This super little table has an elaborate veneered top. It has extending leaves. The maker is unknown although there is a British ‘Kite Mark’underneath indicating that it was registered as a wood product (code 1960) and a licence no 2066 suggesting a date of manufacture in the 1920s. Tony stripped it down and carefully repolished the whole table. Does anybody know who the manufacturer was?
Anthony Sargeant bought this charming impressionistic landscape at auction. It is an oil on canvas laid on board and measures approximately 35 by 45cm. The artist was born in Broxburn. He lived in Edinburgh and painted landscape and coastal views. He studied at the Edinburgh School of Design and later in Paris and at Barbizon. He exhibited at the Royal Academy from 1889, the Royal Society of British Artists and the Royal Institute of Painters in Watercolours.
A simple meal – but delicious – cooked by Anthony J Sargeant for lunch in Shropshire, England. Of course it would have tasted even more delicious if it were eaten for lunch on the quayside of some Greek Island – but one cannot have everything. The batter on the squid was crisp and covered well (it helps to get batter to stick if you first coat fish with rice flour and leave before dipping in the batter mix). The double cooked chips (french fries for North American readers) were crisp and remained crisp after being double cooked in vegetable oil. If they are shaken well in a sieve after cooking it helps to remove any excess oil and keeps the chips crisp.
Jane Morris posed as Proserpine for Dante Gabriel Rosetti in 1874. This lithograph was one of the first antiques bought by Anthony Sargeant as a young man. It is not a wonderful print – but Tony has an emotional attachment to it and will keep it – it is now possible to buy high quality prints in colour from any number of suppliers.
The figure represents Proserpine as Empress of Hades. After she was conveyed by Pluto to his realm, and became his bride, her mother Ceres importuned Jupiter for her return to earth, and he was prevailed on to consent to this, provided only she had not partaken of any of the fruits of Hades. It was found, however, that she had eaten one grain of a pomegranate, and this enchained her to her new empire and destiny. She is represented in a gloomy corridor of her palace, with the fatal fruit in her hand. As she passes, a gleam strikes on the wall behind her form some inlet suddenly opened, and admitting for a moment the light of the upper world; and she glances furtively towards it, immersed in thought.
In the collection of Anthony J Sargeant this collotype was published by L’Estampe Moderne in the period 1897-1899. It was included in one of a series of 24 monthly instalments each comprised of four original lithographs. Bracquemond was a French painter and etcher who played a key role in the revival of print making. The image as shown measures 21 by 29 cm. The image is mounted onto a sheet the bottom corner of which bears the blind stamp of L’Estampe Moderne – a womans head in profile.
via Woman’s Head (Collotype) by Felix Henri Bracquemond (1833-1914) — TONY Anthony SARGEANT
Anthony Sargeant prepared this supper last weekend: slices of boned chicken leg were stuffed with wild garlic butter and served with with sauteed new potatoes and crispy chicken skin on leeks.
In 1940-50s South-London there were few washing machines. The mother of Anthony Sargeant did not have one but she did have a cast-iron mangle such as this which was housed in the shed at the bottom of the garden. The shed was in fact a re-purposed corrugated iron from a WW2 Anderson bomb shelter. All laundry was done in a large heated copper boiler in the kitchen using a thick wooden pole to stir it around (the thick pole rather like a metre long broom handle also had another use – it was sometimes used to whack Tony when his Mother deemed him to have misbehaved). Heavily soiled pieces of laundry were additionally rubbed on a washing board at the large ceramic sink in the kitchen. After rinsing out the soapy water in the sink the wet laundry was carried up the garden and put through the the wooden rollers of the mangle to squeeze out as much water as possible. The washing was then pegged out along the clothes line which ran the length of the garden. This was not advisable if the wind was coming from the direction of the local gasworks which was less than half a mile away, because at certain stages of the manufacture of Town Gas the coking ovens door would be opened and the wind would carry sooty smuts across the neighbourhood.
via Mangle used to wring out water from laundry on wash-day – which was usually Monday — Anthony J Sargeant in 1966