Digging Up Medieval Kings in Car Parks

The news that the bones of King Richard III, recently dug out of a Leicester car park where I was born (Leicester that is, not a car park) have been successfully DNA matched to a living ancestor has rocked my world this week.

And the media have gone wild - as so they should. I was gripped by Channel 4's documentary about the whole story, from Philippa Langley's quest for the lost grave through to discovery of the bones and confirmation of his identity as England's last Plantagenet King.

If you find the whole story far too serious to contemplate, there were also many utterly hilarious mockumentary style awkward moments in the documentary to watch out for thanks to Philippa Langley's strong emotional attachment a King who has been dead for over 500 years. You just had to look at the Philippa's face when they try to tell her that Richard III had been stabbed in the bottom.

The BBC have also put together an interesting Interactive Piece on the Twisted Bones That Reveal A King dispelling the myth and confirming the truth that Richard III was indeed a hunch-back caused by scoliosis.

As a keen amateur archaeologist  I can only dream to have been involved in this dig. How exciting it would have been not only to have discovered the bones at the first attempt, but also to have collected some many other artifacts surrounding the grave.

As my friend Cat posted on Facebook the other day - "Love how lots of countries struggle for some history & we're digging past Kings out of pub car parks".

The Creaking Door...

Over the years, my fondness for small curiosities and old artifacts has gotten a little out of control as has my desire to turn them into something wearable or for practical every day use. I have had shops on Etsy and Folksy before, and whilst quite successful, I didn't feel that they really represented my inner voice.

So, after moving up onto the hill in Harrowby, I got round to opening The Creaking Door on my Imaginatarium. It's taken months to break the veil on my imagination, unpack my buttons, beads, metal artifacts, resurrect my collection of seaglass and shells, and various other assorted sundry and finally roll up my sleeves to make something. 

I am so glad it's here now and in view of all of those splendid fields and trees. 

Here's a snifter of my first new creations:

Glass Bottle Vial Pendant - "No.44 For The Symptoms Of Affection."

Kilt Pin Brooch - Ideas - Inspired by Nick Bantock

Antique Silver Pressed Flower Bracelet

I am not sure how I would describe my work yet, as I'm still testing out my inner voice and seeing if I like it. You could certainly say I like making assemblages and working with mixed media. There is definitely a hint of steam punk in some of my creations, some neo-Victoriana and a teaspoon of whimsy. I am inspired by industry and nature, science and religion, literature, music and a day at the seaside. Nothing is exclusive and out of discussion. 

Stanley Kubrik's Boxes

Last year, whilst listening to Adam Buxton's Big Mix Tape on BBC 6 Music, I was introduced to (albiet via the airwaves and not actually in real-life) journalist, documentary-maker and all round good-natured funny chap Jon Ronson. Even though I had seen the movie "The Men Who Stare At Goats" I really didn't know who he was, but immediately found his depreciating and softly-spoken style quite beguiling. Instantly I had to catch up on his BBC Radio Four broadcasts "Jon Ronson On" and got hold of his intriguing film documentary "Stanley Kubrik's Boxes"

As someone absorbed by curious obsessions, old junk, intimate collections and who generally adores rummaging through other peoples stuff, to me, Jon Ronson's Boxes documentary felt like a gift.

In 2001, Jon Ronson was invited to Childwick Bury, the home of Stanley Kubrik who had passed away 2 years earlier. It turns out that Kubrik, famous for writing and directing such masterpieces as 2001: A Space Odyssey, A Clockwork Orange and The Shining alongside many others was a complete and utter hoarder. He kept everything.

Every intricate detail of a movie's preparation, photographs of possible sites for filming, photographs of potential props and clothing, fan letters, telexes, faxes, scripts, résumés, stationary, typefaces and other curios were delicately filed, catalogued and stored in boxes. None of your cheap crappy cardboard boxes either. Good boxes, designed by Kubrick himself, to his specifications.

A brief riffle through his estate could finally answer the questions many of us had all been asking over the years without response. Was Stanley Kubrik, as Jon Ronson puts it "like some kind of mad hermit genius" and "Would the stuff inside the boxes offer an understanding of his "tangled brain"?"

Museum Asleep For 100 Years

If the Cabinet of Curiosity had shelves of infinite proportions, I would like to put philanthropist Monsieur Mantin's mansion on display. There is something about this story, of the determination of one man to capture the collective memory of his home and his possessions for the benefit of others that I love. Obsessed by death and the passing of time, this eccentric French millionaire felt the most appropriate way to guarantee his legacy was to turn his late 19th Century townhouse into a time capsule.

On his death in 1905 and under the strict instruction in his Will, Louis Mantin's house in the town of Moulins, was sealed up in order that it could be reopened in 100 years times to show the people of today the life of a cultured gentleman a century ago. The house and its eclectic contents of archaeological relics, stuffed birds, medieval locks and keys, wooden sculptures, tapestries, masonic paraphernalia as well as the latest domestic inventions such as electricity and a flushing toilet were abandoned.

Despite decades of wood worm, water damage and rodent infestation, many of the unique features of the house and its content of curios survived. The mansion, finally bequest to the public has now been restored to a condition similar to that which it was on the day the Master of the house died 106 years ago. For more information visit the BBC's tour of the great house or National Geographic's photo story.