry. I got angry and became a heritage campaigner fighting a corrupt council whose councillors and officials were lining their pockets, with the peoples hard earned rates.


The lake was left to choke up and all the fish died. They drained it and found loads of shards of pottery, some Herculaneum, that had been dumped there. 
Liverpool had escaped the Luftwaffe but it couldnt escape the dim wiited corrupt councillors who lined their pockets with greed.

A campaign was won, grant funding was found and like a Pheonix it raised itself from the ashes and became a venue.

I went to a wedding there. In the afternoon. A wedding in a greenhouse I thought “Now thats clever. It was very hot. The sun would eventually set and a good evening would then be had by all.

 I did a gig there. As a clarinettist.

Another one some months later outside the cafe on a Sunday afternoon. Part of the amazing Gerry Harrison's Jazz Workshop. Then progressing I did a gig on the bandstand with my little group. The Penny Lane Jazz Band. We were not that good at the time, but it was great experience. 

Experience to stand there in front of people and of course in order to live you have to die a thousand deaths.

So, I got a job. As a specialist on the Antiques Roadshow and when asked by our Executive Producer Robert, “Did I have an idea for a suitable venue”. I calmly said “Yes I do”. 

And in June 2022. Hopefully, if they let me, I will be there on national TV, a proud Liverpudlian alongside some of the best antique brains in the country.

With an accent exeedingly rare.

Dreaming about what I will find.

One thing is for sure.

I know I will find a welcome for all my colleages from the people of my home town and they will bring along, their humour, their stories and their warmth.

I cant wait to show the team the place, that has been a massive part of my life.


The Palm House Sefton Park Liverpool, in all its majesty.



Wednesday 23 February 2022

Benin and Me.

I can't remember the exact year, but I know I was quite young and I was not allowed to stay up late. But on this occasion I had somehow slipped through the dragnet of home discipline and found myself watching TV late at night. Alone.

Though this seemed like a treat, this was the 70's and way before all night television had been sanctioned by the milk snatcher, Thatcher.

There was the testcard. That strange surreal image of a young girl with some form of a puppet in her hand. If you fell asleep there was a piercing sound that was suppose to wake you up.

 Or there was, late nights on BBC2, and as I swept the...dial around, to change channels, I found the Open University. Wow, exciting I thought.

It was not quite the contra band that I was looking for. The last time I had escaped the sleep shackles I had watched 'The Invisible Shrinking Man' in black and white. 

It had scared the life out of me. 

The giant spider hunting the slowly diminishing character left a particular impression.

I may as well go to bed I though as the novelty of being up late had worn off. 

Then a programme started.

 In black and white, but immediately I was captured by an image that may well have changed my life. 

It was a bronze head with striated lines incised into it, lines that rolled down the contours of the cheeks. 

It was a dark colour and had overall shape that was different. Made of metal. 

It was a Benin bronze bust. 

I was transfixed as the black and white screen seemed as if by magic to turn to technicolour as my imagination tripped in on what I was seeing.

Or what seemed to be seeing me. Staring back at me from the tiny monochrome screen.

The glare from the wonder with those scarifications woke me up. I was going nowhere. 

The filmaker had the camera pan around this wonderous object, while the narrator told the story in that typical colonial BBC plum in mouth language. Stating that “When they were 'found' it. It was thought that a ancient greek civilisation had been discovered”. 

Well what they were trying to say is that the people of Africa were not clever enough to make objects that scrap up to western art.

But I saw something more. I felt a power that was not like the ornementation around me. Those strange Capi demonte style porcelain things in peoples houses that I saw on sideboards.

I did not know why, at this early morning time. Nor did I understand how these images described, as if they were “lost castings by Donatello” the great Florentine Renaissance scupltor. But they hooked me in.

The admiratation through gritted teeth, was taken away by the overarching slur that at the time they were found, that no African was capable of producing, or understanding the lost wax process.

How the BBC loved to demean. David Attenborough just about got away with it.

In the bush, finding pygmies, to make himself look and sound clever with his BBC speak.

But I saw something else from the spot on the floor, in front of that box of images. That night, that changed my life. I did not understand then, just what it was that pulled me out of my armchair. Whether it was the story of the intrepid explorers who had “found” them. 

Or how they made a measured encroachment into my soul as if they were talking to me. 

I was looking at the image of a past being who wanted to engage my stare.

The Oba, of whose face this was a lifelike cast.

This ancient ruler of Ife would have no idea that I would be peering through the medium of the 20th century. 

Through that box in the living room, that transported you to places in the past. 

To distant lands.

And at this point in my life I hardly ever saw a black person. My mind was full of stereotypical juxtapositions. Of Black and White Minstrels. Of natives in grass skirts, Micheal Caine and Stanley Baker taking on the Zulus.

This would be decades before I discovered the genius of Louis Armstrong and The Duke of Ellington.

But those images stayed with me as I sometimes caught sight of them again. 

Over the years they became familiar to me.

I would eventually see some of them in the British museum. Where I would not be impressed with all. But several of the busts would help me understand that art is emotion and most of the icons of the 20th century were directly or maybe indirectly inspired by 'primitive work' such as these bronzes. More than I had first thought.

Greek art, above Roman would be created, to attempt to capture the spirit of a being, rather than just the likeness.

Felix von Luschan, a curator at the Berlin Ethnographic Museum, explained to an audience more familiar with European art, famously comparing them to the work of celebrated Italian Renaissance sculptor, stating, ‘Benvenuto Cellini could not have made a better cast himself, and no one has before or since, even to the present day. These bronzes stand even at the summit of what can be technically achieved.’ he added.

Well there you go!

We say bronzes but more accuratly they were cast from brass, copper and sometimes bronze. 


The tradition began in Benin before the 13th century, and large-scale artworks were first commissioned under Oba Ewuare I (1440-70s). Commemorative heads made for royal altars date back to the 16th century, maybe earlier. From the 18th century onwards, artists carved scenes into the ivory tusks that had always surmounted the bronze heads, providing even greater visual reference to the memory of the life’s work of the honoured Oba. 
Craftsmen also cast sculptures of messengers, vanquished foe, and foreign allies to celebrate the lives of past kings through tableaux for the altar.

In the Edo language, the verb sa-e-y-ama means ‘to remember’, but its literal translation is ‘to cast a motif in bronze’. 

At the courts of Benin, art in bronze perpetuates memory; and the first commissions of every Benin king were, and are sculptures, in bronze and ivory, for his father’s altar. To remember him.

Benin bronzes went into some of the most prestigous European collections. 

After the British occupation of Benin City in 1897, during the reign of Oba Ovonramwen (1888–97). By August 1898, most of the ivory and bronze artworks seized by the British from the royal treasury had been sold in large public auctions.

This was the age when colonials thought they could go round looting the heritage of ancient civilisations.

By the early 1900's, nearly all of the bronzes were in public and private collections in the United Kingdom, Germany and Austria. The Obas of Benin have been asking for their return for decades.

National Museum of Nigeria and Lagos houses the collection of Ife art.

Ile Ife as it is known was a city in Nigeria and was ruled by The Oba.

Yoruba, the ethnic group in the region describe Ife as their spiritual capital. The current inhabitants have decided that it is where the civilisation came from. 

And all will return for re-incarnation.

Ife sculptures have a unparalled realism. 

Crowns of glass beads encrusted the sculptures.

Usually you would not see the face of the Oni and there are holes that hold beads which cover the face. They may have been worn.

Yoruba polyrythyms would mix with Portuguese as early as the 16th century and become european music. 

Fandango's and the like, played in some of the most prestigious courts. Syncopated by african drums.



Several more sculptures were found in 1938 when builders were remodelling a house.

Leo Frobenius a German archeologist took pictures of them and the villages from where they came.
 He contacted the New York Times and declared that they came from the lost city of Atlantis. 
Claiming he had found a lost colony of Greeks.




It would be during the search for modern art that this looted 'tribal art' from ancient worlds would shape the 20th century. 

Picasso and others would help it along.

I know how it shaped my understanding of art and I will never forget my introduction into the captured majesty of those ancient Oba sculptures that now mean more to me than the slush of Victoriana I see in most collections.

I sincerely hope, that I now can begin to understand the imagery of Polynesian art and some of the beautiful First Nation American work.

The often overlooked art that my good friend and fellow specialist Ronnie Archer Morgan has brought into the living rooms of those watching the Antiques Roadshow on a Sunday evening.

I so admire how he has slowly introduced art lovers to the history of modern art through cultures past. I love how he explains the figurative meanings within, simple art that has a complicated past.

I hope I may now understand a little more about those geometric patterns associated with modernity that were often looted from kingdoms past, in Africa. And in ancient Egypt.

When Tutenkhamun was discovered the world went crazy for those geometric hieroglyphs and these images that were sewn into society along with ancient rythmic syncopations from deep dark and distant worlds that originated not far from the River Niger. From the Yoruba. Jazz was created in Congo square, and is the biggest cultural contribution that America has contributed to the world.

But it came from Africa. Where the Oba ruled. Ife. In the delta that shaped the world. 

That took Vodun across a ocean. 

From Dahomey.

Though its only recently that we paid it due, to acknowledge the debt in an honest and constructive manner.

I studied for my pottery sculpture.

I decided decades later, without thinking and subconsiously that I would burnish hand thrown pots with the tone of 'skin'. And I would decorate them with markings from where I did not know.  http://www.classicartdeco.co.uk/my-own-work.php

I do now.




Modern art, for me, started when the Oba stared back at me one dark night when my eyes met his ancient face. 

When I was young.




I have never forgotten that face.




Friday 29 May 2015

Vienna Bronze Lizard-Piece of the Week.


This bronze reptile is so lifelike I could swear it just went to bite me.
The bronze is mounted on a real shell, that only adds to the realism of the piece.
It is not signed, but it has to be by the famous Bergman foundry it is so realistic. Though there were many other foundries that employed similar skill in and around Vienna Bergman is the most well known for cold painted bronzes.
 It looks like it is going to launch itself off that shell anytime. 
Bergman always tunes his cold painted bronzes to perfection. This is more than likely late 19th century.
 Though this piece is not cold painted but has a light patination this mirrors the scaly cold blooded skin of a lizard to perfection.
 The modelling and the way the bronze is mounted just heightens the anticipation in the lizard, its claws are in fact balancing the whole sculpture along with the tail. 
Very cleverly done and a joy to see the skill of manufacture being put to an effect of realism.
See More Here

Tuesday 3 March 2015

Lorenzl Bronze Figurine-Piece of the Week

 Lorenzl is a name that anyone familiar with Art Deco will instantly recognise.
 I used to think they were twee, but I am warming a bit to the better ones.
So what makes the better ones stand out.
Well its all about movement.
Often Lorenzl as sculptor tries too hard, but its an easy fix to be seduced by a beautiful dancing lady wanting to jump off the base.
I say that not meaning them in a sexy way because I don't believe that is the way they were intended, but more an emancipation of women some decades after the Suffragette movement had fought and won the vote.
 Most of my figurines that I have sold over the years, and there have been many of them, are actually bought by women, or at least they have the decision as they will be the ones who normally have to be  around them and not be upset or intimidated by the female form. This piece is often called Arabesque. No, I don't know why either. Maybe its her costume styling? She is certainly a bit slim for a belly dancer. See More Here
So what can you expect to pay for a Lorenzl in to days market? They have shot up in price the smaller ones seemed to be £250 forever and then as if overnight they went to £750 and beyond. a large version (68cm) of this sculpture recently made £8750 at a Christies South Kensington sale. But you need to look at around a thousand pounds to own a similar one to this beauty. But be careful there are art deco fakes out there.
 http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2003/jan/11/art.artsfeatures



Friday 2 November 2012

Herbert Tyson Smith Bronze-Piece of the Week

 I bought this bronze by Herbert Tyson Smith in an auction hundreds of miles away.
The Internet now dictates there is nothing local anymore.

But this really is a local artefact, and I had to have it, and paid a bit for it, but I must bring it home I thought..

It is a study of a Merman. Images of Mermen are all around this locality around Water Street and the town centre.

There is n almost identical depiction on the façade of Martins Bank Building across the road from my shop.
 It is signed in the bronze and sits on an exotic marble base.
It seems to my mind to be a limited casting; I would be surprised if there was more than one made. Herbert Tyson Smith had been very productive in the inter war years.

He was the man who created the bronze castings on the Cenotaph on the space directly in front of the entrance to St Georges Hall along with architect Lionel Buddon.


Look up at most stone carvings from that interwar period and there is a chance that they were done in his workshop.







There was a little bit of research to do but I can take my time I thought but shortly after me picking it up Terry McDonald a local sculptor who seems to have been around forever, dropped in the shop.


Of course he used to work for Tyson Smith so I showed him an image of the bronze.

” Oh yes I remember that....... I broke the full sized plaster model of that same piece up, after the war, It was going to be a fountain, there was no money around for it”

“Are you sure it’s the same one”

“Positive I was only a young bloke then but I remember it as if it was yesterday” he replied
pic; by Wayne Colquhoun; Terry McDonald at his workshop




I went around to Terry’s place and there you go, original pieces by Herbert Tyson Smith with the same themes and much more. His workshop was fascinating. 
Here he is pictured with a model for the huge bronze that he was commissioned for that was erected outside Liverpool Womens Hospital. 

pic; relief by Tyson Smith in Terry's workshop









I had been a member of the Liver Sketching Club at one time and I spent numerous Saturday mornings sitting by an easel drawing from life while Terry held court strutting around the circle of budding artists giving advice in a parental manner.

It was a bit too much for me and I refused his help but remembered the experience of the Saturdays spent in Seal Street with a group of older blokes who were dedicated to thier art.
Tyson Smith had his workshops at the Bluecoat and I made an application to have a separate listing within the English Heritage listing of his studio at the Bluecoat in School Lane.

Those English Heritics saw it a more fitting proposition to knock it down.

What a tourist attraction this would now make but instead http://www.liverpoolmonuments.co.uk/tyson/workshop06.htm  it is now a shop selling cheap Chinese imports that do nothing to evoke the history of that area.

He sculpted reliefs for "The Crown" a hotel and public house on the East Lancashire Road http://www.liverpoolmonuments.co.uk/sculpture/crown01.html  that in an act o vadalism was knocked down last year by a bunch of morons and this was allowed by an even larger group of clowns the City Council.


He also did work out of the city this is a monument he erected in Accrington. http://www.liverpoolmonuments.co.uk/tyson/accrington/content/figure01_large.html
Son of a lithographic printer and engraver, Herbert Tyson Smith was Liverpool born and educated at Liverpool University.

He enrolled in evening classes at the college of art where he studies clay modelling, plaster casting and stone carving.

He also studies drawing under Augustus John at the "Art Sheds" and University School of Art where he met Charles Allen, head of sculpture.

He joined the Royal Engineers at the outbreak of war in 1914 and was stationed at Dymchurch, Kent.

Honorary degree at the University of Liverpool. 1948 (George) Herbert Tyson Smith, MA.

Honorary instructor in Craftsmanship at Liverpool University School of Architecture.

He exhibited at Walker Art Gallery and the Sandon Studios where he was a member of the Sandon Studios Society.
pic courtesy of Chambre Hardman archive Liverpool

Tuesday 22 May 2012

Arthur Dooley Bull-Piece of the Week.

 I used to think Arthur Dooley was a bad sculptor......that was until I saw this piece that I had to buy and strong it is.
I then wrote up his biography in simple form and in doing so I began to understand him more.
Born in Liverpool in 1929, Dooley worked as a welder on the Ark Royal.


He was working, tirelessly, around Liverpool, right up until his death in 1994. He was a boxer and once came to blows in the Everyman with Arthur Ballard an art teacher who had taught Stewart Sutcliffe.

He created numerous religious figures in polished bronze using unorthodox techniques and unusual interpretations. The Black Christ on Princes Avenue being one, that went down like a lead balloon.

He buttonholed Hesseltine after the Toxteth Riots and pleaded with him “Don’t let them knock down the Albert Dock”.

His first sculpture was made in an army prison in Egypt where he served a sentence for going AWOL. Conflicting reports, one saying he tried to join the PLO.

Upon his unceremonious return from the army, he joined a drawing class at the Whitechapel gallery in London.

He was then employed as a janitor. His job included clearing up after the sculptors and setting up materials, then he began to make his own work...using scraps of metal left over.

His lead cast piece of a crucified Jesus received a good response around the college. From these humble beginnings, in 1962 he exhibited at St Martins Gallery, a stones throw from the college where he had worked. Cast a bronze bull for London weekend’s south bank building. He met the great art critic Greenberg and made several appearances on the "Tonight" programme. I saw an interview he made with Bill Shankly. He dubbed the new Cathedral Paddy’s Wigwam. He was featured on This is Your Life.

When Henry Moore, overworked turned down the Stations of the Cross at the Benedictine Community of Ampleforth Monastery Dooley took up the commission.

Later he would say the shipyard was really my art school.



Deeply concerned about social problems of his day. He was a member of the communist party. He was always an outspoken and immensely religious letting the materials he worked with speak. His workshop 34-36 Seel Street is intact. It needs preserving.


He was a active member of the Liverpool Academy.
He campaigned to have the right for Liverpool artists to show their wares outside the Bluecoat. He is slowly being recognised as an important man active in town planning not afraid to have his say.


Remember Him.   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Dooley


http://www.arthurdooley.org/biography.html

http://www.liverpoolmonuments.co.uk/dooley/dooleyarthur.html

His work has been going up at an amazing rate...........it now seems he is trendy something he would have hated I think. It is now not being afforded by the people who deserve his work.
 I also think that some of those buying his work driving his prices up are more likely to be investors who would not know a good sculpture from a bad sculpture. It should not be that someone owns a Dooley, but do they have a good one, because there are many not so good ones out there.
His work can be confused with Brian(I am now a native American Indian) Burges and Sean Rice.
 If you study his work you can feel his influences.
His pupil Stephen Broadbent has mad a fortune churning out Dooley inspired works to undescerning patrons with more money than sense.