Astrid Ewerlöf Decorative Objects

Gunnar Nylund "ASH" blue & ochre 3 wave small bowl signed Rorstrand Sweden 1950s. Beautiful stoneware bowl by Gunnar Nylund for Rörstrand in shades of blue ...

An antique Swedish pewter vase by Edvin Ollers, dating to 1915. The vase features a tapered silhouette with a flared rim, raised circular foot, and intricate engraved decoration comb...

Gunnar Nylund "ARO" medium stoneware bowl by Rorstrand, Sweden, 1960s Measures: Height 3 1/4" (8cm) Width 6 1/4" (16cm) Depth 4 3/4" (12cm) Incised "R (Three Crowns) Sweden GN ARO".

A stoneware bowl designed by Carl-Harry Stålhane for Rörstrand in Sweden in 1951, with a wide flaring body raised on a small foot. The surface is finished in a dark glaze, moving bet...

Gunnar Nylund "ARO" medium stoneware bowl by Rorstrand, Sweden, 1960s Measures: Height 3 1/4" (8cm) Width 6 1/4" (16cm) Depth 4 3/4" (12cm) Incised "R (Three Crowns) Sweden ...

Antique Art Nouveau figural Nymph on gourd porcelain vase by Ernst Wahliss, circa early 1900s. This beautiful large piece made in Austria is in very good vintage condition with no ch...

The Venus of Willendorf if she were a pot; this diminutive size is perfectly suited for holding in your hands. This pot is meant to be caressed. Its rather buxom top narrows at the w...

- A decorative fruit/bread basket or tray - Made of partially perforated pewter - With intricate details and fine period features - It is numbered and signed by an anonymous Frenc...

A giving joy beautiful French Fayence Floor Vase fantastic Art Nouveau pattern - Impressing Colours Manufacturer unknown - marked Design Period 1915 - 1925 Country of Manufacture : France H / height: 46 cm ~ Gew. / weight: 4550 grs DM / diameter max: 28 cm ~ DM oben / diameter inner rim: 19.8 cm .... an ode to Southern France A Legend of Provence by Adelaide Anne Procter (30 October 1825 – 2 February 1864) The lights extinguished, by the hearth I leant, Half weary with a listless discontent. The flickering giant-shadows, gathering near, Closed round me with a dim and silent fear. All dull, all dark; save when the leaping flame, Glancing, lit up a Picture's ancient frame. Above the hearth it hung. Perhaps the night, My foolish tremors, or the gleaming light, Lent power to that Portrait dark and quaint, — A Portrait such as Rembrandt loved to paint, — The likeness of a Nun. I seemed to trace A world of sorrow in the patient face, In the thin hands folded across her breast: — Its own and the room's shadow hid the rest. I gazed and dreamed, and the dull embers stirred, Till an old legend that I once had heard Came back to me; linked to the mystic gloom Of that dark Picture in the ghostly room. In the far south, where clustering vines are hung; Where first the old chivalric lays were sung; Where earliest smiled that gracious child of France, Angel and knight and fairy, called Romance, I stood one day. The warm blue June was spread Upon the earth; blue summer overhead, Without a cloud to fleck its radiant glare, Without a breath to stir its sultry air. All still, all silent, save the sobbing rush Of rippling waves, that lapsed in silver hush Upon the beach; where, glittering towards the strand The purple Mediterranean kissed the land. All still, all peaceful; when a convent chime Broke on the mid-day silence for a time, Then trembling into quiet, seemed to cease, In deeper silence and more utter peace. So as I turned to gaze, where gleaming white, Half hid by shadowy trees from passers' sight, The Convent lay, one who had dwelt for long In that fair home of ancient tale and song, Who knew the story of each cave and hill, And every haunting fancy lingering still Within the land, spake thus to me, and told The Convent's treasured Legend, quaint and old: — Long years ago, a dense and flowering wood, Still more concealed where the white convent stood, Borne on its perfumed wings the title came: " Our Lady of the Hawthorns " is its name. Then did that bell, which still rings out to-day, Bid all the country rise, or eat, or pray. Before that convent shrine, the haughty knight Passed the lone vigil of his perilous fight; For humbler cottage strife or village brawl, The Abbess listened, prayed, and settled all. Young hearts that came, weighed down by love or wrong, Left her kind presence comforted and strong. Each passing pilgrim, and each beggar's right Was food, and rest, and shelter for the night. But, more than this, the Nuns could well impart The deepest mysteries of the healing art; Their store of herbs and simples was renowned, And held in wondering faith for miles around. Thus strife, love, sorrow, good and evil fate, Found help and blessing at the convent gate. Of all the nuns, no heart was half so light, No eyelids veiling glances half as bright, No step that glided with such noiseless feet, No face that looked so tender or so sweet, No voice that rose in choir so pure, so clear, No heart to all the others half so dear, So surely touched by others' pain or woe, (Guessing the grief her young life could not know,) No soul in childlike faith so undefiled, As Sister Angela's, the " Convent Child. " For thus they loved to call her. She had known No home, no love, no kindred, save their own. An orphan, to their tender nursing given, Child, plaything, pupil, now the Bride of Heaven And she it was who trimmed the lamp's red light That swung before the altar, day and night; Her hands it was whose patient skill could trace The finest broidery, weave the costliest lace; But most of all, her first and dearest care, The office she would never miss or share, Was every day to weave fresh garlands sweet, To place before the shrine at Mary's feet. Nature is bounteous in that region fair, For even winter has her blossoms there. Thus Angela loved to count each feast the best, By telling with what flowers the shrine was dressed. In pomp supreme the countless Roses passed, Battalion on battalion thronging fast, Each with a different banner, flaming bright, Damask, or striped, or crimson, pink, or white, Until they bowed before a newborn queen, And the pure virgin Lily rose serene. Though Angela always thought the Mother blest Must love the time of her own hawthorn best, Each evening through the years, with equal care, She placed her flowers; then kneeling down in prayer, As their faint perfume rose before the shrine, So rose her thoughts, as pure and as divine. She knelt until the shades grew dim without, Till one by one the altar lights...

A brown bowl in ceramics, it is designed by Carl-Harry Stålhane at Rörstrand, the bowl is 12 x 8.5 cm wide. It´s in excellent condition except from some craquelure and air-bubbles on...

Stoneware Bowl Model ARU by Gunnar Nylund for Rörstrand Sweden, 1950s. Very beautiful Scandinavian Mid-Century Modern bowl in glazed ceramic by Gunnar Nylund for Rörstrand. Dramatic...

A beautiful, signed studio porcelain white, pink, and green vase in the Art Nouveau and Organic Modern style, circa 20th century. A beautiful white textured exterior porcelain with d...

An amazing art nouveau / jugend stoneware vase. Made by Alf Wallander for Rörstrand, Sweden, 1895-1910. Good original condition, but it has a couple of small chips to the bottom (pi...

Gunnar Nylund, produced by Rörstrand. Stamped. Very good condition.

Elegant Art Nouveau bronze catchall with a warm patina, combining decorative refinement and functionality. This piece stands out for its finely chased decoration depicting a lizard ...