The Ansonia Clock

Ingrid Maree Jager

3163332



“Dong, dong, dong” the clock chimes indicating it is 3am, far too late for a child to be awake yet if it wasn’t for that incessant donging I would probably still be peacefully dreaming. This is the song that characterised the nights of my childhood.



How I loathed that clock as a child, rudely disturbing me from my adventure filled dreams of lolly lands and endless joys and how I loathe it even more when combined with the throbbing aftermath of a big night. However only recently did I discover that this clock has tormented not only myself and my sister but several generations of the Jager family.

The wooden clock which has stood atop a mantel piece in my father’s house for as far back as I remember was not simply the purchase of a chronic antique buyer but rather a family heirloom of sorts rich in history.

It is not simply a clock but rather an Ansonia Clock that sits in the dining room amongst pieces of furniture passed down through time and under the watchful eye of those who formerly owned it.

The clock was designed and built by the Ansonia Clock Company, a company established in 1850 by a wealthy industrialist, Anson C Phelps and two successful Bristol, Connecticut clock manufacturers. The clock company was established as a subsidiary company to the Ansonia Brass Company, part of the Phelps Dodge Brass Co., as a way in which to utilise the brass they were manufacturing. By the late 1930s rolled brass clock movements had virtually eliminated those made of wood and cast brass, thus Anson Phelps saw a clock company as the ideal way to maximise his earnings by profiting on the sale of the raw material and also its polished form. It is believed that the company prospered by using aggressive sales techniques believing “the more clocks made and sold, the more brass they would use.”

By the late 19th and early 20th century, after having endured numerous fires destroying factories in several cities, the Ansonia Clock Company had established itself as one of the major clock manufacturers. Ansonia clocks were seen and sold all over the world. During this time the company had a vast array, almost 450, clock designs on offer including; cabinet, carriage, crystal regulators, galley, black iron, figurine, kitchen, alarms, mantel, onyx, marble, novelty, porcelain, and china.

In the late 1880s, at the height of the Ansonia Clock Company’s fame, a young couple by the name of Detlef and Emily Jager, my great grandparents, made an exciting purchase, they bought an Ansonia clock. At the time Ansonia clocks were very popular due to the wide variety of designs at a range of prices they were a clock attainable for many. It has been said that owning an Ansonia clock would have been like having a DVD player today, every middle class family would have had one. Clocks were somewhat a fashion item for your home and, I’d imagine, a way to demonstrate one’s wealth and prestige.

Emily and Detlef’s clock was a tall mantel clock made of a combination of rose wood and walnut with a hand painted glass window. The painting on the glass is designed to slightly frame the beautiful brass swing hanging behind it. The painting itself is done with a white paint and recalls the planter destination of old in Arabic countries. The clock has two mirrored panels, one on either side of the clock which work to reflect the golden cherubs playfully perched at the edge of either side of the clock. At the top of the clock, the wooden shape of the clock comes to a point with a fan like section of detail in the centre. In front of the base of this fan is the face of a man who seems to be of mythology or ancient times. The clock face itself, sits directly below this man and at the base of the clock there is a winged cupid face style crest. The clock is marked “Anson, New York”, indicating that it was built in New York most likely in the Brooklyn factory. The Ansonia Clock Co. moved to New York from Connecticut in 1979 so this mark informs us the clock was built after this time.

Unfortunately for Emily and Detlef, whilst they lived a happy life together, enjoying the births of their children and the highs and lows of life, they were not destined to live a long life together. On December 24th, Christmas Eve, 1912 Detlef Jager died at the young age 39 years old, merely 5 years after my grandfather was born. It is now believed that he probably died of heart failure as the medical staff at the time had put leeches on him to bleed him.

At around the same time the Ansonia Clock Company was facing fierce competition to its novelty clock range and brought in a special sale of clocks at “old pricing”. The tactic was a failure and sent the company into serious debt and by the end of the 1920s the company had entered receivership, a few months before the stock market crash.

On the other side of the world, the young widowed Emily raised the children on her own with the help of family and friends. Unfortunately, Emily too did not live a healthy life and her son, my grandfather, Alan Stuart Jager (born 1907) had to decline a scholarship to Wesley College so as he could look after his ailing mother.

The clock remained with Emily after Detlef died, a reminder of the life they lived together, standing, as it always had, on the mantel piece above the fireplace. The centre of the altar at the heart of the family home.

In 1954 my grandfather, Alan Stuart Jager (aka Butterballs) returned to Melbourne from living in Brisbane after having lost his wife whilst she was giving birth to their first daughter. Unfortunately his return was brought on by the death of his mother, Emily. At this time Alan acquired the Ansonia clock from his family home, the home in which Emily and Detlef had lived in Bendigo. The clock was part of his inheritance.

The clock’s journey then saw it travel to Hartwell, a small part of Camberwell, Melbourne, where Alan lived with his new wife Alma Jager, my nanna. The clock was given a new prized spot on the mantel piece. However this house was not to be for long and the couple moved to Mt Waverley. This move was a fairly permanent and the clock was allocated a familiar position above the mantel piece but in the dining room this time, no longer a lounge room relic. From this position the clock was able to watch over the family which had yielded three children by this stage, two girls and a boy, whilst also adding an element of formality to the dining room.

At sometime in the 1950s early 60s Alan and Alma Jager decided to modernise his parents’ clock and they had the two petulant golden cherubs removed.

A little while later, at some point in the 1960s, the clock stopped. It was unknown what had caused this strange thing to happen as the clock had never stopped before or had any problems. The facts were examined and it was established that the clock stopped working after the cleaner had moved it. However, the clock was not repaired although it continued to live on the mantel piece. The ceasing of the “dong, dong, dong” that had characterised almost a century came as a welcome surprise to Alma who was a bit of a grouchy lady, a little disillusioned by life.

The family later moved to Syndal and although no longer in working condition, the clock remained on mantle piece in the dining room. After Alan, my grandfather died in 1987 the clock continued to keep my nanna company in the dining room. However, when my nanna, Alma, had a stroke and was moved into a nursing home in 1993 my father purchased some of the family furniture off her, including the clock.

After 30 years of silence, my father decided to finally have the clock repaired so as it could chime its age old chime once more. The clock man who undertook the repairs was amazed because all the clock movements were in such good condition due to the fact they hadn’t been moving for 30 or so years. He was able to return the clock to working order rather simply and he was not required to use any new parts meaning that the clock was in its original state minus a pair of cherubs. My father had not been aware there were ever cherubs on the clock until he met the clock man, who as soon as he set eyes upon the mantel clock knew that they were missing. The clock man organised new cherubs, which were surprisingly easy to obtain, to be installed where the others had formerly sat. Thus returning the clock to its original state to “dong, dong, dong”, to go on and continue to torment several more generations of Jagers long after we have all gone.

Ubiquitous - The School Desk and Seat

Ben Hurt 3163292



Statement of Significance

This wooden student desk and seat was purchased in the early seventies, at St. Winifred’s school fete, in Whitton, Middlesex, England by my mother Dorothy Coleman, for the sum of two pounds. It was likely the desk had been used in the primary school. Wooden school desks such as this, with book storage under the hinged writing top and recessed ink well, were used extensively in England in the 1900’s and first half of the twentieth century.
Apart from the enjoyment of buying a bargain and restoring it to its former glory as a lovely piece of furniture, I’m sure in the back of Dorothy’s mind was the anticipation of seeing me bring the desk back to life with studious and disciplined activities in years to come. The painted desk was stripped back revealing the natural ash grain, and began its time in our family as an object to be looked at and enjoyed for its sense of history and natural beauty.
As I came of age, the desk began to be used for writing, drawing and storing books. When I graduated to a more contemporary table, my brother Aeron took over using the desk.
It was in his hands that the future form and the function of the desk would be forever altered. During a bout of procrastination, Aeron casually took a penknife to it. He was not aware of causing damage, on the contrary, he believed he was adding to the desk and continued to make numerous holes in a starburst pattern, whilst anticipating showing off his creative achievement. His handiwork was not as warmly received as he had anticipated. Dorothy was extremely upset at the irreparable damage to the desk, and Aeron’s apparent ‘bad behaviour’ and lack of respect for it. He did not view the object in the same way as Dorothy.
As a result, the lid to the desk was removed, and the desk removed from Aeron. Through these events in 1990, the desk was transformed and assumed a different use, firstly holding pot plants in the hallway and later, books in the bedroom.
The absence of its lid has made it a unique piece of storage furniture, once again an object to be enjoyed for its natural beauty, but also a constant reminder of its emotional history in our family.



The School Desk and Seat

Case Study

My mother Dorothy purchased a wooden student desk and seat in the early seventies, from St. Winifred’s school fete, Whitton, Middlesex, England for the sum of two pounds. This is the story of how the desk’s appearance and use was changed by a simple action of my brother. It is the story of how people view an object differently as a result of how they relate to it, and how this particular object has recorded its own physical history and stored the human emotional history associated with it.
The piece of furniture was heavily coated in white paint and quite unassuming when first spied at the fete, and had probably been used at St. Winifred’s school at some time in the past. Wooden desks such as this were typical of school furniture in the late nineteenth century and into the first half of the twentieth century. The desk has a hinged top which when lifted revealed the hollow body where books and writing materials could be stored. The chair is a simple a rectangular box with tiny feet and minimal padding on its seat, has a very short handle where a back would be, and is of a size only really suitable for a young child. The seat also has a hinged top allowing access to the hollow body for further storage of books. A groove runs across the top of the desk for holding pens and pencils, and a circular hole on the top right for an ink well. Although pens with their own ink supply were perfected late in the nineteenth century, pen and ink writing systems, and hence the ink well, would have still been used well into the twentieth century, particularly by students. The ball point pen would not emerge until 1945.
These practical design features act to define the utility of the desk as a place not only to read and write, but also to store the implements associated with these activities. It carries with it a sense of ownership, a child’s ‘little office’ or place of work. When I look at these desks an image of an early twentieth century classroom is conjured up, with rows of identical desks, one for each student. No doubt many such desks had over time been sold, passed on or thrown out by schools as they were superseded by cheaper, more efficient designs. The labour necessary to produce a wooden piece of furniture such as this, whether handmade or machine cut was made more efficient by cost effective mass production of steel frame tables and plastic or plywood stackable chairs, which were common place after World War II. Certainly not considered an antique of great value, it was still attractive to my Mother as having a history, and she would have had a respect for its more handcrafted appearance in comparison to similar items of the day.
Apart from the anticipation of buying a bargain and restoring it to its former glory as a lovely piece of wooden furniture, I’m sure in the back of my mother’s mind was also the anticipation of the beginning of my school years, which were just around the corner. This would be an opportunity for her to see me bring the desk back to life with studious and disciplined activities. The layers of white paint were stripped back by hand to reveal the natural ash grain, and so it began its time in our family as an object to be looked at and enjoyed for its sense of history and aesthetic beauty. When I was big enough to sit at it, I began to use the desk for the purpose it was designed. I imagine the thought of their first son beginning his school years with his own personal wooden school desk filled my parents with pride.
My personal memory of the desk is not very detailed, but carries memories of childhood, the excitement and anxiety of learning, and the comforting warmth of the wood grain. I used the desk for many years, until a house move allowed me to have my own room and a built in work surface. This was out of necessity for spreading out books and papers as I entered my teenage years. My younger brother of four and a half years took over using the desk at this time. It was at the hands of Aeron that the future form and the function of the desk would be forever altered. He had been using the desk for some time, storing his books in it and using it for working at, much in the same way as I had. His recollection of using the desk includes details such as the ink well which he remembers as a ‘black hole’. A place where things like pencil shavings, paper clips, dust and dirt would accumulate. He was perhaps not aware that it was originally intended for an inkpot. This would have been outside his experience and consciousness of the desk, and so it took on a mystical charm that obviously stuck in his memory. Aeron had recently been given a penknife by our father. An object which at the age of 11 created a certain amount of excitement. During what can be best described as a bout of procrastination or boredom, Aeron had the strong urge to put the penknife to use. He began by dropping the knife into the desk lid, and found that by rotating it, it dug out of the desk a ‘wonderful’ cone shaped hole. He recalls not being aware of causing damage. On the contrary, he believed he was adding to the plain old desk and continued to make numerous holes in a starburst pattern, whilst anticipating showing mum his creative achievement. It was not as warmly received as Aeron had expected, but instead evoked an emotional response in Dorothy that Aeron describes as the most upset she has ever been with him.
He was truly surprised at the level of her emotion, and though it may not have taken long to realise that intentionally damaging the desk was wrong, he would not have comprehended the way that Dorothy viewed the desk and her own emotional connection to it. He was just a child, with no appreciation of its history or aesthetic value. She on the other hand had bought the desk almost 15 years prior, stripped it herself, and over that time admired it for it’s aesthetic qualities. She would also have carried the unconscious assumption that it should be used for studious activities as the desk is implicitly linked to the idea and action of focused work. You sit at a desk to achieve something, to perform a task, and digging a hole in the lid is not one of them!
In addition, unlike a table, you only sit at a desk one way, with one orientation. The act of sitting at a desk faces you in a particular direction and carries with it a structure and organization. With regards to a school desk from this era, one inherently carries the image mentioned earlier of all the classroom desks perfectly aligned, each student sitting behind their desk, studiously facing the teacher. The result is that the desk creates a division between the user or owner, and someone they might engage with. This aspect is perhaps most apparent these days in business, where the division creates a feeling of authority and a difference in status. In this way, the desk has come to represent the control of power. In the case of the school desk it is reversed, with the person behind the desk assuming the subservient role. Though the school desk may have been transported from the schoolroom scenario into the home, it is possible these associations with the desk together with the relationship of mother and son, only served to amplify Aeron’s destructive misbehaviour in the eyes of Dorothy.
The lid of the desk was subsequently removed. Finding a replacement lid or piece of wood would have allowed the desk to maintain its function. With no lid or writing surface, the desk could no longer be used for its intended purpose, and this left its hollow body exposed. It could have been thrown out, but Dorothy’s affection for the desk prevented this from happening, and so as a result, a new use was found for it. It became a plant pot holder and took up residence in the hall way. Its form and function had changed, and in doing so it was now more clearly defined than ever as an object enjoyed purely as a piece of wooden furniture. As a plant pot holder it lost the austerity it had as a desk, and helped by the foliage springing from its form, it softened.
However, Aeron’s ‘creative actions’ with the penknife are forever recorded by the desk in its physical form. The absence of its lid is a constant reminder of its intended use, and particularly for Aeron and Dorothy, a reminder of the emotional experience associated with the desk. In more recent years its role has poetically hinted back to its origins. It now holds books, and resides in my parents’ bedroom. Whether a conscious thought or not, it is interesting to ponder if Dorothy’s understandably strong emotional reaction to the deformation of the desk resulted in its complete change of use, only to soften with time, and for the desk to find a more comfortable role closer to home.


Images courtesy of author

References

NELSON, R. (1990) Toward a Philosophy of Furniture

Wikipedia, (2007) (First Accessed 24/4/07)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/School_desk
antiques.search.ebay.com/ school-desk_Desks_W0QQsacatZ63569 - 113k

Tea Set

Tea Set
Stacey Karayannis
3166047

Anastasia and Charlie like many other European immigrants who landed in Australia, sought out for a better way of life. One away from poverty and a country devastated by war. Most immigrants intended to travel to Australia to earn easy money and to return overseas to help their families. However, like most Greek and Italian immigrants of that time, they never returned to their homeland.

It was the year 1957. Charlie often sat at the back shed of the house which was external to the rest of the house. The shed, better known in later years as the “kitchen”, due to the simple fact of the shed having a sink and shelves, lay amongst vegetables patches and a wild jungle of untamed plants. Anastasia frequently told how she would catch Charlie often sitting in the corner on a pile of potato sacks, carefully rolling his tobacco and pursing together the cigarette paper between his lips as though it was an intimate art form. On this particular day he took the liberty of cleaning out the old shed. Every action performed by Charlie was powerful and graphical. He heaved the potato sacks over his shoulders and out the door of the shed. He broke down old shelves which had become victim to termites and removed a torn, discoloured layer of carpet from the bottom of the shed. The old carpet revealed what looked like a trap door. Made from set concrete, with a large padlock holding it shut, its discovery uncovered somewhat of a mystery to Charlie. For at that stage of his life, nothing seemed to bare much excitement.

Day after day Charlie would return from a hard days work and retire to the back shed. He sat amongst the rolled back carpet, and termite invested wood with a metal chisel and hammer bashing away at the padlock with some hope of it busting open. Charlie, like a little child, allowed his imagination to lead him to believe that hundreds of dollars could be hidden below the floor of the shed. He finally cracked the padlock open, and cautiously opened the trap door, peering inside in anticipation. Amongst the cobwebs, insects, dust and foul smell was a wooden crate. My grandfather reached in dusting off the cobwebs as he lent in further and pulled out the box. He pulled apart the moulding wood to discover a ball of black cotton. He ripped apart the layers of material to reveal a silver teapot, milk jug and sugar pot. The set was dark blue and rusty red in colour and in clear need of polishing. The tea set intrigued Charlie, with it's stark geometric shape and art deco sleek lines.

After World War I ended in 1919, life had changed drastically. The world looked to Paris for leadership in fashion and design, and France's largest city delivered. Art Deco was born in 1925 and had it’s greatest impact on Australia in the 1930’s. The highly adaptable Art Deco style was applied not only to exclusive items of jewellery, furniture and fashion affordable by the wealthy few, but also to mass produced plastics, tableware and silverware which were well within the reach of ordinary Australian families. Its introduction occurred concurrently with massive changes in technology that saw the introduction of new materials and manufacturing techniques that allowed goods and items to become available to the masses. The silver tea set, which displays clearly the emphasized geometric shapes of that period was made in Australia around the 1930’s by a company by the name Crusader Plate Company, originating in Sydney in 1939.

The house in Hawthorn that Charlie purchased was originally used to house miners. The houses in the street were all very similar; small and narrow with many small rooms. The miner’s who lived in the house before Charlie wouldn’t have been able to afford such a tea set, it was probably owned by the head of the mining housing commission.

Regardless of the tea set’s actual value, the tea set to Charlie was priceless. As soon as Charlie placed his hands on the silver bit of treasure, he immediately rushed inside to share his discovery with Anastasia. His grin stretched across his face as they both enjoyed their findings. Not only was the tea set the first bit of silverware Charlie ever owned, but it represented a new life. Charlie finding that crate was like cracking open a fresh start. From beyond a dirty dusty wooden box, he saw a shiny silver token. He grew up deprived and poor, but could see a glimmer of hope coming to Australia and starting a new. They polished the tea set and left it as the central mantelpiece in their new home. It was their prize possession. They refrained from using the tea set as they assumed it was of great monetary value. However, despite their financial struggles of that time, they refused to trade in the tea set.

Years later Charlie and Anastasia's grandchildren would often find themselves in the living room playing their usual imaginary games. On one occasion, their granddaughter pulled along a chair from Anastasia's bedroom and placed it underneath the fireplace. She climbed up onto the chair and reached forward to grab the shiny tea pot above her. Its gleaming surface and form was what she believed perfect for the tea party below the fireplace. She dragged the tea set behind her and carefully climbed down the chair, and began filling it with the juice. Anastasia later entered the living room to find her grandchild’s dirty, sticky fingers all over the tea set. She immediately removed her from the floor and snatched the tea pot from her hands, with no regard for her grandchild. From that very point, her grandchildren learned the importance of the tea set.

40 years after my Charlie’s discovery they felt it was time to pass across an important part of their family’s history in Australia. It was their family’s heirloom and Charlie and Anastasia felt they had expressed its importance enough over the years, that their children would respect its history and significance in their possession of the set. The tea set was the first art deco collectable that their first child Mary had. It inspired her to buy a house of that time period, in a south-eastern suburb in Melbourne. Mary and her husband Andrew decorated the rest of the house in that period style. It stands in the centre of their fireplace in the central living room. It’s importance isn’t as strong as it was to Charlie and Anastasia, yet they understand it’s worth and place in their families history.

Charlie and Anastasia infront of their shed. Hawthorn, 1957
Image courtesy of Anastasia Papiki

Charlie and Anastasia infront of their house. Hawthorn, 1957
Image courtesy of Anastasia Papiki

the art deco tea set
Image courtesy of the author

Turkish bath bowl - Susan Aykut

Sha Haker
s3126012






In Ottoman times the Turkish bath bowl was used to scoop water out of the basin in the Hamam or Turkish bath.Susan probably used the hamam bowl that is now in her possession and the heirloom of this study.Susan first visit to Turkish bath(hamam)took place in Istanbul in 1977 prior to her marriage to a Turk. Her soon-to-be mother-in-law took her to thae local hamam. Susan probably used the hamam bowl that is now in her possession and the heirloom of this study. Susan had understood the visit to the hamam was to be a purely social undertaking to introduce her to a cultural institution that few Turks, Susan's mother-in-law included, rarely used.
Afterwards Susan learnt from her prospective husband that the real purpose of the expedition impair her future grandchildren, as a farmer's daughter that had grawn up witnessing the implementation of careful stock-breeding programs, Susan was somewhat taken aback to feel like she was part of one her self. Nevertheless, Susan was intrigued to learn that along with many other 'rites of passage' rituals, assessing and choosing a suitable bride for her son had, in Ottoman times, been a commonplace activity in the hamam. While a thoroughly modern woman in most regards, in tis matter, Susan's mother-in-law was clearly of the Ottoman old school.

In Ottoman times, things required for the bath were often made or given to a woman as part of her trousseau. Beautiful-embroidered towels, which represented years of preparation and skill, would demonstrate the breeding and the social status of the woman. In the past particular styles of embroidery were used for bath towels. Often they were embroidered with rose designs symbolizing the family. Sometimes spacial motifs designed to protect one from the jinn (evil or mischievous spirits) were used. A kese, the rough mitt made from silk or cloth used to exfoliate the skin, was sometimes also included in the trousseau. Traditionally, it was also customary among wealthy families to present the bride with a silver bath bowl(hamam tast), used to scoop water out of the basin (kurna). Bath bowls were also made from other metals: copper, brass, bronze or gold-plated bronze. Hamam bowls, like towels, were made in different sizes and decorated with different designs that often told where the bowl had been made. Men used a larger bowl than woman, and children a smaller one. Many bowls had a raised center like a navel. A special type of navel led bowl used by woman, like the one Susan have, had a jointed fish mounted in the center; the fish was a symbol of sacred fertility. A game sometimes played by unmarried girls in the hamam with this kind of bowl was to fill it with water and watch to see who the fish pointed at when it stopped swimming around; that girl would be the next to marry.

Susan was not given her bath bowl as wedding present. She married Barbaros in London, not in Turkey so She did not have a traditional bridal bath before the wedding, as once was part of the week-long events before a wedding. The custom of a bridal bath at a hamam is not often practiced in Turkey any more-most homes have a bathrooms so going to a communal bathhouse for this ritual is not considered necessary or desirable, particularly by modern secular families. For special treatments, brides all beauticians to their home or go to the beauty parlour.

Susan can not recollect when the hamam bowl came into her possession exactly, but she suspect it was when she returned to Istanbul for six months during the winter of 1979-1980, after Aysha her first daughter was born. At the time there was a severe fuel shortage in Turkey. Their foreign debt was enormous and they could not afford to buy in the quantities of fuel-oil needed from their neighbours to the south. As a consequence families moved in with each other to pool their resources to stay warm, wash, cook etc. They had a car with English number plates and as foreigners holding Australian passports they could jump queues for petrol at the gas stations. They also had a ground floor garden flat so they put in a fireplace(of sorts) for burning wood to keep warm replacing the then defunct central oil heating system. For washing, they went to the hamam in Uskudar, a very old suburb on the Asian side of Istanbul which was where Barbaros' grandmother, the original owner of the hamam bowl had lived. Grandmother Eykurt had her family name engraved into the bowl saying 'Eykurt ailesi' (family). Susan never knew her. She had long since died and the old wooden Ottoman home where she lived in Uskudar had long been demolised, but she is buried in the famous and huge cemetery in Uskudar. Susan discovered after visiting her grave that she had been born in Amaysa, a very historic town in Anatolia on your way to the Black Sea.

Susan do not know how Barbaros' mother Umran came to have the hamam bowl, if she indeed was the one who gave it to her. Umran was the youngest in her family. She had two older sisters and brother. All are now dead. Aliye, the last of them, died last year, a few weeks after Susan had visited her in Istanbul. It may have been her that gave Susan the hamam bowl as she recall going to the hamam with her daughter Zuhall on several occasions, but it most probably came from Umran. It was a good bequest. Not that Umran ever knew of its importance for Susan, her foreign ex-daughter-in-law, or that she would become an authority on the world this object was created for the Turkish bath.


-Teresa Battesti, 'Traditions', in living in Istanbul, Paris, Flammarion, 1994, p.207.
-Sabiha Tansug, 'Hamam Taslari', Antika: The Turkish Journal of Collectable Art, no.5,(August 1985), p.13.
-Tuilay Tascioglu, p.180.
-Susan Aykut.

The Penny Farthing and its place in the bicycle revolution

The origin of the bicycle is, not uncommonly, rather obscure. Though in the late eighteen hundreds, around 1791, Frenchman the Comte de Sivrac became the centre of attention in the Palais Royal when he appeared riding a ‘wooden horse’ with two wheels. With no steering and powered by pushing the ground alternately with the feet, the celerifere as it was called, was the rudimentary beginning of the bicycles’ evolution.
It is interesting to note that before the Comte de Sivrac had brought it to the attention of the aristocracy, it had probably existed as a child’s toy. It had now become an adult’s toy, and wealthy adult’s toy at that. The bicycle would essentially remain the domain of those with money, plenty of time, and lots of energy, for over a century. They were hand built machines used for pastime.
Further major developments were made including steering which is attributed to Baron von Drais from Mannheim in 1817. Kirkpatrick Macmillan, a blacksmith from Scotland, perhaps has claim to what could be considered the first true bicycle, when around 1840 he designed a machine where the rear axle was driven by foot treadles; pedals pushed forwards and backwards driving the rear axle to turn by the use of levers.

The next big evolution was the one that would give birth to the penny farthing. Another Frenchman, Pierre Michaux attached cranks to the front wheel in 1861 and while he may not have been the first to do this, he was an astute business man and was able to capitalise on the growing industrial and consumer climate of the day. The second cycling boom was underway, and cyclists or ‘velocipedes’ as they were called, were gaining in numbers and commitment to the ‘sport’. There was a growing desire for performance from the velocipede.
Then, in 1869 in an effort to make the machine faster yet another Frenchman, Eugene Meyer, increased the size of the front wheel. The penny farthing was born. A Mr Turner, who was working in Paris for the Coventry Sewing Machine Company, returned to England with a ‘high-wheeler’ and convinced the manager of the company to turn his attention to manufacturing bicycles instead. It was here that James Starley, the companies’ foreman and a keen designer pioneered the penny farthing in its golden age of the 1870’s.
The social impact of the bicycle was quite evident. For a number of reasons, there was an elitist and gentlemens’ club attitude to the penny farthing.
Women were essentially excluded from riding the penny farthing as on a practical level the bicycle required a mounting step and a running start to mount it. Not to mention a fair amount of effort to turn the pedals and to stay on the bike. It was a very dangerous machine with crashes proving catastrophic. The wearing of a dress of course, out of the question. Unless families were rich enough to have servants, the women would also be expected to tend to house keeping and children, and would not have the time to devote to such an involving activity. All together it was not a particularly ‘lady-like’ pursuit.
A Starley bicycle for example was a prized possession, a highly crafted elegant machine, which cost about a years wages for a factory worker, thereby excluding all but the wealthiest people. The cycle clubs that formed were snobbish, with Britain's Amateur Bicycle Club stating that the club’s goal was to promote cycling among the middle, upper and higher classes of society. To join a club you had to be recommended by an existing club member and wear a uniform. In this sort of social climate, without necessarily having rules against such things, most clubs would not accept tradesmen, workers or non-Caucasian people.



The bicycle, although perhaps overshadowed at times in its history by adult domination, had a place as a child’s form of play.
The penny farthing held in the Museum Victoria Collection was donated by Matthew Matheou and was built by his father, a blacksmith in Fiztroy, Melbourne in 1913. A child’s penny farthing would have been a rare sight in the late nineteenth century due to their high cost, but by 1913 elements of the bike such as the leather saddle (which was made by Dunlop), the pedals, hubs and even perhaps wheels, may well have been relatively easily sourced. Compared to the elaborate detail and fine quality finish of a Starley ‘Areil’ high-wheeler, this childs’ bike is quite straight forward. The blacksmith using the skills of his trade, was able to lovingly build the iron frame from a range of processes. The arched body is forged, the rear forks cast, and the front forks made from drawn half round bar. The wooden handle grips, leather seat and solid rubber tyres are typical of the early penny farthings, but it also shows more developed components such as an oil well in the front hub and rubber grips on the pedals.
The penny farthing, with its popularity and need for performance led directly to the inclusion of inventions such as the ball bearing, tangent spoked wheel and the pneumatic tyre into bicycle design. Innovations which according to Ivan Illich are as important to the progression of transport as the wheel itself, the invention of the stirrup, harness and horseshoe, and the first real ocean going vessels capable of carrying cargo around the world. This childs’ bike interestingly has some of these, such as ball bearing hubs, but not others like pneumatic tyres.
The penny farthing or high wheeler is still ‘remembered’ in the way gear sizes are represented today. By taking the wheel diameter in inches, multiplying it by the number of teeth on the chain ring (front gear) and then dividing by the number of teeth on the sprocket (rear gear), you arrive at a figure which is comparable in revolutions to distance travelled, as the size of a Penny Farthing wheel. The largest manufactured penny farthing wheel was 60”, which by today’s standards is a medium sized gear, with some racing gears reaching 100”.
The advancement of technology and manufacturing eventually saw the bicycle made cheaply and for the masses. It liberated those normally relegated to getting around on foot or public transport. Inevitably this lead to a more commonplace attitude to the bike, and particularly in Britain after the second world war, it was viewed as a sign of a lack of achievement, lack of financial standing and unfashionableness. Its perception and what it meant in society had completely shifted. The bicycle had become ubiquitous, owned by the poor and the needy, and had been superseded by the new technological advancement in personal transport, the car.

Without a doubt there is something endearing and enduring about the bicycle. It has a purity about it. A simplicity and efficiency in its design which may have evolved over time but ultimately by its own definition of a two wheeled machine to be powered by the human body, has not radically changed. Perhaps the satisfaction of riding one, described in 1869 as an ‘easy and rapid locomotion as an enjoyment which is positively intense’ (The velocipede: Its history and practical hints how to use it), is derived from the feeling that you and the machine become one. You are solely responsible for effort required to move forward, yet the bicycle play’s its part in making your effort more efficient and transform your effort to motion. It is a balance of human and machine, the rotary motion of the legs, the spinning wheels, motion and stillness. Perhaps it is this zen-like quality that keeps us enamoured with the bicycle. It leaves no footprint.
The motor car that followed in the manufacturing footsteps of the bicycle is now the arch nemesis of the bicycle on the road, and ironically, the bicycle is now having a revolution of its own, again, claiming a footing against the car as a clean mode of transport. Perhaps the bicycle is the tortoise in the race with the technological hare.

Ubiquitous Design - Globite travel luggage - Bryce

Globite Travel Cases
Bryce Leen
S3135016 - BP195


The brand name Globite was popularised during the early/mid 20th century, due to the popularity of its lunch boxes, mainly with school children. The cases are constructed of cardboard and are covered in a textured plastic coating, which was typically brown in colour. Although not the lunchboxes, my grandparents have in their possession a pair of Globite cases. The two were part of a larger set of cases that were bought in the early 1950’s by my grandparents, Patricia and Vincent, as a set of travel luggage. Originally their main function was to facilitate the move of my grandparents to Vince’s new work posting as a chemical research scientist in the United States, having finished his requirements at the University of W.A for his PhD.
This journey took Pat and Vince, and thus the Globite set, from there home in Perth on a crossing of the Pacific aboard the S.S. Strathnaver. London bound, the ship made a series of stops at ports including Ceylon, India, Egypt and France, before arriving into Tilbury, London 29 days later. Following a short stay in England, the couple continued their journey onward, aboard the Queen Mary from Southampton to New York, at a cost of £59. Later on the same day of their arrival into New York, the pair took an overnight train to their final destination, student housing at the University of Chicago.
By arriving the cases had now fulfilled their initial purpose, allowing the couple to move their possessions cross continent, in order for Vince to further his work career. During the three year appointment at the university, the Globite cases had a changed usage; they were used as storage for items seldom used, or sensitive objects such as photographs and other matter that held importance to the couple. However a few of the cases were used for the purpose of domestic travel during this period.
Following the conclusion of Vince’s work on free radical oxidation reaction studies at the university the couple left Chicago, homeward bound, with two young children in tow. The route home completed a circumnavigation of the world, taking a route via Vancouver, Honolulu, Japan, Hong Kong and Sydney before their destination, Geelong. Vince had acquired a new work position with CSIRO, in the textiles department, which meant a permanent move to Geelong, a great distance from their family homes in Perth.
The two cases still in their possession, a carry case for men’s and women’s suits, as well as a smaller square hat box, reflect the social scene of the time; a period in which women wore hats and gloves, and where it was not only business men who wore suits. It was social etiquette to be dressed well at all times, especially the case when travelling, hence the need for a case such as a hat box. A
Throughout the 1960’s the popularity, and reflected production, of hats decreased dramatically as the acceptability of a women not clad in gloves and a hat rose within society. This change was brought about by the increase in women’s rights activism which had begun to gain momentum in the 1950’s, piggybacking on the revolutionary climate that black civil rights activists had constructed. As society’s perception of ladylike changed the need for hats, and therefore hat boxes declined. Thus it was through this change in women’s rights, and the subsequent follow on of a fashion swing that made the Globite hat box redundant as a piece of travel equipment.
Fashion is not the only thing to have changed since this era; the popular mode of international travel has also undergone a serious transition with the ocean liner being replaced by the aeroplane as the primary mode for international travel, a change that is now mirrored on the domestic front. The Perth to London leg of Pat and Vince’s trip, took them a total of 29 days aboard the S.S. Strathnaver, today this trip can be made in less than 24 hours aboard an airliner. This change has given more people the ability to travel abroad, as they don’t need to take many months at a time off work in order to travel to other parts of the world, this is especially true travelling from Australia.
However if you were to tell someone about to board a 20+ hour flight that they had it easy, with travel taking such little time, I’m sure that they wouldn’t feel that was the case. Such is the way society has become with our ever growing need for instant gratification and results. The grand ease with which we can now make international travel is lost on most.
As planes have replaced the ocean liner as the most effective means of international travel, they have also taken on other roles previously taken by ships. The Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company, nowadays more commonly referred to as P & O, had massive contracts for the mail route between Britain and its colonies, such as Australia, India, NZ etc. Just as the aeroplane ate up much of the travel market, it also took a portion of the mail contract away from shipping companies such as P & O. As a result they have retargeted their services towards cruises, as a leisure activity rather than having the aim of travel via a boat.
The changes to transport have heralded massive change in luggage also, another reason that the Globite bags Vince and Pat own were made redundant. The change to airliners has meant that the amount of carry on or accessible luggage has declined. On an airliner for instance, one main carry on much more than they need, however the basic requirements are minute when compared to the amount of accessible luggage needed on a cross Atlantic/Pacific ocean liner. This change has heralded the birth of cases which conform to airline carry on luggage size specifications, with many people travelling with this their only case. The only downside of this change is the cost incurred if large amounts of articles need to be transported, which would not have been anywhere near as much of an issue aboard an ocean liner.
As social changes mounted, the cases were not made completely redundant; rather my grandparents adapted their usage. Just as they were in Chicago after the move, the cases are now used as storage devices. The larger of the two, the suit carrying case, is used to store the plastic Christmas tree, and appropriate festive decorations. The smaller case also has a similar job; however it contains pictures and slides of the family and their outings. As such it is trusted with the important job of protecting the memories of times past, thus providing a crucial task which gives us the ability to easily reflect on past times.
Now that the cases have being resigned to mere storage containers, trusted with nothing more than keeping the dust at bay, there value has declined. Originally they had both monetary value, as well as social value; in that it represented the couple in a certain light, having travel cases portrayed them as well off. At present they hold little monetary value, unlike their lunchbox cousins, which can be found as a much collectable item in auction houses, and on websites such as Ebay. However they are kept as they do perform a certain utilitarian function for which they perfectly suited. Given this one could easily glance over them in the attic, assuming them to be merely old dusty cases, without acknowledging the long and rich associated with them.

The School Desk and Seat - Draft, In progress

General History

Cultural/Social
The history of the desk is intrinsically linked with the cultural development and practice of reading and writing. Research.
Desks with this specific function were first seen in illustrations from Medieval times.

Philosophical
The desk is linked to the idea and action of learning / working. You sit at a desk to work, to achieve something, to perform a task. The act of sitting at a desk faces you in a particular direction. Unlike a table you can generally only sit at a desk one way, with one orientation. This is the way we interface with the desk, which carries with it a structure and organization. With regards to a school desk, one immediately gets the image of all the desks perfectly aligned, each student sitting behind their desk, studiously facing the blackboard. This aspect of how we interface with the desk also creates a division between sides of the desk. The desk becomes an object that is between the user and other people. In business this aspect is perhaps most apparent, where the division creates a feeling of authority and a difference in status. In this use, the desk has come to be the measure of power. In the case of the school desk it is reversed.

Specific History
This wooden student desk and seat was purchased in the early seventies, at St. Winifred’s school fete, in Whitton, Middlesex, England by my mother, Dorothy, for the sum of two pounds. It was most likely used in the school for some years previous. It had several coats of paint, and apart from the anticipation of buying a bargain and restoring it to its former glory as a lovely piece of wooden furniture, I’m sure in the back of my mother’s mind was also the anticipation of the beginning of my school years, which were just around the corner.
The desk was stripped back to reveal the natural ash grain, and when I was big enough to sit at it, I began to use the desk for the purpose it was designed. I imagine the thought of their first son beginning his school years with his own personal wooden school desk filled my parents with pride. My personal memory of the desk is not very detailed to be honest, but carries a general feeling of childhood, the excitement and anxiety of learning, and the comforting warmth of the wood grain. My brother Aeron took over the desk when he reached the appropriate primary school age and I graduated to a larger, less personal bedroom worktop. It was at the hands of Aeron that the form and the function of the desk would be altered for the future. He had been using the desk for some time, storing his books in it and using it for working at. He recently remembered details such as the ink well which he described as a ‘black hole’ which “always had things in it” like dust, dirt, pencil shavings, paper clips. Aeron had recently been given a penknife by our father, and during a bout of procrastination had the strong urge to put the penknife to use. He began by dropping the knife into the desk lid, and by rotating it, found it dug out of the desk a wonderful cone shaped hole. He recalls not being aware of causing damage. On the contrary, he believed he was adding to the desk and continued to make numerous holes in a starburst pattern, whilst anticipating showing mum his creative achievement.



Details of the original desk include a hinged lid under which books could be placed, a groove that runs across the top of the desk for holding pens and pencils, and a circular hole on the top right for accommodating an ink well. The seat also has a hinged top allowing access to the hollow body for further storage of books or reading and writing materials. These practical design features act to define the utility of this desk as a place to not only read and write, but store their books and work. It carries with it a sense of ownership, a child’s little office or place of work. A place they might personalise with stickers, or perhaps even engrave their name on the inside of the lid.

Ubiquitous - Statement of Significance

SOCCER BALL or (SURFBOARD NEXT)

The soccer ball; an object en masse considered insignificant. It is seen as always existing. Not only seen on a football/soccer field; it is at parks on the streets, in schools and in the most unimaginable locations. Soccer balls also hold significant sentimental value. It can bee seen resting on mantle pieces, atop trophies and on shirts.

The soccer ball is fairly simple in regards to construction. The four main components of a soccer ball are the cover, the stitching, the lining and the bladder. Consistent of pentagons and octagons the soccer ball is inflated to make a perfect sphere.

It is actually quite amazing to see the vast developments in such a simple object over such a short period of time. Spanned over 14 years of soccer I have seen many soccer balls. Back when I first began, Patterns on the soccer ball were all relatively simple designs, and very constructed. I can very much tell the age of a soccer ball judging only by the pattern on it. The designs were probably relative to the fashion period that was evident in those days. Over time and with the development of new technology, the ball has made a few massive shifts. For instance, the change from leather to synthetic lining and instead of stitching, glue was used. Before 1950 there was no such thing as a white soccer ball, nowadays that is the main colour used on most soccer balls. The soccer balls these days have intricate designs, technology claiming the ball curves more and that the ball is a true perfect sphere which slices through the wind a lot smoother. The contextual and social aspects of the soccer ball will change.

But one thing about the soccer ball, no matter what age we are in will never change; the spherical shape.

- The soccer ball construction

- Soccer Balls personal

o Social change

o Contextual change

o Physical change

- Technological change

- More….

SURF BOARD

Surfing was invented in the 1700’s by the Hawaiians; they stood or sat on wooden planks and rode across waves.

The surfboard is an object built purely for leisure. In surfing there was no competitive standard, or a requirement the surfer had to meet or thus fall behind. The surfboards currently serve an ornamental purpose, but when the perfect conditions arise; North winds and a SW groundswell and a free day, they suddenly become moving objects where people stand on and glide across the rolling waves in ecstasy.

A surf board in Australia instantly conjures up an unemployed, essentially a “bum” aurora; a surf bum as such. The movie “The Endless Summer” was very much responsible for this image. Having a surf board makes you part of a club. Whether you’re good or not every surfer has his/her story of the gigantic wave they caught. I have caught many “best waves of my life”. Being part of this club there are certain rules such as: Get the biggest wave you ever caught, double it in height in your story and use the word Gigantic and gnarly at least once. If you were dunked, something has to at least be broken, e.g. board/leg rope/bone. Every surfer’s story of the best, the biggest or longest is generally amplified!

Angelo Papageorgiou

Turkish bath bowl

Turkish bath bowl- Susan Aykut

Susan probably used the hamam bowl that is now in her possession and the heirloom of this study.Susan's first visit to a Turkish bath(hamam)took place in Istanbul in 1977 prior to her marriage to a Turk. Her soon-to-be mother-in-law took her to local Hamam. Susan had understood the visit to the hamam was to be a purely social undertaking to introduce her to a cultural institution that few Turks, Susan's mother-in-law included, rarely used.
Afterwards Susan learnt from her fiance that the real purpose of the expedition impart her future grandchildren, as a farmer's daughter that had grown up witnessing the implementation of careful stock-breeding programs, Susan was somewhat taken aback to feel like she was part of one her self. Nevertheless, Susan was intrigued to learn that along with many other 'rites of passage' rituals, assessing and choosing a suitable bride for her son had, in Ottoman times, been a commonplace activity in the hamam. While a thoroughly modern woman in most regards, in ti's matter, Susan's mother-in-law was clearly of the Ottoman tradition.

In Ottoman times, things required for the bath were often made or given to a woman as part of her trousseau. Beautiful-embroidered towels, which represented years of preparation and skill, would demonstrated the breeding and the social status of the woman. In the past particular styles of embroidery were used for bath towels. Often they were embroidered with rose designs symbolizing the family. Sometimes spacial motifs designed to protect one from the jinn (evil or mischievous spirits) were used. A kese, the rough mitt made from silk or cloth used to exfoliate the skin, was sometimes also included in the trousseau. Traditionally, it was also customary among wealthy families to present the bride with a silver bath bowl(hamam tast), used to scoop water out of the basin (kurna). Bath bowls were also made from other metals: copper, brass, bronze or gold-plated bronze. Hamam bowls, like towels, were made in different sizes and decorated with different designs that often told where the bowl had been made. Men used a larger bowl than woman, and children a smaller one. Many bowls had a raised center like a navel. A special type of navel led bowl used by woman, like the one Susan have, had a jointed fish mounted in the center; the fish was a symbol of sacred fertility. A game sometimes played by unmarried girls in the hamam with this kind of bowl was to fill it with water and watch to see who the fish pointed at when it stopped swimming around; that girl would be the next to marry.

Susan was not given her bath bowl as wedding present. She married Barbarous in London, not in Turkey so She did not have a traditional bridal bath before the wedding, as once was part of the week-long events before a wedding. The custom of a bridal bath at a hamam is not often practiced in Turkey any more-most homes have a bathrooms so going to a communal bathhouse for this ritual is not considered necessary or desirable, particularly by modern secular families. For special treatments, brides all beauticians to their home or go to the beauty parlour.

Susan can not recollect when the hamam bowl came into her possession exactly, but she suspect it was when she returned to Istanbul for six months during the winter of 1979-1980, after Aysha her first daughter was born. At the time there was a severe fuel shortage in Turkey. Their foreign debt was enormous and they could not afford to buy in the quantities of fuel-oil needed from their neighbours to the south. As a consequence families moved in with each other to pool their resources to stay warm, wash, cook etc. They had a car with English number plates and as foreigners holding Australian passports they could jump queues for petrol at the gas stations. They also had a ground floor garden flat so they put in a fireplace(of sorts) for burning wood to keep warm replacing the then defunct central oil heating system. For washing, they went to the hamam in Uskudar, a very old suburb on the Asian side of Istanbul which was where Barbaros' grandmother, the original owner of the hamam bowl had lived. Grandmother Eykurt had her family name engraved into the bowl saying 'Eykurt ailesi' (family). Susan never knew her. She had long since died and the old wooden Ottoman home where she lived in Uskudar had long been demolised, but she is buried in the famous and huge cemetery in Uskudar. Susan discovered after visiting her grave that she had been born in Amaysa, a very historic town in Anatolia on your way to the Black Sea.

Susan do not know how Barbaros' mother Umran came to have the hamam bowl, if she indeed was the one who gave it to her. Umran was the youngest in her family. She had two older sisters and brother. All are now dead. Aliye, the last of them, died last year, a few weeks after Susan had visited her in Istanbul. It may have been her that gave Susan the hamam bowl as she recall going to the hamam with her daughter Zuhall on several occasions, but it most probably came from Umran. It was a good bequest. Not that Umran ever knew of its importance for Susan, her foreign ex-daughter-in-law, or that she would become an authority on the world this object was created for the Turkish bath.


-Teresa Battesti, 'Traditions', in living in Istanbul, Paris, Flammarion, 1994, p.207.
-Sabiha Tansug, 'Hamam Taslari', Antika: The Turkish Journal of Collectable Art, no.5,(August 1985), p.13.
-Tuilay Tascioglu, p.180.
-Susan Aykut.