The Story Behind This Mirror
Two carvers with different instincts usually make this frame. The geometry comes first: the Greek key corners are set out with a rule and cut to dead-straight lines, because the whole design collapses if those steps are even slightly out of square. That work is slow, unglamorous and completely unforgiving - a chisel that wanders on a straight run cannot be hidden.
Then the naturalism goes on top. The shell crest is shaped from the solid so its flutes stand proud of the frame, and the rose garlands are cut as continuous trailing runs, each bloom shaped on its own axis - some open and facing out, some half turned away, a few still in bud - because a real garland never presents every flower to the front. The ground between the geometry and the flowers is pierced last, which is the point of no return: the frame becomes mostly air and every remaining rib has to carry the glass. Hand-sanding through progressive grits follows, then gold laid in coats and rubbed back at the Greek key edges and the petal tips. The beaded oval plate is fitted at the end.