Wunderkammer
Wunderkammer were popular among European aristocracy from the 1500's to the 1700's. Vitrines, cabinets, and display cases dazzled visitors with the collector's sophistication and wealth. The collections were like small museums showing scientific, historical, religious, and cultural objects. Their primary purpose was to explain aspects of the known world, but truth mingled with fiction.
Rick Shelley's latter-day wunderkammer are crammed with verifiable novelties, genuine artifacts, esoteric fakes, and mock treasures. Along with the authentic objects, one can see: an iridescent plume from the wing of the Angel Gabriel dropped while announcing the Annunciation, the ruby-encrusted sword of Tamerlane, the blade reduced from use to a dagger and recycled as a cheese knife, Archimedes' bathtub plug, the surviving pearl from Cleopatra's matched set, a rolled up manuscript labeled: The Opening Bars of Beethoven's Tenth Symphony, Hitler's faded rejection letter from the Vienna Art School, and a see-through dome exhibiting Farinelli's and Caruso's uvulas.
Rick Shelley's latter-day wunderkammer are crammed with verifiable novelties, genuine artifacts, esoteric fakes, and mock treasures. Along with the authentic objects, one can see: an iridescent plume from the wing of the Angel Gabriel dropped while announcing the Annunciation, the ruby-encrusted sword of Tamerlane, the blade reduced from use to a dagger and recycled as a cheese knife, Archimedes' bathtub plug, the surviving pearl from Cleopatra's matched set, a rolled up manuscript labeled: The Opening Bars of Beethoven's Tenth Symphony, Hitler's faded rejection letter from the Vienna Art School, and a see-through dome exhibiting Farinelli's and Caruso's uvulas.
Peep Shows
Peep shows were popular in Europe at the time of the wunderkammer. In their simplest form they are boxes with a small hole to view a theatrical interior. Elaborate versions allow the scene to change with the pull of a string or the drop of a lever. Subjects include exotic panoramas, mythological animals, classical dramas and court ceremonies with transformations like sunsets, darkening skies, starry nights, and fireworks. Many exhibited lewd pictures.
Rick Shelley's peep shows are mirrored boxes papered with architectural cut outs, figures, and free standing objects. Though small the interiors appear vast with endless reflections.
Rick Shelley's peep shows are mirrored boxes papered with architectural cut outs, figures, and free standing objects. Though small the interiors appear vast with endless reflections.
Pyramid Museum: artifacts from the Valley of the Soap King
Rick Shelley writes:
"One summer when I was around thirteen years old, I spent days in the public library fascinated by pictures in a book about ancient Egypt. I looked into the sunken face of an Egyptian king and imagined his life. I read about Howard Carter digging at the Valley of the Kings and discovering the tomb of Tutankamun with its carved alabaster jars, inlaid wood tables, and hammered gold statues. Many of the artifacts were crumbled, broken, and in pieces. I found their partial decay beautiful. I had never seen such wonderful things and was inspired to work.
I gathered tools and materials: brushes, water-color paints, pens, ink, glue, paper, river stones, balsawood, spools of thread, a penknife. The basement stairway became my workshop. I spread everything up and down steps, sat in the middle and began making a pharaoh’s tomb.
I cut the end off of a bar of soap and carved a figure with arms and legs held close to the body. Over the head I placed a gold candy wrapper as a royal mask. I wound the body with torn pieces of paper towel and white thread to make mummy wrapings and then dripped on candle-wax to keep the wrappings tight. I whittled a lidded chest out of balsa wood and placed treasure inside: turquoise seed-beads, chips of mica, a ruby rhinestone. I created a throne using a wine cork for the bottom and a beach shell for the back, scrolls from rolled paper strips, then an obelisk, a cat statuette, and a pair of sphinxes from plaster, clay, and chalk. I made amulets to protect the king's mummy by scratching scarab designs, six-pointed stars, and ankh symbols into soft stones.
My artifacts fit tightly into a cigar box tomb. On the lid, I painted hieroglyphs spelling the king’s name. I buried the tomb in my backyard without marking its location. At the end of the summer, I would be an archaeologist and dig in my private Valley of the Kings.
With a garden trowel, I began searching. Moisture and mud had changed the tomb and its artifacts. The pharaoh’s name was barely visible. The cardboard tomb had lost its shape and fell apart in my hands. Wood had twisted. Paint had flaked. Some artifacts crumbled and broke into pieces. The Soap King, however, remained safe within his waxy wrappings.
Time and the elements had made everything beautiful.
For decades my handful of childhood artifacts rattled around in a drawer only to be shown occasionally to friends. In 2007, I was asked to do a retrospective of my work. Among the mosaics and ceramic sculptures I displayed a collection of these early creations, rearranged under glass as the Pyramid Museum.
"One summer when I was around thirteen years old, I spent days in the public library fascinated by pictures in a book about ancient Egypt. I looked into the sunken face of an Egyptian king and imagined his life. I read about Howard Carter digging at the Valley of the Kings and discovering the tomb of Tutankamun with its carved alabaster jars, inlaid wood tables, and hammered gold statues. Many of the artifacts were crumbled, broken, and in pieces. I found their partial decay beautiful. I had never seen such wonderful things and was inspired to work.
I gathered tools and materials: brushes, water-color paints, pens, ink, glue, paper, river stones, balsawood, spools of thread, a penknife. The basement stairway became my workshop. I spread everything up and down steps, sat in the middle and began making a pharaoh’s tomb.
I cut the end off of a bar of soap and carved a figure with arms and legs held close to the body. Over the head I placed a gold candy wrapper as a royal mask. I wound the body with torn pieces of paper towel and white thread to make mummy wrapings and then dripped on candle-wax to keep the wrappings tight. I whittled a lidded chest out of balsa wood and placed treasure inside: turquoise seed-beads, chips of mica, a ruby rhinestone. I created a throne using a wine cork for the bottom and a beach shell for the back, scrolls from rolled paper strips, then an obelisk, a cat statuette, and a pair of sphinxes from plaster, clay, and chalk. I made amulets to protect the king's mummy by scratching scarab designs, six-pointed stars, and ankh symbols into soft stones.
My artifacts fit tightly into a cigar box tomb. On the lid, I painted hieroglyphs spelling the king’s name. I buried the tomb in my backyard without marking its location. At the end of the summer, I would be an archaeologist and dig in my private Valley of the Kings.
With a garden trowel, I began searching. Moisture and mud had changed the tomb and its artifacts. The pharaoh’s name was barely visible. The cardboard tomb had lost its shape and fell apart in my hands. Wood had twisted. Paint had flaked. Some artifacts crumbled and broke into pieces. The Soap King, however, remained safe within his waxy wrappings.
Time and the elements had made everything beautiful.
For decades my handful of childhood artifacts rattled around in a drawer only to be shown occasionally to friends. In 2007, I was asked to do a retrospective of my work. Among the mosaics and ceramic sculptures I displayed a collection of these early creations, rearranged under glass as the Pyramid Museum.