WHETHER peering out from a crowded dresser or sitting proudly at each end of a chimneypiece, Staffordshire figures have long been a part of English interiors. The most ubiquitous examples are the china dogs—solemn, upright King Charles spaniels from the reign of Queen Victoria—but they span a much wider period and an extraordinary breadth of subjects, from exotic animals to pastoral scenes and legions of long-forgotten celebrities. Despite their different forms and being made by a number of potteries, they’re curiously easy to spot. Their gaudy appearance, the lively expressions on both people and animals and their simple, earthenware shapes make them instantly identifiable.
In Marmite fashion, Staffordshire figures tend to divide opinions quite strongly—few people view them with ambivalence. Their popularity rises and falls, largely dependent on decorative trends. Minimalists, unsurprisingly, tend to loathe them—they are the epitome of a dust-catcher, serve no purpose other than to entertain, and will look wildly out of place in a home that’s a shrine to grey or beige. Others love them—those who prefer a relaxed environment, their houses filled with armchairs, books, and dogs, with chimneypieces busy with invitations and old wooden dressers brimming with collections of hand-me-down china. Here, the Staffordshire figure comes into its own, adding an element of humour and merriment wherever it is placed.
Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.
