for links to all art-objects posts on this site, click here

The above rug measures some 9 feet by 6 in old imperial dimensions (a bit less than 3 metres by 2) and has been the subject of some debate on the specialised rug site at http://www.turkotek.com/VB37/showthread.php?t=350&page=3. I will summarise the identification process - which can be followed there from post to post – but will begin with the circumstances of my acquisition of this rug.

The story begins back in September or so, with one of my periodic visits to the shop run by Sean and Stefanie, to which I referred in number 17 of this series. On this occasion, I was struck dumb by the sight of the rug featured above – a largish piece with the rather rare feature of a green ground – this latter meaning the background colour on which the designs are overlayed. The rug had some fraying at one end, a small amount of wear in a few places, but was generally in good condition, and Sean had just had it cleaned. Above all, it was startlingly affordable. A rug whose price tag I would have expected to be in four figures was priced at a small number of hundreds. Sean did not know where it was from. Anyhow, I put a hundred down on it and went off rubbing my hands with glee, anticipating having it home by Christmas.

Things did not work out like that. First, owing to the state of my teeth and various other none-art-object factors, money turned out to be in short, or to be more exact, non-existent supply. Just before Christmas I gritted what was left of my teeth and went to see Sean, to explain that I didn’t see when I was going to be able to pay the rug off. I wanted to try and weasel out of our arrangement. He was unperturbed, but in no way inclined to allow me an exit  permit. Seeing this, and not wanting to offend someone for whom I had a high regard, both for  his knowledge and taste, I was forced to agree with him  that I would ‘pay it off eventually.’ 

The other issue which was causing me a good deal of agonising was that circumstances at home – not least financial – made me realise that there was no way on God’s Earth that She-who-must-be-obeyed was ever going to swallow a new carpet which we did not need and for which we had no room. Oh crikey! Oh blimey! 

To cut a long and potentially horribly painful saga short, my daughter came to the rescue by becoming pregnant. To be strictly accurate, she was already pregnant at the time of my encounter with the green goddess, but had not yet announced this to the world. Anyhow, I finally plucked up the courage to present the intended purchase of the rug to She-who… as a birth day present for my first grandchild. In any case, the more I thought about the whole situation, including the one in our living room, the more I felt that this had been the intended destination of the green goddess from the beginning. A slight easing in the financial constraints arrived, as did the granddaughter, and last weekend I hauled the said rug across England to its destination in the north-east, where my granddaughter will hopefully be able to use it for crawling practice in a few months.

As for the other matter – the identifying of the rug – that was thrown open to the men from Turkotek. They were able to supply good general indications, but the clinching moment came when on the offchance I dropped in to see the proprietor of the Turkish rug shop which has featured in a number of these posts, most recently in the one pertaining to the purchase of the same daughter’s wedding present – number 37 and, before that, number 23.

The upshot of these various researches is that the rug is a modern (at least, not vintage or antique) workshop creation, not a traditional village-made item. (This explains the lack of a four-figure price tag: Sean may have defects, but one of them is certainly not stupidity – he leaves it to customers like me to supply that. I got what I payed for, neither more nor less) It comes from the region of Yuntdag in western Anatolia (Turkey), a little north and east of Izmir. It has been suggested as belonging loosely to a group of rugs generally referred to in the trade as ‘Sparta’, because of their association with Isparta, a good deal further south and somewhat east from this area. I am not sure whether this is a valid attribution or not. The final image makes clear the connection between motifs featuring on a traditional village yuntdag piece and the green goddess.

 

And finally, one important footnote: the name of the young recipient of this green rug: Eden.

Under small thorn tree,

diminutive pony;

over deep green wheat,

brooding hills;

under heavy clouds,

gloom on the fields;

train hums on;

carries me into rain.

____________________________________________

for index of poems on this blog, click here

As the site has been up and running for close on two years, I thought it an appropriate moment to bring together images of the top ten most viewed objects. Of course, you have to bear in mind that there is in principle always likely to be a numbers bias toward the longest posted objects, relative to the most recently posted ones. For this reason, the last three entries below are the champions from the last 3 months and from among the more recent postings. 

For list of links to ALL art objects posts on the site, please click here

1  No 35 – Rajastani patchwork

2 Number 27 English batiks – flower motifs

3 Number 1 Chinese embroidery on silk

4 number 29 English regency mahogany chairs

5 number 22 Chinese dragon embroidery

6 number 25 Mongolian felt panel

 

 

 number 16 Indonesian wall-hanging

And finally the three recent chmpions:

8 number 61 Chinese peacock embroidery

9 Number 64 Nigerian tie-dyed wall hanging

10 number 65 Victorian jewellery boxes

Well, I have to say that this exercise has left me thoroughly dissatisfied: some of my greatest treasures are not here – ah, the fickleness of fashions in public taste (and the strange workings of search engine listings!)  So next post, I’m going to produce the top ten of my own favourites.

 

29/06/09

Tales from Rainring - further entry on 29/06, now 1-20 http://94stranger.wordpress.com/introduction-to-the-blog/rainring-index/tales-from-rainring-1-14/

 

Poems: Into Rain  http://94stranger.wordpress.com/2009/06/15/poem-into-rain/

 

 Art objects 69: http://94stranger.wordpress.com/2009/06/24/art-objects-69-oriental-rug-chasing-an-id/ 

68: http://94stranger.wordpress.com/2009/06/05/art-objects-68-australian-aboriginal-painted-wooden-figure/

 

 

I’m still spending a lot of time uploading grammar exercises to Rainschool at present, so not much time here - English grammar and improving literacy skills - about 150 pages at last count, and still growing.

Latest Rainring Cards information can be found on the Rainring update page of Rainschool

 

The header image is detail from Mary-Jane’s image of Soul in the Rainring Cards

 

 

For the index of links to all art objects posts on this site, click here

There’s something rather clinical and cold about the isolated featuring of elements of furniture, rugs, candlesticks and so on which I have mostly done so far in this series. To take pictures of the standard lamp, I either had to move it somewhere to isolate it – against a white wall, for example – or else photgraph it in situ. The problem with the latter option is that this lamp was bought for a very large room in our previous flat. As we haven’t felt able to part with it, it’s ended up, rather like an assortment of other items , squashed into the hallway, which is the overspill area.

Anyhow, on reflection, I decided to take the bull by the horns and just publish a couple of raw images of this patch of our domestic universe. The only concession I have made to art is to remove one or three coats from the hooks in order to get a better third view of the lamp, reflected. Apart from that, what you see is the actual state of our hallway.

I’m not sure that this lamp is a particularly thrilling object in any case, so perhaps enhancing it a little with some of the surrounding bric-a-brac is the least I can do for it. I suppose it’s of about 1930s vintage, which I have to say is a period which does absolutely nothing for me. We’ve ended up with this particular standard lamp because we needed one in the large living room in the old flat and we were in a state of extreme penury, even by our usual standards, so we spent a few pounds, rather than a few tens of pounds on it – and that was what we found.

Hacina says it came from Roger’s, though I really have – for once – no recollection of this.  What I do remember – yet again – is a magnificent Victorian standard lamp that I could have bought early in my career, at a very reasonable price of just over £100. The place which sold this was the same as the one from which I bought the Pembroke table, which I haven’t spoken of yet, but which I suppose I should do a feature on: the cautionary tale of yours truly’s one and only expedition into the world of antique dealing. (I think I have some photos of the table somewhere, I’ll see if I can dig them out.) Anyhow, I didn’t buy the beautiful Victorian lamp, partly because I didn’t yet have the confidence to spend with any freedom, and mainly because – despite my gut feeling that this was a bargain – I didn’t yet know to recognise  a quality item, the like of which I would see only once again in the subsequent 15 years, and this at an exorbitant price. And that’s the whole point – After ten or twenty years, you recognise the rarity and value of something which, after no more than a year or two, you cannot possibly have the discrimination and experience to value at its true worth.

So what of the aesthetic (or lack of it) revealed in these ‘cluttered hallway’ photos? I feel that I’m very limited in my tastes – or to be more precise, I have only a very limited area in which I feel any kind of confidence to choose excellent over mediocre. For example, I wouldn’t have the first idea how to distinguish between two paintings or sculptures. Or again, I wouldn’t know how to combine contemporary western artefacts – for instance, glass or ceramics –  with any of the antique or ethnic stuff that I dabble in. In fact, even where ethnic artefacts are concerned, I have a narrow range - the only area where I have any even modest feeling of knowing a little bit where I am is with textiles. Again, anything such as china, or glassware, masks beadwork, jewellery  … and a further long list… are unknowns to me.

Roger, by contrast,  moves like a fish in the sea in all the above territories, not to mention books and manuscripts, cameras, prints, oils and watercolours … the only solid generalisation I can make about Roger is that, even after ten years or so, he can still astonish me: he suddenly bought in several stuffed ducks not long ago.  Roger I would describe as a true collector, and my definition of this is that he collects stuff which has no practical purpose, possibly not even that of being decorative, and which actually impedes progress through the space that it occupies - his shops, for example. The only merit of this stuff is, it seems, to have some quirky attribute or other – being ‘interesting’ as like as not.

Fortunately (it seems to me), I get off well before the terminus here – I don’t go further than functional plus mild doses of non-functional-but-decorative. Yet even that is not entirely true – I have textiles that I can’t display because we don’t have enough wall space – yet I am still potentially interested in acquiring pieces of types, or from areas, that I don’t yet possess. So perhaps I am not, in the end, any different to the small boy of my youth and his stamp collection – engaged in some rather neurotic act-out behaviour, trying to meet an unrecognised emotional need with an external substitute. 

Of course, this is rather a platitude, or should I say cliche, and because something is repeated many times doesn’t necessarily make it true. In reality, just as the existence of anorexia and bulemia do not imply that eating as such is neurotic behaviour, so collection mania, shop-aholism and so on do not mean that any desire to acquire beautiful things is automatically indicative of neurosis. There is, more likely, a single continuum upon which can be situated both normal and neurotic behaviour – a state of affairs which is less comfortable for everyone than the existence of clear-cut separations. 

Finally, to come back to the point of departure, every interior space has some kind of aesthetic, emits certain vibrations and has a certain effect upon those who experience it. The visitor to a cathedral, a pub, a swimming pool, a school and a casino, for instance, will be aware – if only subliminally – that each space makes its own particular impact upon those who experience it. In the same way, to visit someone’s house is to have immediately a degree of insight into that person’s psyche: their habits, values, preferences and even, probably, their neuroses. 

It would be interesting to see whether the above digital images convey any sense of  those psychological elements – so I would like to invite anyone reading this to suggest whatever comes to mind in terms of  the various impressions made by upon them by these images of our domestic space. Do please have a go!

 

For the index of links to all art objects posts on this site, click here

For a long time, I’ve been wanting to share with you some images of our Georgian dining table (circa 1790.) Unfortunately, these days it lies almost permanently under a cloth (I feel like saying – under a cloud!) with piles of books on top. Finally, having recently acquired another tub of proper traditional – and beautifully-smelling – beeswax, I was moved over the long weekend to give it a re-wax and take some photos at the same time.

In many ways, this table represents the ideal antique piece for me.

 

For example, the repair (photographed here as an afterthought, hence the cloth etc) is, for me, a strangely moving and strongly enhancing element. This is an old repair – it has acquired the same patina as the original – who knows how long it is since this 220 year-old table was burned, chiselled or otherwise damaged to the point of needing a chunk cut out and replaced? Old things, in my feeling, must show their age. I cannot see the point of an antique piece which looks for all the world as if it has just come out of a showroom or workshop. I am far from convinced that the restorer’s art should be to make look as if the piece had never been touched, that it is (because it appears to be)  in its original condition. Why? If a piece has real age and character, why must it pretend to be in absolute pristine condition? What is unattractive, perhaps, is a repair that screams – JUST DONE!: but not a repair that is, itself, a venerable piece of craftsmanship.

When I entered the world of antique buying, one of my earliest purchases was a Victorian gate-legged table. The one I bought was, in fact, quite an attractive, rustic-style example of that ilk. But it took me hardly months, and perhaps even only weeks, to realise that every high street bric-a-brac shop boasted – if that is not a misnomer – a Victorian gate-legged oak table , more or less identical to mine. Add to that the fact that it would only really seat four, and you have the recipe for major discontent. From then on, the hunt was on for a table with some genuine aristocratic pretensions. As ever, had I been able / willing to go out and spend a grand or two, no problem. Had I been able to accomodate some great rectangular table, that too would have increased my area of choice. 

In the life of the antique lover, there are inevitably moments of profound chagrin, not to say sorrow. One of mine concerns an old French refectory table in pear wood. This wood has the most extraordinary pale yellow colour  and, at least in this case, a singular, whorl-like pattern in the grain. All waxed up, it was exquisite. I could only love this piece, neither accomodate nor afford it. I used to go and visit it from time to time in a local town where it was on sale. Then one day it had gone. But in fact, it hadn’t. The dealer, a cowboy of the worst variety, had stained it dark.

I relate this incident as one of many involving my developing love affair with tables, and my search for (at a ludicrously low price, inevitably) THE table. It went on, if I remember correctly, for at least three, and quite possibly even five years. 

How to characterise my table odyssey? The acquisition of my regency chairs, which of course you can see in the top image, as well as in number 29 of this series, focussed my attention on acquiring a regency table. I had been severely schooled in this regard – no mixing of periods. The problem was that there were no regency tables – and if ever I saw one from afar, such as in a web image or in an occasional high class establishment, the prices were £2000 and upwards. I wasn’t sure how much I was able and willing to pay, but above £500, I would start to get very nervous. The Victorian gateleg had cost me £120, so a 400% increase on that already seemed to me like serious money. For this, I wanted at least a six-seater, since less seemed below even small family size, and we were said to be aiming to start a small family.

The resulting stand-off lasted a considerable time. It was one of those cases where no amount of pushing and probing  seems capable of producing a result. Finally, the breakthrough came at the emporium of which I wrote in number 14 in these terms:

I bought this from an emporium I haven’t yet mentioned. For a long time, at the beginning of my collecting career, I was too shy to go in, as I felt that it was a really posh establishment, where cash-strapped punters like me were not welcome. Anyhow, after a couple of years of this, I finally plucked up courage to push open the door, and a real Ali baba’s cave awaited me….. over the intervening years I’ve bought about four items from them, …… These particular people belong to a type I like very much. I have a feeling they’ve made a great deal of money during a long career, basically by having a deep knowledge and an eye for a good buy. I trust them totally. I believe they probably have a more or less fixed mark-up, and that if they buy something – for instance during a house clearance - for a song, they will sell it on significantly below what they could obtain for it.

This outfit involves a number of sellers, whose identity changes somewhat over the years, but gravitates always around a father and son combination, Henry and George. The deadlock-breaking table was at the bottom of a pile of tables in a corner of a first-floor room which had seen little recent movement for yonks, and I noticed it only because I was in one of my moments of exceptional persistence. It was thick with dust, and a lot of it wasn’t visible at all. Where it had stood for a long time in the window, the sun had bleached a lop-sided rectangle into a paler colour than the rest. But I arranged with George to have it brought out for a viewing a day or two later. And I loved it – it had age, pin-ponted to 1790, charm and was built in the old way, when no-one had heard of scarce resources or depletion of the rainforest. The trouble was that I was looking at  £700 or £800 worth of table -  or more. I asked the price.  ‘I’ll do it for £450′ said George. I nearly had a fit. George doesn’t do favours – at least, not silly ones. I asked for details. ‘This stuff isn’t selling,’ came the answer. ‘I bought it towards the end of the period when they were fetching good money, now tastes have changed and I’m stuck with it. At that price I’ll get back what I paid for it.’

As I explained above, George has got where he is today not by being dishonest, but by being knowledgeable. Apparently, for once the strange fashion trends of the antiques world were going to do me a big favour.

‘I’ve got a Victorian gateleg,’ I said, ‘which will have to leave. Can you do me somthing on that?’ In the end, I got THE table for £350 and the gateleg. I doubt if I’ve ever struck a better bargain during my 15 years on the antiques trail.

To round off, this baby has a feature which you will find in no Victorian gateleg, or indeed the earlier models on which it is based: the central section does not sit on four legs, with a further two to support the extensions when raised. This one, as you can see, has a central section (when the side flaps are up) resting on only two legs. This is achieved by a box made rigid by a diagonal transverse member, as can be seen in the third image. Unbelievably, this produces a rigid central section, though it is not advised to get half a rugby club to lean in and test it.

Apart from that, I did a little staining, but only of the immediately affected area, and the rest of the tratment accorded has been simply a matter of regular applications of wax polish. Mind you, it must be emphasised that we have a large plastic cloth which entirely covers it if we eat on it, and metal plates or raffia mats to take anything hot. Wax gives the most beautiful surface, but you can’t mistreat it. Around it sit our Regency chairs. Thank God we don’t have Georgian ones, which we would never be able to fit six of. This is not, I have to confess my guilty secret, really a dyed-in-the-wool six seater – but it pretends to be capable of seating six, if you hold your breath while eating. As for the aesthetics of Georgian meets Regency, if this is an offence against all the canons of good taste, I’m afraid I can’t see it.

Maybe this table would be nothing much, indeed quite unsuitable, for most people. All I can say is that for me, it is a dream come true. Only if I were to become wealthy, live in a house with lots of spacious rooms, and the unstained brother of the pear-wood refectory table appear before my eyes, just maybe…

For all art objects posts on this site, click here

I am buying very little at the moment, what with our small flat being chock-a-block with stuff already. And what little I do buy tends to be at Roger’s ethnic emporium, about which I have written many times already in these posts.  I don’t mean to say that because I don’t buy, I don’t look. Whilst I am not the assiduous observer that I was when we lived 200 metres from the shop door, I still buy our wonderful sour dough bread from the bakery nearby, and I usually drop in at one or both of Roger’s emporia (is that the plural?) at least once a week. So none of us should be surprised if a purchase – even if of modest dimensions – does sometimes result.

In the three years or so of the emporium, I have only bought three figures from Roger. The first was a laughing Chinese God in bamboo which I have yet to feature here, the second was the Inuit head of number 19  in this series, and this is the third. I had a good feeling about it as soon as I saw it, and in any case I was carrying a chip on my shoulder because of an aboriginal bark-painting which I had failed to snap up and Roger (as he later confessed) had been unfocussed enough to offer for sale for a paltry sum. So when the gentleman featured above turned up, I was delighted, and didn’t hesitate.

A few  days later, when I was in the shop again, I was buttonholed by Roger, who asked if I would mind selling the above back to him at twice the price I had paid for it. It is not, we had already agreed, an antique piece, but it is ‘right’ – i.e. done as these things always have been, and therefore from an ethnic-traditional perspective, should be done.

‘Well’, I grinned, ‘if that’s an opening offer, how far will you go?’

‘No, no,’ he said hastily, then explained that he wanted it for an exhibition he was getting together for one of the local museums.

I certainly owe Roger at least one, and more like several favours. ‘You know,’ I said, ‘I really like this – it is, after all, only the third such thing I have ever bought from you, but you’re very welcome to borrow it back for the museum until such time as something suitable to replace it turns up.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘but since the time when they dropped a pre-Columbian pot of mine on the floor and smashed it,  I prefer only to risk my own stuff with them, not other people’s.’

So that’s where we left it. If I felt a twinge of guilt, it was allayed by my awareness that Roger, as the most inveterate of collectors, would be the first to understand my reaction, as indeed he did. My resolve was strengthened, I have to add, by the fact that Hacina, when she first saw it, had reacted just like me – approving the vibe. Given that Hacina has appointed herself Chief Inspector of Clutter for our flat, that reaction, I have to say, was an unlooked for bonus.

[Note: I don't know which tribal group this is from, or indeed if that is still a relevant issue in a relatively modern piece like this.]

For me, the aboriginies are special. So please, enjoy!

Swan

I glide upon the white

water, to the reeds’ embrace,

here where the old light

hangs in a windless noon.

She who was my life

companion is gone.

All I have left is the face

of memory, and the moon

to glide upon;

grief, like a knife,

the noon lake of sky

and, by and by,

the twilight hour.

Rainschool

Online English Help

www.rainschool.com

A. Introduction

This article deals with the School of English section of this site only. School of Rainring-related material will be found after it.

·         Established in October 2009, Rainschool is in continuous development, with 100+ English grammar and writing training exercises – most of them free -  already available.

·         In the future, we intend to offer a live online lesson service, both for groups and 1-1 tuition.

·         Here are the contents of this page:

A. Introduction

B. Information for students:

1.  What you can find at Rainschool

2.  How to use the Rainschool site

      a) understanding the file code number

      b) making the exercises interactive

      c) free files and paying files

3. Rainschool quality guarantee

4. Enjoying English’ web site users’ special discount

C. Information for teachers

 

B Information for students

1. What you can find at Rainschool.

Rainschool exercises are on five levels:

Elementary / Pre-intermediate

Intermediate

Upper Intermediate

Advanced

Proficiency

[There are no exercises for beginners on this website, because beginner-level students need a teacher with them to help them with their English. If your level is elementary or above, you can use the explanations and exercises on this site without regular help from a teacher of English.]

There are 4 types of file on Rainschool: Reference, Explanation, English Practice exercises and Answers to exercises.

The Reference files are special ones, such as verb tenses, which you will keep, like a dictionary, and use from time to time when you need to check something.

The Explanation files tell you how one piece of grammar – for example phrases, active & passive, conjunctions – works, and gives examples.

The English Practice exercises give you the chance to test what you have studied in the explanation files.

The Answer files are for you to check if you did the exercises correctly.

2. How to use the Rainschool site

Here are some simple instructions to help you get the most out of the Rainschool site.

The site is divided into two sections, and the one which you want to use is called the School of English. If you click go to the home page of http://www.rainschool.com/  and click on the School of English link, you will see this:

 

Writing Training

Grammar Elementary/Pre-Intermediate

Grammar Intermediate

Grammar Upper-Intermediate

Grammar Advanced/ Proficiency

Click on any of these links and you will find a number of links, all with code numbers, which take you to the individual files.

a) Understanding the file code number

As you can see by following the links, all Rainschool files have a code number, for example: E4-01G, P507W and so on.

The first letter tells you the type of file: R= reference, E= explanation, P= practice, A= answer.

The first number tells you the level of difficulty

1=elementary, 2=pre-intermediate, 3=intermediate, 4=upper-intermediate, 5=advanced, 6=proficiency.

The last letter tells you what type of English work it is:

W=writing help, G=grammar

This means that every file has its own unique code. If you save the code and type it into the ‘search’ box next time, you can get back to that file.

 b) Making the exercises interactive

 

 

 

You can highlight the text you want to use, then right click and click print to get a printed copy.

Better, however, is to select, right click, copy, open a word document (PC) – or Mac equivalent – and paste.

You then have the document in a form in which you can work on the text of your answers as much as you like.

c) Free files and paying files

You can use all the files on the site free of charge EXCEPT for the answers.

3. Rainschool quality guarantee

You can find plenty of free English on the web. But BE CAREFUL. I do not think that you will get, for free, explanations and exercises of the quality of the ones on this site.

The exercises on this site have all been used and tested in the classroom with actual students, sometimes over a number of years. In many cases, I created them because my students were having problems learning by using only the normally available grammar books. In order to get a small financial return from these years of work, I am therefore making a modest charge for the answer files, for those who want to use them to check their work.

Also, I have tried to use my many years experience in order to write the explanations in simple English. This is not so necessary for advanced students, but it is very important for intermediate and below. I have made every effort to write explanations which you can understand, using a good dictionary to help you, of course.

 

C Information for teachers

How I came to create these exercises

I am not an expert on grammar like Michael Swann, for example. For definitive rulings on matters of grammar, I recommend you always to refer to a source such as Michael Swann’s Practical English Usage’.

The exercises on this site were developed for two reasons. First, because I sometimes found that my students were not learning grammar points to my satisfaction using other sources such as Raymond Murphy’s famous ‘English Grammar in Use’, for example. Don’t get me wrong: I think Murphy is brilliant, and have used him and others for years. But – and this is the second thing – I often found that I needed to offer something additional to my students.

There were three motives for such additions to grammar material already available to my students. First, I wanted to address a particular topic in a different way to those already available in the standard textbooks. Second, I wanted to use vocabulary etc specially chosen for my students – for example, because they were adults, not schoolchildren. Third, I only had one or two book exercises available on a particular topic, and after my students had done it / them, they still needed more practice.

 

Re-formatting exercises for the web

Finally, when I began to upload my classroom exercises to the site, I had a surprise. I realised that I had always produced exercises for students with whom I would be in face-to-face classroom contact. The web was something different. In fact, I have had to create many more explanation files, almost one for every practice file, because only in this way can students work alone. However, I think that these explanation files, which use carefully graded language, should be at least as useful to teachers as the actual practice exercises. At the same time, I take advantage of web publication to re-examine and, more often than not, make further improvements to my original exercises

My approach to teaching

Let me finish by recounting a personal anecdote. One day, some years ago, I was sitting around with other members of staff and we were all moaning about a particularly useless bunch of students: a class who nobody seemed able to teach any English to, because they were just too stupid. After perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes of this – a conversation I had heard on other occasions in other places, if never to quite such an extreme degree – I suddenly found myself saying to myself: ‘this is too easy. What if I take the attitude that the problem is not that these students are incapable of learning, but that we are incapable of teaching them.’

This was a ‘light bulb’ moment for me. I walked out of there determined to explore my own performance, to discover what I had to do to succeed with these students where so far I had failed. From then on, I have tried never again to accuse a student of not being able to understand me. I try always to respond to an uncomprehending student, or class of students, by saying: I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to help you understand this – let me see if I can do it in a different way.’

The point is this: in some cases maybe the student, not myself, is the one really at fault. Yet I can never be SURE of this. More important still, the moment I myself genuinely make efforts to overcome the stuck situation, I am sending the right signal to the students: ‘when faced with a difficulty, take responsibility. Don’t sit back and wait for someone else to do the work for you.’ If I’m willing to make an extra effort, then the student probably will be also.

 Contact me

So, teachers, please feel free to contact me through the comments facility, or via sales@rainschool.com and I will endeavour to help with any problems arising from anything on this site. Apart from that, may I take this opportunity to wish you all a good time with your English classes!

Peter Ryley

Hastings, England

April 2009 

 

 

The index listing all art objects articles on this site can be accessed here

The late Victorian coiffeuse, which has already featured in this art objects series, is home to a number of items most of which serve to house Hacina’s jewellery, and all of which date from either the late Victorian period or, in one or two cases, perhaps slightly later. Anyhow, as they have been acquired over a period to form a whole, aesthetically-speaking, it seems logical to feature them as an ensemble.

As I’m always insisting, I’m no more than an ill-informed amateur when it comes to periods etc, but I seem to remember that the blue velvet box with the portrait in the centre is an Arts and Crafts piece.

[Particularly active between about 1880 and 1910, according to Wikipedia: 'the Arts and Crafts Movement began primarily as a search for authentic and meaningful styles for the 19th century and as a reaction to the eclectic revival of historic styles of the Victorian era and to "soulless" machine-made production aided by the Industrial Revolution.']

When I tell you that this in fact came from Roger’s ethnic emporium, it will not in reality give you the least idea of the breadth, idiosyncracy and at times sheer gobsmackability of the merchandise that Roger sees fit to sell alongside ethnic objects from around the world. But, true to his principles, it was not only very pretty, but cheap. I had it re-lined by another sewing lady – not the usual one – and it now houses part of Hacina’s collection of semi-precious stone earings and pendants which is the accumulated result of seven years of Christmases, birthdays, Valentine’s days and so on.

I think the dark blue velvet box is from a similar period, but I don’t really know anything about this one: it came from one of the stallholders in Jack the Lad’s warehouse I think, though with one or two of the small items here, I don’t clearly recall their origins.

Two of the objects that go to make up this ensemble are Victorian papier-mache pots, both finished in black, one with flower decoration and the other a piece of Chinoiserie, of whose sides there are two illustrations above. This piece I do know the origin of: it came from the gracious and rather upmarket rural town which produced also the chest of drawers featured in number 55 of this series. This is an emporium which I have visited and enjoyed many times, and where I have been tempted to purchase on a number of occasions, for the old church which they inhabit has been divided between a large number of small stallholders, thereby ensuring a great range of items. However, they are also systematically upmarket, and try as I may, I’ve never really come across an out-and-out bargain there. As I say this, I’m mindful of what a sage old dealer once told me: in every shop there’s a bargain: but can you locate it? Which means, of course, that no-one is an expert at everything, and sooner or later, someone will offer something at a price which, to a person in the know, is a virtual giveaway.

Anyhow, if memeory serves me correctly, this little faux-Chinese decorated pot was about £15, which though not a bargain, was a fair enough price for something which I felt was just right to go with the other two larger round pots which I had already acquired.

Another individual item, the hand mirror, also has something attached to it - I have an idea it’s to do with the process used to create the back – but I no longer remember the details: if anyone can oblige, please do! Finally, close inspection of the first picture will reveal, at the back close to the mirror, a rectangle of glass concealing what is, apparently, a Victorian valentine, which I acquired only a few weeks ago, and I think is rather cute and goes with everything else. I’ll try and find a moment to photograph it out of doors without flash, since the pics I took are too dazzled by reflections from the flash to see it well.

The coiffeuse – the piece of furniture which is home to all this – was a relatively late acquisition, and was in fact bought both for the unrivalled views of the female physiognomy and more afforded by triple mirrors, but also as the perfect way to showcase these diverse items of Victoriana.

I guess that’s about it: I have to say that, whilst I have no desire to return to some of the more primitive aspects of Victorian life – the cold in which they lived, for example - I do take great pleasure from many of the non-mass-produced items which were still commonplace at that time, and am delighted to be able to have a few - even as modest an object as a papier-mache pot – in use in our life.