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Art

If gold could talk

Though the original owners are gone, their jewels hint at lives richly lived.

By LENNIE BENNETT
Published March 18, 2007

Gothic-style bracelet, Austrian, ca. 1870, gold, carnelian, malachite, moss agate, amethysts, aquamarines and rubies. The bracelet is about 3 inches wide and 7 inches around.
	[Photos: John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art]

ADVERTISEMENT Iris corsage brooch, American, ca. 1900, Tiffany & Co., gold, oxidized silver, platinum, sapphires, diamonds, topaz and garnets. The delicate-looking pin is 91/2 inches long. Pendant with Virgin and Child enthroned, German, 16th through 19th centuries, gold, enamel, pearls, precious stones, a Renaissance piece that was remounted in the 19th century. The piece measures about 4 inches by 3 inches.

SARASOTA

Did the fifth century B.C. gold amulet do its job and protect the wearer from harm?

Was the marriage of the man and woman who wore the 17th century Jewish wedding rings happy?

On whose arm was the gold and diamond mesh bag attendant at grand soirees in the early 1900s?

Every object ever made has a narrative, and the longer its life, the longer the story. In "Bedazzled: 5,000 Years of Jewelry" at the John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art, some objects go so far back they could be multivolume novels. Most, though, were silent witnesses to the personal histories of their anonymous owners, who left behind only wearable testimonies to humans' love of beauty that stretched across time and geography.

There must have been over-the-top jewelry created by craftsmen thousands of years ago, when this exhibition begins, but the only evidence here is of elegance and refinement. A small gold lion from the ninth century B.C., of Iranian origin, thought to be one of a pair that formed a bracelet clasp, roars with more humor than menace and would be a delightful accessory in any society. So would the Greek hoop earring made five centuries later whose lion looks like a sad sack, a sure conversation starter over the wine amphora.

In ancient times, jewelry's design was often freighted with symbolism. A 14th century B.C. carnelian tilapia represented rebirth and resurrection to Egyptians. Throughout the Mediterranean, glass amulets shaped like ram heads were believed to promote fertility. As true then as it is today, insurance against calamity was more easily attained by those with money.

Jewelry also has a show-off quality to it. A Byzantine ring from the fourth century A.D. made of gold is mounted with a carving of Nike, goddess of victory. It was probably a reward from an emperor to a successful general sort of like today's Super Bowl rings. A necklace made of 265 diamonds by Tiffany & Co. in the early 20th century was meant to make a major statement about one's economic status.

Adornments in the Middle Ages in Christian Europe needed to appear to be more about God's glorification than personal vanity. So the copper clasp of a vestment carried an enameled illustration of the Annunciation. An exquisite pendant encrusted with gems and pearls opens to reveal a compartment with a gold cross and tinier ones for relics.

Guilt had ceded to gilt by the Renaissance, and jewelry became unapologetically secular in its lavish execution. A small, 18th century gold case engraved with a mythological narrative is fitted with scissors, folding knife, ivory writing tablet and other implements. It is a luxurious miniature version of a tool chest for the lady of a grand manor wanting to do a few odd jobs. A 19th century bracelet just about goes over the top with Gothic arches encrusted with precious and semiprecious stones. It seems originally to have been a small crown, and perhaps its owner felt she would have more opportunities to wear it on her wrist than her head so had it cut down a bit. Or perhaps she lost her title. Or perhaps . . . never mind, just speculating.

The brooch created by Rene Jules Lalique in 1903 is another one of those pieces of high-end flash. Glass and enamel pansies bloom on either side of a huge sapphire, connected by blue enamel stems. It measures about 5 inches in length, huge for a pin, and looks like a gorgeous fantasy version of some Jules Verne flying machine. Lalique made it as a display piece and probably never meant for it to be worn; its weight would send the bodice of a chiffon evening dress ripping to the ballroom floor. And it never was worn. Henry Walters, a collector who amassed this trove and built a museum for his treasures, bought it in 1904 directly from Lalique.

At about the same time, American jewelers at Tiffany fashioned another blue floral brooch, an iris of gold, sapphires, diamonds and other gemstones mounted in gold and platinum. Like the pansies, it was designed for display and won first prize at the 1900 Paris exposition. It's the most stunning object in the show for sheer glamor, and could tempt even the most righteous to consider larceny. Purchased by Walters at its debut, it has graced display cases rather than shoulders for its century-plus life.

Sometimes a little mystery is more fun than the facts.

Lennie Bennett can be reached at (727) 893-8293 or lennie@sptimes.com.

REVIEW

Bedazzled

"Bedazzled: 5,000 Years of Jewelry from the Walters Art Museum" is at the John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art, 5401 Bayshore Road, Sarasota, through May 27. Also "Encouraging American Genius: Master Paintings from the Corcoran Gallery of Art." Hours are 10 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. daily. Admission is $15 adults, $13 seniors and $5 children 6-17 and includes the historic mansion Ca d'Zan and the Circus Museum. (941) 359-5700 or www.ringling.org.

[Last modified March 15, 2007, 10:10:18]