Saturday, April 18, 2015

Miss Matty's Turban (Book to Art Project: Cranford)

A "Book to Art" club is exactly what it sounds like: a group whose members adapt the themes from books they have read into art projects.  These clubs can be as casual or as organized as its members prefer.  You can find more information about the umbrella Book to Art organization here.

For my winter project, I based my piece on a passage from Elizabeth Gaskell's Cranford.  This is a lovely, funny, and at times melancholy book that is made up of small stories and letters that give you a well-rounded understanding of the town of Cranford and the people who live there.  The stories were first published in serial form in 1851, and were then republished as a complete novel in 1853.

*WARNING: Many Spoilers Below!*

Miss Matilda Jenkyns, A Lady of Cranford

Through the eyes of the novel's narrator, Mary Smith, we meet two of the most respected ladies in Cranford: Deborah Jenkyns (known as "Miss Jenkyns," as she is the elder sister) and Matilda Jenkyns (known as "Miss Matilda" in front of her dignified sister, but called "Miss Matty" at all other times).  Miss Jenkyns and Miss Matty host Miss Smith on her visits, and are featured to some degree in most of the stories about Cranford.  The sisters are the children of the former rector, and Miss Jenkyns is seen as a moral compass for the town.  She has studied (some) theology and literature, and considers herself an expert on religion, morality, and frugality.  Her opinion is given a great deal of weight, in both her home and in Cranford at large. A woman of strong personality, Miss Jenkyns is often seen laying down the law in her household and shaping the moral landscape of the town itself.  When Deborah suddenly gets sick and dies, her sister, the softer, more pliable lady, attempts to fill Miss Jenkyns' shoes and uphold the same standards.  When encouraged to bend one of the late Miss Jenkyns' rules in favor of her own preferences, her reply is usually something to the effect of, "Deborah wouldn't like it."

Matilda Jenkyns is shown throughout the novel to be a sweet person whose ideas are constantly ignored or over-ruled.  As an example: Matilda loves to suck the juice out of oranges, a practice that her sister considers vulgar.  Even after Deborah Jenkyns has passed, the new Miss Jenkyns continues to eat her oranges in the shuttered privacy of her bedroom.  And when Matilda Jenkyns explains to Mary Smith that she wishes to be more dignified and called "Miss Matilda" after her sister has died, as a tribute to her sister's preferences and her own new position, the narrator and the entire town continue to call her and think of her as "Miss Matty" in spite of themselves (albeit in an entirely affectionate way).

Another example of Matilda Jenkyns' thwarted dreams is revealed when Mary Smith learns during one of her visits that Miss Matty had once been courted by a certain gentleman.  This relationship had ended rather abruptly, and there are several scattered hints that Deborah's strong opinions may have had something to do with the couple's falling out.  This youthful relationship is rekindled but unfortunately again lost over the course of the novel. But despite losing so many loved ones, Miss Matty continues to be look on the bright side, and to be excited by life's possibilities.

Miss Matty is shown to be a bit flighty and indecisive--she will worry about making the right choice to the point of inactivity.  But she is always kind-hearted.  When she opens a small tea shop to supplement her income during a time of financial crisis, she adds extra loose tea to the bags and gives extra candy and cookies out to the children who stop by--she would much rather be over-generous than stingy.  As a result, it is not completely clear if she is actually seeing any profit from her shop!  Her kindness to everyone is repaid by her maid, Martha, however--Martha and her husband Jem take over Miss Matty's house and let her remain as an esteemed tenant, and still treat her as the "Lady of the House."  Her friends also pitch in to help secretly support her--but they would never hurt her pride (or their own) by letting her know that she is living on charity.  Even this proof of their esteem (and direct impact on her life) is hidden from her.

My art project is based on one of these stories about Miss Matilda.  She is shown over and over again to be the kind of woman who puts others' opinions before her own.  Sometimes her fancies are shown to be unrealistic or changeable, but no matter the arena, she is rarely left to make her own choices or mistakes.  She lives her life reliant on others--first her parents, then her sister, then Martha and Jem and Mary Smith, and then finally her long-lost brother take care of her.

In the following passage, Miss Matty yearns for an exotic sea-green turban, but once again she will not get to fulfill her fanciful idea:
Late in November - when we had returned home again, and my father was once more in good health - I received a letter from Miss Matty; and a very mysterious letter it was. She began many sentences without ending them, running them one into another, in much the same confused sort of way in which written words run together on blotting-paper. All I could make out was that, if my father was better (which she hoped he was), and would take warning and wear a great-coat from Michaelmas to Lady-day, if turbans were in fashion, could I tell her? Such a piece of gaiety was going to happen as had not been seen or known of since Wombwell's lions came, when one of them ate a little child's arm; and she was, perhaps, too old to care about dress, but a new cap she must have; and, having heard that turbans were worn, and some of the county families likely to come, she would like to look tidy, if I would bring her a cap from the milliner I employed; and oh, dear! how careless of her to forget that she wrote to beg I would come and pay her a visit next Tuesday; when she hoped to have something to offer me in the way of amusement, which she would not now more particularly describe, only sea-green was her favourite colour. So she ended her letter; but in a P.S. she added, she thought she might as well tell me what was the peculiar attraction to Cranford just now; Signor Brunoni was going to exhibit his wonderful magic in the Cranford Assembly Rooms on Wednesday and Friday evening in the following week.
I was very glad to accept the invitation from my dear Miss Matty, independently of the conjuror, and most particularly anxious to prevent her from disfiguring her small, gentle, mousey face with a great Saracen's head turban; and accordingly, I bought her a pretty, neat, middle-aged cap, which, however, was rather a disappointment to her when, on my arrival, she followed me into my bedroom, ostensibly to poke the fire, but in reality, I do believe, to see if the sea-green turban was not inside the cap-box with which I had travelled. It was in vain that I twirled the cap round on my hand to exhibit back and side fronts: her heart had been set upon a turban, and all she could do was to say, with resignation in her look and voice - "I am sure you did your best, my dear. It is just like the caps all the ladies in Cranford are wearing, and they have had theirs for a year, I dare say. I should have liked something newer, I confess - something more like the turbans Miss Betty Barker tells me Queen Adelaide wears; but it is very pretty, my dear. And I dare say lavender will wear better than sea-green. Well, after all, what is dress, that we should care anything about it? You'll tell me if you want anything, my dear. Here is the bell. I suppose turbans have not got down to Drumble yet?"
So saying, the dear old lady gently bemoaned herself out of the room, leaving me to dress for the evening, when, as she informed me, she expected Miss Pole and Mrs Forrester, and she hoped I should not feel myself too much tired to join the party. Of course I should not; and I made some haste to unpack and arrange my dress; but, with all my speed, I heard the arrivals and the buzz of conversation in the next room before I was ready. Just as I opened the door, I caught the words, "I was foolish to expect anything very genteel out of the Drumble shops; poor girl! she did her best, I've no doubt." But, for all that, I had rather that she blamed Drumble and me than disfigured herself with a turban.
--Cranford, "Signor Brunoni"
Mary Smith is determined to protect Miss Matty from herself--she conveniently fails to find any green turbans so that Miss Matty will not embarrass herself amongst her peers.  Matilda Jenkyns' desired style is deemed inappropriate and unbecoming, and so the decision is once again taken out of her hands.


For my Book to Art project, I decided to give Miss Matty a symbol for all of her set-aside dreams--a sea-green turban.  I studied paintings of Regency turbans, and then I bought a blouse and a necklace from a thrift store and turned them into my interpretation of her dream turban.



From behind:

Side view:

Details:



The necklace was twisted and tacked down to turn it into a bejeweled brooch:

It was a lot of fun to make this turban!  And it was fun to work on something a little different.  I really enjoyed reading "Cranford," and this project helped me reflect on the characters a little more.



I encourage you to consider your own Book to Art projects!

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Looking forward to seeing some of you at the Los Angeles Festival of Books this weekend!

And starting on Monday:  I will be posting one of my "HEDGEHOG ALPHABET ADVENTURES" Sketches every day!

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