A journal by artist and designer John Coulthart.
Dragon Skull Ring.
Jewellery by Swedish designer Maria Nilsdotter. Looking at her blog posts I’d guess that her snake bangle is inspired by the serpentine ring and bracelet set designed by Alphonse Mucha and Georges Fouquet for Sarah Bernhardt.
Snake bangle (blackened silver).
Previously on { feuilleton }
• The Divine Sarah
• Lalique’s dragonflies
Le Sphinx Mystérieux (1897).
Charles van der Stappen’s most impressive sculptural work and one I missed including in this earlier post. Van der Stappen doesn’t seem to have done anything else like this which is a shame as it’s a very striking fin de siècle image, conveying a sense of enigma without resorting to the usual human/animal hybrids; Sarah Bernhardt would have loved the costume. This picture was swiped from Beautiful Century and Mariana took it from the book with the best reproduction I’ve seen to date, Gabriele Fahr-Becker’s Art Nouveau.
Previously on { feuilleton }
• La belle sans nom
• The Feminine Sphinx
• Le Monstre
• Carlos Schwabe’s Fleurs du Mal
• Empusa
Sarah Bernhardt by Jean-Léon Gérôme (1895).
You can’t be a fin de siècle fetishist and not develop a fascination with actress Sarah Bernhardt, a woman who was muse to many of the era’s finest artists, most notably Alphonse Mucha, who she employed as her official designer. Mucha’s marvellous posters are endlessly popular, of course; less well-known is the sculpture by academic painter and Orientalist Jean-Léon Gérôme, a rare three-dimensional work inspired by the actress.
Inkwell by Sarah Bernhardt (1880).
Even less well-known is Ms Bernhardt’s own design for a curious bat-winged inkwell. I’ve read of her having created other sculptural works but so far this is the only one I’ve seen a picture of. With something as decadent as this you’d really have to use peacock quills for pens, wouldn’t you?
Bracelet by Alphonse Mucha & Georges Fouquet (1899).
And in a similar sinister vein to the inkwell there’s this serpentine bracelet and ring, a superb one-off, designed by Mucha and crafted by the jeweller Fouquet. After seeing works such as this and the Lalique dragonfly (which Ms Bernhardt once wore), most other jewellery seems timid and unadventurous in comparison.
Update: Added another photo of the inkwell.
Previously on { feuilleton }
• The art of Philippe Wolfers, 1858–1929
• Lalique’s dragonflies
• Lucien Gaillard
• Smoke
• The Masks of Medusa
Dragonfly woman corsage ornament (1897–1898).
Gold, enamel, chrysoprase, moonstones, and diamonds.
Seeing as dragonflies emerged as a theme this week I can’t resist mentioning my favourite of all, this bizarre confection by glass artist and jeweller René Lalique (1860–1945), a dragonfly with female torso and gryphon claws. This was owned by wealthy Armenian collector Calouste Gulbenkian (in whose museum it now resides) and was worn once by Sarah Bernhardt. You can barely tell from this picture but the delicate gold wings are hinged at several points so they wouldn’t be obtrusive for the wearer.
The Lalique company made more glassware than they did jewellery and these included a range of unique automobile mascots whose pedestrian-puncturing potential saw them banished to museum cabinets as road safety laws evolved. The dragonfly design was an especially splendid example, being placed above a multicoloured disc lit from beneath which rotated in accordance with the speed of the car. The faster the car travelled, the faster the colours changed.
Previously on { feuilleton }
• Lucien Gaillard
• Wesley Fleming’s glass insects
• The glass menagerie