World's biggest 3D Jigsaw?

A bold claim maybe but a big puzzle nonetheless. My engineering volunteer team Andy and Gill found these rusting cast iron leviathans stored outside whilst auditing, apparently in no particular order but next to other bits of machinery including a press, a rolling mill and a couple of large boilers. The first image appeared to be a lineshaft with a set of pulleys and two flywheels, not a common arrangement. The second picture shows, hidden in the undergrowth, a large cast iron disc with rubber inserted around the rim and a central square sockle hole. The third picture seemed to be two curved arms with bearing rests at one end. After Gill and Andy brought the audit sheets back and i was trying to reconcile what we found with accessioned items I had several trips down to try and figure out the puzzling bits and pieces and see if i could work out what they were part of. they certainly didnt seem to be part of the same thing.

I decided to have a closer look at the press because we had identified it as a blanking press made by Greenwood & Batley of Leeds. It was used at the Royal Mint in Haverfordwest but I still couldnt work out how all the bits could be part of it.

I couldnt see any power source for this press, it had no motor or pulleys for belt drive, and the other thing that struck me was the sockle on the top of the screw thread, which was square. taking measurements showed that it fitted the hole in the centre of the disc with the rubber inserts perfectly. this still seemed odd though, a horizontal flywheel? and what was the rubber for? I measured the outer diameter of the disk and then took a closer look at the gap between the two flywheels on the lineshaft - again, it fitted perfectly. and then a metaphorical lightbulb lit up and i realised how the press worked and how the pieces fitted together. The two curved arms fitted on the flat rectangular sections at the top of the press, they supported the lineshaft with the two vertical flywheels whilst the other flywheel fitted horizontally between them on the top of the screw, creating what is known as a friction drive. The leather inserts would give enough adhesion to allow the disk and the screw to be driven downwards to press out the coins or blanks but once slipped out of gear it could be skidded back into its original by the lever mounted near the sockle. Using a friction drive meant that the press screw could move in two directions without having to invest in a complex gearing system or reversing the power source, and it turned out to be a very common and still used drive for screw presses.

As an added bonus I looked up Greenwood & Batley screw press on Google and found this, the very same press in action at the Royal Mint!

Keeping the Balance: a 2500 year old coin

The oldest coin that I’ve had the privilege to look at in the numismatic collections at Leeds Museum Discovery Centre has been preying on my mind since I first saw it several weeks ago, waiting to be photographed in its drawer.
This tiny coin is only 12 mm across, much smaller than a five pence piece, and much thinner too when you feel it. What first intrigued me about the coin was its ambiguous antiquity – its card label said “?5th century BC” – and I was struck by that. I had never (knowingly) held anything as old, and I have been thinking a lot more about where this piece came from how it ended up here. What makes the piece even more interesting to me are the animals shown on the obverse: a goose and a salamander. The goose is turning its neck round so it can look at the salamander and the Greek capital letter Η (theta).

A little research at http://www.forumancientcoins.com/ told me that this coin is of a type that was produced at a town called Eion between 500 and 480 BC and is called a trihembiol.

Eion was a town in western Thrace that had been established as a trading post by Persian traders in the sixth century BC. Under Athenian expansion in the fifth century BC, Eion was seen as a strategically important port and soon after 476 BC the Persians had been removed and Athenian settlers arrived.

What is most relevant to our numismatic understanding of the piece comes from this tussle between Persian and Athenian powers. The quality of a coinage is based on its weight and on the fineness of the metal and these small coins from Thrace fitted both Athenian and Persian weight and fineness standards so could be used for trade with both commercial powers. Persian coins weighed around 3.85g; fractions (quarters of Athenian staters) weighed between 3.6–4.4g. The trihembiols still retained their own local identity through the distinct iconography on them.

The foundation of the city of Amphipolis by the settled Athenians put paid to the coinage and indeed the city of Eion, and by 440 BC it was uninhabited.

What is unusual about these trihembiols is that they are often found pierced with a hole so that they could be worn and are found, not just in the area near Eion, but across southern Thrace. Were these coins kept by people who came from Eion, unable to be used as currency, but perhaps carrying an apotropaic power of their own?

Just as the salamander balances the goose in the coin design, so too this fascinating local coinage of ancient Greece kept the balance between two major empires who were vying for control of the city. Producing this currency meant allegiance did not have to be formerly asserted to either power and at least a semblance of independence could be maintained. From this you can imagine the day-to-day lives of people using three different currencies with the threat of war constantly looming.

What began as curiosity becomes a quite melancholy window into the past.

Accession Number: LEEDM.N.2010.0004.0030

Author: Lucy Moore, Leeds Museums and Galleries Intern 2011

Taste our new exhibition at Abbey House

The new exhibition at Abbey House for 2011 is "Taste: The Culture and Politics of Food" which opened on 22nd January and runs for the whole of the year. It offers a mouth-watering spread of food related objects and looks at the many issues and contoversies around what we eat, where our food comes from and who produces it.

The logo and the whole look of the exhibition were designed by students from Leeds Metropolitan University, School of Architecture, Landscape and Design. Bobby Morse, Andy Knox and Greg Michell won the competition to design the exhibition in November and then had to make their vision a reality in time for the exhibition to open last week.



This is the second year we have worked in partnership with Leeds Metropolitan University and it has been a fantastic experience both for the museum and the students.

Andy, Greg & Bobby at the opening

Visitors at the opening admiring themselves in the fat & thin mirrors, which are an eye-catching (and mind-boggling) feature of the exhibition.

As well as a wealth of wierd and wonderful obejcts from the collection, there is also a chance to view some fascinating archive film footage courtesy of the Yorkshire Film Archive, including a Headingley fish and chip shop and the canteen at Parkers Mill.

Unveiling Ouida: A Glimpse of Public Sculpture in the Early 20th Century

On a crisp day in November 1910, a crowd gathered in the small town of Bury St Edmunds to witness the unveiling of a new public momument. Dressed in the day's finery, men, women and children waited for a glimpse of the bronze and marble statue by sculptor Ernest Gillick, commemorating the life of locally-born author Marie Louise de la Ramee, who wrote under the pseudonym Ouida.

The photograph provides a rare insight into public arts practices and partonage in the early 20th century Britain, and are part of a collection of papers belonging to sculptors Ernest and Mary Gillick, donated to Leeds Museums & Galleries, deposited in the Henry Moore Institute Archive, in 2005. I found these during my internship with Leeds Museums & Galleries, working through and listing the extensive archive of drawings, letters, diaries, photographs and research papers.

Born in Bradford in 1874, Ernest Gillick attended the Nottingham School of Art from 1896-1899, where his talents won him several gold medal awards. In 1901, The Royal College of Art Awarded Gillick a National Travelling Studentship and he spent a year studying the architecture and sculpture of Italy. He was elected Associate of the Royal College of Art in 1904.

Misty Ericson, intern, December 2010

Merry Christmas! Joyeux Noël! Fröhliche Weihnachten! İFeliz Navidad!

Say it with a fan…

This miniature silk fan is part of the Leeds Museums collection housed at Abbey House Museum. It is a sweet twist on the idea of sending a Christmas card. The greeting on the fan is, ‘Joy and all fair things attend your Christmas tide’. The fan is from the nineteenth century and depicts a new and innovative way of sending your Christmas greetings.

Christmas cards have been passed between families and friends since the mid nineteenth century. The first ever commercial Christmas card was commissioned by Sir Henry Cole in London, 1843 and was designed by artist John Callcott Horsley.

As the first director of the Victoria and Albert Museum, Sir Henry found himself too busy in the Christmas season of 1843 to compose individual Christmas greetings usually in the form of letters for his friends. Therefore he came up with the idea of sending a card by post. One thousand copies of the card were printed and sold for one shilling (5p today).

The card had three panels. The outer two showed people caring for the poor and the centre panel was a family drinking and eating together. The inscription read, ‘Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to You.’ Although the card caused controversy because it showed a child being given a glass of wine, the sending of Christmas cards was a hit.

Of the original one thousand Cole cards printed only twelve are known to exist in private collections. An original Cole card that was sent to his grandmother holds the world record as the most expensive Christmas card ever sold. It was sold at auction in 2001 to an anonymous bidder for £22,250!

No one could have predicted the outcome of Christmas cards, even the Christmas card manufacturers themselves believed it was a phase that would pass. However as printing and postal methods improved the sending of cards became much more popular and they were produced in large numbers from 1860.

These early Christmas cards depicted, flowers, fairies, sentimental designs of children, humorous designs of animals and even flying butterflies amongst stalks of wheat or insects landing on ripening blackberries. These images were to remind the recipient of the approaching of spring. A complete contrast to what we view today as being ‘traditional Christmas cards’ ones that show wintry or religious themes. It was not until late Victorian times snow scenes with a robin, like this one from the 1860s, became popular because of the postmen’s nickname, ‘Robins’ due to the red uniform that they wore.

Today Christmas cards contain many different types of images and themes. They also come in many shapes and sizes and even the method has changed with many people preferring to send ‘e-cards’. The UK is the world leader on sending Christmas cards, spending £1billion each year. I bet the early Victorian Christmas card manufacturers could certainly have never predicted that!

By Georgie Cash

Flirtatious Fans

The ultimate accessory for any well respecting lady for many centuries. As well as being a practical tool for keeping cool in hot weather and complementing the dress, they were also used for ‘making eyes’ promising untold delights, aka flirting.

I am an intern looking at Leeds Museum Discovery Centre’s collection of fans and I became intrigued by them. Some of them are beautiful with intricate designs, whilst others are plain, or made from feathers or in one case disguised as what looks like a cigar! I began to delve a little more into the world of fans and found what is known as ‘the language of the fan’ as rather amusing.

The earliest recorded use of a fan dates from 3200BC, however it was not until the eighteenth century in Europe that the use of the fan was developed to the highest degree. They were used in winter and summer, as memory aids, political propaganda, parlour games and masks as well as flirting tools. The language of the fan was developed to such sophistication that entire conversations could be conducted without having spoken at all!

In 1910, a book was published that listed over fifty signals that could be conveyed with fans, ranging from ‘I hate you’ to ‘I long to be near you’. Forget dating sites and lonely hearts columns, why not grab a fan and try out some eighteenth century ‘fan speak’ and see where how effective it is for you.

Shut fan held to the heart says - you have my love
Placing fan on the left ear – I wish to get rid of you
Shut fan resting on the right eye – when may I be allowed to see you?
Drawing fan through the hand – I hate you
With handle to the lips – kiss me