A son mourns the loss of his father
Photo: Chronica Domus
Photo: Chronica Domus
Since the early days of this blog, I have published a post each year to coincide with All Souls' Day. These posts showcase a different item from a small group of mourning hair art that my husband and I have collected over the years. As I sit in front of the keyboard preparing to write these annual blog entries, a funny thing happens; my mind begins to drift. I contemplate how it is that we have become the stewards of these very personal mementos of other people's relatives. Then, I find myself reminiscing about my own dearly departed friends, relations, and animal companions with fondness and with gratitude for having known them. In an odd way, by writing about our collection, my cherished memories of the people and animals who helped create them remain aglow in my mind's eye.
Now, let's return to the subject at hand, this year's featured mourning item. As you can see from the preceding photograph, this art piece is yet another outstanding example that demonstrates the meticulous skill of the artist when composing a picture made entirely out of human hair. Every strand has been cut and laid out just so, or finely snipped and pounded into position on a thinly-sliced ivory disc. The masterly shading brings a wonderful sense of depth to the scene. I suspect the different color hair used is a blend from the mourner and the deceased. The whole forms a poignant mourning scene. And, as with last year's example, this one is quite a rarity too. The inclusion of a human figure carried a far higher price tag for the person commissioning the work than, for example, a more typical mourning scene depicting just a tomb.
French in origin and likely dating to around 1830 to 1840, this piece includes several of the most common symbols of mourning. The weeping willow tree is there, the draped urn atop the tomb, and even a lone pansy to represent love and admiration of one person for another.
The mourner, a young dark-haired gentleman sporting a smart tailcoat, is kneeling by the tomb of his father. We learn of his relationship to the deceased because the gentleman is shown in the act of painting an inscription on the tomb. From what I am able to determine when
Housed within its original frame and stamped brass ring, this happens to be one of
my favorite pieces in our collection
Photo: Chronica Domus
my favorite pieces in our collection
Photo: Chronica Domus
This particular mourning hair work hangs on the wall of our home's vestibule. It is grouped with two other examples of mourning hair art that I've written about here and here. I love how they are reflected in the small Regency era convex mirror, seen in the below photograph.
Three early-nineteenth century mourning hair artworks
grace the walls of our home's vestibule
Photo: Chronica Domus
grace the walls of our home's vestibule
Photo: Chronica Domus
Other pieces in our collection hang on the walls of our bedroom. A few are even tucked away in drawers, waiting in the wings to be paired with future acquisitions. As you can well imagine, aside from a healthy dose of patience, a collection as unusual as this takes many years to cobble together.
This grouping of two mourning hair artworks is found in our bedroom
Photo: Chronica Domus
This is one of a pair of mourning hair artworks believed to memorialize the
lives of a husband and wife
lives of a husband and wife
Photo: Chronica Domus
Here are the four mourning hair artworks in situ
Photo: Chronica Domus
Hello CD, All antiques carry remembrances of their former owners, but none so vividly or personally as your memorial pieces. This is both because of their subject matter and the actual hair they are made of. The mourner in your featured piece today reminds us of the imperative of survivors to honor those who are gone.
ReplyDelete--Jim
Hello Jim,
DeleteAlthough I do tend to think about the origins of many of the antiques I own, and who they belonged to before me, and even how they might have used them, I never really dwell on the passing of those former owners. With these mourning pieces, however, that's all I think about beyond their obvious aesthetic qualities. And, of course, why it is that the deceased's descendants no longer own them.
You have made me look at these mourning hair art pieces with a greater appreciation. There are many examples of this type of hair art in the Virginia Museum of Fine Art in Richmond, Virginia.
ReplyDeleteslf
Hello slf and thank you. I was not aware of the colleciton you write about at the VMFA. The next time I have the privilege of visiting Richmond I shall certainly make sure to include a visit. It somehow escaped my attention on my visit there six years ago (busy touring the fabulous Jefferson designed State Capitol and the wonderful Wickham House).
DeleteI wish I had something of my late son's to remember him by, but the only thing I had was a shirt he'd left here-and another son confiscated it to become his lucky shirt. How could I ask for it back? So I have photos, and those will have to do. And memories, of course, so many of them. but like you, I seem to be curator of the memories of others--isn't that the way for those of us who like old things? A silk hankie, a packet of letters from the early 1900's, a class ring from 1939...so many of these kinds of things. But mementos of my own loved ones, let's see--a box labeled Useless Watches that belonged to my father, and a tiny blue bottle I use for cold cream when traveling that belonged to my mother. She loved little pretties like that.
ReplyDeleteHello Granny Sue,
DeletePhotographs, as you write, are so important and I am happy to hear you cherish the ones of your former son. In a way, the mourning hair art pieces I write about were yesteryear's photographs. Of course, there were always oil portraits one could commission of one's family members, but as you can imagine that was a costly luxury available to only the wealthiest members of society.
I loved reading about your box of 'Useless Watches' and the little blue bottle belonging to your mother items, I am certain, will remain with you for many years to come. Thank you for sharing them with me.
Hello CD,
ReplyDeleteSmall pieces of jewellery, a portrait sketch and a couple of framed pieces - these are my usual constant and gentle reminders of beloved family long gone. Photos are wonderful, of course, but sometimes something you can touch or wear is more delightful.
Memento mori are not something that have ever crossed my path but I see the attraction. Intimate and beautifully made objects always have great personal appeal to me and I don't typically like to be surrounded by the mass produced or the generic as they lack a "voice" with which to "speak" to me. I admit I don't speculate about the previous owners of the furniture and clothes and objets that have made their way into my affections but I do smile at the knowledge that I share with them the same taste! And that geography, culture and the passage of time are no obstacles to our being kindred spirits, which is a nice thought. I would like to think that what I handpick in my lifetime could find its way into the life of some unknown person in the future and be just as cherished ... although I guess this is how hoarders justify themselves!
Your series on your divine collection of mourning art is also delightful, and given me a peek into your lovely home. I've been following your linked threads back to your first piece and had a look at the Art of Mourning site as well. Nice to know that your collection still grows and there'll be future postings! By the way, did you hear any more about your Mourning Howard's sibling piece?
Hello Pipi, and thank you for sharing the personal items that remind you of cherished family members long gone. I did chuckle at the thought of who will be burdened by our hoarded loot when that day finally arrives. What will those poor souls think when confronted with scraps of this or collections of that? OK, let's not go there for now.
DeleteAnyway, pleased to read you enjoyed the other mourning hair art works I've written about previously. You've reminded me that I need to follow up on the other Mourning Howard piece with the person who originally contact me. I do hope she discovered something I could write a follow up post on as the coincidence of discovering a similar piece, possibly by the same hand, intrigues me. Please stay tuned ...
Dear CD,
ReplyDeleteWe recently returned from a conference in Austin TX so I am just catching up on your posts.
Your travel log about New Orleans only reinforces my desire to visit this charming city and indulge in its justifiably famous cuisine.
I am fortunate to have inherited jewelry with strong ties to departed family members much of it smuggled out of China (in the linings of jackets no less!) when they escaped just ahead of the Communist takeover in the late 1940s. In those days one took what one could carry that retained value across national borders. I particularly cherish a pearl ring made from a pearl that originally graced a tie pin worn by both my late grandfather and father.
Best,
KL Gaylin
Hello my dearest Karen,
DeleteSo pleased to read your comment here today. I was wondering where you've been so glad to read some traveling has absorbed your time. Yes, you must plan a visit to New Orleans soon and then tell me all about it.
What a wonderful story you tell of smuggled jewelry squirelled away in jacket linings. Not only that, but the fact that you've since inherited the pieces is a very satisfying ending to your story. It means your relatives could pass along these treasured items to you and they avoided having to flog them to survive in their new country. Just a wonderful story, thank you for sharing.
Perhaps my most prized possessions are a few letters/birthday cards from my dear Grandma Cooper whose nighttime hours after clearing the table (Grandpa washed & dried the dishes) and readying her materials for the following day's lessons for her 6th grade class or Sunday church services (she was Music Director) were spent not in front of the telly but at her writing desk where she corresponded with lifelong friends that numbered over 50 in all she once informed me upon inquiry. She wrote in a beautiful hand mostly on day to day matters such as her garden, bridge or day trips with her lifelong friends: The Ramseys and Earl & Marie Heasley (all of them fellow school teachers). I loved reading every word and hate myself for not saving every scrap she ever sent.
ReplyDeleteOh, GSL, this is a lovely remembrance of dear Grandma Cooper and her letterss. I quite understand your frustration at having not saved every letter she wrote but it is quite obvious you cherish the few you managed to tuck away for posterity.
DeleteYour tale also reminds us that emails and text messages are not quite the same animal as a good old-fashioned written letter. We'll soon have a lost generation of letters because of these electronic forms of communication and that, frankly, saddens me.
CD and GSL, We are not only going to lose the paper letters that were never written, we will lose the electronic forms as well. Most computer formats for documents, photos and movies will be unreadable in the near future, and magnetic media can "fade" or otherwise lose information. This is already a serious problem for data stored in the 1960's-1990's. --Jim
DeleteYes Jim and the correspondance that has been written is nowadays is almost never written with posterity in mind ever mindful that worthies would be cherished keepsakes bundled, stored with care, and very much worth the candle.
DeleteThere won't be any bidding wars for the Papers of Boswell or Mark Twain from a Yale or Berkley although rumor has it Folger & Morgan Libraries are proparing bids for the blog quips of GSL.
I'd better hurry up and get in first with my own specially culled selection of GSL at a cut-rate offer before they start negotiations with the main source. --Jim
DeleteToo funny Jim! But, in all seriousness, you make an excellent point about electronic communication "fading" and/or becoming obsolete. When I think about family photographs snapped decades ago, they still appear as fresh as the day they were created. Home movies, on the other hand, filmed when my daughter was a toddler, have become unplayable as the hand-held camera used to film them has broken and the technology is outdated and no longer available.
Delete