Ignacio Iturria (Uruguayan, 1949), Willow, 1992. Oil on canvas, 150 × 190 cm.
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Ignacio Iturria (Uruguayan, 1949), Willow, 1992. Oil on canvas, 150 × 190 cm.
My vintage hand painted gilt "Gaudy Willow" pattern tea cup, made in Occupied Japan (1945 - 1952) and matching saucer found on Ebay (not mine.)
My late mother collected mostly Blue Willow, but occasionally picked up different colors like black, brown, green and this cup.
Do you think I should buy the saucer to get a set?
Queen's Cake from The Fort George Bill of Fare and vanilla chai tea before tonight's War of 1812 book talk!
This actually is a more old-fashioned style of cake, as prepared: it only uses whipped egg whites for leavening. The spices are equal parts nutmeg, mace, and cinnamon; I added slightly more of them plus a dash of brandy this time—excellent decision. Unleash your inner Georgian rake and put some brandy in a recipe today!
@acrossthewavesoftime there is a quote from Elizabeth Simcoe on the adjacent page!
Realized it's been a hot second since I showed off the red willow cows.
Willow Pattern Art by William Morris
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I purchased new plates (pictured with a slice of ham and chicken pie) in the classic Willow pattern. It's a design I've seen used in Jane Austen movies, and was also on the Franklin expedition, as can be seen in my photo of artifacts from the 'Death in the Ice' exhibit, Anchorage:
So, a very classic and historic look, and even one used by Royal Navy officers—but not a Captain Marryat choice.
There's actually a little bit about his taste in china in The Life and Letters of Captain Frederick Marryat. Instead of the traditional English style with printed glaze transfers, he liked the plain white china of France:
Whilst in the country, he always breakfasted at eight o'clock, and would have none but pure white china, such as is used on the Continent, upon the table—a fancy that involved the trouble of sending abroad to replace the missing articles, whenever breakages or other casualties had thinned the ranks of the service.
— Life and Letters of Captain Frederick Marryat, vol. II Florence Marryat ed.
Even today, my local supermarket has "French white" china for sale, it's an enduring style. But my first thought, when I read this passage, was to think that Frederick Marryat had boring taste in china (I obviously prefer the transferware).
But, on second thought: it reveals his love of unnecessarily spending money, and possibly working in a trip to "the Continent." He was a fan of staying in Belgium with his family, and was often abroad—so it's not really that surprising that he had Continental tastes.
Sherds of willow-pattern from the banks of the Thames
The willow-pattern has a story behind it.
Once there was a wealthy Mandarin who had a beautiful daughter, more beautiful than a flower. She fell in love with her father’s humble assistant notary, but was already promised to a nobleman. Her father built a high fence around his house to keep the lovers apart, and arranged her wedding to take place on the day the blossom fell from the willow trees. Her grand fiancé arrived by boat in good time to claim his bride, bearing a box of jewels as a gift. But on the eve of the wedding, the heartbroken notary disguised himself as a servant, slipping into the palace unnoticed. As the lovers escaped with the box of jewels, an alarm was raised. Running over a bridge, they were chased by the bride’s enraged father, whip in hand, and a little army of men in boats. The gods, moved by the couple’s plight, transformed them into a pair of doves locked in a perpetual kiss.
Florence Evans for Apollo Magazine