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William De Morgan was something of a liability. He once used a fireplace as a makeshift kiln and set fire to his rented London home. And as a businessman he was a disaster. The prices he charged for his tiles and ceramics hardly even paid for the materials, never mind his time.
At the turn of the 20th century, when serious financial problems loomed, only a man of De Morganâs impractical stripe would resort to writing fiction. But the tactic paid off. No one remembers them these days, but the autobiographical Joseph Vance (1903) and subsequentĚýnovels were well regarded at the time, and hugely popular.
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Sublime Symmetry at Londonâs Guildhall Art Gallery wants to tell the story of this polymathic artist but (like De Morgan himself, one suspects) it keeps disappearing down intellectual rabbit holes. De Morganâs father was the freethinking mathematician Augustus De Morgan, whose studentĚýFrancis GuthrieĚýcame up withĚýthe four-colour hypothesis (whereby designing a map, so that countries with a common boundary are differently shaded, requires only four colours). His whimsical tiled fire surround for his friend Charles Dodgson (Lewis Carroll) might have inspired that authorâs nonsense verses. Other ceramic projects included the tiles on a dozen P&O liners. Ada Lovelace was a family friend.
On and on like this, until it dawns on you that none of this is an accident, Ěýthe showâs endless rabbit holes are its point, and fashioning a man like William de Morgan â a mathematically inventive painter of pots, for heavenâs sake â would today be an impossibility.
With all our talk of STEAM and âSci Artâ, the sciences and the humanities are more isolated and defended against each other (âsiloedâ is the current term of art) than they ever were in De Morganâs day. And the world itself, as a consequence, is a little less capable of sustaining wonder. Ěý
Fusion and freedom
Like MauritsĚýEscher, half a century later, the ceramicist De Morgan drew inspiration from natural forms, and rendered them with a rigor learned from studying classical Arabic design. This fusion of the animate and the geometrical was best expressed on plates and bowls, the best of them made, not inĚýa fireplace, but in the rather more sensible setting of Sandâs End Pottery in Fulham.
De Morganâs skills as a draftsman were extraordinary. He could draw, free-hand, any pattern around a central line that would have perfect mirror symmetry. Becoming expert in lustreware, he painted his designs directly onto the ceramic surface of his pots and plates, manipulating his original sketches to fit every curve of an object.
It fits De Morganâs somewhat disorganised reputation that lustreware should have become unfashionable by the end of the century, just as he perfected it.
Even now, it takes a few minutesâ wandering around the Guildhall Gallery for the visitorâs eye to accommodate itself to these objects: so very Victorian, so very hand-done and apparently quotidian. Make the time. This show is a gem, and De Morganâs achievement is extraordinary. Among these tiles and pots and plates are some of the most natural and apparently effortless fusions of artistic proportion and mathematical rigor ever committed to any medium.
[exhibition_info title=âSublime Symmetryâ title_link=âhttps://www.cityoflondon.gov.uk/things-to-do/visit-the-city/attractions/guildhall-galleries/Pages/sublime-symmetry.aspxâ gallery=âGuildhall Art Galleryâ gallery_link=âhttps://www.cityoflondon.gov.uk/things-to-do/visit-the-city/attractions/guildhall-galleries/Pages/guildhall-art-gallery.aspxâ location=âLondonâ fromdate=â11 Mayâ todate=â28 Octoberâ]
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