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shewhomust) wrote2025-04-23 04:08 pm
shewhomust) wrote2025-04-23 04:08 pm
The Discovery of Birds
Today we elebrate Shakespeare's birthday: last Thursday was mine. We went out to lunch, meeting our friends A. and D. at the Rose & Crown in Romaldkirk. This was a treat: a long-overdue get together with people we don't see often enough. But it didn't feel like a birthday treat, exactly: agreeing to meet on my birthday felt like getting one treat for the price of two. After I did a certain amount of grumbling about this, durham_rambler agreed to go out again the following day, to visit Ushaw: it isn't far, we have season tickets and he had already pointed out that their current exhibition sounded interesting: it is called The Discovery of Birds, and features relevant books from their library.
The welcoming display boards showed images from a nineteenth century History of British Birds: the birds were in fact identified, but in such small print that I didn't spot it untildurham_rambler pointed it out, and was rather smug about identifying this very gaudy starling (it reminded me of a weaver I met once in Shetland, who took a similar inspiration from these not-obviously-colourful birds). After a short stroll in the gardens (the rhododendrons are just getting started: we should go back in a couple of weeks), we went inside.
It seems to be a tradition at Ushaw that every exhibition must be enhanced by the presence of crocheted figures (usually rabbits, a reference to the college's coat of arms). On this occasion, there were birds perched above the central display (credit for these goes to Lorraine Heard, to a design by Vanessa Mooncie):
One of the display boards asked a question that had not occurred to me: What makes a bird a bird? It answers with three defining characteristics: a bird has feathers, lays (hard shell) eggs, and has hollow bones. Do these three always go together, or is there anything that meets two but not three - that has feathers and lays eggs but secretly has solid bones? So many things I do not know. I do, though, know that the crocheted owl has none of the three. Ceci n'est pas un hibou, as René Magritte never said...
There was no crocheted puffin. There was a copy of Thomas Bewick's History of British Birds, open at the Puffin. I could have taken a photo, but I didn't. I don't now remember why, but there is something about Bewick's drawing of a puffin that bothers me. The beak is too bulbous: could it be a horned puffin? But that is not a British bird... In other connections, John Audubon visited Thomas Bewick in Newcastle: he was touring the UK to raise subscriptions for his massive The Birds of America, but was an admirer of Bewick's meticulous, tiny engravings (and, aptly, named a wren after him).
Better still, there was a great auk - this one, in fact, from Ole Worm's Museum Wormianum, published in 1655, the year after his death. I wondered where he had seen a great auk, but apparently this was a portrait of his own pet, which came originally from the Faroes (Worm was Danish, which may help to explain that). It is, apparently, believed to be the only image of a great auk drawn from life; which is odd, because the bird didn't become extinct for another 200 years (the last breeding pair were killed in 1844), but it looks as if, by the time the ornithologists started taking an interest, they had already been hunted almost to extinction. Here's a catalogue of sightings in the UK, and here's what Audubon had to say:
He doesn't explain how he was able to make his (very covetable) image of the bird.
After these monochrome delights, something completely different: two bright splashes of colour at the far end of the gallery. To the left of the door, A Murmuration of Madonna:
a flock of birds cut from pre-existing images, like this:
The companion piece to the right of the doors was A Conspiracy of Demons:
which I would have expedted to be more to my taste, but no, I preferred the contrast of the gently smiling madonnas and the busy bird-shapes. I didn't find the remarks by artist Irene Brown very helpful, but your mileage may vary.
We called in at the second-hand bookshop, but didn't buy anything; we lunched on soup and sandwiches at the café; and I went home well-satisfied with my day out. I'm not hard to please.
durham_rambler agreed to go out again the following day, to visit Ushaw: it isn't far, we have season tickets and he had already pointed out that their current exhibition sounded interesting: it is called The Discovery of Birds, and features relevant books from their library.The welcoming display boards showed images from a nineteenth century History of British Birds: the birds were in fact identified, but in such small print that I didn't spot it until
durham_rambler pointed it out, and was rather smug about identifying this very gaudy starling (it reminded me of a weaver I met once in Shetland, who took a similar inspiration from these not-obviously-colourful birds). After a short stroll in the gardens (the rhododendrons are just getting started: we should go back in a couple of weeks), we went inside.It seems to be a tradition at Ushaw that every exhibition must be enhanced by the presence of crocheted figures (usually rabbits, a reference to the college's coat of arms). On this occasion, there were birds perched above the central display (credit for these goes to Lorraine Heard, to a design by Vanessa Mooncie):
One of the display boards asked a question that had not occurred to me: What makes a bird a bird? It answers with three defining characteristics: a bird has feathers, lays (hard shell) eggs, and has hollow bones. Do these three always go together, or is there anything that meets two but not three - that has feathers and lays eggs but secretly has solid bones? So many things I do not know. I do, though, know that the crocheted owl has none of the three. Ceci n'est pas un hibou, as René Magritte never said...
There was no crocheted puffin. There was a copy of Thomas Bewick's History of British Birds, open at the Puffin. I could have taken a photo, but I didn't. I don't now remember why, but there is something about Bewick's drawing of a puffin that bothers me. The beak is too bulbous: could it be a horned puffin? But that is not a British bird... In other connections, John Audubon visited Thomas Bewick in Newcastle: he was touring the UK to raise subscriptions for his massive The Birds of America, but was an admirer of Bewick's meticulous, tiny engravings (and, aptly, named a wren after him).
Better still, there was a great auk - this one, in fact, from Ole Worm's Museum Wormianum, published in 1655, the year after his death. I wondered where he had seen a great auk, but apparently this was a portrait of his own pet, which came originally from the Faroes (Worm was Danish, which may help to explain that). It is, apparently, believed to be the only image of a great auk drawn from life; which is odd, because the bird didn't become extinct for another 200 years (the last breeding pair were killed in 1844), but it looks as if, by the time the ornithologists started taking an interest, they had already been hunted almost to extinction. Here's a catalogue of sightings in the UK, and here's what Audubon had to say:
The only authentic account of the occurrence of this bird on our coast that I possess, was obtained from Mr. HENRY HAVELL, brother of my Engraver, who, when on his passage from New York to England, hooked a Great Auk on the banks of Newfoundland, in extremely boisterous weather. On being hauled on board, it was left at liberty on the deck. It walked very awkwardly, often tumbling over, bit every one within reach of its powerful bill, and refused food of all kinds. After continuing several days on board, it was restored to its proper element.
He doesn't explain how he was able to make his (very covetable) image of the bird.
After these monochrome delights, something completely different: two bright splashes of colour at the far end of the gallery. To the left of the door, A Murmuration of Madonna:
a flock of birds cut from pre-existing images, like this:
The companion piece to the right of the doors was A Conspiracy of Demons:
which I would have expedted to be more to my taste, but no, I preferred the contrast of the gently smiling madonnas and the busy bird-shapes. I didn't find the remarks by artist Irene Brown very helpful, but your mileage may vary.
We called in at the second-hand bookshop, but didn't buy anything; we lunched on soup and sandwiches at the café; and I went home well-satisfied with my day out. I'm not hard to please.
no subject
no subject
Despite appearances, not actually a penguin (wrong hemisphere).