A Unique Maneki Neko

An update on my Maneki Neko page tells the story about how this one-of-a-kind cement kitty came to live in my garden.

Good E-Nef. . . .

A nef is an ornate table decoration in the shape of a ship. Often made of precious metal and adorned with gems or enamel, a nef was not just a fancy centerpiece, but also could hold condiments, utensils, or napkins. Sometimes the nef was on wheels, so it could be rolled to the next person who needed a little salt or a clean spoon, but often the ship was stationary, supported by some denizen of the sea, including, of course, a curvaceous mermaid. Originally dating back to the 13th century, the nef saw a new rise in popularity with the invention of electroplating base metals with silver in the 1840s, coinciding with the Victorian love of elaborate ornaments.

This leads to my newest mermaid mystery, a 21-inch tall lamp featuring a silver-plated siren rising from roiling waves as she supports a sailing vessel (being very considerate mythical maiden, she carries a life preserver, just in case any sailors fall overboard). This lamp meets all my collecting criteria for weird and wonderful.

When switched on, a soft light shines through the seashells wired onto a metal grid that serves as the ship's deck.

Although the silver plating is worn in areas, the sculpting is superb, from the swirling waters and spiraling scaled tail to her ample supple curves.

However, I do not think this lovely lady started out as a lamp. Looking underneath, it is clear that someone drilled a hole and rigged the wiring.

In fact the lamp seems to have been creatively, if not always carefully, jimmy-rigged. The upper portion of the boat lifts off, but is now screwed into place; however, for some reason, the heads of the screws were sunk into the upper deck, leaving the unsightly ends sticking out from the boat's bottom. It was a simple matter to reverse the screws, so that the heads were now flush with the hull and the ends tucked in under the shells. The shells are thin and frail, so I did not want to poke around to much, but it looks like the light itself is a short string of tiny white fairy lights, which indicates that the lighting is much newer than the base (and I sure hope that they are LEDs, because replacing them would be a nightmare). 

There are no marks, other than a small diamond-shaped paper label that reads, "M. Vernis 13." I could find no company or business by that name, and I suspect that it may refer to an address.

So, back to our word of the day, "nef." My theory is that this lamp started life as a Victorian revival of a nef, and that originally the ship offered guests sweetmeats or salt, which would explain why the upper deck once lifted off for filling and cleaning. But I am open to any other suggestions as well.

 

Sisters, Sisters. . .

There were never such devoted sisters. . . .

Sisters, Irving Berlin, 1954

These sea siren sisters were so devoted to each other, that after a century of separation, they finally found each other at last. The lovely lorelei with the red flowers adorning her hair has been in my collection for many years, but I recently found her long-lost sister with blue blossoms. Reunited, these mermaids are of excellent precolored bisque and each is about 4.25 inches long. They are of the split tail variety, with legs that end in finny feet long, faint molded scales reaching from their ankles to mid-thigh. The recently-arrived sister is incised across her lower back "Sp. 1275" and on left edge of her back "Germany." The other has similar markings, but is instead incised "Sp. 1274."

On January 7, 2001, Theriaults auctioned off samples from the Hertwig and Company archives. Subsequently, Theriaults published a book entitled The Ladies of Hertwig, picturing pages from catalogs found in those archives; the catalogs were undated, but Theriaults stated that they stretched from the early 1900s through the 1930s. This is a copy of one of the pages in the book, featuring these two nubile nixies.

The "Sp." suffix was originally used by Limbach Porzellanfabrik, however, in 1922, Limbach was struggling financially and Hertwig took a controlling interest in the company. This would explain how what were originally Limbach models ended up in Hertwig's catalogs. 

 

Mysterious Mermaids

While mermaids have always been magical and mystifying, these sinuous sirens have mystery all their own. Of gilt bronze, these mermaids mounted on stylized dolphins have holes behind the dolphins' serpent-like tails for mounting on some object, perhaps an ornate bronze urn or elaborate mirror frame, or as ormolu adornments for a fancy piece of furniture. They are beautifully cast and finished, as well as amazingly hefty. I bought four of them years ago, I do not even remember where, thinking to use them as decorative hooks. Each is about 7.5 inches long and there are two sets, as two of the mermaids look over their right shoulder, while the other pair turn the opposite way. But I soon realized that the curved tails did not allow easy wall mounting and my brother Steven, who was teaching himself woodworking, offered to mount the mermaids on wooden backs for hanging.

Well, that was a couple of years ago. Steven soon realized this task was far more complex that it first appeared, as each mermaid was different in many small ways, from the curves of the tail to the number of screw holes in the back. To complicate things even more, the screws needed were different sizes and had to be attached at different angles. As he acquired new skills and better equipment, Steven finally cracked the mermaid mystery and has presented me with all four undines attached to oak backs and ready for hanging.

It is interesting that there are such subtle differences among these sirens. I suspect they may have been sand cast, rather than produced by the lost wax method, which would result in minor variations. As for the different fastenings, perhaps these lovely lorelies were originally part of some rococo-styled object with asymmetric roiling curves, requiring each mermaid to have her own unique attachment. I would love someday to find out what these undulating undines originally adorned.