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Blog post by Lila Frost
There is a small book of woodblock prints, bound in plain parchment paper in the Rare and Manuscripts Collection in Mann Library at Cornell University. Inside the cover are the words “Corona Delle Nobili, et Virtuose Donne” which roughly translate to “Crown of Nobles, and Virtuous Women (see Figure 1).” On the inside cover, the publication date is 1592. There is another, more flashy book, vaulted away with it. “Teatro Delle Donne – ROMA 1616” is stamped on the front–gold text on a rectangle of oxblood leather set onto the marble-papered cover–meaning “Women’s Theater – ROME 1616.”[1] The marbled book is full of very similar woodblock prints. Because they go together in the collection and are so similar, the one from 1616 presumably an attempt to imitate the one from 1592, I have pulled details from both objects. The one published in 1616 could have been made for educational purposes, later lace designs, or just for the sake of beauty and posterity.
I have followed Ingrid Mida and Alexandra Kim’s (2015) methods of artifact analysis. I first observed the physical objects; then I reflected on the implications of those observations and sought answers to the complications they presented by exploring other sources. Finally, I drew all of my research together, composing my own interpretation of the artifacts.
Although the prints are incredibly intricate, marked with botanical, geometrical, and other representational motifs, they are recognizable lace patterns (see Figure 2). Many of the woodblock prints have a grid-like property about them, as knots could form; even the less grid-like prints use positive and negative space in a way that intimates the knots and gaps that compose lace. My suspicion that it was showing lace was confirmed by translating the headings printed in Italian in the 1616 book. “Merletta a piombini” for example, translates to “plummet laces.” The translation seems accurate because the corresponding prints look like lace trims that plummet to scalloped edges at the bottom. According to a compendium of lace styles and histories, “reticella,” another heading, is a style of structural lace made by cutting squares from linen textiles and finishing the edges with the buttonhole stitches (Earnshaw, 148).
My investigation has been alinear; I recognize that reaching hypotheses by weaving myself a web of primary sources, written in languages other than my own, is extremely subject to inaccuracy. I decided that this investigation was worth pursuing all the more because of this ambiguity. However, I have needed to take my own theories with a grain of salt.
That being said, I think that by exploring other sources, I may have found a flaw in the Cornell University records. On the Cornell website, the author of the smaller book is listed as Cesare Vecellio. Vecellio, I believe, was the publisher instead of the author. He published a similar work–an ethnographic collection of fashions–full of prints that were made by Christoph Kreiger (“De Gli Habiti Antichi”). I suspected that if he did not make the prints in that text, he likely had not made the prints in my primary source either. I searched for results pertaining to the theater and found another primary source book of lace designs, stored at the Metropolitan Museum of art, referring to the “Virtuose Dame” credited to someone by the name of “Isabella Catanea Parasole” (“Studio Delle Virtuouse Dame”). “Parasole,” a word that I had previously overlooked, was written at the top of the cover of the 1616 artifact, confirming my suspicion that she was connected to these prints.
Of course, it is possible that “author” in the Cornell database refers only to the writing or printing of words, and that Vecellio may have indeed used a printing press to print the few words there are. However, in not giving credit to the “artist” as the “author,” the Mann Library database inaccurately distributes credit, minimizing the significance of Parasole’s work. Providing Parasole with due credit is especially important because women are often–and have often been–discredited for the work they produce. Theft of credit results in not only an inaccurate, but a dull and damaging public understanding of the past.
I solidified my claim that she was the printmaker, finding some Italian words that roughly translate to “where you can see beautiful laurels from point in the air, netting, knitting, designed by Isabetta Catanea Parasole” on the inside cover of the book of prints from the Met (“Studio Delle Virtuouse Dame”). This suggests that Parasole was a designer of laces and other fiber art pieces.
Confident in the origin of these prints, I set about investigating their original purpose. On the inside cover of the same Met source, I found several sentences that led me to deduce that these lace print books were used in diplomatic exchanges. Written in Spanish on the inside cover are the words –
“I fit my big part, and wanting to motivate it, and look down on the protection of V.E. I seemed to come to beg for such an important market with empty hands…This little present, so that it is well seen by all…extol the greatness of Spain. I beg V.E. let my humility and this rough paragon be used, in which the Ladies of V.E. and receive me through his servant, in his good grace. Save N.S. to V. Excel” (“Studio Delle Virtuouse Dame”).
It seems unlikely that a relic that had been used in an exchange between monarchical powers would be held in Mann Library and my artifact contained no dramatic address to a foreign court. However, the fact that a similar work made by the same artist may have been suggests that these artifacts were likely made for a wealthy or powerful person interested in lace design, or perhaps commissioning a design from the book.
Parasole’s prints exhibit many elements and principles of design. In fact, she used them so purposefully and successfully that they were emulated in the 1616 copy of the book. The proportions are unrealistic; in another print, antelopes and birds and giraffes are all similar sizes. This means that they can be set neatly into geometric tessellations. The designs were often formally and informally symmetrical, presenting figures like merpeople, noble iconography, and hybrid beasts. In addition to the aesthetic value of symmetry, the balance would have meant that the lace textile would have had approximately equal weight in its different sections, meaning that it could hang evenly. The absence of color and presence of clear lines, makes the images clear and semiotic. This would have been useful in diplomatic exchange because the symbols would have been interpretable regardless of language or cultural context.
[1] Translations made using Google Translate
Author Bio: Lila Frost is a first-year Apparel Design major in the College of Human Ecology and is a Research Assistant in the Cornell Fashion and Textile Collection
Works Cited:
“De Gli Habiti Antichi et Moderni di Diversi Parti del Mondo, Libri Due ….” The Met. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, n.d. https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/358319
Earnshaw, Pat. A Dictionary of Lace. Dover Publications, 1999. Pp. 148. https://books.google.com/books?id=Kf_atmcxERcC&pg=PA145&lpg=PA145&dq=ponto+reticella+italian+to+english&source=bl&ots=uDfMrdM0QV&sig=ACfU3U0OIEBLmpITG7aKr5uSoBmATuaZYQ&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwim6uL5i7z0AhUNTjABHX-AC90Q6AF6BAgWEAM#v=onepage&q=ponto%20reticella%20italian%20to%20english&f=false
Mida, I., & Kim, A. (2015). The Dress Detective: A practical guide to object-based research in fashion. New York. Bloomsbury.
“Studio Delle Virtuose Dame.” The Met. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, n.d.
https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/355099
Vecellio, Cesare. “Corona Delle Nobili, Et Virtuose Donne.” Cornell University Library. 1592. https://newcatalog.library.cornell.edu/catalog/2013443