Marmoreal: Down the Rabbit Hole

Writing this blog post has been like an Alice adventure. It has led me down the cyberspace rabbit hole yet again. I first questioned the origins of the word marmoreal. Then my poet’s brain took off with marmoreal kind of sounding like memorial, marsupial, arboreal, armoury, marmoset, and marmite. This led to memories of marbling on paper in Turkey, followed by a spate of YouTubing sessions on how to paint to give the illusion of marble on architectural features including the Scagliola plaster technique. Finally I began comparing the cost differences between real marble columns versus wooden ones painted in faux marble. Here’s what I’ve discovered.

The word marmoreal means that something is made up of or looks similar to marble. There are differing opinions about this word’s roots, however let’s go with the Entymonline version*(1). The word marble came into use between the 12th and 14th century, dissimilated from marbra (mid-12th c); from the Latin marmor (marble) or a cognate with the Greek word marmaros meaning ‘marble gleaming stone’. The ‘al’ is an English suffix.

There is printed evidence that marmoreal, a marble derivative, has been in use since 1656*(2). Interestingly, other words that joined the English language in print that same year include: abysmal, anarchic, analyst, linear, spitfire, star-studded, handwrite, and recreational.

After exploring marmoreal as a word, I began thinking about marbly and faux marbly things. My mind jumped to the Turkish art form Ebru, an ancient paper marbling technique. The effect is created when coloured pigments are put into oily water by dropping, sprinkling or brushing then transferring the patterns onto paper.

Ebru technique, Emre Tan's studio, Konya, Turkiye

I had the privilege to learn Ebru from artist Emre Tan in Konya, Turkiye in 2011. I spent a day with Emre in his studio experimenting with pages from a 1950s Encyclopaedia, which produced lovely effects.

Ebru examples, Emre Tan's studio, Konya, Turkiye

When researching painting techniques to imitate marble, the Building Conservation*(3) website proved useful. The authors Francis Stacey and Jane Davies put forward that painting faux marble has been an ongoing activity for millennia with early examples in Pompei. Also, the technique was very popular in the 17th century decorating all sorts of architectural features i.e. columns. Tricking the eye into thinking painted wood was in fact real marble most likely developed when the proper stone was too expensive or moving it proved difficult.

Scagliola is another technique*(4) applied to various materials (i.e. wood) to imitate marble. It is plaster that has gypsum (Scagliola) as its primary ingredient. Part of the secret of its beautiful illusion is the addition of marble bits and dust. Silk strings with pigment are pulled through the wet mixture to achieve the appearance of veining.

With further research I became curious about the different faux marbling painting techniques and decided to do a bit of YouTubing instruction and hands on experimentation. It’s not easy and I deem my first attempts failures, but I’m certain it could be achievable with practice.

Faux marble painting experiment

I then researched the cost of stone columns. I found a nice pair of Italian Marble Columns (97cm x 36cm x 36cm) on the 1st Dibs website*(5) for £20,278.50 which doesn’t include shipping.

Pair of marble columns, Italy, late 19th century

I wondered what the cost would be to have wood columns made with the idea that I would paint them with a marble effect. I contacted Roger Marwood*(6), a woodturner, and requested a quote for creating two columns the same size and similar in style as the Italian marble columns pictured above. He gave me a quote of £1,700 + VAT in tulipwood - total £2,040.00 plus £150.00 for delivery.

If I were then to paint the columns myself, imagine the cost savings! If I had a professional decorator specialising in marbling effects do the painting, the cost savings I believe would still be considerable compared to purchasing real marble columns.

I could go on and on with my research, eat cake and grow big, but I’m done now. I did find it inspirational so here’s my creative contribution - a Villanelle with artistic license.

Marmoreal

Gypsum, marble bits, dust and heart
mixed with glue, coloured silk strings pulled
through plaster - veins - life’s blood is art.

Such trickery! Trompe l’oeil depart
from what is real, that has fooled.
Gypsum, marble bits, dust and heart

not cold as stone, but warm as tart
from oven, taste with eyes and pulled
through plaster - veins - life’s blood is art

that can be painted too, to start
with loving hand and brush, be fooled.
Gypsum, marble bits, dust and heart

applied, spread thin - not cheap Walmart
stuff, but a gold lump of soul pulled
through plaster - veins - life’s blood is art

that may upset the applecart
when found untruths and one’s been fooled.
Gypsum, marble bits, dust and heart
through plaster - veins - life’s blood is art.

So there you go. I’ve briefly taken you down the marmoreal rabbit hole. Such an adventure and just a stone’s throw away to another theme ready and waiting.

Thank you for reading.
Kate
😃

*1 https://www.etymonline.com/word/marmoreal
*2 https://www.merriam-webster.com/time-traveler/1656?src=defrecirc-timetraveler-etycard
*3 https://www.buildingconservation.com/articles/marbling/marbling.htm
*4 https://johncanningco.com/blog/the-art-of-scagliola-plaster/
*5 https://www.1stdibs.com
*6 http://www.marwoodturner.co.uk

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Marmoreal - Legacy of Love

When the time came to choose a new gas fire and surround for the front room, I knew exactly what I wanted; small, white-ish marble with narrow hearth and mantle piece. It had to be marble, not the composite, marmoreal looking stuff that looks like plastic pretending to be brown onyx. It was going to replace a massive, tiled thing with a sunburst design. Hairline cracks in the hearth were stained black from years of having a coal fire – before our time, but we might wish for it this coming winter – and it stretched too far towards the middle of what is quite a small room. A very efficient, old-fashioned gas fire looked like it didn’t belong, but it really blasted the heat out, excellent when needed and served us well. Replacing it wasn’t a financial priority, however, being a beneficiary in the Will of a departed aunt raised the opportunity. I was very happy to find my preferred fireplace and ‘living gas fire’ which still look great in our lounge twenty-odd years later. Thanks again, Auntie.

Auntie’s passing, very sad as it is with a close relative, left me and my sister with added complications in dealing with her estate. My sister took charge of most of it. It was emotional for both of us and I was carrying the added burden of guilt. I’d always had a lovely relationship with Auntie. Things changed as she got older and I was raising my own family. I didn’t completely fall out with her, it was more of a frustrating situation that I didn’t know how to handle.  She would phone me, to tell me off and shout at me for no valid reason. She lived alone in another town a good hour’s drive away, too far to just pop in, another contentious issue.  I had two small children, doing my best for everyone who needed me, including Auntie, but for her, nothing was good enough and I didn’t have the patience to deal with it. If I had, I might have realised that she probably had a form of dementia and needed the right care that I might have been able to find for her. She died before her behaviour made any sense to me.

Nothing was straightforward. Auntie had been living in a council owned bungalow suited to her needs, which had to be emptied within days, even before her funeral. She still owned a property which had to be sold, but some connected finances needed to be cleared before it could go on the market. Bless my sister, I didn’t have the brain to cope. She kept her head straight through it all. Eventually, and it was ages, everything was signed, sealed and delivered. Job done. I’ve kept all of Auntie’s photos and special things. Her archive of family papers sent me on a genealogy journey that I continue to dip in and out of. And, somewhere on this journey I discovered that she didn’t hate me, she loved me as she always had but she was confused and not herself. With some of the monetary inheritance, we bought a beautiful marble fireplace, the perfect size for our lounge.

I don’t do much grave visiting. I carry memories of my departed loved ones in my head and in my heart, all special people, my family. They are so much more than names carved on tombstones or on the marmoreal kerb-like structure surrounding one of our graves.

I found this poem, which reminded me so much of my late mother until the last line, which clearly refers to a lost love. Read it through my eyes and ignore the last bit.

Your Name

When I can dare at last to speak your name
It shall not be with hushed and reverent speech
As if your spirit were beyond the reach
Of homely merry things, kind jest or game.
Death shall not hide you in some jewelled shrine
Nor set you in marmoreal pomp apart,
You who still share the ingle of my heart,
Participant in every thought of mine.

Your name, when I can dare to speak it, dear,
Shall still be linked with laughter and with joy.
No solemn panegyrist shall destroy
My image of you, gay, familiar
As in old happy days,—lest I discover
Too late I’ve won a saint but lost a lover.

Winifred M Letts 1882 - 1972

Thanks for reading, Pam x

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