The Mystery of the Terrapin in the Cistern

I'm getting myself together for a day in London. It doesn't happen very often what with me being broke and hating the place, so when I go I like to have a plan and, thanks to this blog, I do. Morandi at the Estorick and Friedrich at the National for sure. I'll have to see where there is a Nicholson or two but there's bound to be one in one of the Tates. If its Tate Britain there will be a Nash and a Sutherland in the same room, and it would be rude not to get up close and personal with good old JMW. I would look into the Barbican as its almost en route between Islington and Pimlico; the free gallery always has something interesting and unexpected and that is where I discovered Anthony Whishaw but unfortunately it appears the current exhibit is so popular there is a three or four hour wait. Wherever I end up, it will be a hard day of deconstructing, examining and beard-stroking.

The point of this post though is not a route but a habit. Every time I go to town, I start with the same object: the Terrapin in the Islamic room at the foot of the north stairs in the British Museum.

Sculpture is not my thing, I prefer the ambiguous spaces of paintings but I adore this. Its one huge lump of jade, carved into a terrapin 18 inches long with workmanship that is flawless. Even the underside is immaculate. I know little about carving, but I do know jade is difficult to work with. The fascination for me though  is stylistic. The terrapin was carved in Allahabad in the 17th century, yet its form is so sleek and simplified it could have been made in the west between the two world wars. Despite this simplicity, it is so accurate that experts have identified both the species and the gender and I just love it when objects manage to bridge to opposing sets of goals like this - in this instance simplicity and realism, stone and liveliness, understatement and extravagance.

The sadness is that it is not better known. It was discovered in a cistern and now lives in a mirrored glass box in the far corner of a room filled with Iznik ceramics, antique weaponry and intricate astrolabes. The people in that room aren't interested in a terrapin by a window and just walk past. In truth, most people never even find the room, tucked down by the back door, and those that do are often just getting their bearings before heading upstairs to the nearest blockbuster gallery, the Egyptians.

Update: The terrapin is on loan at the British Library until April