Do you remember this painting? Was it also hanging in just about all your friends homes back in the 70's when you were a kid? Well I have done a bit of digging on this series of paintings/prints that remind me of way back then..and this is what I found..
You may not know her name or where she came from, but chances are you’ll know her face. “Tina” the mysterious and exotic painting by the equally mysterious J.H Lynch has graced our walls since her birth in the early Sixties. Part of the world of mass market prints sold in outlets like Boots and Woolworth’s, Tina and the rest of Lynch’s overture of sultry babes were purchased in their thousands, becoming a household staple for the rest of the Sixties and Seventies. Amy Rosa reports.
In the last 20 years vintage ‘mass market art’ has emerged as key decoration for any vintage-inspired home with the choice ranging from green ladies to crying boys and the ever impending presence of sad-eyed Spanish children baring down from many a junk shop wall and flea market stall. The right print, by the right artist, can often command prices of £100+, so it can prove expensive to find the perfect painting to adorn your walls.
Wide-eyed children might not be your cup of tea nor the supposedly cursed crying boy paintings (urban legend has it that unless you have both the crying boy and crying girl on your walls, your house will burn down). Tretchikoff and his ladies in hues of green and blue can prove pricey, ranging from £50 to well over £100. So if you want the sex appeal of a green lady and bags of kitsch chic without such a hefty price tag, J.H Lynch and his Tina could be perfect for you.
Little is known about British artist Joseph Henry Lynch (b. 1911) despite painting an image that has been part of the British psyche for the last 45 years. He died aged 78 in 1989 having destroyed many of his original paintings and donating what little was left to charity. It seems impossible to find any information about Lynch’s activities before the Sixties.
It’s known that Tina was painted in 1961, and three years later in 1964 she would go on sale in Boots in the UK. An instant hit, Tina has appeared in Stanley Kubrick’s 1971 cult classic A Clockwork Orangeand graced the cover of Edwyn Collin’s number four hit single “A Girl Like You” (1994).
Following Tina’s success Lynch produced more prints, all in the same style of a dusky maiden, often half dressed and surrounded by dark, lush greenery or the proverbial Mediterranean villa. The most well known include Nymph, Woodland Goddess and Lisa. It’s rumoured that the 1955 winner of “Most Beautiful Teenager in Great Britain”, Alexandra Moyens, was the model for Tina and many more of Lynch’s paintings. The painting “Autumn Leaves” bears an uncanny resemblance to Sixties model Jean Shrimpton.
So if you think a lovely Lynch lady is for you it’s worth browsing your local car boot sale, flea market and even eBay. You really shouldn’t expect to pay more than £40/£50 for the likes of Tina and other well known Sixties prints. Tina can be found with the original guilt frame, under glass or the more common cream frame. The glass version seems to be more prone to decolourisation and fading, but when in good condition becomes highly desirable amongst fans and collectors alike.
Best tip I can give is shop around, I’ve known “Tinas” to be had for as little as £1 at boot sales.
From Queens of Vintage - http://queensofvintage.com/mysterious-girl-tina-and-the-art-of-j-h-lynch
J H Lynch - www.jhlynch.org
Thursday, 22 September 2011
Tuesday, 13 September 2011
Landscape on a teapot
This is my 'English Ironstone Tableware' teapot which I picked up at a secondhand store. It's a real tough ceramic thus I use the pot more frequently than any of my other teapots of finer bone china.
What intriqued me the most was the picture on the sides which is a dipiction of Scotney Castle in Kent, so I had a Google to see what the actual Scotney Castle looks like, and this is what I found...
From The Heritage Trail - The building of Scotney Castle is believed to have commenced c1378, and is attributed to Roger Ashburnham. Although its appearance is that of a regular fortress, roughly rectangular in shape (actually rhombus, its northern perimeter being slightly longer than the others) with circular towers at each corner, it was predominantly designed as a well fortified house. Its apparent strength was a sign of the tensions existing at that time between France and England - the French having sacked various Kent and Sussex coastal towns in 1377.
No licence to crenellate has been found for Scotney Castle, although it is possible that this formality may have been dispensed with in an emergency situation. The only substantial remains of the original Scotney Castle is the circular tower in the southern corner, and the four piers of the Gatehouse entrance.
It is debatable as to whether Scotney Castle was actually ever completed. Evidence found in the Will of a member of the Darell family, who died in 1558, gives precise information of the accommodation arrangements, and suggests that at that time only the south tower survived. There is no documented evidence to suggest that Scotney Castle had ever sustained any serious damage or demolition, but an arched entrance to the western tower still exists, which implies that this must have been completed to some degree.
The south wing adjoining the tower was rebuilt in 1580 in the Elizabethan style, part stone, part brick with projecting timber-framed, upper-storey leaded lights. This building also contains a fine wooden staircase and several well concealed priest holes, which were incorporated by the then owner, Thomas Darell, who was a Catholic. From 1591-1598 Scotney Castle was the secret centre of activities of a famous Jesuit, Father Richard Blount. His location was eventually betrayed to the authorities who raided Scotney Castle on two occasions in an attempt to capture him. The first attempt took a week and was only concluded when Blount's companion gave himself up. On the second occasion it took a further ten days, but again they failed to locate Blount, although it may have been successful had foul weather not interrupted the search. This gave Blount an opportunity to escape over a rear wall and into the moat.
In 1630 the east range was rebuilt in the style of Inigo Jones, and was a substantial three-storied structure dwarfing the remaining Elizabethan and medieval survivals. The ruins of this can still be seen in part today. In 1837, under the ownership of the Hussey family, the first stones of a new manor house were laid. This was completed in 1843, leaving the old estate to be incorporated as a romantic feature of the gardens. Although the Elizabethan wing and tower remained as a dwelling for the Bailiff until 1905, the eastern range was carefully dismantled leaving only the most interesting features.
Scotney Castle has always been a firm favourite of ours. Apart from the obvious architectural and historical interest, it represents a most romantic and picturesque image of a bygone era. Words really do not do justice to Scotney Castle, it is a site that you have to see, breathe and feel for yourself.
What a beautiful place, and somewhere I really think I should visit..!
Monday, 11 April 2011
Spring time
Pretty tulips peeping out from a shady spot in my garden
Parsley and Forget-Me-Nots
Bright red Appeldoorn tulips open in the sunshine
A sea of violet blue Pansies at the local garden centre
Sweet scented Hyacinth in every pastel shade
Bright and sunny Dutch Master Daffodils are the first sign of spring
Missy relaxing among the daisies
The chessboard lily is an endangered wild woodland lily
Wild meadow flowers
Cherry blossom time
These sweet little white bells are the blossoms on my Blueberry bush!
Becky tiptoes through the tulips when she goes to sniff around in the flower beds
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
The bus to Buysdorp -The Story of Coenraad de Buys
Piet Retief, Piet Uys, Gerrit Maritz, Potgieter, Trichardt…. But who was Coenraad de Buys, the forgotten trekker? Rian Malan tracked down a hidden legend and Gerrit Rautenbach joined him on a quest to find his descendents in Limpopo Province.
Once upon a time (writes Rian Malan), a botanist wandering in Africa came upon a blonde giant who stood nearly seven feet tall and could kill with his bare hands. He wore animal skins and was regarded by some as the most dangerous man in Africa. But Henry Lichtenstein found him to be 'quiet and mild', and was amused by the awe he aroused. This giant had penetrated deeper than any other white man into the wild heart of Africa. He had killed countless lions and elephants. He had been an outlaw and a cattle raider, an instigator of wars against Africans, but also a warrior in the service of African allies and the lover or husband of two African queens. Lichtenstein was spellbound. This man, he wrote, is cast in the mould of the mythic heroes of ancient Greece; "the living figure of a Hercules."
When I first read these words, I thought, nonsense. A Boer Hercules Seven foot tall Riding the veld in animal skins, urging Africans to drive the British back into the sea? C'mon. If such a creature existed, we would surely have learnt about him at school. There would have been novels and films about him, maybe even a statue or two. How come Coenraad de Buys is all but invisible?
Let's pick up the story in the 1790s, when De Buys was an outlaw with a price on his head, wanted by the British for his illegal activities along the Great Fish River. Archival documents depict him as a wild creature, half man, half lion, given to helping himself to other men's wives and cattle. Indeed, several historians hold that his cattle raids and provocative entanglements with Xhosa women were the root cause of the Second Frontier War in 1793.
Within a year or two, however, De Buys had crossed the river and allied himself to his former enemies, becoming an important adviser to paramount chief Ngqika and the lover (some say husband) of his mother, Yese. In this period, De Buys also made a foray into present-day KwaZulu-Natal, where he was rumoured to have established a second alliance (also cemented by marriage) with Mzilikazi, founder of the Ndebele nation. These developments caused alarm in distant Cape Town, where De Buys was viewed as a dangerous trouble maker, entirely capable of instigating 'savage Caffres' to attack the colony.
In 1803, Governor Janssens offered De Buys and some other renegades a pardon, and De Buys returned to the Cape Colony, which is where Lichtenstein met him. He was about 45 at the time, and the patriarch of a growing band of half-caste sons and daughters. A century earlier such families were commonplace among Cape trekboers, but racial attitudes were hardening and the Buysvolk, as they were known, were not welcome in the Langkloof - especially after Coenraad testified against a white woman accused of mistreating a slave. By 1813 or thereabouts, De Buys had had enough. He loaded his wagons with gunpowder and trekked off into the unknown again.
In Cape Town, the British viewed this with grave misgivings - especially when it was reported that De Buys had entered various alliances with Griquas, Bushmen, deserters and escaped slaves with a view to expelling missionaries from Transorangia. In 1818, Landdros Andries Stockenstrom posted another reward for his capture, whereupon the wild man and his tribe moved even deeper into Africa, offering their military services to some Sotho chieftains and raiding others. According to author Noel Mostert, De Buys at one point became an African chief in his own right.
The last confirmed report of him came in 1821. By then, he'd run out of ammunition. All his horses had died. He and his sons were reduced to hunting with bows and arrows, but they were still pushing northward, eventually vanishing entirely. Years later, it emerged that they'd made it as far as the Limpopo River, north of where Makhado is today, where De Buys's favourite wife succumbed to fever, a loss that broke the old man's heart. He said goodbye to his volk and vanished into the night, never to be seen again.
More than just a Voortrekker
All humans suppress truths that threaten their myths, and this story is packed with myth-destroying dynamite. Forget the Voortrekkers. Coenraad de Buys was the founder of the first Afrikaans-speaking colony in the far interior. Founder of the Transvaal, in fact. But Afrikaner nationalists couldn't face this, because there was no way of portraying De Buys as the torchbearer of 'white civilization'. So the volk buried him, and nobody else was exactly eager to dig him up. The leaders of anti-imperial resistance are supposed to be black, after all. It was embarrassing and confusing to have a Boer anarchist and his black friends scaring the wits out of Cape governors.
Toward the end of their interview, Lichtenstein asked the giant what he'd learnt during his wanderings among the mysterious tribes of Africa, but De Buys wouldn't say. He just smiled. Two hundred years later, Afrikaners are still struggling to understand their destiny in Africa, and the question remains as haunting as ever. We thought we'd visit De Buys's descendants to see what answers they could provide.
The bus to Buysdorp
Beyond Makhado (writes Gerrit Rautenbach), the landscape turns to bushveld. In the foothills of the Soutpansberg, 55 kilometres from Makhado (formerly Louis Trichardt), you come upon a green valley dotted about with houses half-hidden in the lush vegetation. There are vegetable gardens, fruit trees, and never-you-mind dogs in backyards. In the middle is a quaint old missionary church.
Children appeared on a dirt road. Could we take a photo The prim little girl checked us out, then decided against it. "No," she said, yanking her brother away. "We haven't washed yet."
Welcome to Buysdorp, home of Coenraad de Buys's descendants. When the old man vanished, leaving them lost and leaderless in the wilderness, they settled down and started farming near present-day Schoemansdal. After the Voortrekkers arrived, they moved to their present location, which was ceded to them in perpuity in 1885.
We asked around for someone who might remember the history. A man directed us to Ouma Serina, the town's oldest resident.
Ouma Serina's house lay at the end of a rutted drive. There were chickens in the yard, and a boerbok perched in the branches of a backyard tree. We found the old lady in the kitchen. "Pull your chair closer, dear," she said. "I can't hear so well anymore. I'm turning 102 this year, you know."
"Actually 103," whispered a shy young girl hiding in the passage behind Ouma. She's a stunning creature, this granddaughter, not quite seven feet tall but getting there, with legs that go on forever and cheekbones to break your heart. We said: "Aha! So this is how the genes of Coenraad manifest themselves today, eh" But Ouma Serina's mind was wandering, and she couldn't quite follow. We chatted for a while about koeitjies and kalfies, then took our leave.
Maybe he reached the sea…
Back on the main road, we found an old-style general dealer called Mara Mission Store. Behind the counter stood Gideon Buys, 63. He's a big man around there, owns this shop and the bottle store. When we said why we'd come, Oom Gideon broke into a huge smile.
"You know," he said, "when I was at school, we were forced to learn about Jan van Riebeeck and Simon van der Stel, even Sir Theophilus Shepstone. But when it came to my stamvader, ou Coenraad, there was nothing. Not a word! Why was my history withheld from me?"
But it's obvious, surely.... Coenraad de Buys wasn't the sort of man who the apostles of apartheid wanted anyone to know about. Oom Gideon chuckled.
"Those people are ashamed of their history. I'm not ashamed. I mean, let's be honest. That De Buys was the first ou who fought against injustice, the first ou who tried to break apartheid. In his entire life, he never married a white woman. His wives were all black, coloured, Hottentot, whatever."
Which is not to say that Gideon regards his ancestor as a sinner. In fact, he says, the legends handed down over generations in this village depict Coenraad as a man of the Bible, leading his followers in daily prayers and hymn singing. And what else do the family legends reveal Gideon scratched his head. "When the first missionary arrived here, Coenraad's son, Michael, was still alive. He's the one who said the heart-broken old man just vanished in the night. But there's another possibility," said Gideon.
"Old Coenraad had Delagoa Bay on the brain. He just wanted to go there. There's a story that after his wife died, the old man said he was going to walk down the Limpopo until he found the Portuguese. And that's the last anyone saw of him. Maybe he made it. Maybe he was eaten by a crocodile. I don't know."
Oom Gideon said the Buys clan had struggled under apartheid. "We were treated the same as any blacks. Waited in the same queues. Rode in the same buses and trains." He shrugged. At least one good thing resulted: most Buysdorpers speak fluent North Sotho. They are also free of land claims.
"One day," said Gideon, "an old Venda chief turns up here and tells me: 'This land belongs to us.' I said, who is 'us'? The sons of Coenraad married your great-great-great-grandmother, man! We are the same people." The chief finished his coffee and never went back again.
So this then is the legacy of Coenraad de Buys: his descendants still speak Afrikaans and form a distinct community, but they fit in in a way most white Afrikaners can only dream of. For generations, the Buysvolk's light-brown skin was a liability. Now it's a blessing. We trust the old renegade is enjoying his last laugh.
Once upon a time (writes Rian Malan), a botanist wandering in Africa came upon a blonde giant who stood nearly seven feet tall and could kill with his bare hands. He wore animal skins and was regarded by some as the most dangerous man in Africa. But Henry Lichtenstein found him to be 'quiet and mild', and was amused by the awe he aroused. This giant had penetrated deeper than any other white man into the wild heart of Africa. He had killed countless lions and elephants. He had been an outlaw and a cattle raider, an instigator of wars against Africans, but also a warrior in the service of African allies and the lover or husband of two African queens. Lichtenstein was spellbound. This man, he wrote, is cast in the mould of the mythic heroes of ancient Greece; "the living figure of a Hercules."
When I first read these words, I thought, nonsense. A Boer Hercules Seven foot tall Riding the veld in animal skins, urging Africans to drive the British back into the sea? C'mon. If such a creature existed, we would surely have learnt about him at school. There would have been novels and films about him, maybe even a statue or two. How come Coenraad de Buys is all but invisible?
Let's pick up the story in the 1790s, when De Buys was an outlaw with a price on his head, wanted by the British for his illegal activities along the Great Fish River. Archival documents depict him as a wild creature, half man, half lion, given to helping himself to other men's wives and cattle. Indeed, several historians hold that his cattle raids and provocative entanglements with Xhosa women were the root cause of the Second Frontier War in 1793.
Within a year or two, however, De Buys had crossed the river and allied himself to his former enemies, becoming an important adviser to paramount chief Ngqika and the lover (some say husband) of his mother, Yese. In this period, De Buys also made a foray into present-day KwaZulu-Natal, where he was rumoured to have established a second alliance (also cemented by marriage) with Mzilikazi, founder of the Ndebele nation. These developments caused alarm in distant Cape Town, where De Buys was viewed as a dangerous trouble maker, entirely capable of instigating 'savage Caffres' to attack the colony.
In 1803, Governor Janssens offered De Buys and some other renegades a pardon, and De Buys returned to the Cape Colony, which is where Lichtenstein met him. He was about 45 at the time, and the patriarch of a growing band of half-caste sons and daughters. A century earlier such families were commonplace among Cape trekboers, but racial attitudes were hardening and the Buysvolk, as they were known, were not welcome in the Langkloof - especially after Coenraad testified against a white woman accused of mistreating a slave. By 1813 or thereabouts, De Buys had had enough. He loaded his wagons with gunpowder and trekked off into the unknown again.
In Cape Town, the British viewed this with grave misgivings - especially when it was reported that De Buys had entered various alliances with Griquas, Bushmen, deserters and escaped slaves with a view to expelling missionaries from Transorangia. In 1818, Landdros Andries Stockenstrom posted another reward for his capture, whereupon the wild man and his tribe moved even deeper into Africa, offering their military services to some Sotho chieftains and raiding others. According to author Noel Mostert, De Buys at one point became an African chief in his own right.
The last confirmed report of him came in 1821. By then, he'd run out of ammunition. All his horses had died. He and his sons were reduced to hunting with bows and arrows, but they were still pushing northward, eventually vanishing entirely. Years later, it emerged that they'd made it as far as the Limpopo River, north of where Makhado is today, where De Buys's favourite wife succumbed to fever, a loss that broke the old man's heart. He said goodbye to his volk and vanished into the night, never to be seen again.
More than just a Voortrekker
All humans suppress truths that threaten their myths, and this story is packed with myth-destroying dynamite. Forget the Voortrekkers. Coenraad de Buys was the founder of the first Afrikaans-speaking colony in the far interior. Founder of the Transvaal, in fact. But Afrikaner nationalists couldn't face this, because there was no way of portraying De Buys as the torchbearer of 'white civilization'. So the volk buried him, and nobody else was exactly eager to dig him up. The leaders of anti-imperial resistance are supposed to be black, after all. It was embarrassing and confusing to have a Boer anarchist and his black friends scaring the wits out of Cape governors.
Toward the end of their interview, Lichtenstein asked the giant what he'd learnt during his wanderings among the mysterious tribes of Africa, but De Buys wouldn't say. He just smiled. Two hundred years later, Afrikaners are still struggling to understand their destiny in Africa, and the question remains as haunting as ever. We thought we'd visit De Buys's descendants to see what answers they could provide.
The bus to Buysdorp
Beyond Makhado (writes Gerrit Rautenbach), the landscape turns to bushveld. In the foothills of the Soutpansberg, 55 kilometres from Makhado (formerly Louis Trichardt), you come upon a green valley dotted about with houses half-hidden in the lush vegetation. There are vegetable gardens, fruit trees, and never-you-mind dogs in backyards. In the middle is a quaint old missionary church.
Children appeared on a dirt road. Could we take a photo The prim little girl checked us out, then decided against it. "No," she said, yanking her brother away. "We haven't washed yet."
Welcome to Buysdorp, home of Coenraad de Buys's descendants. When the old man vanished, leaving them lost and leaderless in the wilderness, they settled down and started farming near present-day Schoemansdal. After the Voortrekkers arrived, they moved to their present location, which was ceded to them in perpuity in 1885.
We asked around for someone who might remember the history. A man directed us to Ouma Serina, the town's oldest resident.
Ouma Serina's house lay at the end of a rutted drive. There were chickens in the yard, and a boerbok perched in the branches of a backyard tree. We found the old lady in the kitchen. "Pull your chair closer, dear," she said. "I can't hear so well anymore. I'm turning 102 this year, you know."
"Actually 103," whispered a shy young girl hiding in the passage behind Ouma. She's a stunning creature, this granddaughter, not quite seven feet tall but getting there, with legs that go on forever and cheekbones to break your heart. We said: "Aha! So this is how the genes of Coenraad manifest themselves today, eh" But Ouma Serina's mind was wandering, and she couldn't quite follow. We chatted for a while about koeitjies and kalfies, then took our leave.
Maybe he reached the sea…
Back on the main road, we found an old-style general dealer called Mara Mission Store. Behind the counter stood Gideon Buys, 63. He's a big man around there, owns this shop and the bottle store. When we said why we'd come, Oom Gideon broke into a huge smile.
"You know," he said, "when I was at school, we were forced to learn about Jan van Riebeeck and Simon van der Stel, even Sir Theophilus Shepstone. But when it came to my stamvader, ou Coenraad, there was nothing. Not a word! Why was my history withheld from me?"
But it's obvious, surely.... Coenraad de Buys wasn't the sort of man who the apostles of apartheid wanted anyone to know about. Oom Gideon chuckled.
"Those people are ashamed of their history. I'm not ashamed. I mean, let's be honest. That De Buys was the first ou who fought against injustice, the first ou who tried to break apartheid. In his entire life, he never married a white woman. His wives were all black, coloured, Hottentot, whatever."
Which is not to say that Gideon regards his ancestor as a sinner. In fact, he says, the legends handed down over generations in this village depict Coenraad as a man of the Bible, leading his followers in daily prayers and hymn singing. And what else do the family legends reveal Gideon scratched his head. "When the first missionary arrived here, Coenraad's son, Michael, was still alive. He's the one who said the heart-broken old man just vanished in the night. But there's another possibility," said Gideon.
"Old Coenraad had Delagoa Bay on the brain. He just wanted to go there. There's a story that after his wife died, the old man said he was going to walk down the Limpopo until he found the Portuguese. And that's the last anyone saw of him. Maybe he made it. Maybe he was eaten by a crocodile. I don't know."
Oom Gideon said the Buys clan had struggled under apartheid. "We were treated the same as any blacks. Waited in the same queues. Rode in the same buses and trains." He shrugged. At least one good thing resulted: most Buysdorpers speak fluent North Sotho. They are also free of land claims.
"One day," said Gideon, "an old Venda chief turns up here and tells me: 'This land belongs to us.' I said, who is 'us'? The sons of Coenraad married your great-great-great-grandmother, man! We are the same people." The chief finished his coffee and never went back again.
So this then is the legacy of Coenraad de Buys: his descendants still speak Afrikaans and form a distinct community, but they fit in in a way most white Afrikaners can only dream of. For generations, the Buysvolk's light-brown skin was a liability. Now it's a blessing. We trust the old renegade is enjoying his last laugh.
Author: Rian Malan, Gerrit Rautenbach
Date: 01 December 06
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