Touching history
I had the pleasure a few weeks ago of visiting the National Portrait Gallery in Canberra to see the exhibition “Shakespeare to Winehouse: Icons from the National Portrait Gallery, London”. As I toured the exhibit and took in paintings from as early as the 1500s, I was struck by the connection that a hand painted portrait makes between the subject, the painter and the viewer. I was so excited in fact, that I sat down there and then, surrounded by portraits to quickly tap out a couple of paragraphs capturing my feelings.
The portrait of Sir Isaac Newton for example was painted in 1702 when Newton was at the height of his career. It almost took my breath away as I contemplated the idea that artist, Sir Godfrey Kneller, had captured the first patient outlines of his subject with Newton sitting in the room with him. His hands recorded the real physical presence of Newton at that time, connecting me the viewer to that same place and time over 300 years later. It was such a wonderful realisation that my skin was tingling with delight.
Sir Isaac Newton by Sir Godfrey Kneller, oil on canvas, feigned oval, 1702 © National Portrait Gallery, London
Another portrait, Princess Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia and Electress Palatine, was painted by Robert Peake the Elder c.1610. The beautiful brush strokes portray the richness of her ornate attire as well as some extraordinarily beautiful textiles in the background. Here, the painter has not only used his hands to capture the physical presence of the woman he is painting, but the physical evidence of hours and hours of work performed by the hands of the artisans who produced these extraordinarily ornate items of clothing, jewellery and furnishings. This is something I love when I am lucky enough to view old pieces of embroidery. Seeing them in real life is truly wonderful, but even in a painting, my embroidery hands know what it took for those artisans to craft such exquisitely intricate designs. The craftsmanship connects us across the centuries.
Princess Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia and Electress Palatine by Robert Peake the Elder, oil on canvas, circa 1610 © National Portrait Gallery, London
The same sensation can hold true for personal items too. Such is the case for my solid silver bracelet. This family heirloom is handed down the maternal line to the eldest daughter on her 21st birthday. The story goes that my great-great-grandfather gave it to my great-great-grandmother on the occasion of their marriage (c. 1880). It is engraved on the inside with her name, Ellen Plaskett, and on the outside with a filigree design, now worn into an echo of the original pattern. From Ellen it went to my great-grandmother, Lily, and then to my Granny and my Mum. My 21st birthday party was a modest affair held in the townhouse my sister and I shared whilst at university. Mum and Granny were there, busily preparing ample food for the revellers, when Mum suddenly stopped and remembered that she needed to hand the bracelet on to me. She took it off immediately and I remember being totally overwhelmed. She had been wearing this single piece of jewellery for my entire life. It was practically a part of her! The weight of responsibility felt huge. I soon grew accustomed to it though and, in turn, wore it almost continuously for many years. Numerous babies chewed on it as a makeshift teething ring and it travelled the world with me. Along with my watch, it would be the last thing I took off at night and the first I would put on the next morning. It's even there in my wedding photos, despite the fact that it didn't really match the rest of my outfit. The meaning was far more important to me than the looks.
Ellen’s solid silver bracelet has belonged to five generations of our family so far
In 2010 we travelled to the UK for a family holiday. I had been researching my family history and we drove to the home where my great-grandmother grew up with her mother, the original owner of the bracelet. It was a surreal yet special feeling to realise that the bracelet had returned home, if only briefly, carrying the imprint of the five owners so far. In a few short years it will pass to my daughter, who I’m sure as a lover of all things vintage, will treasure it just as much as her predecessors have.
In another example, my recent visit to Adelaide saw my aunt, cousin and I sorting through some jewellery and trinket boxes from family members who have long since passed away. In one box we came across a collection of metal submarine pins. None of us knew what they were, but we assumed that they were related to my grandfather who worked in submarines for many years. So we rang Mum and she knew immediately that they were the submarine pins that her father, my Grandpa, used to make! I had always thought of Grandpa as the woodworker in our family, and had no idea that he worked with other materials as well. With this knowledge, these lit bits of ephemera became even more precious. They had been crafted by my Grandpa’s hands and now as we turned them over in our hands, a tiny piece of him was there with us, reaching out from the mists of time to make his presence felt.
The same boxes of goodies also included some pieces from my step-grandfather’s family. These were people we had not known as he didn’t marry my Granny until much later in life. But a solid gold signet ring caught my eye. Given the initials, we soon identified it as belonging to his father, and I was then able to pair it with a photo of the man himself. I brought the signet ring home for my daughter. I knew that she would love the story and watched as she wore it for a few hours, testing its fit and comfort. Even though we never knew this man in person, he’s part of our family history and having his ring gives us the sensation that we are reaching back into time to connect with him, however remotely.
Submarine pins made by my maternal grandfather and a signet ring that belonged to my step-father’s father
Although we live in a world where our life is filled with “stuff”, where rampant material consumption is damaging our planet, touching and holding some physical things is really important and precious. They connect us to history - to the notable figures of the past as well as to the ordinary people who form the backdrop to our personal stories. I hope that one day, a grandchild or great grandchild of mine will open a box to discover an eclectic mix of embroidered pieces, and that she or he will turn them over and imagine my hands patiently working the stitches, reaching forward through time to pass on the joy I felt in making them.
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