12th century Style Wedding Box - Part II

I  had not intended to take so long to continue the narrative of this box, so thank you to all who have been patiently waiting to see more of it. 

 

 

Preparing the box for the intarsia

 

 

 

We left off, in the last post, with the bone border surrounding the intarsia love knot. That seemed like a big "milestone" at the time, but little did I know what infinitesimal progress I had actually made in the scope of the whole project. Since I never made a plan, or drawings, I really had no idea what was going to come out. As I got started, I made several changes to my initial mental idea for the box.

 

I had actually "kicked around" several ideas of how I would make and decorate the box. Some of the ideas were not very ornate, and I even contemplated using some small raised panels made up for another job but were ultimately not needed. At some point, I settled on using some intarsia blanks that I had left from a different project from 2007 or 8. Once I had gotten to this stage, though, there was no more guessing about what I wanted to do, and I had a firm idea and was "on a mission". From this point, it was "full steam ahead" for the next two months!

 

 

Applying the first batch of intarsia, a small step in a long process

 

 

The method for the intarsia that I had used is done by making lots of thin plates of various timbers, gluing them together in layers of alternating colours, then slicing pieces from those blanks and gluing them back together to form patterns. This method is known as "Intarsia Certosina", (named after a region of Italy where it was produced extensively in the 13th and 14th centuries.) Once the pattern has been established, and that might take two, three, or even more stages of cutting and gluing up again, then one is left with a "blank" from which multiple sheets or strips of the same design may be cut.  

 

Some intarsia blanks including the "love Knot" used for this box

 

The process is time consuming, and requires a lot of patience and a need for the utmost precision, as the more "off" one piece is, the more it affects every other piece that is joined to it. I did a big project close to twenty years ago in which I made lots of the stuff, so I had plenty of blanks to choose from. I used one for the front, a second for the ends, and a third for the back; each with a different pattern.

 

laying out the end pattern

 

The process involves slicing the pieces off and then gluing them on with hide glue. The blank for the ends was not quite long enough, so I had to join sections of another strip to make it work. The gluing process was a combination of cramping and using a small hammer to press the pieces into the glue. I tried making a little video to show some of that process, but holding the camera and doing it at the same time is not easy. I think that is best left to the younger generations.

 

 

For the ends, I just cramped a wooden block over the entire end, which made the gluing go a bit faster. I could not do this for the front and back because the bone pieces stood proud of the surface and it would not have been able to lay flat.

 

 

Gluing up. Some blanks in the background

 

With a front and two ends done, it really felt like I was making good progress. It was starting to look like something interesting, as well. Still, at this stage, there was nothing potentially "mediaevel looking about the box. 

 

Front and end all glued up; ready for some borders

 

Once I had the main fields filled in with intarsia, it was time to move on to the next step, which was making a border to go around each face. The border material was made up the same way as the other parts; by gluing together thin strips into a "bank" and then cutting from that.

 

Marking out, cutting and then gluing on the border

 

After the borders were fit on, glued up and everything was dry, it was time to flatten and smooth out the surface. This was done with the cabinet scraper to avoid tearing anything out, which might have happened with a plane.

 

Scraping the face and the final result

 

Once all of the intarsia was finished, the real work was ready to begin; that of making the bone border. When I started, I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I really enjoyed doing it. That subject, however, is for the next post, as this is already getting too long. Stay tuned...

 

 

 

 

 

 

12th Century Style Wedding Box

A few months ago, one of my very dear clients announced that their daughter was getting married and they asked me to create a keepsake box to present as a wedding gift for the new couple. Having watched the young lady grow up over the last twenty seven years, and given all of the work that I have done for the family over those same years, I was very happy to make something that would be extra spacial for them.

 

 

Centre front detail of the wedding box

 

The only stipulation, other than an idea of the size, that I was given was a suggestion that it should somehow include an inscription with the surname on it. Otherwise, I had free artistic license to do anything I liked as the clients said they knew, "whatever you make will be beautiful."

I was informed that both bride and groom like "archeology", but was not given any specific culture or time period, I did know the couple would be going to Crete for their honeymoon, so my initial thought was to make something with a Minoan theme, as I too have an interest in archeology, especially as it relates to ancient advanced civilisations. However, as I began planning what I would make, I realised that I am a "mediaeval guy" and I should stick with what I know and like the best, so I landed on the 12th century and started working on something.

As with all of my furniture and boxes, this had to be completely hand made, (my own stipulation, not the clients') I chose a plank and started sawing. At this point, I had no clear idea what I would be making, yet.

 

Sawing by hand. (These pictures are taken from videos)

Planing the first face flat

marking the edge of the second to produce parallel faces

planing the second face

"shooting" (squaring up) the ends

Ripping the piece of timber into two halves

We now have two long sides for the box

 

Years ago, I did an intarsia project and had a lot of material left from that; I decided that some of that stuff would be good material to decorate the box with. That part I had decided on, even before I started cutting the timbers, but that was about as far as my planning had gone. I had also decided on the length and width of the inside of the box; the outside dimensions were determined by the timbers that I chose.

It is not well known, and some "histories of furniture" would have you believe very much otherwise, but intarsia work never left the world of furniture ornamentation during the middle ages. It was an art very much practiced by the Romans, and a couple well preserved carbonised examples in Herculaneum prove this to be true. I have seen some old photographs of a now lost (?) 7th century box which was made this way, there are illustrations of the art from 9th century manuscripts, and there is a 10th century multi-leaved wax tablet floating around somewhere, whose outer leaves are thus decorated. This brings us to the 11th and 12 centuries from which there are quite a number of surviving examples of intarsia boxes of German origin

 

 

Video stills showing the making of the centre

Cleaning up the intarsia "love knot" inserted into the fig-wood centre

The centre intarsia, complete and ready for a border

 

 

Nearly twenty years ago, we had a very harsh winter and some fig trees of the grandfather of the bride were killed by that cold. I took a piece of one of the trunks, when it was cut down, because I wanted to see what fig wood looked like. I cut it up as "oyster veneer" (Meaning veneer cut across the trunk of the tree, not with the grain) and it has been lying around my shop, ever since. The grandfather (now deceased) and granddaughter had a very close relationship, so I thought it a fitting gesture to incorporate some of his tree into her wedding box, thus I chose it to go around the "love knot" intarsia.

Once I had established the idea of the material for the box, the question was how to incorporate an inscription into the mix. Somehow, I came up with the idea of using bone, which one often finds paired with wood in mediaeval boxes. I have done several furniture restorations over the years, using bone to replace missing ivory that had been used in the pieces. I still had a couple bones in a drawer so I got one of those out, and it was of a perfect size to do a plate with their surname on it, and that was where it all started. I then had to make another plate for the initials of the couple, and then a couple more were wanted to complete a frame for the intarsia "love knot", again, something that I had made up years ago. 

 

 

 

Preparing to make some flat plates from bone

Cutting the bone (video still)

cutting the plate to width

Beginning the monogram

side pieces to complete the border

 

To be continued. 

The box is finished and has been delivered, but I wanted to keep this project private until after the fact, no pictures of it went on this blog or my Instagram page until after the wedding, because no one knew what I was doing and I wanted to keep it that way. I will post more pictures and more of the story of its making in future posts

 

The Painted and Gilt 7th century Box is Finished

More than seven years ago, I began working on my "7th Century Box" project. At the time, I had no idea that it would be this long in the making, but this past week, it finally got "finished". Actually, it really is not finished yet, because it still wants hinges, a handle, a lock and some textile lining.

 

 

The finished front (minus a lock)

 

 

The main reason for making this box, besides that I wanted to, was to demonstrate the potential decorative qualities of  objects from a time when so few are available; and to show that the world was not as drab bleak and crude as what people are want to portray it, through their own cultural ignorance and biases. 

To be sure, this was no "ordinary" man's chest, but it is something that could have existed, and if it did, it would look, when new, just as this does; every aspect of it was crafted with tools and techniques available in the 7th century. In this post, I shall tell a bit of how I came to decorate it as I did and the thought process behind those choices.

 

I already revealed my sources of inspiration for the design in previous posts on the topic, like this first one, from September of 2018 (When I had already been working on it for nearly a year) so there is no point to repeat myself here.

 

 

 

Mosaic of Saint'Apollonair in Classe, Ravenna

 

 

The mosaic shown above was created in the sixth century, so would have been roughly one hundred years old by the time of our box, yet it shows the beginnings of the stylisation of the trees, as they appear on our box. This artwork would doubtlessly have influenced later generations, as it was on view throughout the entire span of the "Middle Ages".

In decorating this box, the overall colour theme was inspired by a couple frescoes and an "illuminated manuscript" page, all from our target period of "the 7th century". The colours, or "pallet" I chose mostly came from this manuscript. Different colours were available in different regions and according to one's budget. The type of painting that one was doing could also affect the colours that one had to work with. Some colours were available for books, but not for walls or furnishings, whilst other colours were available for any type of surface. It was those sorts of colours that I chose for this box. All of them, save the blue and black, which comes from woad and charcoal, respectively, began as ground up minerals (stones),

 

 

From the Codex Amiatinus comes several inspirations, including colours

A good source of information on horse trappings came from this fresco

Two wall paintings that lent a lot of information to this project came from 7th century fragments preserved in Santa Maria, Antiqua, in Rome. Seeing this equestrian painting, in particular, helped a great deal in better understanding where the original carver was coming from with his design, which I mostly followed, for the front panel.The harness and the saddle are the same, and the pose of the horse seems to be similar to my left-most horse. It even gave inspiration for the decoration of the rider's hose and shoes.

 

View of the front of the lid with birds

The back, with small birds and a "textile, design on the lid

 

 

Birds were a very common early mediaeval theme in the arts; since I love them as well, it was natural to incorporate them into my box.  The method of colouring them was informed by several illuminated manuscripts, of which I have included a couple pages, below. 

Birds in 7th century art

More birds and ornamental details, Note their multi-coloured nature

Details showing multi-coloured strap-work and banding

 

Speaking of colour, a series of surviving pages from the so-called "Stockholm Codex Aureus" (Early 8th century) was my main inspiration for how to go about colouring the main back panel. The above picture is a compressed view of part of two sides of an arch used as a "Eusebian Cannon Table" in the manuscript. The colours, as well as the black background where what I took away from this. 

 

 

7th century linen and wool textile with roundel motif

Since we are discussing the back, I might as well end that topic by mentioning that from the moments I saw the original carved marble slab that inspired the back of the lid, I always understood that to represent textile. There are many preserved fragments of 7th century textiles, from Egypt as well as sources along the "Silk Road" which show this basic repeat "roundel" pattern, so it was to imitate this type of fabric that I coloured it. I had a 9th century illuminated manuscript page in mind, which gave me the idea of the purple and gold, but purple was, since the Roman times, a sign of wealth, so there is no reason to think that one would not have used such a colour for this purpose. In fact, there are several surviving 7th century Sogdian silk fragments in Museums around the world, done with purple. 

Back and right-hand end

Right lid end with lions; an ever present theme as well

7th century buckle with "Daniel Among the Lions"

Right end detail

Another painting from Santa Maria Antigua in Rome

 

In 9th century illuminated manuscripts, there are many versions of overlapping circles with gradient colours, and I had seen several 7th and early 8th as well as a 6th century examples of other shapes showing the same gradient theme, (See the above manuscript from which I drew inspiration for the colours) but I was not able to find a 7th century one specifically with overlapping circles. I really expected that they would have used such a motif because it seemed to be such a popular mode of ornamentation, but I searched for a long time to find something to support my hunch. I did eventually find evidence in the fresco, shown above; some of the paint has worn off, so the gradient effect has been partially lost, but it definitely shows the concept.  Of all of the carved elements on this box, this is the one that I am the most confident in how it would have been painted in the target century. 

 

 

Left end

In the unfinished carving, it was the left end I liked best, thus I put it together this way, because I like to "read" a piece of furniture from the left corner, but after the painting, I really loved the right end, and wished I had put the thing together differently. This end panel works well with the lions above, though, and it all works well as a complete piece. I really had nothing much to go on, for the painting of this animal, other than a couple illustrations of lions and imaginary creatures, which this is. All are mostly painted in single colours, with outlines accents, as I have done here.
 

 

Gilded arcade detail on the front of the box

Gold-plated 7th century bronze medallion

Detail of a 7th century gold-foil votive cross

 

Another thing that was very clear to me, when starting on this project, was how similar the surviving carvings of the period were to metalwork, which the semi-nomadic Germanic tribes had been famous for for centuries. As this was their preferred manner of ornamentation, it is no wonder that other types of decoration would resemble and imitate that form. I also suspect that originally, a lot of the carved interior stonework would have been gilded much as I have done with this box. Once the gilding is on, it really does looks just like metalwork. In the 7th century writings, concerning St Eligius, we are informed of the practice of gilding stone altars, specifically.

 

Some people might think that this box is too elaborate and sophisticated for the 7th century, but I again repeat that that is only because we have been brainwashed into supposing the people of that time to be simple rustics living in squalor and gloom. Below, I share a couple of actual 7th century caskets that have survived to our present age; by these, you can see that my box is less involved than they are. More "man-hours" would have been spent to make these than what I spent on my box.

 

7th century Reliquary; missing many of its jewels

Another 7th century reliquary

 

Should you still be skeptical, because these are metal, not wood, I will say that actually, the first one, above is wood, and has been carved out to accommodate the metal inlay, (no mean feat, for sure) but there are other examples of fine wood carving from the 7th century as well. Here is a door from a painted cupboard Someone has sawn the eagles off, perhaps to apply as decoration to something else? Were they gilded? It is hard to say. The book cover is leather, but someone had to carve the form into which it was pressed, to create the design, so that counts, as well.

 

 

 

Cover of St Cuthbert's personal gospel book

cupboard door from the "6th or 7th century"

Some readers might note the mixture of Roman influences with that of the "migration" art of this box. This is no accident. First of all, the original carvings from which I drew inspiration also had this mixture, such as the classical columns on the ends of migration-style sarcophagi. This blending of styles was the beginning of "European art", and is exhibited in many branches of the arts, such as this 7th century illuminated manuscript page, below.

 

 

A blending of Roman and Germanic art styles

Note, also the gradient colours (red and blue), that I mentioned earlier. It would take several hundred more years for European art to fully homoginise into itself, but it never stopped looking back to Roman models, contrary to the commonly held notion of "rediscovering" it in the renaissance.

 

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