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Lot 320
A British 1879 Pattern Saw-back Artillery Sword Bayonet, the 65.5cm saw-back steel blade stamped with crowned VR, various inspector's marks, bend mark and War Department broad arrow, the steel stirrup hilt with chequered black leather grip scales, with steel mounted leather scabbard and frog, 79.5cmBlack patching and pitting to metalwork. some bruising to one grip scale, wear to leather of scabbard.
Lot 302
A German M1898/05 Butcher Bayonet, second pattern, the fullered saw-back steel blade marked at the ricasso WEYERSBERG, KIRSCHBAUM & CIE, SOLINGEN, the steel crossguard with ground-down ears, diagonally ribbed wood grip scales and with steel scabbard; a German M1914 Saw-Backed Bayonet, the blade ricasso marked GOTTLIEB HAMMESFAHR SOLINGEN, FOCHE, with wood grip scales, steel flash guard and steel scabbard with leather frog and remains of a sword knot strap (2)
Lot 316
A German M98/05 Butcher Bayonet, First Pattern, the the 37cm fullered steel blade with the original saw-back removed, marked at the ricasso with crown over ERFURT, the steel crossguard with long ears, diagonally ribbed wood grip scales, with steel mounted leather scabbard and frog, 54cm; a German M98 Seitengwehr Bayonet, as used for the Chilean Mauser, the 52cm quill-back steel blade stamped SIMSON & C., SUHL to the ricasso, the steel upturned crossguard stamped 3499, with diagonally ribbed wood grip scales and steel mounted leather scabbard, 65.5cm (2)
Lot 44
WILLIAM MORRIS (BRITISH 1834–1896) 'VINE AND ACANTHUS' EMBROIDERED PANEL, CIRCA 1890 coloured silks reserved on an unbleached linen ground, and lined with original printed cotton ‘Bird’ fabric by Morris & Co., later mounted and framed 169.2cm x 233cm (66 ½in x 99 ¾in) (frame size 181cm x 246cm (71 ¼in x 96 ¾in)) John and Joan Collins, Portobello Road, LondonAdrian J. Tilbrook and Dan Klein, LondonJohn Scott Collection Exhibited: The Fine Art Society, London Architect-Designers from Pugin to Voysey; The John Scott Collection , 3rd-25th June 2015, no. 84Literature: Morris & Company: Arras Tapestries, Wall-Papers, Fabrics, Furniture, Upholstery and Decoration, catalogue, circa 1910-12, p.24, where an identical design illustrated (half)Morris B. J. Victorian Embroidery: An Authoritative Guide, New York 1962, p.109Parry L. (ed.) William Morris, London 1996, p. 384The original design and cartoon for the tapestry are in the V&A; collection, accession numbers E.45-1940 and E.2472-1932Morris’ fascination with textiles was lifelong. This design is likely to have been partially inspired by the 16th century French and Flemish verdure tapestries he admired at Queen Elizabeth’s Hunting Lodge in Epping Forest as a child. In 1854 he visited France and was exposed to medieval ecclesiastical designs as well as observing weaving techniques in the Parisian Gobelins Works. As was characteristic of Morris, he personally sought to understand the physical making process, reportedly picking apart pieces to ‘puzzle out the tricks of the loom’.Despite his early enthusiasm for the medium, it was not until 1877 that Morris made his first official foray into tapestry weaving with ‘Acanthus and Vine’. This venture was once more prompted by his desire to understand Arras tapestry, studying it through making. Morris accordingly set up a haute-lisse, or horizontal loom, in his Kelmscott Manor bedroom, and spent 516 hours from May-September of 1879 completing it. This was not a seamless process, Morris himself renaming the piece ‘Cabbage and Vine’ following a distortion of the Acanthus leaves during production! The finished piece remains in the collection at Kelmscott, later being transposed to embroidery form.In the decades preceding the making of ‘Acanthus and Vine’, the status of embroidery as an artform was much diminished. The craft required a minimal and shrinking skill level, comprising repetitive stitch types and designs copied from kits. The founding of the Royal School of Art Needlework in 1872 aimed to improve the reputation of secular embroidery, with William Morris as one of the principle supporting designers. Morris’ opinions towards textiles foreshadowed principles of the Arts & Crafts Society, not established for another thirty years. He supported a return to traditional techniques, reacting against the stagnant designs and garish colour palettes of contemporary pieces. In the years prior to the making of ‘Acanthus and Vine’, not only did he become sole manager and proprietor of Morris & Co., but his work was influenced firstly by the opening of the South Kensington Museum (later the V&A;) and secondly his association with dyer Thomas Wardle. The former saw him inspired by sources as various as Indian textiles and traditional crewelwork, whilst the latter enabled him to work closely with a practitioner experienced in natural vegetable dyes. In ‘Acanthus and Vine’ sweeping arches of foliage envelope thoughtfully placed pairs of birds and plump bunches of grapes, all showcasing Morris’ love of gardening and his ornithological fascination. The colours are naturalistic, and the stitches lie flat to the fabric, allowing the subject to shine, rather than the materials themselves. For Morris, design elements had to serve a purpose within the pattern, birds needing to relate to the foliage rather than being a dominating feature. Thus, this embroidery retains the realism Morris prized, and his sentiment that ornamental art should primarily remind us of ‘the outward face of the earth’.
Lot 254
BRIAN WILLSHER (BRITISH 1930-2010) THE STORM 9/9, embossed with signature, title and number to base, verdigris bronze 64cm high, 40.5cm wide, 28cm deep (25.25in high,16in wide, 11in deep) including integral base Brian Willsher was born in the deprived south London borough of Catford in 1930 and lived in the city all his life. His was a definitively ‘non-art’ background, one that would today make him an ‘outsider artist’ and very liked fêted by an art world in search of authentic voices. He had no formal training as a sculptor – instead he studied engineering at Woolwich Polytechnic for three years from 1946 and then began a career of odd-jobbing, working as telephone engineer, farm worker and dental technician, all the while funnelling his various salaries into his passion for motorcycle racing.In the early 1950s Willsher suffered a major bike accident. During his recovery he began playing around with plaster, before moving onto wood around 1956. Initially he tried his hand at making a living carving salad bowls, to little success, although this did lead to a shop owner asking him to make lamp bases instead. They proved far more popular and were sold at Harrods, Heal’s and Liberty’s. From here, Willsher began to generate purely sculptural forms, defined by their intricacy and layering, in a Modernist vocabulary reminiscent of Barbara Hepworth and Henry Moore. After a one-man show at Dunn’s furniture store in Bromley in 1965 and another at Heal’s in 1966, Willsher’s career as a sculptor took off. He was given another exhibition at Heal’s in 1967 (where he sold everything for the deliberately low price of £10 each, subverting the ‘fine art’ context). He showed in Melbourne, Australia, had three works commissioned for Dartington Hall and six for Devon Guild of Craftsmen. He also showed in the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition for five years in a row.However, just as his career was taking off, Willsher became more famous for a controversy not of his making. In 1968, Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs (HMRC) decided his work did not count as ‘fine art’ and so was immediately subject to the 40% manufacturing tax on ‘household decorations’ – in a grim parallel of the 1926 episode when US Customs officials denied Constantin Brancusi’s Bird in Space entry into the country, arguing it was just a piece of metal rather than a sculpture. Willsher was probably not helped by his own diffidence to pricing his work as ‘art’. And part of the Revenue’s argument may have been based on his technique - he didn’t hide the fact he used a bandsaw rather than a chisel. Indeed, he had featured in a British Pathé newsreel, which showed him at work in his suburban garden studio sawing blocks of wood, his hands just centimetres from the bandsaw blade. ‘These are no handmade shapes created with highfalutin motivations’, intones the voice-over, ‘Some purist sculptors may turn up their noses at Willsher’s efforts.’A number of artists sprang to Willsher’s defence, most notably Moore, who perhaps saw many of his own sculptural concerns within Willsher’s abstract sculptures, with their holes punched through the middle. Moore was quoted in The Guardian saying, ‘Here's pure sculpture, indeed! More than that, memorable sculpture!’ and in turn it was The Guardian and The Observer who turned the impasse into a national campaign, posing questions such as ‘When is a sculpture not a sculpture?’ Eventually, HMRC backed down and Willsher was vindicated, although the furore put him off exhibiting, just at the point when his star was in the ascendant. This may go some way to explain why his work is less well-known today than it should be – even if he has enjoyed something of a small renaissance in the last decade or so, as dedicated collectors such as Hugo Burge would seek his work out, either online or at the few galleries who showed him. This reappraisal of Willsher reached its apotheosis in October 2021, with an exhibition at Margaret Howell’s Wigmore Street atelier – a non-traditional ‘art’ space of which the artist would no doubt have approved.Willsher is known almost exclusively for his finely turned, smoothly finished carvings in exotic woods and so we are delighted to be able to also present some of his lesser-seen bronzes from Hugo Burge’s collection, as together they represent the breadth of Willsher’s sculptural vision.
Lot 258
BRIAN WILLSHER (BRITISH 1930-2010) MILLENIA 9/9, embossed with signature, title and number to base, verdigris bronze 29cm high, 25.5cm wide,15cm deep (11.5in high, 10in wide, 6in deep) including integral base Brian Willsher was born in the deprived south London borough of Catford in 1930 and lived in the city all his life. His was a definitively ‘non-art’ background, one that would today make him an ‘outsider artist’ and very liked fêted by an art world in search of authentic voices. He had no formal training as a sculptor – instead he studied engineering at Woolwich Polytechnic for three years from 1946 and then began a career of odd-jobbing, working as telephone engineer, farm worker and dental technician, all the while funnelling his various salaries into his passion for motorcycle racing.In the early 1950s Willsher suffered a major bike accident. During his recovery he began playing around with plaster, before moving onto wood around 1956. Initially he tried his hand at making a living carving salad bowls, to little success, although this did lead to a shop owner asking him to make lamp bases instead. They proved far more popular and were sold at Harrods, Heal’s and Liberty’s. From here, Willsher began to generate purely sculptural forms, defined by their intricacy and layering, in a Modernist vocabulary reminiscent of Barbara Hepworth and Henry Moore. After a one-man show at Dunn’s furniture store in Bromley in 1965 and another at Heal’s in 1966, Willsher’s career as a sculptor took off. He was given another exhibition at Heal’s in 1967 (where he sold everything for the deliberately low price of £10 each, subverting the ‘fine art’ context). He showed in Melbourne, Australia, had three works commissioned for Dartington Hall and six for Devon Guild of Craftsmen. He also showed in the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition for five years in a row.However, just as his career was taking off, Willsher became more famous for a controversy not of his making. In 1968, Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs (HMRC) decided his work did not count as ‘fine art’ and so was immediately subject to the 40% manufacturing tax on ‘household decorations’ – in a grim parallel of the 1926 episode when US Customs officials denied Constantin Brancusi’s Bird in Space entry into the country, arguing it was just a piece of metal rather than a sculpture. Willsher was probably not helped by his own diffidence to pricing his work as ‘art’. And part of the Revenue’s argument may have been based on his technique - he didn’t hide the fact he used a bandsaw rather than a chisel. Indeed, he had featured in a British Pathé newsreel, which showed him at work in his suburban garden studio sawing blocks of wood, his hands just centimetres from the bandsaw blade. ‘These are no handmade shapes created with highfalutin motivations’, intones the voice-over, ‘Some purist sculptors may turn up their noses at Willsher’s efforts.’A number of artists sprang to Willsher’s defence, most notably Moore, who perhaps saw many of his own sculptural concerns within Willsher’s abstract sculptures, with their holes punched through the middle. Moore was quoted in The Guardian saying, ‘Here's pure sculpture, indeed! More than that, memorable sculpture!’ and in turn it was The Guardian and The Observer who turned the impasse into a national campaign, posing questions such as ‘When is a sculpture not a sculpture?’ Eventually, HMRC backed down and Willsher was vindicated, although the furore put him off exhibiting, just at the point when his star was in the ascendant. This may go some way to explain why his work is less well-known today than it should be – even if he has enjoyed something of a small renaissance in the last decade or so, as dedicated collectors such as Hugo Burge would seek his work out, either online or at the few galleries who showed him. This reappraisal of Willsher reached its apotheosis in October 2021, with an exhibition at Margaret Howell’s Wigmore Street atelier – a non-traditional ‘art’ space of which the artist would no doubt have approved.Willsher is known almost exclusively for his finely turned, smoothly finished carvings in exotic woods and so we are delighted to be able to also present some of his lesser-seen bronzes from Hugo Burge’s collection, as together they represent the breadth of Willsher’s sculptural vision.
Lot 253
BRIAN WILLSHER (BRITISH 1930-2010) BRAZ MARK signed and inscribed with title by hand on the underside of the base, carved wood 80cm high, 54cm wide, 18cm deep (31 ½in high, 21 ¼in wide, 7in deep) including integral wooden base Brian Willsher was born in the deprived south London borough of Catford in 1930 and lived in the city all his life. His was a definitively ‘non-art’ background, one that would today make him an ‘outsider artist’ and very liked fêted by an art world in search of authentic voices. He had no formal training as a sculptor – instead he studied engineering at Woolwich Polytechnic for three years from 1946 and then began a career of odd-jobbing, working as telephone engineer, farm worker and dental technician, all the while funnelling his various salaries into his passion for motorcycle racing.In the early 1950s Willsher suffered a major bike accident. During his recovery he began playing around with plaster, before moving onto wood around 1956. Initially he tried his hand at making a living carving salad bowls, to little success, although this did lead to a shop owner asking him to make lamp bases instead. They proved far more popular and were sold at Harrods, Heal’s and Liberty’s. From here, Willsher began to generate purely sculptural forms, defined by their intricacy and layering, in a Modernist vocabulary reminiscent of Barbara Hepworth and Henry Moore. After a one-man show at Dunn’s furniture store in Bromley in 1965 and another at Heal’s in 1966, Willsher’s career as a sculptor took off. He was given another exhibition at Heal’s in 1967 (where he sold everything for the deliberately low price of £10 each, subverting the ‘fine art’ context). He showed in Melbourne, Australia, had three works commissioned for Dartington Hall and six for Devon Guild of Craftsmen. He also showed in the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition for five years in a row.However, just as his career was taking off, Willsher became more famous for a controversy not of his making. In 1968, Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs (HMRC) decided his work did not count as ‘fine art’ and so was immediately subject to the 40% manufacturing tax on ‘household decorations’ – in a grim parallel of the 1926 episode when US Customs officials denied Constantin Brancusi’s Bird in Space entry into the country, arguing it was just a piece of metal rather than a sculpture. Willsher was probably not helped by his own diffidence to pricing his work as ‘art’. And part of the Revenue’s argument may have been based on his technique - he didn’t hide the fact he used a bandsaw rather than a chisel. Indeed, he had featured in a British Pathé newsreel, which showed him at work in his suburban garden studio sawing blocks of wood, his hands just centimetres from the bandsaw blade. ‘These are no handmade shapes created with highfalutin motivations’, intones the voice-over, ‘Some purist sculptors may turn up their noses at Willsher’s efforts.’A number of artists sprang to Willsher’s defence, most notably Moore, who perhaps saw many of his own sculptural concerns within Willsher’s abstract sculptures, with their holes punched through the middle. Moore was quoted in The Guardian saying, ‘Here's pure sculpture, indeed! More than that, memorable sculpture!’ and in turn it was The Guardian and The Observer who turned the impasse into a national campaign, posing questions such as ‘When is a sculpture not a sculpture?’ Eventually, HMRC backed down and Willsher was vindicated, although the furore put him off exhibiting, just at the point when his star was in the ascendant. This may go some way to explain why his work is less well-known today than it should be – even if he has enjoyed something of a small renaissance in the last decade or so, as dedicated collectors such as Hugo Burge would seek his work out, either online or at the few galleries who showed him. This reappraisal of Willsher reached its apotheosis in October 2021, with an exhibition at Margaret Howell’s Wigmore Street atelier – a non-traditional ‘art’ space of which the artist would no doubt have approved.Willsher is known almost exclusively for his finely turned, smoothly finished carvings in exotic woods and so we are delighted to be able to also present some of his lesser-seen bronzes from Hugo Burge’s collection, as together they represent the breadth of Willsher’s sculptural vision.
Lot 259
BRIAN WILLSHER (BRITISH 1930-2010) CONSTRUCTION XVIII 9/9, embossed with signature, title and number to base, verdigris bronze 21cm high, 35.5cm wide, 18cm deep (8 ¼in high, 4in wide, 7in deep) including integral base Brian Willsher was born in the deprived south London borough of Catford in 1930 and lived in the city all his life. His was a definitively ‘non-art’ background, one that would today make him an ‘outsider artist’ and very liked fêted by an art world in search of authentic voices. He had no formal training as a sculptor – instead he studied engineering at Woolwich Polytechnic for three years from 1946 and then began a career of odd-jobbing, working as telephone engineer, farm worker and dental technician, all the while funnelling his various salaries into his passion for motorcycle racing.In the early 1950s Willsher suffered a major bike accident. During his recovery he began playing around with plaster, before moving onto wood around 1956. Initially he tried his hand at making a living carving salad bowls, to little success, although this did lead to a shop owner asking him to make lamp bases instead. They proved far more popular and were sold at Harrods, Heal’s and Liberty’s. From here, Willsher began to generate purely sculptural forms, defined by their intricacy and layering, in a Modernist vocabulary reminiscent of Barbara Hepworth and Henry Moore. After a one-man show at Dunn’s furniture store in Bromley in 1965 and another at Heal’s in 1966, Willsher’s career as a sculptor took off. He was given another exhibition at Heal’s in 1967 (where he sold everything for the deliberately low price of £10 each, subverting the ‘fine art’ context). He showed in Melbourne, Australia, had three works commissioned for Dartington Hall and six for Devon Guild of Craftsmen. He also showed in the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition for five years in a row.However, just as his career was taking off, Willsher became more famous for a controversy not of his making. In 1968, Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs (HMRC) decided his work did not count as ‘fine art’ and so was immediately subject to the 40% manufacturing tax on ‘household decorations’ – in a grim parallel of the 1926 episode when US Customs officials denied Constantin Brancusi’s Bird in Space entry into the country, arguing it was just a piece of metal rather than a sculpture. Willsher was probably not helped by his own diffidence to pricing his work as ‘art’. And part of the Revenue’s argument may have been based on his technique - he didn’t hide the fact he used a bandsaw rather than a chisel. Indeed, he had featured in a British Pathé newsreel, which showed him at work in his suburban garden studio sawing blocks of wood, his hands just centimetres from the bandsaw blade. ‘These are no handmade shapes created with highfalutin motivations’, intones the voice-over, ‘Some purist sculptors may turn up their noses at Willsher’s efforts.’A number of artists sprang to Willsher’s defence, most notably Moore, who perhaps saw many of his own sculptural concerns within Willsher’s abstract sculptures, with their holes punched through the middle. Moore was quoted in The Guardian saying, ‘Here's pure sculpture, indeed! More than that, memorable sculpture!’ and in turn it was The Guardian and The Observer who turned the impasse into a national campaign, posing questions such as ‘When is a sculpture not a sculpture?’ Eventually, HMRC backed down and Willsher was vindicated, although the furore put him off exhibiting, just at the point when his star was in the ascendant. This may go some way to explain why his work is less well-known today than it should be – even if he has enjoyed something of a small renaissance in the last decade or so, as dedicated collectors such as Hugo Burge would seek his work out, either online or at the few galleries who showed him. This reappraisal of Willsher reached its apotheosis in October 2021, with an exhibition at Margaret Howell’s Wigmore Street atelier – a non-traditional ‘art’ space of which the artist would no doubt have approved.Willsher is known almost exclusively for his finely turned, smoothly finished carvings in exotic woods and so we are delighted to be able to also present some of his lesser-seen bronzes from Hugo Burge’s collection, as together they represent the breadth of Willsher’s sculptural vision.
Lot 256
BRIAN WILLSHER (BRITISH 1930-2010) WISHBONE signed and dated ‘2001’ by hand to underside, carved wood 25cm high, 11.5cm wide, 7cm deep (9 ¾in high, 4 ¼in wide, 2 ¾in deep) Brian Willsher was born in the deprived south London borough of Catford in 1930 and lived in the city all his life. His was a definitively ‘non-art’ background, one that would today make him an ‘outsider artist’ and very liked fêted by an art world in search of authentic voices. He had no formal training as a sculptor – instead he studied engineering at Woolwich Polytechnic for three years from 1946 and then began a career of odd-jobbing, working as telephone engineer, farm worker and dental technician, all the while funnelling his various salaries into his passion for motorcycle racing.In the early 1950s Willsher suffered a major bike accident. During his recovery he began playing around with plaster, before moving onto wood around 1956. Initially he tried his hand at making a living carving salad bowls, to little success, although this did lead to a shop owner asking him to make lamp bases instead. They proved far more popular and were sold at Harrods, Heal’s and Liberty’s. From here, Willsher began to generate purely sculptural forms, defined by their intricacy and layering, in a Modernist vocabulary reminiscent of Barbara Hepworth and Henry Moore. After a one-man show at Dunn’s furniture store in Bromley in 1965 and another at Heal’s in 1966, Willsher’s career as a sculptor took off. He was given another exhibition at Heal’s in 1967 (where he sold everything for the deliberately low price of £10 each, subverting the ‘fine art’ context). He showed in Melbourne, Australia, had three works commissioned for Dartington Hall and six for Devon Guild of Craftsmen. He also showed in the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition for five years in a row.However, just as his career was taking off, Willsher became more famous for a controversy not of his making. In 1968, Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs (HMRC) decided his work did not count as ‘fine art’ and so was immediately subject to the 40% manufacturing tax on ‘household decorations’ – in a grim parallel of the 1926 episode when US Customs officials denied Constantin Brancusi’s Bird in Space entry into the country, arguing it was just a piece of metal rather than a sculpture. Willsher was probably not helped by his own diffidence to pricing his work as ‘art’. And part of the Revenue’s argument may have been based on his technique - he didn’t hide the fact he used a bandsaw rather than a chisel. Indeed, he had featured in a British Pathé newsreel, which showed him at work in his suburban garden studio sawing blocks of wood, his hands just centimetres from the bandsaw blade. ‘These are no handmade shapes created with highfalutin motivations’, intones the voice-over, ‘Some purist sculptors may turn up their noses at Willsher’s efforts.’A number of artists sprang to Willsher’s defence, most notably Moore, who perhaps saw many of his own sculptural concerns within Willsher’s abstract sculptures, with their holes punched through the middle. Moore was quoted in The Guardian saying, ‘Here's pure sculpture, indeed! More than that, memorable sculpture!’ and in turn it was The Guardian and The Observer who turned the impasse into a national campaign, posing questions such as ‘When is a sculpture not a sculpture?’ Eventually, HMRC backed down and Willsher was vindicated, although the furore put him off exhibiting, just at the point when his star was in the ascendant. This may go some way to explain why his work is less well-known today than it should be – even if he has enjoyed something of a small renaissance in the last decade or so, as dedicated collectors such as Hugo Burge would seek his work out, either online or at the few galleries who showed him. This reappraisal of Willsher reached its apotheosis in October 2021, with an exhibition at Margaret Howell’s Wigmore Street atelier – a non-traditional ‘art’ space of which the artist would no doubt have approved.Willsher is known almost exclusively for his finely turned, smoothly finished carvings in exotic woods and so we are delighted to be able to also present some of his lesser-seen bronzes from Hugo Burge’s collection, as together they represent the breadth of Willsher’s sculptural vision.
Lot 255
BRIAN WILLSHER (BRITISH 1930-2010) SORROW 9/9, embossed with signature, title and number to base, verdigris bronze 68cm high, 33cm wide, 26cm deep (26 ¾in high, 13in wide, 10 ¼in deep) including integral base Brian Willsher was born in the deprived south London borough of Catford in 1930 and lived in the city all his life. His was a definitively ‘non-art’ background, one that would today make him an ‘outsider artist’ and very liked fêted by an art world in search of authentic voices. He had no formal training as a sculptor – instead he studied engineering at Woolwich Polytechnic for three years from 1946 and then began a career of odd-jobbing, working as telephone engineer, farm worker and dental technician, all the while funnelling his various salaries into his passion for motorcycle racing.In the early 1950s Willsher suffered a major bike accident. During his recovery he began playing around with plaster, before moving onto wood around 1956. Initially he tried his hand at making a living carving salad bowls, to little success, although this did lead to a shop owner asking him to make lamp bases instead. They proved far more popular and were sold at Harrods, Heal’s and Liberty’s. From here, Willsher began to generate purely sculptural forms, defined by their intricacy and layering, in a Modernist vocabulary reminiscent of Barbara Hepworth and Henry Moore. After a one-man show at Dunn’s furniture store in Bromley in 1965 and another at Heal’s in 1966, Willsher’s career as a sculptor took off. He was given another exhibition at Heal’s in 1967 (where he sold everything for the deliberately low price of £10 each, subverting the ‘fine art’ context). He showed in Melbourne, Australia, had three works commissioned for Dartington Hall and six for Devon Guild of Craftsmen. He also showed in the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition for five years in a row.However, just as his career was taking off, Willsher became more famous for a controversy not of his making. In 1968, Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs (HMRC) decided his work did not count as ‘fine art’ and so was immediately subject to the 40% manufacturing tax on ‘household decorations’ – in a grim parallel of the 1926 episode when US Customs officials denied Constantin Brancusi’s Bird in Space entry into the country, arguing it was just a piece of metal rather than a sculpture. Willsher was probably not helped by his own diffidence to pricing his work as ‘art’. And part of the Revenue’s argument may have been based on his technique - he didn’t hide the fact he used a bandsaw rather than a chisel. Indeed, he had featured in a British Pathé newsreel, which showed him at work in his suburban garden studio sawing blocks of wood, his hands just centimetres from the bandsaw blade. ‘These are no handmade shapes created with highfalutin motivations’, intones the voice-over, ‘Some purist sculptors may turn up their noses at Willsher’s efforts.’A number of artists sprang to Willsher’s defence, most notably Moore, who perhaps saw many of his own sculptural concerns within Willsher’s abstract sculptures, with their holes punched through the middle. Moore was quoted in The Guardian saying, ‘Here's pure sculpture, indeed! More than that, memorable sculpture!’ and in turn it was The Guardian and The Observer who turned the impasse into a national campaign, posing questions such as ‘When is a sculpture not a sculpture?’ Eventually, HMRC backed down and Willsher was vindicated, although the furore put him off exhibiting, just at the point when his star was in the ascendant. This may go some way to explain why his work is less well-known today than it should be – even if he has enjoyed something of a small renaissance in the last decade or so, as dedicated collectors such as Hugo Burge would seek his work out, either online or at the few galleries who showed him. This reappraisal of Willsher reached its apotheosis in October 2021, with an exhibition at Margaret Howell’s Wigmore Street atelier – a non-traditional ‘art’ space of which the artist would no doubt have approved.Willsher is known almost exclusively for his finely turned, smoothly finished carvings in exotic woods and so we are delighted to be able to also present some of his lesser-seen bronzes from Hugo Burge’s collection, as together they represent the breadth of Willsher’s sculptural vision.
Lot 446
Maritime Interest - an early 20th century sailor's needlework picture, on silk with a titled depiction of a Royal Navy ship, HMS Newcastle, China Station, 1910 - 1912, 25cm x 39cm Part of the Bristol subgroup of Town Class light cruisers, HMS Newcastle was built by Armstrong Whitworth in 1909. While at the China and Pacific Station she saw action during the Shaghai Rebellion of 1913, following the Xinhai Revolution. During World War I she captured the German ship Mazatlan.
Lot 254
A 1982 Widescreen Nintendo Game and Watch Snoopy Tennis in 1981 widescreen release FR-27 Fire box along with a selection of assorted video games to include Halo 3, Grand Theft Auto IV, Baldur's Gate, Splinter Cell, etc. Urbz: Sims in the City case contains Xbox 360 NHL12 disc, Sega rally case contains Fifa 09 UMD, Fifa Street 2 case contains Saw V DVD, Star Wars the Force Unleashed case contains The Simpson's Game UMD. All other games are in correct cases. Snoopy Tennis includes batteries, in working order.
Lot 421
THOMAS ROWLANDSON (BRITISH 1756-1827) FRENCH PRISONERS UNDER GUARD, 1794signed T.Rowland lower leftpen and ink and watercolour on laid paper15 x 24cm; 6 x 9in32 x 40cm; 12 3/4 x 15 3/4in (framed)ProvenanceAbbott and Holder, London Rowlandson and Henry Angelo (1756-1835) visited Portsmouth in 1794 to see Lord Howe return from his 'Glorious 1st of June' victory. ' ... The morning following we saw, on the Gosport side, the landing of the French prisoners, numbers of different divisions filing off to the different stations allotted them. As for the wounded, previous to their quitting the boats, carts were placed alongside, and when filled, on the smack of the whip, were ordered to proceed. The sudden jolting made their groans appalling, and must have occasioned the wounds of many to produce an immediate haemorrhage...' (Henry Angelo, Reminiscences, 1828, vol. II, p. 292).
Lot 546
Shedplate 14E Bedford February 1958-September 1963. This ex MR shed had an allocation of 30 locos while utilising this code. September 1963 saw it lose its allocation of steam. It became a diesel depot coded 14C. Face restored with 43565 painted on the back which was withdrawn from Bedford in 1962.
Lot 2078
A Russian Gem-Set Silver-Mounted Sandstone Match-Holder in the Form of an Elephant, by Fabergé, St Peterburg, Workmaster Julius Rappoport, Circa 1890 humorously modelled, the ovoid sandstone body mounted with silver trunk, legs, ears and tail and with a central well for matches with gadrooned rim, with two garnet cabochon-set eyes11.5cm wideProvenance: by family tradition gifted to a member of the Cullingworth family, who were working at Clifton Castle in the mid-20th century, by Lieutenant Colonel Assheton Penn Curzon-Howe-Herrick and his wife, Joan Henrietta, daughter of James Windsor Lewis, and by descent to the present owner.The Curzon-Howe family were remarkably well connected through the 20th century. Lieutenant Colonel Assheton Penn Curzon-Howe-Herrick (1898-1959), who likely previously owned, by inheritance, the present elephant, was the son of Sir Assheton Gore Curzon-Howe K.C.B., C.M.G., C.V.O. (1850-1911), the celebrated British naval officer who was, for a time, the Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Fleet. Sir Assheton in turn was the son of Richard William Penn Curzon-Howe, 1st Earl Howe (1796-1870) and counted the 2nd and 3rd Earls Howe as his brothers through his father’s first marriage.The extensive nature of the network of the family is perhaps best illustrated by reviewing the list of the invited guests to Sir Assheton’s wedding in 1892, at St Mark’s church, North Audley Street, London, to Alice Anne Cowell, daughter of General Right Hon. Sir John Cowell, of Clifton Castle. The invitees, as recorded in a contemporary report published in the Yorkshire Herald on 27 February 1892, include a veritable who’s who of European royalty and British aristocracy. The report further shows the event to have been a lavish affair, noting:“The bride looked very handsome in her bridal costume of rich white corded silk, draped with fine Brussels lace and trimmed with sprays of orange blossom. Her veil was fastened to the hair by a large diamond star and was surmounted by a wreath of orange blossom. She wore a magnificent diamond and turquoise bangle, a present from her Majesty, who also sent the bridal bouquet of choice exotics. Her other ornament was a diamond cross, the gift of the bridegroom. The bridesmaids were Miss Marie Cowell, sister of the bride, Lady Alexandra Hamilton and Lady Gladys Hamilton, nieces of the bridegroom, Miss May McNeil, and Miss Frances Whyley. They were attired alike in charming gowns of white bengaline edged in white fur and trimmed with silver embroidery with hats en suite.”The report goes on to provide a list some of the wedding gifts given to the couple, presented, as the guest list would suggest, by royalty and the aristocracy:“Her Majesty presented the bride with a handsome Indian shawl, a turquoise and diamond bangle, and the bridal bouquet of choice exotics; the Prince of Wales and Prince George of Wales gave a travelling clock to Captain Curzon; the Grand Duke of Hesse sent an embossed silver box; the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh, silver bowl; the Duke and Duchess of Connaught, a tortoiseshell clock; the Marchioness of Lorne, a jewelled spray; Prince and Princess Henry of Battenberg, a jewelled pin; the Duchess of Albany, silver mounted inkstand; the Prince of Leiningen, silver coffee pot; Prince Louis of Battenberg, pair of silver candlesticks; the Duke and Duchess of Abercorn, diamond pin and ring.”Sadly, no mention is made of the present elephant, though the list does go on to note ‘The other presents were numerous.’ It is of course also possible that the elephant was purchased by Sir Assheton, the St Peterburg hallmark is that used from 1882-1899 which fits in with his wedding, or given to him as a gift on another occasion.The wider family were well aware of the firm of Fabergé, particularly its London branch, which opened in 1903, through the role of Richard George Pen Curzon, 4th Earl Howe (1861-1929) as Lord Chamberlain to Queen Alexandra. Around this time Henry Charles Bainbridge, Fabergé’s agent in London, instigated a project that has become known as the Sandringham commission. This saw Fabergé send to London the artist Boris Frödman-Cluzel who prepared wax models of various animals on the Sandringham estate. These wax models were translated in the workshops of Fabergé into, mostly, hardstone models which were then sold either directly to the King and Queen or to members of their inner court to be presented to their royal highnesses. The only two examples not made in hardstone were the models of Vassilka, the borzoi, and Persimmon, one of Edward VII’s racehorses, which were produced in silver, presumably as their long legs made them unsuitable for carving in hardstone. The model of Vassilka was purchased by Earl Howe on 5 November 1909 from Fabergé to be given as a gift to the Queen. The model remains in the Royal Collection to this day.The connection between Earl Howe and Queen Alexandra seems to have been close, and the gift giving reciprocal. Following his death in 1929 the 4th Earl Howe lists of number of items in his will which had been given to him by the late Queen.Humorously modelled silver-mounted sandstone match holders in the form of animals, such as the present example were made in various forms. Perhaps the closest to the present elephant was one previously in the collection of His Royal Highness the Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester, and which was sold by Christie’s 25 November 2013 as lot 225. Another example, formed as a rhinoceros was sold by Bonhams (26 November 2014, lot 156) and one formed as a pig was sold by Sotheby’s (12 June 2008, lot 653).Marked inside the well with Fabergé in Cyrillic, workmasters mark and 88 zolotnik standard mark. The top of the trunk marked with Fabergé in Cyrillic and workmasters mark. There is some wear to the marks but each is generally legible. There is some overall surface scratching and wear, consistent with age and use. The wear is noticeable as a softening to the texturing, most visible to the trunk. There is a bruise to one side of the match well. Two legs have perhaps been reattached to the body. One is slightly loose and with a small gap between the top of the foot and the body.
Lot 67
A Ryobi portable tool chest to include a Ryobi CW-1801/150 18v battery circular saw, a Ryobi STP-1801 18v battery drill, a Ryobi CFL-180F 18v battery handheld torch, a Ryobi CJS-180QEO 18v battery jigsaw, a Ryobi CMS-1801 18v battery cross cut saw, a Ryobi BC-1807T 18v charger and two Ryobi 18v batteries.
Lot 22
A collection of power tools to include a boxed Power Craft PBM-160F 230v 160w mini polisher with attachments, a boxed Elu EMD403 240v 5oow drill, a boxed Bosch Power Craft PRS-600D 230v 600w reciprocating saw with spare blades, a boxed Bosch GWS850C 230v 850w disc grinder, a Power Craft EH900 240v 900w wood planer and a Draper 64323 230v 650w wood planer. (6).
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