Category: Lacemakers in art

The ‘Dying Art’ of Lacemaking and the Flemish Cultural Revival

Alexander Struys, ‘A Dying Art’, 1909. Musée des Beaux-Arts de Liège.

Visitors to this site might be interested in a new article by David Hopkin on ‘The “Dying Art” of Lacemaking and the Flemish Cultural Revival’.  It is published in English and Catalan, open-access, in the magazine Datatèxtil 42 (2023), pages 51-63.  The article, and the whole magazine, is available here.

The article tells the story of Mechelen or Malines lacemaking in the two decades before the First World War.  Despite various attempts to revive handmade lace in this Belgian city, the industry was in terminal decline.  Three figures combined to provide it with a swan song: the local historian Guillaume (or Willem) Van Caster, Canon of Mechelen’s cathedral; the artist Alexander Struys; and the novelist Herman Baccaert.  The article follows the interweaving of their different activities.

Datatèxtil has published lots of excellent articles on lace, mostly but not exclusively Spanish and Catalan lace.  For example, there are articles on popular names for Catalan lace patterns in vol 28, the Honiton lace industry in vol 29, ‘modernist’ lace designs in vol 30, the lace collection of Madrid’s museum of Decorative Art in vol 33, Almagro lace in vol 36…  All these are free to read and download via the link given above.

Agnès the lovelorn lacemaker of Arenys de Mar: the story of a Catalan statue

We’ve been on a bit of a lace grand tour over the last year – Catalonia, Val d’Aoste, Liguria, Idrija, Annaberg – mostly visiting museums with collections of lace and their enthusiastic curators such as the one at Arenys de Mar.  One thing we’ve noticed in our wanderings is the large number of public monuments dedicated to lacemakers.  We’ve encountered one before on this site, albeit only in passing, at the base of Eugène Deplechin’s monument to the songwriter Alexander Desrousseaux in Lille.  Another French statue can be found outside the railway station in Issoire.  There are several in Italy, at least three in Portugal, and a couple in Brazil.  But there seems to be a particular concentration in Catalonia where we’ve counted nine.  Here’s our list, in order of the year they were erected (where known).

1. Barcelona, Montjuïc gardens, ‘A la puntaire’, by Josep Viladomat i Massanas, erected 1972. Picture Wikipedia Commons

2. Sant Boi de Llobregat, ‘La puntaire’, by Artur Aldomà Puig, erected in 1999. Picture Patrimonio de Sant Boi de Llobregat

3. Arenys de Mar, ‘A la puntaire’, by Cèsar Cabanes Badosa, erected in 2003.

4. Arenys de Munt, ‘A la puntaire’, by Etsoro Sotoo, erected in 2003. Picture Wikipedia Commons

5. L’Arboç, ‘A la puntaire’, by Joan Tuset i Suau, erected in 2005. Picture Wikipedia Commons

6. Martorell, ‘A la puntaire’, by Gonzalo Orozco, erected in 2006. Picture Mapes de Patrimoni Cultural, Diputació Barcelona

7. Monistrol de Calders, ‘La Puntaire’, The statue is dated 1995, but its installation was sometime between 2016 and 2019. We’re not sure who the sculptor was. See Mapes de Patrimoni Cultural

8. Salou, ‘A las puntaires’, by Natalia Ferré, erected in 2019. Picture Municipality of Salou

9. Sant Marti de Tous, ‘La Puntaire’. We’re not sure of the name of the sculptor nor the date of installation. Picture from the online Catalan database ‘Mapes de Patrimoni Cultural’

Looking at the dates, it would seem that the lacemaker is a fairly recent monumental addition to the urban landscape, with the majority only erected in the twenty-first century.  However, in at least one case her story goes back considerably further.  This is the statue in Arenys de Mar, once a significant port but now primarily a seaside town about 40 kilometres north of Barcelona.  This is the only statue to which we can give a name: she is Agnès and her story helps explain the prominence of monumental lacemakers in the region.

The origins of ‘Agnès the lacemaker’ lie in a poem composed in 1885 by Manuel Ribot i Serra (1859-1925).  Ribot was the librarian and archivist of Sabadell, a burgeoning industrial city close to Barcelona.  He was also a poet and playwright, and a participant in the Catalan language and cultural revival of the second half of the nineteenth century, which goes under the general title ‘La Renaixença’.  A key institution of the Catalan revival was the regular ‘jocs florals’ [floral games], poetry competitions akin to an eisteddfod.  In July 1885 Arenys de Mar, which was fast becoming a favourite holiday resort for the Catalan middle classes, hosted some floral games in which Ribot competed.  The theme for his poem ‘La Puntaire’ [the lacemaker] was suggested to him by a friend, Marià Castells i Diumeró (1834-1903), who was a lace merchant in Arenys.[1]  The Castells family business was at the forefront of the renewal of handmade lace as a luxury product in nineteenth-century Spain, and the firm’s products are well represented in the local museum’s collection of lace.  Ribot’s work went on to win the ‘flor natural’ for the best love poem.

Manuel Ribot i Serra, author of ‘La puntaire’. From the Sabadell history website

Marià Castells i Diumeró (1834-1903), founder of the Castells lace house in Arenys de Mar.  From the exhibition catalogue Els Castells, Uns Randers Modernistes, Museu Arenys de Mar, 2007

Agnès’ story, however, is not necessarily a great advert for the lace industry.  She was betrothed to a sailor who, to make his fortune, sets off for Cuba (then part of the Spanish Empire) with promises of fidelity.  She waits and weeps by the shore.  Five years later the sailor returns from ‘America’, rich but married.  His ‘American’ wife orders a christening gown from Agnès who, to support her blind mother, is obliged to accept the commission.  (Although this is not tackled directly in the poem, through his marriage the sailor has also forsaken his language community, for the ‘American’ would have been a Spanish-speaker.)   On the day of the baptism Agnès, worn out by poverty and heartache, dies.[2]  The poem offers a twist on the theme of the lovelorn lacemaker who makes a bridal veil for her rival which becomes her own burial shroud.  Recurring lines in the poem – ‘a fent les puntes pels rics / perquè ella és pobra’ [making lace for the rich / because she is poor] – also echo sentiments that we have encountered before in the literature of lace, for instance in the play Elisa de Kantwerkster by Frans Carrein.

Ribot’s poem would have many afterlives.  Set to an existing melody – ‘Els contrabandistes’ [the smugglers; the same tune is also used for the famous Catalan carol ‘El cant dels ocells’, the song of the birds] – it would become a popular as a song.[3]  But Agnès’ fame really took off nearly half a century after her initial outing, when the poem became the basis for a popular novel by Lluis Almerich i Sallarés (1882-1952), who wrote under the pseudonym ‘Clovis Eimeric’.  Eimeric’s La Puntaire (the lacemaker, 1926) drew on Ribot’s storyline and even included the poem in the book.  It was not only Eimeric’s greatest success as a novelist, it was also one of the most widely read books in Catalan in the inter-war period.[4]  It was immediately converted into a Catalan language stage play by numerous imitators.  The best known (and occasionally revived) was La Puntaire de la costa [the lacemaker of the coast] by Tomàs Ribas i Julià (1894-1949).  However, there were other versions by Ramon Campmany (1899-1992), Salvador Bonavia I Panyella (1907-59), Lluis Milla i Gacio (1865-1946) and Joaquim Montero I Delgado (1869-1942).  Although they go by slightly different titles, all of these authors acknowledged their debt to Ribot (and sometimes to Eimeric).  Eimeric himself, I believe, also dramatized the work.  In 1928 there was even a film La Puntaire, directed by José Claramunt. Eimeric wrote a sequel, and this too (or alternative sequels) would be turned into stage plays.

Clovis Eimeric, La puntaire (1926 novel)

Tomàs Ribas i Julià, La puntaire de la costa, first produced 1927.

Salvador Bonavia I Panyella, La puntaire (1926).

Ramon Campany, La puntaire, first performed 1927, published 1933.

Lluís Millà i Gàcio, La Puntaire catalana (1929)

Joaquim Montero, La Cançó de la Puntaire, performed 1930.

Daniel de Rivalta (another pseudonym of Clovis Eimeric?) La puntaire d’Arenys, performed 1934

José Claramunt dir., La Puntaire (1928 film)

It was this success that inspired the sculptor Cèsar Cabanes i Badosa (1885-1952) to produce a statue based of Agnès.  Cabanes was born in Arenys and, though he then lived in the city of Terrassa near Barcelona, he retained close ties to the seaside town.  He mounted an exhibition there in 1929 where he displayed a terracotta model of ‘Agnès, la puntaire’.  He chose to depict the poem’s first lines:

A la voreta del mar,
l’Agnès se’n va a treballar,
quan l’alba apunta;
i sos ulls, en plor desfet,
va mullant lo coixinet
on fa la punta.
By the edge of the sea
Agnes goes to work
As dawn breaks;
And her eyes weep uncontrollably,
Dampening the pillow
On which she makes lace.

‘Agnès, la puntaire’ in terracotta, by Cèsar Cabanes Badosa, 1929. This version of the statue is in the Museum of Arenys de Mar.

The figurine was clearly admired because the Town Council commissioned another sculptor, Josep Miret, to complete a version in marble, intending to erect it in a public ceremony on 9 July 1930, the festival of Arenys de Mar’s patron, Saint Zeno.  However, due to a change in local government, the plan was shelved and then forgotten during the civil war and its aftermath.

The model for ‘Agnès, la puntaire’ by Cèsar Cabanes Badosa, from the museum catalogue Cèsar Cabanes Badosa, Retorn a casa (Arenys de Mar, 2010)

It was not until 1957 that the Council returned to the project, only to discover that, in the meantime, Miret had used the marble for another statue.  And so the plan languished again until 2001 when a local initiative, ‘L’Associació Amics de la Puntaire’ [the Society of Friends of the Lacemaker], decided to raise funds to translate the statue into bronze.[5]

Agnès was finally erected on 16 March 2003, the feast of Saint Ursula, yet another patron of lacemakers.  And this is where we found her, looking out to sea and waiting for her sailor lover, in October 2021.

Even at the time of her greatest success there were critics of the vogue for lovelorn lacemakers.  In the magazine The actor and playwright Enric Lluelles attacked the several play versions that were then (August 1930) competing with each other in town and village theatres across the province.  The lacemaker represented a downtrodden, passive version of Catalan womanhood, a martyr for love.  Although he approved of bringing drama to the people, in their own language, if it offered only a sentimental and weak ideal of the people, then it would do more harm than good.  It was time, he wrote, to create a new version of the working-class Catalan woman ‘with a firm, resolute and well-balanced character, and to replace these seven tearful lacemakers with lacemakers of flesh and blood, healthy and radiant, their skin tanned by the rays of the sun and the salt seas of the Mediterranean, who work at their pillows with relaxed eyes and laughter on their lips’.[6]

While the fashion for lacemaker statues in Catalonia must owe something to the lingering impact of Ribot’s and Eimeric’s ‘Agnès’, we suspect the sculptors also intended to convey something of this ‘flesh and blood’ lacemaker, one who suffered no doubt, but who also survived, and passed on her craft to the next generation.  It’s noticeable, for example, that all the other statues imagine the lacemaker at work, a more tangible contribution to Catalan society, economy and culture than the tears of Cabanes’ ‘Agnès’.

 

[1] On the Castells family see the exhibition catalogue Els Castells, Uns Randers Modernistes, Museu Arenys de Mar, 2007.

[2] For the full text see: http://marisa-connuestrasmanos.blogspot.com/2010/08/la-puntaire-de-manuel-ribot-i-serra.html

[1] The website Càntut: Cançons de tradició oral, provides access to five different recordings of ‘La puntaire’.

[4] Núria Pi I Vendrell, Bibliogafia de la novel.la sentimental publicada en Català, entre 1924 i 1938 (Barcelona, 1986), p. 83.

[5] This information is taken from the exhibition catalogue, Cèsar Cabanes Badosa: Retorn a casa (Museu d’Arenys de Mar, 2010).

[6] Enric Lluelles, ‘Set Puntaires’, Mirador : setmanari de literatura, art i política, 21 August, 1930, p. 5.

 

Saint Nicholas, patron of lacemakers

In our series on lacemakers’ holidays we have yet to fully cover the ‘Broquelet’, the ‘Feast of the Bobbin’ held in Lille on and around 9 May.  This date marks the ‘translation of Saint Nicholas’, that is the transfer of his relics from Myra in what is now Turkey to Bari in Italy, and it is known as ‘Summer Saint Nicholas’ to distinguish it from the saint’s other feastday on 6 December.  The Broquelet, which could last a week or more, was the major holiday for the city’s working women at the end of the eighteenth century, when Lille was home to 15,000 lacemakers.  Their pleasures are celebrated in a painting by François Watteau, dating from around 1800.[1]

François Louis Joseph Watteau’s ‘La Fête du Broquelet’, c. 1803. This image from Wikipedia Commons, the original in the Musée de l’Hospice Comtesse, Lille.

We’ll return to the Broquelet in a future post: today we’re just considering how Nicholas became the lacemakers’ patron saint.  Nicholas is, of course, Santa Claus, and so is a patron of children generally.  Children, and specifically the girls who attended Lille’s lace schools, were participants in the Broquelet – they can be seen in the foreground of Watteau’s painting, presenting a branch of hawthorn to their teacher.  However, in Catholic culture in general Nicholas is more associated with boys than with girls.  Across north-eastern France, and in the Low Countries, parishes organized their youth into single-sex companies dedicated to Saint Nicholas for boys, and Saint Catherine the girls.  These associations were carried over into schools in the nineteenth century, which continued to mark their respective feastdays of 6 December and 25 November.  And as we know Saint Catherine was a patron of lacemakers, and her feast was a lacemakers’ holiday in parts of the English Midlands and Antwerp province.

So how did Nicholas come to take on this role in the case of Lille’s lacemakers?  There is almost no official documentation concerning the Broquelet, and none of the chroniclers who attended the festival offer a clear answer.  By and large it was only incorporated trades – that is occupations which were represented by a guild — that held masses, paraded through the city and celebrated holidays; but lacemaking was a ‘free trade’ (as were most female-dominated occupations), and so it possessed no guild structure.  One possibility, then, is that the lacemakers simply joined in, and then took over, a feast originally celebrated by one of Lille’s male guilds.  Watteau’s painting offers some corroboration of this theory, because in front of the float carrying the lacemakers’ giant bobbin is a carriage on top of which sit two male workers – ‘filtiers’ [linen spinners] – carrying the flag of their confraternity which features Saint Nicholas performing one of his more famous miracles, the resurrection of three murdered children whose bodies had been left in a butcher’s brine tub.

However, there is another possible connection, and it relates to another of Saint Nicholas’s miracles.  According to the most widely read hagiography of the medieval period, Jacobus de Voragine’s Golden Legend, as a young man (and not yet a cleric) Nicholas had a neighbour, a man of noble birth who had fallen into poverty.  This nobleman had three daughters whom he intended to prostitute in order that he might survive from the money they earned.  To avert this fate, Nicholas threw a lump of gold through the family’s window at night on three separate occasions.  Each lump was sufficient to provide one of the daughters with a dowry.

In early modern Catholic Europe, the skills of lacemaking were taught in the institutions of the ‘great confinement’ of the poor, such as orphanages and workhouses, precisely because it would provide young women with a livelihood and thus save them from becoming prostitutes.  The same logic was invoked well into the nineteenth century.  When in 1841 the Mayor of Valenciennes appealed to Maria Amalia, Queen of the French, to support the re-establishment of a lace school in his town, he claimed that the project ‘would be of the highest moral value by teaching lacemaking to young girls whose poverty, in most cases, dooms to prostitution, the first of the vices that misery brings in its train.’[2]

However, are there stronger connections between Saint Nicholas and lacemaking than a general desire to keep young women off the streets?  In Valenciennes Museum of Fine Arts (currently closed) there is a painting that originally hung in the town’s Saint Nicholas church.  It depicts Saint Nicholas in the act of throwing the gold through his neighbour’s window.  Inside we see the father and his three despairing daughters, one of whom is sitting a lace pillow.  The painting is by Henri de Vermay (active 1612-1642), the second artist of that name, and the last in dynasty of painters from the nearby city of Cambrai.  The Vermays of Cambrai were possibly descendants of the Dutch painter Jan Cornelisz Vermeyen (c. 1504-1559).[3]

Henri II de Vermay (active Cambrai 1612-42), ‘The Charity of Saint Nicholas’, Musée des Beaux Arts de Valenciennes, photo © Claude Thériez. Image from POP, la plateforme ouverte du patrimoine.

This is not the only painting from the period that depicts the beneficiaries of Saint Nicholas’s charity as lacemakers.  The Amsterdam Museum of Our Lord in the Attic has another representation of the charity of Saint Nicholas by Vermay’s better-known Antwerp contemporary Cornelis de Vos (1584-1651), in which two of the daughters can be seen working at lace pillows, while the third is busy with embroidery.

Cornelis de Vos, ‘The Charity of Saint Nicholas’, Ons’ Lieve Heere op Solder Museum, Amsterdam. http://www.stnicholascenter.org/media/images/d/de-voss.jpg

Paintings are only indirect evidence, but it seems that, in the Flemish-French borderlands, an association had become established in the seventeenth century between Saint Nicholas, his patronage of marriageable women, and lacemaking as a recourse of the poor.   This was the same period in which lace schools were being established in towns like Valenciennes and, possibly, Lille.  Although the history lacemaking in Lille is very obscure, it seems plausible that this same association of ideas explains why Lille’s lacemakers took Saint Nicholas to be their patron saint.

 

[1] The painting now hangs in Lille’s Musée de l’Hospice Comtesse: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZLwgRe1_n8

[2] Archives Départementales du Nord, M 581-13: Commerce et Industries: Spécialités, Dentelles, letter dated 14 September 1841.

[3] The only source of information on the Vermay dynasty I have been able to discover is a pamphlet by Achille Durieux, Les peintres Vermay (Cambrai: J.  Renaut, 1880).

Mary was a lacemaker! A second post for the Feast of the Annunciation (25 March)

A year ago we posted a Catalan song about the Annunciation in which the archangel Gabriel appears to the Virgin Mary while she sits working in a lace-school, with her companions Susannah and Pauleta.  That song was popular in the lace and sewing schools run by female teaching orders in Catalonia.  The newly established active orders of nuns that were springing up all over Europe in the nineteenth century were keen on the apocryphal legends about the childhood and youth of the Virgin, and in particular the time she spent, supposedly, crafting textiles for the Temple of Jerusalem.

In medieval and early modern visual representations of the Annunciation, these legends are invoked through the presence of the basket of white linen that is often depicted at Mary’s side as she receives the Angel’s message.  Artists clearly thought of Mary as an embroiderer.  Did any think of her as a lacemaker?

Alessandro Allori, ‘The Annunciation’, 1603, Galleria dell’Accademia di Firenze.

It’s taken us a while but we have discovered one painting which features Mary with a lace pillow.  It’s dated to 1603, and it’s by the Florentine artist Alessandro Allori (1535-1607).  It can now be found in the Galleria dell’Accademia di Firenze.  It came to the Galleria from the Medici’s villa di Castello, though it’s not clear whether the Medici family were the original patrons for this work.

Alessandro Allori, ‘The Annunciation’, 1577-78, Galleria dell’Accademia di Firenze. Note the basket and embroidery.

Allori had painted annunciations before, and included the more traditional basket of linen to embroider (there’s one in the Galleria’s collection, from 1577-8).  So the lace pillow, with its eight bobbins containing gold thread, is definitely a departure.  It’s also an unusual picture because the Virgin is not facing the angel Gabriel but towards the viewer.  These peculiarities have led one art historian to suggest this was not originally designed for display in a church, but for the rooms of an aristocratic lady, where it would have formed part of her private devotions.

Detail: Alessandro Allori, ‘The Annunciation’, 1577-78, Galleria dell’Accademia di Firenze.

 

 

On the symbolism of the basket of linen in portrayals of the Annunciation, see Marlène Albert-Llorca, ‘Les fils de la Vierge.  Broderie et dentelle dans l’éducation des jeunes filles’, L’Homme 35:133 (1995): 99-122.

 

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