Going…
Going…
…Gone!
The mayor of Schiedam, a city near Rotterdam, wanted something stylish, something he could show off with. The fact that the townhall he resided in dated from the early middle ages wasn’t enough. His town was flourishing, a result of his good management of course. He wanted to show that the books weren’t exactly in the, ehh, red.
The archival researcher found a record that his office room, beautifully decorated in the rococo style, was covered with a red woven textile. And of course we all knew exactly what that looked like. Yes we did.
The town was flourishing so much that the many townhouses surrounding the town hall, could afford coal for their fireplaces. The air must have been heavenly polluted, because a shadow of the textile pattern was cast in soot on the wall behind the wall hangings in the Mayor’s office. A spectacular floral feast was now visible on the wall.
The archival record mentioned red…. but there are so many shades of red?
The architectural paint research showed that the woodwork of the fireplace, the wainscoting, the doors, the shutters, well, literally everything had been painted red as well. Under the microscope the cross section showed a vibrant layer.
The mayor could have ordered an ironoxide red as a pigment. Or an expensive vermillion maybe? No. He wanted to really splash out on this. A red lake it had to be. A red lake, normally only used for colouring the most expensive textiles – he wanted that on the woodwork as well.
Because of his exuberence and logic, we knew both the pattern and the colour of his wall textile.
So after reconstruction, there it is again: it’s all Red.
Conservators often get in detail quickly. They work in a fantastically painted environment, enjoy and study the colourful surroundings and then dive into the past. Who, what, where, when, how? Tests are done, samples are taken, pilot projects start, decisions are made, and restorations take place to restore the historic interior ‘to its former glory’. Conservators are the medium through which the past can speak. Apart from the reports that are made and enthusiastic talks that are given, there is also the International Architectural Paint Research Conference where conservators of the decorative historic interior share and discuss their ideas, findings or worries. It is an academic occasion, so important to develop our young field. And yes, it is a bit nerdy. Passionate people, you see.
Last August the fourth APR Conference was held. And Line Bregnhoi, senior conservator at the National Museum in Copenhagen, presented her gem that should appeal to academics and laymen alike. It is the book ‘Det Malede rum’ (the painted room), an enchanting and scholarly treatise on the painted interiors in Denmark of the nineteenth century, based on a two year research. She humbly said. Because of course a lifelong experience with decorative interiors, and an in several decennia built up sensitivity and knowledge, is needed in order to compose a publication of this quality.
Any traveller to Copenhagen will be overwhelmed by the abundance of neoclassical architecture, the royal palaces, the overall influence of the sculptor Thorvaldsen, and above all: the light. Any reader of this book will experience the same.
The book is written in Danish, and that sadly means that this thorough research and the forward results aren’t available for everyone. But don’t let that disencourage you.
The well written English summary and the many colourful pictures are more then able to lure you into the Danish decorative paintwork and to get immersed in Bregnhoi’s scholarship.
Paint, materials and techniques were documented, analysed and studied. Details of preserved wall and ceiling paintings were compared with contemporary accounts of painting practice. This is not an easy task as in Denmark the inflexible guild system survived until 1862 so painting manuals from this period do not necessarily reflect professional practice. As an example, the advocated paint systems in handbooks (distemper and oil paint) do not form the majority of the analysed binding media of the paintwork (which was ‘composition paint’- a mixture of glue and oil, that absolutely no contemporary manual mentioned).
It is a lesson for us all. In a time where the word is considered to be the most important communication method and the ‘head’ presides over the ’hand’, it is confronting to see that a building can speak up so definitely, using only its materials and visual language. The book has a fantastic bibliography, to help people like me to develop this way of ‘listening’ and to learn from the subject that we are to preserve and restore: the building itself.
Let me introduce the book to you…
Pompeian décor came to Denmark in the 1830’s; the study of Roman wall paintings had an immediate reflection on the interior décor. Can you see the playful but oh so airy adaptation in this room?
Painting trade, working methods and decoration types were classified, by studying a carefully selected series of nineteenth century interior paintings. You will recognise several brushes and tools in this painting of a painter’s studio. I personally love details like the trial of a Greek key pattern on the wall.
Painting tests with the analysed pigments (forming a very limited palette) shows how little ‘colour’ says about the appearance of a finish. The same pigment will have a complete different texture, light reflectance and hue when it is used in different binding types. I am sure many conservators will refer to Line Bregnhoi’s research when discussing historic paint colours in future. These values of a finish are so difficult to explain and understand.
And then there are the many pictures, showing gloriously painted rooms, one after the other. A coffee table book and scholarly treatise in one, suitable for the conservation specialist as well as the interior decoration enthusiast.
The book is true joy, so informative and inspiring. Please, let the translated publication come soon.
Line Bregnhoi Det malede rum. (Kobenhavn 2010) published by Historismus. It can be ordered here by filling in the form and ticking the amount of copies in the box for ‘eksemplar(er) af Det malede rum’
In Ireland – three places that can be found on a wander, with their own history, texture and colours. A gravestone, a holy well with glasses to drink the water, an almost forgotten cemetery at night.
PS historic paint conservation posts coming up! A book review of a charming and wonderful publication on Danish 19th c painted interiors, and the next stage of the incredible story of Christ Church Panel Portrait!
image source
There is something magical about photography in artists’ studios. Photographs that allow us to witness the birth of an artwork, sometimes even long after the work has been made. Here, in Francois Halard’s book Visite Privee, we can visit Paul Cezanne’s studio. We can almost feel the translation of the still life objects to the paintings. As if we were able to produce the magic ourselves, had we had the chance to work in such a rustic, inspirational and artistic environment.
There are much more photographs that explore the fascination of the artists’ work or living spaces, showing a literally different world.
But, the opposite is also true. In 1922, experiments were done with colour Kodak Kodachrome film. The newly restored footage, shows us ladies, posing in colour.
We are not used to 1920′s beauties in colour; it is as if they were filmed yesterday and made into hip ‘vintage’ portraits. I could watch them again and again, as much as I could peek into the artists’ studios on photographs. Reality caught in moving pictures – and static pictures depicting the process of making an artwork. Maybe a strange combination, but isn’t there a relation as well?
image source
While you are watching the first colour fim, you may want have to view the early colour photographs from Russia as well. The colours and scenes are truely amazing.
There is geometry in everyone’s life. It certainly is in mine since I attend geometry courses at The Prince’s School of Traditional Arts. With a compass, pencil and ruler fantastic patterns are made. Start with a circle and then some more, form a pentagon, a triangle, square, divide lengths, connect intersections, and then….
yes we can do this!
Or not quite yet….
I couldn’t stop. This is a birthday card in the making, coloured with black ochre from Morocco.
If you can’t get enough either, have a browse here. Isn’t it just amazing what can be formed and altered by geometry and colour?
Last week an architect sent photographs of 2 wallpapers he had found in a historic townhouse he was working on. One was a linen fragment, showing a huge pattern in a velvety structure. It was a flocked linen wallhanging, dirty, discoloured, but still with the almost aristocratic air that it must have had in the early eighteenth century, when it was adorning the walls.
It reminded me of a length of flocked linen that is now in the collection of the SHBW, in Utrecht, The Netherlands.
The linen was primed and coloured with the white fond colour. Then the first part of the pattern was blockprinted with a glue instead of a colour. While the glue was still wet, a bright blue pigment was strewn on the surface. The pigment was Smalt – in fact coloured glass that was crushed to small particles. The result? Smalt particles, sparkling and twinkling in the light.
And then the process was repeated. The second part of the pattern was printed and the surface covered in orange-red wool dust – the actual flocking. The wool was warm, like velvet and matte. A superb contrast in colour and texture with the Smalt, against the soft sheen of the white coloured backgound.
Just imagine this on the wall. So overwhelming, so clever, so beautiful.
The architect was seeing the same in his flocked linen fragment.
So Sad. St Lawrence church in East Donyland (Rowhedge) was considered to be the ugliest parish church in England, in 1937. I thought the octagonal chapel-like building was charming.
And then I had a wonder around the graveyard.
One of the greatest Nicholas Hawksmoor churches rises above Spitalfields, in the east end of London. The spire is imposing, the interior a contrast of dark paneling and light, dancing stuccowork. The materials are chosen for their colour and crafted and placed to a stark contrast that pulls every visitor inside. They lead the eye down the nave, and up to the vaulted ceiling.
Since the early eighteenth century, Christ Church Spitalfields had its share. People came, people went. People cared for their church, people altered the complete interior in 1860. People stayed away. Homeless were catered for in the crypt.
In the 1960′s the church was nearly derelict, but still loved and valued. Restoration work began and was only recently completed.
Some neighbours saved pieces of stucco and paneling, that were too fragile and couldn’t be reused in the interior. It was not forgotten, they cherished the remnants as they were there since the church was there, and they had a story to tell. One piece of oak paneling was kept in one of the neighbourhood townhouses, waiting for a new use and a new meaning.
And then it spoke. It was transformed and was showed in the same Spitalfields townhouse. The exposition was called Inhabitants – people, things or ‘somethings’ that were here before us and will be there after us.
Can you see the Christ Church Panel staring?
image: Marenka Gabeler
It had survived centuries, and was kept in Spitalfields for all that time. It was revived and celebrated. It traveled to another exposition.
image: back of Christ Church Panel Portrait
Unfortunately, accidents can happen; it will survive this too.
The Christ Church Panel Portrait (2009) is an artwork by Marenka Gabeler. It will be restored in cooperation with the artist, a remedial conservation that we will be happy to share with you here.
We were researching the sequence of wallcoverings in the diverse rooms of a seventeenth century castle, used as a summer residence in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century by the Amsterdam owners.
They knew what they liked. For this room, they liked something fashionable. Something simple and sophisticated. Possibly from London.
It is another rosette design! A woodblock printed wallpaper, distemper on handmade ragpaper, with endless tiny dots applied by hand, dating from around 1810.
What’s all this excitement about? Read more here.
Have you found a rosette yet?
