#bronze candelabra

[vintagehomecollection]

100 Designers' Favorite Rooms, 1994

[tony-bradshaw]

These are special so happy to share the the latest addition to my Etsy Shop page at CandlelightDreamsGB.etsy.com Vintage Metal Ram,s Horn Candlesticks a pair of bronze and chrome candle holders, 19cm tall, 19cm wide, 2Kg weight. #candlelightdreamsgb #candlestick #bronze #vintagecandlestick #gothicrevival #gothicinterior #gothicart #gothichome #gothicdecor #gothichomedecor #gothdecor #gothichouse #gothiclifestyle #gothicquarter #gothsofinstagram #homedesign #homesweethome #Candelabras #candlelightdinner #vintagecollector #vintagecollection #candlesticks #vintagehomestyle #vintagehomestyling #vintagecandelabra #antiquecandlesticks https://etsy.me/3GRl1sW https://www.instagram.com/p/ClehSG-Nt3U/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[kittenmochi1]

French gilt poppy pod candelabra

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN ||SEASON 2 EPISODE 05 || UNTIMELY RESURRECTION ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

He was turning to go through the door when I sprang up from the bed and caught him by the sleeve. “Jamie! For God’s sake, Jamie, listen to me! You can’t kill Jack Randall because I won’t let you!” He stared down at me in utter astonishment. “Because of Frank,” I said. I let go of his sleeve and stepped back. “Frank,” he repeated, shaking his head slightly as though to clear a buzzing in his ears. “Frank.” “Yes,” I said. “If you kill Jack Randall now, then Frank … he won’t exist. He won’t be born. Jamie, you can’t kill an innocent man!” His face, normally a pale, ruddy bronze, had faded to a blotchy white as I spoke. Now the red began to rise again, burning the tips of his ears and flaming in his cheeks. “An innocent man?” “Frank is an innocent man! I don’t care about Jack Randall—” “Well, I do!” He snatched up the bag and strode toward the door, cloak streaming over one arm. “Jesus God, Claire! You’d try to stop me taking my vengeance on the man who made me play whore to him? Who forced me to my knees and made me suck his c*ck, smeared with my own blood? Christ, Claire!” He flung the door open with a crash and was in the hallway by the time I could reach him. It had grown dark by now, but the servants had lit the candles, and the hallway was aglow with soft light. I grasped him by the arm and yanked at him. “Jamie! Please!” He jerked his arm impatiently out of my grasp. I was almost crying, but held back the tears. I caught the bag and pulled it out of his hand. “Please, Jamie! Wait, just for a year! The child—Randall’s—it will be conceived next December. After that, it won’t matter. But please—for my sake, Jamie—wait that long!” The candelabra on the gilt-edged table threw his shadow huge and wavering against the far wall. He stared up at it, hands clenched, as though facing a giant, blank-faced and menacing, that towered above him. “Aye,” he whispered, as though to himself, “I’m a big chap. Big and strong. I can stand a lot. Yes, I can stand it.” He whirled on me, shouting. “I can stand a lot! But just because I can, does that mean I must? Do I have to bear everyone’s weakness? Can I not have my own?” He began to pace up and down the hall, the shadow following in silent frenzy. “You cannot ask it of me! You, you of all people! You, who know what … what …” He choked, speechless with rage.

He hit the stone wall of the passage repeatedly as he walked, smashing the side of his fist viciously into the limestone wall. The stone swallowed each blow in soundless violence. He turned back and came to a halt facing me, breathing heavily. I stood stock-still, afraid to move or speak. He nodded once or twice, rapidly, as though making up his mind about something, then drew the dirk from his belt with a hiss and held it in front of my nose. With a visible effort, he spoke calmly.

“You may have your choice, Claire. Him, or me.” The candle flames danced in the polished metal as he turned the knife slowly. “I cannot live while he lives. If ye wilna have me kill him, then kill me now, yourself!”

He grabbed my hand and forced my fingers around the handle of the dirk. Ripping the lacy jabot open, he bared his throat and yanked my hand upward, fingers hard around my own. I pulled back with all my strength, but he forced the tip of the blade against the soft hollow above the collarbone, just below the livid cicatrice that Randall’s own knife had left there years before. “Jamie! Stop it! Stop it right now!” I brought my other hand down on his wrist as hard as I could, jarring his grip enough to jerk my fingers free. The knife clattered to the floor, bouncing from the stones to a quiet landing on a corner of the leafy Aubusson carpet. With that clarity of vision for small details that afflicts life’s most awful moments, I saw that the blade lay stark across the curling stem of a bunch of fat green grapes, as though about to sever it and cut them free of the weft to roll at our feet. He stood frozen before me, face white as bone, eyes burning. I gripped his arm, hard as wood beneath my fingers. “Please believe me, please. I wouldn’t do this if there were any other way.” I took a deep, quivering breath to quell the leaping pulse beneath my ribs.

“You owe me your life, Jamie. Not once, twice over. I saved you from hanging at Wentworth, and when you had fever at the Abbey. You owe me a life, Jamie!”

He stared down at me for a long moment before answering. When he did, his voice was quiet again, with an edge of bitterness. “I see. And ye’ll claim your debt now?” His eyes burned with the clear, deep blue that burns in the heart of a flame. “I have to! I can’t make you see reason any other way!” “Reason. Ah, reason. No, I canna say that reason is anything I see just now.” He folded his arms behind his back, gripping the stiff fingers of his right hand with the curled ones of his left. He walked slowly away from me, down the endless hall, head bowed. The passage was lined with paintings, some lighted from below by torchere or candelabra, some from above by the gilded sconces; a few less favored, skulked in the darkness between. Jamie walked slowly between them, glancing up now and again as though in converse with the wigged and painted gallery. The hall ran the length of the second floor, carpeted and tapestried, with enormous stained-glass windows set into the walls at either end of the corridor. He walked all the way to the far end, then, wheeling with the precision of a soldier on parade, all the way back, still at a slow and formal pace. Down and back, down and back, again and again. My legs trembling, I subsided into a fauteuil near the end of the passage. Once one of the omnipresent servants approached obsequiously to ask if Madame required wine, or perhaps a biscuit? I waved him away with what politeness I could muster, and waited. At last he came to a halt before me, feet planted wide apart in silver-buckled shoes, hands still clasped behind his back. He waited for me to look up at him before he spoke. His face was set, with no twitch of agitation to betray him, though the lines near his eyes were deep with strain.

“A year, then” was all he said. He turned at once and was several feet away by the time I struggled out of the deep green-velvet chair. I had barely gained my feet when he suddenly whirled back past me, reached the huge stained-glass window in three strides, and smashed his right hand through it. The window was made up of thousands of tiny colored panes, held in place by strips of melted lead. Though the entire window, a mythological scene of the Judgment of Paris, shuddered in its frame, the leading held most of the panes intact; in spite of the crash and tinkle, only a jagged hole at the feet of Aphrodite let in the soft spring air. Jamie stood a moment, pressing both hands tight into his midriff. A dark red stain grew on the frilled cuff, lacy as a bridal shirt. He brushed past me once again as I moved toward him, and stalked away unspeaking. I collapsed once more into the armchair, hard enough to make a small puff of dust rise from the plush. I lay there limp, eyes closed, feeling the cool night breeze wash over me. The hair was damp at my temples, and I could feel my pulse, quick as a bird’s, racing at the base of my throat. Would he ever forgive me? My heart clenched like a fist at the memory of the knowledge of betrayal in his eyes. “How could you ask it?” he had said. “You, you who know …” Yes, I knew, and I thought the knowing might tear me from Jamie as I had been torn from Frank. But whether Jamie could forgive me or not, I could never forgive myself, if I condemned an innocent man—and one I had once loved

“The sins of the fathers,” I murmured to myself. “The sins of the fathers shall not be visited upon the children.”

[design-is-fine]

Carl Hagenauer, table lamp, 1910. Bronze, Silk. Vienna. Via MKG

Carl Hagenauer was the founder of the "Werkstaette Hagenauer". The company was specialized in the traditional "Viennese bronzes", mostly candelabra but also products like this impressive lamp.

[monstersinthecosmos]

okay I think we should take inventory of what we learned about Marius's house.

In fact, the impression was one of comfortable messiness.

(i think the tiktok kids started calling ADHD clutter clustering or something LMAO marius de romanus cluster girlie i guess. thanks i hate it)

Here's some stuff that Marius had on his island!!!!!!!

stone benches

a lighted oil lamp on a stand

a pair of heavy wooden doors

a sarcophagus with a plain lid, cleanly fashioned out of diorite

The lid plated in iron and contained

a golden mask, its features carefully molded, attached to a hood made up of layered plates of hammered gold.

a pair of leather gloves covered completely in tinier more delicate gold plates like scales.

a large folded blanket of the softest red wool with one side sewn with larger gold plates

Magnificent Grecian urns on pedestals in the corridors

great bronze statues from the Orient

exquisite plants at every window and terrace open to the sky.

Gorgeous rugs from India, Persia, China c

giant stuffed beasts mounted in lifelike attitudes-

--the brown bear,

--the lion,

--the tiger,

--even the elephant standing in his own immense chamber,

--lizards as big as dragons,

--birds of prey clutching dried branches made to look like the limbs of real trees.

brilliantly colored murals covering every surface from floor to ceiling

a dark vibrant painting of the sunburnt Arabian desert complete with an exquisitely detailed caravan of camels and turbaned merchants moving over the sand

a jungle warming with delicately rendered tropical blossoms, vines, carefully drawn leaves

creatures everywhere in the texture of the jungle-

--insects,

--birds,

--worms in the soil-

too many monkeys in the jungle,

too many bugs crawling on the leaves.

thousands of tiny insects in one painting of a summer sky.

a large gallery walled on either side by painted men and women staring at me

Figures from all ages these were-

--bedouins,

--Egyptians,

--Greeks and Romans,

--knights in armor,

--peasants

--kings

--queens.

--Renaissance people in doublets and leggings,

--the Sun King with his massive mane of curls,

--people of our own age.

droplets of water clinging to a cape,

the cut on the side of a face,

the spider half-crushed beneath a polished leather boot.

a library, blazing with light.

Walls and walls of books and

rolled manuscripts,

giant glistening world globes in their wooden cradles,

busts of the ancient Greek gods and goddesses,

great sprawling maps.

Newspapers in all languages lay in stacks on tables.

Fossils,

mummified hands,

exotic shells.

bouquets of dried flowers,

figurines and fragments of old sculpture,

alabaster jars covered with Egyptian hieroglyphs.

comfortable chairs with footstools,

candelabra or oil lamps.

a forest of cages.

birds of all sizes and colors

monkeys

baboons,

Potted plants crowded against the cages-

--ferns and

--banana trees,

--cabbage roses,

--moonflower,

--jasmine,

--other sweetly fragrant nighttime vines.

purple and white orchids,

waxed flowers that trapped insects in their maw,

little trees groaning with peaches and lemons and pears.

a hall of sculptures equal to any gallery in the Vatican museum.

adjoining chambers full of paintings,

Oriental furnishings,

mechanical toys.

fine rosewood paneling with framed mirrors rising to the ceiling.

painted chests,

upholstered chairs,

dark and lush landscapes,

porcelain clocks.

A small collection of books in the glass-doored bookcases,

a newspaper of recent date lying on a small table beside a brocaded winged chair.

the stone terrace. where banks of white lilies and red roses gave off their powerful perfume.

a pair of winged chairs that faced each other

a dozen or so candelabra and sconces on the paneled walls.

brocade cushions

[periodoakantiques]

Find the great selection of 16th/17th/18th century candlesticks, antique metalware, brass alms dish, cast iron mortar, antique brass candelabra, bronze cauldron, capstan candlestick, pewter flagon, antique brass candlesticks and many more bronze antiques.

[jewellery-box]

Object Type: centerpiece

Title: Basket of Flowers

Date: c. 1740s and 1751

Media: Soft- and hard-paste porcelain, silk, embossed fabric (19th century), and gilt-bronze

The flowers in this basket include delicate porcelain replicas of carnations, ranunculus, tulips, lilies, cornflowers, convolvulus, orange blossoms, and lilies of the valley made by the Vincennes factory. Porcelain flowers were this factory’s first commercial success, and it employed forty-five women and girls to paint, assemble, and mount the flowers for use in baskets, vases, candelabra, chandeliers, and clock cases. Flowers were sometimes scented, adding to the luxurious experience of admiring a bouquet. Stems were usually made of painted metal, and leaves of either metal or silk. The basket was made by the Meissen factory and likely exported to the Parisian dealer Lazare Duvaux, who filled it with the flowers and mounted it in gilt-bronze. Duvaux sold several similar bouquets to his wealthy clients. This one probably cost around 800 livres, equivalent to eight- month’s salary for a highly paid porcelain painter. J. Pierpont Morgan bought this ensemble in 1900 for $500 and displayed it under a glass dome in his London townhouse. It entered the museum’s collection in 1917.

Wadsworth Atheneum

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I didn’t post it when Emmanuel Hebert posted his living room, but now he’s posted more of his home’s progression and I just have to share it. This is Manoir Blackswan in Canada. Of it, Emmanuel says, “Here's a few pictures of my ever evolving home which gathered lots of interests in the past weeks on this group!”

“Welcome to my world,” says Emmanuel.

“I am currently working on 4 new rooms concept, the Red Room, the Stripe Room, the Tea Room/Boudoir and the Dollhouse Room. Also next spring will be the beginning of my 2000sq2 French Garden construction!”  (This was the only room he posted before and I fell in love with it.)

Is this not amazing? Some members thought that the living room was a lamp store!

“We finally finished building the three floor staircase! Now it’s sanding and staining time! The color of the staircase will be the same as the right front newel post and the doors, some kind of cognac, patinated tiger oak finish. Also, the third floor staircase wall will become black as well!.” he said.

The moody stair case, hallway and landing. 

Making the most of a tiny room. Now, this looks interesting. 

Beautiful new shower- look you can keep plants in it.

So pretty.

The bd. is getting an MCM flair.

Art Deco Powder Room, design by Emmanuel. It has a 12 ft. ceiling, plaster moldings, 1920’s Porcelain Pedestal Sink and beautiful lighting. The ceiling fixture is a late 1920’s French Art Deco nickeled bronze fixture.  “ Lighting is the jewelry of a home,” says Emmanuel.

Can’t wait to see what he does w/the finished attic.

“Getting some crazy pieces on my treasure hunting trip these days! Here’s a massive late 19th century Victorian Pier Mirror! Quite a find! “

“My newest acquisition, a set of 9 thrones and 2 pedestals dating from 1870’s and made in Napanee, Ontario by Gibbard Furniture. The set was commissioned for a Odd Fellow’s Lodge.”

“Treasure hunting of the day, a monstrous pair of early 20th century cast iron floor candelabras salvaged straight from its original church. They stand at 68” tall and weight about 100 pounds each!” (Does he know how to shop, or what???)

And, this a photo of a moody dramatic Sunday night in his living room. I can’t wait to see the rest of house when it’s finished. 

https://www.facebook.com/groups/536753050012824/user/553241672/

[contremineur]

You’re certainly not doing it for the money: that becomes clear when you imagine the weight of two quarters in your palm as you hand over the memory of the slow-speaking man from Madrid who gave you the miniature bronze candelabra that has been in the bottom desk drawer for years. Or a dime for the grateful noise that child uttered at a table in front of the grocery store when you said yes to the tiny glass vase that would send him to summer camp. People will pull up in their cars and finger your too-small winter coats, the stale scent of the boxed collection of Agatha Christie paperbacks you stole from someone’s trash last summer, the red skirt ripped a little along the back seam. Your unwanted, unused life splayed in front of you. And as you arrange the trinkets and memories into attractive groupings down the concrete stairs, across the gently sloped green of the lawn, how much can you get rid of before the moments contained within everything get up and walk away, held tightly in someone else’s hand?

Suzanne Hancock, The poem as yard sale

formerly here

[thesilicontribesman]

'Seated North African Boy' Roman Bronze Figurine, Saffron Walden Area

The Roman Empire, like the Greek Empire before it, included parts of the Middle East and North Africa, and its population was diverse. This bronze figurine is believed to be a 2nd century CE copy of a Hellenistic (Greek) figure.

The hole in the top of the head suggests that it was part of a larger object, perhaps some household fitting or candelabra for the dining table.

This unusual find is one of many local objects brought to light by the Portable Antiquities Scheme, recording finds made by local metal detectorists and members of the public.

[ktzangpostudios]

La Belle Époque - Fleurs de Lilas

La Belle Époque - Fleurs de Lilas

(The Beautiful Era - Lilac Blossoms)

As we approach Spring, I am daydreaming of flower gardens, sweet smells on the air and the calls of the birds in the trees. My heart is full of romance and new beginnings. I chose this beautiful Violet/Purple/Lavender streaky glass because it reminds me of Lilacs and an early Spring. I offer you my flower garden of light; lilac blossoms.

This Antique Bronze Metal Stained Glass Lantern features a bronze finish with cut-out details, Violet/Purple/Lavender streaky glass in these stained glass panels with three frosted 1.5” x 2.5” diamond beveled glass accent, a solid piece of Violet/Purple/Lavender streaky glass on the back and a hinged door on the front. Illuminated with an led bulb in a candelabra base socket using 5W and producing a 300 lumen beautiful soft glow. The overall dimensions of the lamp are - Length: 4 3/8" Width: 4 3/8" Height: 10 1/2" .

*Currently on hold for an event *

[grandmacottage]

Gothic Bronze Wrought Iron Candelabras from TheEclecticShire