Van Cleef & Arpels: the Accessory

Van Cleef & Arpels

Vanity Case

circa 1925

(semi-precious stones, diamond, gold, crystal and ‘lapis-lazuli’ enamel)

     Ideas of growth and of the virtue in patience play together beautifully in this piece. Each forms one third of the case’s visual aesthetic: the stemming flowers which slowly carpet the crystal background (from left to right) form the concept of nature and the persistence of its irregular grace; the empty crystal space into which the flowers steadily grow (the case’s middle and right side) forms the concept of patience, the idea that a void is not necessarily a negative thing, but an area in which potential is always present; and thirdly, the semi-precious stones and imitational enamel each prove, in their own ways, the concept that beauty is not in the material itself but in the eye of the beholder.

     Few pearls speckle the case’s face, but each is placed thoughtfully and methodically among the mix of seemingly-scattered jewels. The same is for the colour blue: either in stone or enamel, it seemingly ‘paints’ the surface of the vanity case sparsely but confidently, giving it a quality of deep, inborn elegance. But the case also reveals a paradox: while its asymmetrical clutter of flowers denotes the liveliness and triumph in the lack of human control found in nature, it is equally apparent that this particular clutter is contained in a neat, rectangular playpen. So is the cluster of flower’s flamboyant growth mocked by its very own makers, those who pruned each of its blooming stone petals and leaves? Or is this entire Van Cleef & Arpels ensemble referring to the bigger picture of always ‘thinking outside of the box’?

Cartier: the Brooch

Cartier

Brooch

circa 1930-40

(coral, diamond and enamelled gold)

     Black in full bloom. The dismembered hand holding the flower’s stem adds a touch of mystery to this pairing. Rather than implying that the faceless giver is either female or male, the minuscule bracelets merely define the coral wearer's taste for strong, bold jewellery (which is perhaps ‘made’ by Cartier, too). Set against the hand’s pearly-pink skin, the jewellery acts as a marker of the entire piece’s delicacy of material and charm in detail. Though they might seem to be dwarfed by the big attention-seeking blossom overhead, the bracelets are in fact what tie the brooch’s ‘haute-couture’ image to a neat close.  

     However, the most striking feature of this brooch is, by opinion, the diamond acting as the flower’s face. The white sparkle of the gem interacts beautifully with the blackness engulfing it: one could say that with one grand and dramatic gesture the diamond has thrown back its dark cape to unmask its true identity, and that it now flaps its great many wings in an almost menacing, taunting show of power. But is this still as impressive a show as when the brooch finds itself pinned to a garment, one whose creases and constant sways threaten to interrupt its central performance? Maybe so - and this could explain why the diamond sometimes spares us a wink.

Fabergé: the Mammal

Peter Carl Fabergé

Pig

circa 1907

(incised dark brown agate and diamond) 

     Perhaps this pig is cuter (and cleaner) than its usual standards, but that aside, it is undeniably a fine specimen of handiwork. Part of the Royal Collection, it ‘lives’ (so to speak) within a large and varied ménagerie of equally-exquisite and miniature stone creatures, all of which were made under the roof of Fabergé.

     Known to have studied the animals from life, it is evident that the sculptor(s) of this pig placed a thorough amount of attention on its design before carving it. From its wrinkled snout and tiny hooves to its ballooned belly and flabby chin, the sculptor(s) emphasised its every feature with such realism that it is almost surprising to see that the pig is not breathing, too. Its small eyes sparkle with the same watery eagerness of an actual pig, one who is always snorting and grunting for food in whichever direction its nose takes it. The little pig’s flappy ears are also as realistic, each resting against its temples as if they had just swiped at flies and stray dirt; even its curved back is as gummy and apparently boneless as that of the real thing. The character of this pig is so engrained in its stone skin that it is loud to the eyes - loud in the sense of its compact visual richness. This is an animal who seems to sit still only because of our prying eyes, but one who instantly starts to sniff and rummage about again the second we look away.

Katerina Plotnikova

Katerina Plotnikova

Untitled

circa 2013

     Such an unusual fur coat for a bear. A luminous silky grey, its sheen resembles that of a beautiful soft toy animal that one might dream of receiving for Christmas, or that one reads of in a Hans Christian Andersen tale. But in fact, this bear is alive.

     Nestled lightly onto the mossy carpet, the bear’s hind supports its squatting upper body, posed in such a way that it almost defies being a bear at all. Its role is perhaps like that of Lewis Carroll’s White Rabbit: half gentleman, half beast, it lures in the curious maiden with a fairy tale-like charisma. Its head sits slightly lower than that of the lady it coaxes as if to convince her of its devotedness or even submission; and its paws, usually menacing and sharply-clawed, are now just four tender pillows, unlikely to even mark the soft ground. But what can one observe in this scene that might reveal its true narrative? Does the lush crowd of pines simply serve as an elegant backdrop to the surreal couple, or does it warn of a looming and cleverly-disguised danger? As for the maiden’s dress, why is it so characteristically pink and yet soiled and frumpy at the bottom? Is she as pure or harmless as we first assumed? In fact, who is really playing whom?

     Had Plotnikova intended for this photograph to show a contemporary perspective on the classic fairy tale image, then she would have done just that. But a closer look bares the fact that the few but prominent details add up to anything but such an image. Of course, not all fairy tales are good, and in this scene there definitely lies a sinister something that is more mischievous than innocent.