Here are some more pieces from Blanche Vulliamy's Kensington studio.
Grotesque ware three handled vase: "OH! / ST' HELENA / CRONJE 1900". Signed on base: "Vulliamy".
"OOM Paul / 1900 / Bogie / S P". Base of yellow version with signature: "Vulliamy"; remainder unsigned, with the word "REGD" instead.
"BOBS 1900". Base signed: "Vulliamy". With Registered Design Number 356480. Design registered towards end of the first half of 1900 - just 3 registered design numbers after Vulliamy's "Cronje 1900" vase above.
The Canterbury Star (New Zealand), Issue 8076, 30 July 1904, Page 3
MISS VULLIAMY AND HER POTTERY.
In a picturesque part of Kensington, just a little way removed from the noisy traffic of High Street, dwells a lady surrounded by hobgoblins of her own creation. So thickly do they permeate the atmosphere that when you first enter their abode they seem to stare at you from the window, leer at you from the wall, grin at you from the cabinets, and peep at you from every corner. You find uncanny faces watching you from above your head, and even at your feet they are looking up at you with their wry, dry smiles.
The room is grey with them, brown with them, green with them. And the curious thing is that they are laughing – whether at you or with you, you can not quite make out, at all events at first. But when you get over the initial sensation of embarrassment at being the apparent cause of so much merriment, you begin to wonder why you have never noticed what a variety of smiles there are in the world. For here no two smiles are alike; each Goblin has his own expression of mirth. And, more surprising still, you find yourself instinctively recognising that each smile reminds you of some particular individual – a little caricatured, maybe, just a little.
The clever inventor of all these tricksy sprites sits calm and unmoved amid her grotesque progeny, intent on designing and modelling new forms, arrayed in a working apron bordered by some of her beloved “Smiley Poggs”, from whom no doubt she draws fresh sources of inspiration, though the moment she speaks there is a whimsical lift of the eyebrow and a comical curl of the mouth, which betrays at once that Miss Blanche G. Vulliamy is gifted with rare sense of the humorous and an irresistible spirit of fun.
“No, I never lack ideas”, she said to the interviewer. “You see it is just like this. Whatever I produce, I see first in Nature. A walk on the seashore is a great stimulus to the imagination. Shells are full of smiles begging to be portrayed. I have a whole series of shell-smiles, which people say are very human. Seaweed, too, is full of possibilities, which I mean to develop some day. My snake tea-service is quite original, and has brought many orders. Frogs, toads, fish, are all utilised humorously as designs for jugs, jars, vases and ornaments of all descriptions”.
She brought out a most weird design then in process for another tea-service, even more fantastic than any she has so far conceived.
The talented artist is of Swiss and Belgian descent, but her home has always been in England. From a child she was never happy as when modelling quaint conceits evolved out of her own imagination, and this gift soon attracted notice. She found herself inundated with orders to execute this and that commission as presents, mementoes, etc., and it became necessary to establish what she calls “her shop” at 6 Pitt Street, Kensington, where her Laughs and Smiles, her Beasties and Gnomes, are manufactured below ground, and come grinning upstairs, to be placed on show by the side of their exuberantly mirthful brethren.
Miss Vulliamy studied art in the regulation way for some time at South Kensington, and it was during an exhibition of students’ work at Alexandra House that the Queen (then Princess of Wales) saw and purchased some of her first “Smiley Poggs”, which was the beginning of the furore for Miss Vulliamy’s work. Since then many imitations have arisen, and in self-defence she now has her own name “Vulliamy” engraved on all her pottery.
Only the other day an instance occurred which shows what is thought of her productions.
One of Miss Vulliamy’s sisters was walking in the vicinity of Regent Street, when she spied in the window of a curio shop one of Miss Vulliamy’s pots. She went in and asked the shopman if he could tell her anything about it.
“No, madam”, he answered, “only that it is very odd, and very valuable; I could not possibly take less than a guinea for it”.
The artist’s price would be about 2s 6d!
Miss Vulliamy, who is nothing if not enterprising, has given two entertainments at the Kensington Town Hall, where many celebrities in the world of art came to do honour to their sister genius. She has also given an exhibition in the East End, and speaks most enthusiastically of the appreciation evinced by the coster and his donah. They seized the humour of the thing at once, she said, and their remarks were most diverting.
“It repaid me for all the trouble and thought bestowed in the working out of ideas to see how immediately they caught the point, and embroidered it in their own incomparable way. Even the children made remarks which showed how the grotesque side of Goblin-land tickled their fancies. Really my exhibition in that quarter was an enlightenment to me of how work, and poverty, and sordid surroundings cannot stultify a love of the comic, which is inherent, I think, in every healthy nature.
“Do I caricature consciously? Yes and no. There are people – well-known politicians for instance – who have certain prominent characteristics which, a trifle exaggerated, make excellent examples of my particular line, and quite spontaneously such traits will appear conspicuously ‘goblinesqued’. But I am quite guiltless of intention with regard to a fact that has only lately come to my knowledge. A lady who has a whole series of my inventions gave a dinner party, at which his Majesty was present. My pottery adorned the table, and it was pointed out to the King that each smile represented a living statesman. I am told he was immensely amused; but I must confess that the resemblances emanated from the lively brain of the hostess, and not from me.
“I hope I have not conveyed the idea that I do the whole process of baking, moulding, etc., myself. The mechanical part is done by workmen from my own designs. But great care is necessary, for, like Louis Wain’s cats, expression is everything with my eerie troupe, and the tiniest error may result in failure”.
Vulliamy's studio and shop, 6 Pitt Street, Kensington (Google 2020)
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