Lötz-Witwe Klostermuehle: Hans Bolek

Hans Bolek (designer)

Jardinière 

circa 1915

     Of the few but distinctive decorative styles inherent to the great name of Loetz, this glass bowl epitomises that of Josef Hoffmann’s former pupil, Bolek, and of how it drew a particularly close affinity with the contemporary workings of the Wiener Werkstätte. Though not officially a member of the workshop(s), Bolek channelled much of his designs’ power upon elements of shape and colour, the latter of which fit in well with the visual aesthetics of both the workshop(s) and the Loetz studio. This jardinière, for example, showcases the perfectly balanced leeway between Bolek’s iconic heart-shaped (or ‘cordate’) leaf assemblage and the play of bright blue glass layered with the typically frosted look of 'Loetz' glass. Incorporated into the two friezes lining the top and bottom levels of the bowl, there occurs a marriage of styles favoured by the independent artist, the studio and indeed the Viennese workshop(s), and which reflects even further from fellow designer Michael Powolny the influence of the popularised articulation of bold vertical lines running the course of glass creations so as to emphasise the naturally lucid, flowing form of the material itself. In fact, for its size, this bowl exudes a concentration of such quality and expertise execution in both subject and form that it is almost surprising to consider how small it actually is.

Lenci & Co.: Mario Sturani

Mario Sturani (designer)

Jar

circa 1931

     This personal photograph does not do justice to the true colours of this earthenware jar. Amid the collection of ceramic artefacts found in this particular vitrine of the V&A (London), Sturani’s design literally ‘pops’ to the eye: from its surroundings, the jar’s bright paints appear to suck dry its peers’ murky browns and greys of any warm colours they may initially have, almost acting like a visually aggressive bully. But viewed on its own, as at first any form of art respectfully should be, Sturani’s jar boasts of a character rightfully fit for its time. Its elements echo the idiosyncratic qualities of Italy’s late Art Déco period, drawing together a bit of its neighbouring countries’ own styles (such as those of Switzerland, Austria and even Holland) and joining them with its own stylistic voice. This voice may be seen in the overall loosely-jumbled assemblage of decorative elements, giving the jar a rather elegantly ‘messy’ piled-up look, while the decorative elements themselves are Italy’s resulting interpretations of, for example, Switzerland’s folkloric marriage of colour and form; Austria’s graphic vernacular of shape; and early Netherlandish forms of tin-glazed earthenware tiles. 

     It is true that some may consider Sturani’s design as little more than a mere mélange of others’ work, but this judgement does not necessarily make him unoriginal as an artist. For his time, Sturani donated to his country his individual take on current artistic values, all the while appropriately paying homage in his designs to contemporary artistic forerunners. It was simply from the recent past that he chose to carve for himself a more defined future.

Sir Alfred James Munnings

Sir Alfred James Munnings

the Hop Picker

circa 1910

     This is a glorious scene of time in a moment of rest. On this particular day, the lighting of the late sun is apparently so rich that it appears to melt the many tips of reedy bushes, its heat clumping them together into slanting, waxy masses. Coloured a deep molasses, these islands swoon with the occasional whispers of wind, their flaky leaves stemming nearer to the ground rattling with a low hum, one that seems to swim on the air like an invisible school of fish. The earth is cool and soft, pillowed with damp bits of shrub and fallen plant. To one whose mind is lethargic and heavy, the boundaries of imagination are found to be looser, and it is perhaps that for this young man these melting islands form his own protective forest. It blocks all from his mind but for the two best views of all: his immediate surroundings and, of course, the sky. Both require a scrutinisation that is indeed active, but never truly tiresome. It is here that nature entices one’s whole being best, nesting a spot that welcomes the wanderings of those wishing to be lost, if only for a while, and that forbids either persistent worry or casual idleness to keep too tight a hold for too long. What is painted here is a gateway, an impression; its entrance leads always into boundless and amicable fields, but it is an entrance that is known only to those who hold the true key to solitude.

Frans Oerder

Frans Oerder

Roses

circa 1899 (?)

      The rose - a flower whose face is widely known and whose name rings tirelessly along with those of purity, freshness and life. Even here, where these roses near their final wakeful stages, life is felt in their voluminous velvety petals despite the suggestion of slow and heavy decay, its power drawing downwards each head with an almost soporific magnetism. The rose’s vigour arguably solidifies with age, while for many other types of flowers it seemingly dissipates, leaving its host limp and frail. With the rose, no matter how light or subtle its perfume may be, the scent clings to its heart even during rotting. It dampens the petals, soldering them thickly together with a putrid sweetness that only glorifies rather than shames the death dance of the rose. It elevates the sense of smell and almost brutally shouts for one’s full attention in discovering the source of its last breaths; it then demands to be held, swollen and sweaty, before its moment of burial in a heap of compost or, worse, a bin. And still yet, the rose fights to be remembered even in death, for its empty place long after reverberates with its lingering silhouette, looming unseen.