14.9.25

New exhibition explores history of decorative borders: from medieval manuscripts to William Morris

Sir Galahad, the Quest for the Holy Grail by Arthur Hughes (1870). Works from pre-Raphaelite artists like Hughes are on display in the exhibition. Courtesy of National Museums Liverpool

The Nature of Gothic, at the Blackburn Museum and Art Gallery, explores the history of decorative borders over hundreds of years. It covers the period from the late medieval age to the Arts and Crafts Movement of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

In the late medieval period, manuscripts that were produced in northern Europe often featured decorative borders that framed the text of both religious and secular works. These borders featured motifs from the classical world such as swirling acanthus leaves, Greek meanders and intricate patterns which interlace flowers, leaves and vines.

From the early decades of the 13th century these largely naturalistic forms, used to enhance the visual appeal of the page, began to be used more widely. They were added to the front of books and important sections within them, such as the beginnings of individual psalms or chapters of the Bible.

These naturalistic frames provided platforms tangible enough for figures, animals and grotesques to be placed upon. These characters often present an alternative reality to the verses of the psalms or Aristotle’s Libri Naturales that they decorate.

The meaning and intent of these spaces is yet to be fully understood. The battle of a miniature knight versus a fully armed snail, for example, might be interpreted as the moral fight against evil in the margins of the psalm. But the meaning of a tiny man pushing another in a wheel barrow adjacent to the beginning of Aristotle’s Libri Naturales is less clear.

The great enthusiasm for the illustrated grotesques (hybrid creatures which combine human and fantastical animal forms) in these peripheral spaces began in northern France. Texts produced by the monastic schools which emerged with the rise of scholasticism in the late 12th century often carried this type of decoration.

I have been collaborating with the Blackburn museum for over a decade, and have curated this exhibition alongside Anthea Purkis, its curator of art. This exhibition features some early examples of this technique from manuscripts held by the museum as well as examples on loan from the British Library.

In the exhibition

Decorated page from a medieval manuscript
The Bedford Psalter and Hours. British Library Collection

Although the names of very few medieval artists whose work appeared in manuscripts are known, Blackburn Museum and the British Library both hold examples of the intricate and sophisticated work of two known illuminators.

They are Mâitre Françoise, who ran his business in Paris in the third quarter of the 15th century, and Herman Scheere – perhaps the most renowned illuminator in London in the 15th century.

From his workshop on London Bridge, Scheere produced flowing extravagant frames for the pages of his books. His book the Bedford Psalter and Hours, (loaned by the British Library and on display in the exhibition) was commissioned by the younger brother of King Henry V. This aristocratic commission demonstrates the success of Scheere’s business and the appetite for the decorated border.

Some 15th century examples from northern Europe also show the influence of Islamic art on northern European aesthetics. A 15th-century Qur'an manuscript from the John Rylands Library and Research Centre in Manchester is on display in the exhibition. muh .aqqāq script is used for Arabic primary text while the interlinear script in Persian and Eastern Turkish is in minuscule naskh script. This reflects the various communities for whom the book was intended.

The beginnings of the chapters of the Qur'an manuscript, the ṣuwwar, are surrounded by borders filled with flowing abstract forms. They’re reminiscent of, but not imitative of, the natural world. This decorative tradition would have cross pollinated with western European cultures through trade and conflict.

Examples of Persian calligraphy also demonstrate the persistence of the trend for decorative borders at this time. The Rylands’ Persian MS 10, an album completed before 1785–1786AD, features an entwined Arabic calligraphy composition formed from two slogans Tawakkaltu bi-maghfirat al-Muhaymin (I entrust myself to the forgiveness of the Guardian) in black, and Huwa al-Ghafūr Dhū-al-Raḥmah (He is the All-Forgiving Lord of Mercy) in red thuluth script. Two dark indigo blue borders bear delicate silver and gold foliage surrounding a wide margin embellished with vibrant floral flourishes.

Migration to the printed page

In 15th century Germany, Johannes Gutenberg invented the moveable-type printing press. His new technology produced a codex (an ancient manuscript text in book form) that looked like a traditional manuscript with regard to text and margins.

Rubrication – the decoration of letters in coloured inks – was added by hand to the first printed books. As the ability of printers to produce more nuanced illustrations accelerated, the decorated border survived and thrived. Indeed, its importance as part of the aesthetic in terms of how a book should look to an early modern reader drove forward innovations in technology.

The Blackburn Museum’s collection of early printed books is full of examples of the new technology of print accommodating the decorative frame.

Falling in and out of favour

The decorated frame fell out of favour in the 16th and 17th centuries. For western European readers it began to appear old fashioned. But it returned during the Industrial Revolution, thanks to the work of the Pre-Raphaelite movement.

Pre-Raphaelite artists reached back to the medieval period for their inspiration as well as artistic practice. Dante Gabriel Rossetti, William Morris, Sir Edward Coley Burne-Jones, Arthur Hughes and their associates set out to reject the values and industrial production of the 19th century. Medieval narratives found new audiences in Pre-Rapahelite art such as Arthur Hughes’ Sir Galahad, the Quest for the Holy Grail. In the subsequent Arts and Crafts Movement, books, ceramics, textiles and furniture were produced with minimal mechanical intervention. The medieval decorative frame thrived across various media.

A painting of Sleeping Beauty
Sleeping Beauty by Edward Burne Jones (circa 1885). Manchester Art Gallery

William Morris’ hand-written copy of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam provides a compelling example of the after-life of the medieval margin. On each page, the text is surrounded by a lush decorated border which is punctuated by cameos that were designed by Burne-Jones and painted by Charles Fairfax Murray.

Poem decorated with leaves and gold
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, written and decorated by William Morris. British Library Collection

The Nature of Gothic gives visitors the opportunity to compare the work of medieval masters of decorative art with the work produced by the Pre-Raphaelites and the Arts and Crafts Movement. Contemporary artist Jamie Holman and ceramicist Nehal Aamir also contribute modern interpretations of the decorated frame.

The result is a celebration of the verdant decorative frames which twist and turn through time, illuminating art of both the past and present.

The Nature of Gothic is at the Blackburn Museum and Art Gallery from September 13 to December 13.


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With thanks to Jake Benson for the translation of Persian 10.The Conversation

Cynthia Johnston, Senior Lecturer in History of the Book, School of Advanced Study, University of London

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

12.8.25

Animal Farm at 80: George Orwell’s enduring commitment to socialist revolution

 Glenn Burgess, University of Hull

During the early years of the second world war, George Orwell believed that England’s revolutionary moment had arrived. The defeat at Dunkirk had discredited the country’s ruling elite. Their bungling had left England on the verge of invasion and defeat.

To win the war and defeat fascism, a social revolution was needed, as Orwell explained in his socialist manifesto, The Lion and the Unicorn (1941). Now was the time, he argued, to turn “this war into a revolutionary war and England into a socialist democracy”.

Orwell believed this revolution, though likely to be violent, would also conserve much, setting free “the native genius of the English people”. England’s long liberal tradition would be retained and enhanced, and the revolution would be more patriotic than class-based:

From the English-speaking culture … a society of free and equal human beings will ultimately arise.

However, while Orwell never overtly abandoned his commitment to socialist revolution, he quickly came to lose heart in its imminence. He came to think that the war would defeat fascism but not totalitarianism, and that real socialism still lay a long way in the future.

In this mood, he wrote Animal Farm in the last months of 1943 and first half of 1944 – with much support and possibly substantial input from his first wife, Eileen O’Shaughnessy. August 17 2025 marks the 80th anniversary of the novel’s publication.


This article is part of Rethinking the Classics. The stories in this series offer insightful new ways to think about and interpret classic books and artworks. This is the canon – with a twist.


In September 1944, just after completing Animal Farm (it wouldn’t be published for another year), Orwell explained some of his wider purposes in a letter to the American intellectual and fellow liberal socialist, Dwight Macdonald.

The Soviet Union, Orwell thought, really did provide people with hope in a socialist future, and for that reason it would not be good to see it destroyed. But at the same time, working people in the west needed “to become disillusioned about it and to realise that they must build their own Socialist movement without Russian interference”. The success of this might then have a “regenerative influence upon Russia” itself.

Orwell, Zamyatin and Animal Farm

It was while writing Animal Farm that Orwell first learned something of substance about the Russian author Yevgeny Zamyatin and his dystopian satire, We, published in 1924.

That book became a significant influence for Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949). Though Orwell did not read We in full until late 1945, he knew a little about the book from Gleb Struve’s anthology 25 Years of Soviet Russian Literature in early 1944, and wrote to Struve to tell him it had whetted his appetite to know more about Zamyatin.

Struve’s anthology quotes a passage that Orwell would pick out as important. In it, one character declares that “our revolution was the last and there can never be another”. To which his interlocutor responds: “Just like numbers, revolutions are infinite and there can never be a final one.”

black and white photo of Orwell
George Orwell in 1943. BNUJ

When he adapted Animal Farm for the radio in 1946, Orwell had Napoleon the pig say: “When there has been one rebellion, there can never be another.” But he must surely have had in mind the reply: “There can always be another.”

It was again to Macdonald that Orwell spelled out the implications of Animal Farm in December 1946. Though “primarily” a “satire on the Russian revolution”, Orwell was clear it had “wider application” as a denunciation of “that kind of revolution (violent, conspiratorial) that can only lead to a change of masters”. Revolutions can improve things, he wrote, but only when “the masses … know how to chuck out their leaders as soon as … they have done their job”.

Orwell had earlier written in September 1944 that “all revolutions are failures, but they are not all the same failure”. They all fail because perfection is beyond human grasp – the challenge is to fail better and in ways that improve things, as he told Macdonald:

If people think I am defending the status quo [in Animal Farm], that is … because they have grown pessimistic and assume that there is no alternative except dictatorship and or laissez faire capitalism.

Animal Farm is one of those very short and very accessible books that defy easy interpretation. Classic examples are Niccolo Machiavelli’s The Prince (1532) and Thomas More’s Utopia (1516). Though political, they are not manifestos, unlike Orwell’s The Lion and the Unicorn – that book sought to mobilise people behind a clear vision of an attainable better future.

Animal Farm, in contrast, is a melancholy reflection on the corruption of revolution, and the need to keep looking for a better one.

Beyond the classics

As part of the Rethinking the Classics series, we’re asking our experts to recommend a book or artwork that tackles similar themes to the canonical work in question, but isn’t (yet) considered a classic itself. Here is Glenn Burgess’s suggestion:

Painting of a man in a suit
Yevgeny Zamyatin as painted by Boris Kustodiev (1923). Wiki Commons

Orwell could not have read anything by Yevgeny Zamyatin other than his dystopian novel, We. It is not much easier for us. Little of Zamyatin’s other fiction is currently in print in English translation, apart from a very recent collection of a few stories from Alma Classics.

His two short satires of middle-class English sanctimonious hypocrisy, which Orwell would have greatly enjoyed, were once available as Islanders and the Fisher of Men. Penguin also used to publish a collection of Zamyatin’s diverse short fiction: The Dragon and Other Stories. This contains, among much else, “two tales for grown-up children” (a description that could apply to Animal Farm). One of them is a two-page story, The Church of God, which tells what happens when violent acts are used to pursue noble (in this case, holy) purposes.

Like Animal Farm, the story is a reflection on the relationship of ends to means. Zamyatin’s stories include more on this theme. He was an early supporter of the Bolsheviks, and an equally early critic of the Bolshevik revolution.


This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something from bookshop.org The Conversation UK may earn a commission.The Conversation

Glenn Burgess, Professor of Early Modern History, University of Hull

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

18.7.25

‘Nah, it doesn’t look like a 🐌’ | Tate Kids

👀 We invited kids to react to one of Tate Modern’s most popular artworks, by Henri Matisse. 🎨 Watch more videos like this on our Tate Kids channel: http://www.youtube.com/@TateKids




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8.7.25

'The liveliness of Country' – Emily Kam Kngwarray | Tate

Step into the world of artist Emily Kam Kngwarray, an Anmatyerr woman from Alhalker Country in the Northern Territory, Australia. In the 1970s she was introduced to making batiks and then started painting when she was in her seventies. Over 8 years, she produced thousands of canvases and gained worldwide attention. Her work is based on deep cultural knowledge of her ancestral Country, layering motifs representing the plants, animals and geological features around her. Despite being held in major collections, Tate Modern's new exhibition is the first major retrospective of her work in the Northern Hemisphere. See it at Tate Modern from 10 July 2025 until 11 January 2026: https://ift.tt/10pc7Ee Footage of awely ceremony from the documentary film “Emily I Am Kam” a Tamarind Tree Pictures production for NITV in association with Screen Australia, National Gallery of Australia and ScreenTerritory. https://ift.tt/RFnQ6OI Subscribe for weekly films: http://goo.gl/X1ZnEl To license Tate films please email film.licensing@tate.org.uk




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2.7.25

Kids React to Art - Cildo Meireles's Babel | Tate #kidsreact #funnyvideo

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1.7.25

How do artists imagine the world in 2050?| Tate

A Year in Art: 2050 is a two-room exhibition at Tate Modern exploring how visions of the future have taken shape in art across time. It brings together historic works by figures like Umberto Boccioni with contemporary voices including Ayoung Kim and Andra Ursuţa and Toyin Ojih Odutola. From shifting cityscapes to speculative technologies, the exhibition invites us to reflect on the future we’re moving toward and how artists help us reimagine and think about what comes next. Take a closer look inside the exhibition with Michael Wellen, Senior Curator of International Art at Tate. If you enjoyed this video, you might like these: 🤖 5 Times Artist Nam June Paik Predicted the Future: https://youtu.be/yMUJB5aFvdo 💻 'I'm painting in the technology of my time' – Samia Halaby: https://youtu.be/SdrYqKOBe5E 🌍 Can art save the world from environmental catastrophe?: https://youtu.be/lQwrCxkMnPM Subscribe for weekly films: http://goo.gl/X1ZnEl To license Tate films please email film.licensing@tate.org.uk




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25.6.25

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18.6.25

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15.6.25

Dadaism

Dadaism, also known simply as Dada, emerged in the early 20th century as a radical and provocative artistic movement that sought to challenge conventional notions of art, society, and culture. Born out of the disillusionment caused by the horrors of the First World War, Dada took root in Zurich, Switzerland, in 1916 at the Cabaret Voltaire, a gathering place for artists, poets, and thinkers. Its founders, including Hugo Ball, Emmy Hennings, Tristan Tzara, and Hans Arp, rejected the rationalism and nationalism they believed had led to war, instead embracing chaos, irrationality, and the absurd.

Central to Dadaism was a spirit of rebellion and experimentation. Dada artists employed unorthodox methods and media, incorporating collage, photomontage, ready-made objects, and sound poetry to disrupt traditional aesthetics and question the boundaries of artistic expression. Works were often intentionally nonsensical or provocative, aimed at jolting audiences out of complacency. This anti-art stance was not merely nihilistic but deeply political, seeking to undermine the seriousness and elitism of the art establishment and to expose the contradictions of modern society.

Though Dada was short-lived, dissolving by the early 1920s, its impact was far-reaching. It paved the way for later avant-garde movements such as Surrealism and influenced generations of artists, from conceptualists to performance artists. More than a style or technique, Dada was a statement—a defiant cry against a world perceived as senseless and corrupt. Its legacy endures in the continued questioning of authority, meaning, and value in art and culture.

Please click here to read more about Dada.


12.6.25

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New exhibition explores history of decorative borders: from medieval manuscripts to William Morris

Sir Galahad, the Quest for the Holy Grail by Arthur Hughes (1870). Works from pre-Raphaelite artists like Hughes are on di...