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We talk to ‘Antiques Roadshow’ expert Chris Yeo about collecting Mid-Century glass. He says ‘dancing with light and alive with colour, Mid-Century glass makes a bold statement, just try not to get too hooked’.
Glass Act
When I tell people I work in antiques the question I’m invariably asked (after “When do you hope to get a real job?”) is “What do you collect?” and my answer is absolutely nothing. Although I’ve lived, eaten and breathed antiques since childhood the idea of amassing a collection of any one thing or group of things has never held any appeal. With one exception, that is.
Roughly twenty years ago, on a typical Saturday morning mooch around an antiques market (remember them?), I came across something that stopped me in my tracks. It was a glass vase, a sleek, weighty number in rich shades of blue and turquoise. It was love at first sight and, of course, I bought it. About a month later I bought another piece of glass, shortly followed by another and another – you get the picture.
For the next few years, I hoovered up every piece of studio glass I could find. It was a labour of love and an obsession which bordered on an addiction. Put a piece of studio glass in front of me and I would find it near impossible to ‘just say no’. I won’t be too hard on my younger self. There is, after all, something undeniably seductive about mid-century art glass: a perfect marriage of art, craft and design that melts the hearts of even the most ardent minimalists. Richly coloured and beautifully made, fine quality glass introduces just the right note of luxury, colour and sophistication into any interior.
The history of colourful glass
The Europe that emerged from the Second World War was a grey and dismal place. War-time shortages and rationing of “luxury goods” meant that people had been starved of colour for years. There was a huge demand for anything bright, fresh and modern, especially among young people setting up home for the first time. Ceramics, textiles and wallpaper manufacturers all ramped up the colour quota but nowhere was this appetite for colour better nourished than amongst makers of studio glass. And, when it came to glass, no one understood colour better than the Italians.
Italian design came of age in the post-war years with a welter of colourful designs in both glass and plastic, materials which share the same malleable qualities. The magical process of transforming a bubble of molten glass into a vessel or piece of sculpture is a test of skill and artistry but the Italians took up the challenge with gusto and, of course, style. Highly individualistic designers celebrated colour for its own sake, applying it in ever more bold and dramatic combinations. Italian glass is more properly Venetian glass. Venice has always been the heart of the Italian glassmaking industry with a history of glass-blowing unparalleled anywhere else in the world. From the thirteenth century onwards Venice had held a monopoly on glassmaking in Europe, and its products—often extravagantly coloured, enamelled, and gilded—were treasured luxuries. Originally, Venetian glass was made - as you would imagine - in Venice, but the workshops were moved to the small lagoon island of Murano in 1291, in part because their kilns constituted a fire hazard to the city, but also to keep the glassmaking process a secret by isolating the makers on their own well-guarded island.
Now, I think it’s fair to say that for many of us our idea of Murano glass will have been “coloured” by a trip to Venice. You’ll have done the circuit of St Marks, paid through the nose for a coffee and then, along with ten thousand others, you will have been funnelled off into the narrow alleyways that lead off the square. You shuffle along passed shop after shop – each one dedicated to relieving you of as much money as possible - crammed with all manner of gaudy clowns, fish, dolphins and more Mickey Mouse figures than even Disneyland would want - all sold under the banner “Murano”. If this has been your only encounter with Italian glass you’d be forgiven for wanting it to stay that way but there really is so much more to Murano.
Examples of Murano glass
Murano Glass
From the 13th to the 18th century Murano glass was one of the wonders of the world with an unrivalled reputation for innovation, its glassmakers having developed, among other things, ways of incorporating threads of gold into their creations and techniques for the famous millefiori (multicoloured) and lattimo (milk) glass. Amongst the myriad workshops that make up the Murano glass industry the most highly regarded and arguably the best known is Venini.
The firm was founded in the early 1920s when an enterprising Milanese lawyer, Paolo Venini, established a new glass company on the island with a Venetian antiques dealer, Giacomo Cappelin. Their breakthrough innovation was to copy the French fashion industry’s tradition of appointing an artistic director to create new designs and then drive them forwards. This was a stroke of genius which instantly put Venini at the forefront of fashion. The firm collaborated with artists who transferred their skills from canvas to glass, combining bright vibrant colour with flair and confidence that’s the very essence of Italian style. As a strategy, it took glassmaking to new heights of excellence and kick-started the Italian studio glass movement.
By the early 1930s, Venini was attracting the cream of Italian designers including Carlo Scarpa, Gio Ponti and Tyra Lundgren. The post-war years were Murano’s most dazzling and creative period. With its bold palette, Italian glass of the 1950s and ‘60s is instantly recognisable. Shapes have an easy asymmetry and a looseness of form reminiscent of folded fabric. In fact, one of the most popular shapes was the ‘fazaletto’ or ‘folded-handkerchief’ vases first made by Venini in the 1940s.
'Folded-handkerchief' by Venini
Glass around the world
With its vibrant colour combinations and top-quality design credentials, the Italians dominated the glass scene but they weren’t the only nation on the colour spectrum. In the UK the prestigious London-based firm of Whitefriars had been making glass since the 17th century and had a centuries-old reputation for restrained and elegant glassware but in the 1950s its fortunes changed when, like Venini, it engaged the services of an artistic director, Geoffrey Baxter (1912-95).
Baxter was a young graduate fresh from the Royal College of Art, at that time a powerhouse of ideas about art and design. At Whitefriars, Baxter took the forms of Scandinavian glass – thickly-walled, with curving organic shapes and highly sculptural vessels – but, unlike the Nordic versions which used either clear glass or subtle, muted shades – Baxter used bright, rich colours to create something youthful and very British. Colourful things were also coming from behind the Iron Curtain.
In Czechoslovakia, the glass industry was nationalised in 1948 and continued the centuries-old tradition of glassmaking in the Bohemian region. Bohemian glass had a reputation for excellence and the new Communist government did not deem glass to be an art form that was ideologically threatening, meaning that designers could work largely free of official control. This resulted in the creation of highly innovative modern designs that updated traditional methods of glassmaking and put Czech glass on par with the best that Italy had to offer.
Glass art by Whitefriars
Glass in the modern-day
Following on from its 1950s heyday, studio glass is once again riding the crest of a wave of popularity. If you’ve never thought of having glass on display, think again: the allure of light playing on coloured glass can be just as compelling as a strikingly painted canvas. That said, some people remain a little nervous about living with glass – “It’ll get knocked over and smashed!” Truth is, most glass is more robust than you think and, so long as you’re not flinging it against the wall, it’s no less durable than pottery.
Striking forms and colours make the piece a work of art in its own right and a real talking point. Art glass, displayed as a single statement piece or grouped together, brings warmth and colour to an interior as effectively as any painting and can also be a good way of introducing an accent colour into a room scheme.
The sinuous, organic shapes and jewel-like hues so beloved of mid-century glass artists work as a counterpoint to the tailored interiors of today. Arranging collections of glass in groupings of similar colours and shapes create a strong visual impact.
Remember, when it comes to glass, less is always more, don’t clutter shelves and tabletops with pieces. Instead, give each one space to breathe. You’ll find your art glass a source of inspiration as well as beauty.
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Browse our collection of Mid-Century glass:
> Shop our Murano glass collection
> Shop glass and ceramics
The English country house is one of the most enduring and celebrated styles in the interior design lexicon. This scheme is hard to pin down because it doesn’t follow a fixed set of rules. Nonetheless, its powerful influence is blatant at every turn - whether you are conscious of it or not.
The country house interior is full of paradoxes. It feels quintessentially English, yet an American developed the scheme. The country house style is far from limited to England and celebrates cultures all over the world. Even the term ‘country’ house is no longer defining. In our recent interview with Turner Pocock, the interior design duo observed that this style is now as sought after for decorating London townhouses as it is for country piles.
Country house rooms are vibrant yet refined. They are curated yet lawless. Spaces look beautiful, yet they are inviting and comfortable. These wonderfully juxtaposed layers define the English country house interior.
A new English style is born
Grand English interiors often feel as old as time, which is an integral part of their charm. It is one of this scheme's great ironies of this scheme, then, that the style was only formally realised in the early 20th Century. The new approach to interiors glorified an old rural golden age and was the culmination of interwar sentiment. The bare bones of the style date back further, of course, with Georgian interiors laying the foundations. The stage was already set, but we owe one American lady an enormous debt for bringing the country house style to the fore.
Nancy Lancaster and the Colefax effect
In the 1940s, an American heiress was busy forging valuable connections in Britain. Nancy Lancaster was a prolific socialite who felt such a strong affiliation with England that she renounced her American citizenship in 1948. It was in this same year that she bought Colefax & Fowler, London’s leading interior decorating studio at the time. Together with John Fowler, Nancy began to spread the country house style through English interiors.
Lancaster herself inherited several properties that she wanted to respectfully maintain but also move on to suit her own tastes. Her innate flair for interiors became obvious through her work on her homes, those of friends, and those of Colefax clients. Nancy seized old English tropes and injected fun and imagination into them. Design movement was one of her key principles. For her, it was important that a room felt lived in and had space to evolve. This timeless feel became absolutely integral to the country house look.
Nancy Lancaster was not the architect of the English country house style. In fact, there wasn't one. Rather, numerous factors contributed to the style's evolution over centuries. The heiress, however, was the major facilitator needed to bring the style to the fore. Her key contribution was making the English home comfortable. She brought American luxuries like carpeted floors and central heating to grand old mansions, without detracting from their authentic value.
Colefax & Fowler shot to new prominence under Lancaster’s direction. She and John were a design force to be reckoned with and the company’s reputation flourished. Colefax & Fowler decorated Chequers and the Audience Room at Buckingham Palace, to name a few iconic interiors.
Key ingredients in the country house style
This interior style does not abide by any fixed rules and celebrates individualism. However, a certain essence makes the scheme feel familiar and recognisable. Comfort and easy living are integral; not only should a country house interior appear lived in- it should also BE lived in. The result is inevitably slightly dishevelled which is very much part of the charm- something John Fowler called ‘pleasing decay.’ Perhaps the reason this approach to interiors remains so unerringly popular is its forgiving nature. The house should feel like a home as opposed to a showroom. Parties, children, and dogs are all welcome.
Pull up a seat
Classic deep-seated upholstery of the sort that rose to prominence in the 19th Century is front and centre of country house interiors. Antique frames from the Queen Anne, Georgian and Victorian periods still appeal today, often upgraded with fresh upholstery. More is more, and you needn't limit upholstery to living areas. A cosy armchair in the bedroom provides a classic country home feel. In general, a range of seating of all shapes and sizes is key to crafting a welcoming space.
Classic antique pieces are the bread and butter of an English country house interior. Commodes, chest furniture, large cabinets, and other such timeless pieces provide useful storage and a traditional look. Layering time periods is key, and antiques will take pride of place in any successful scheme to make it feel established. Indeed, inherited possessions were at the core of these interiors when they first emerged. Country house interiors shouldn't feel like a showhome where you have carefully planned and sourced. Acquire pieces that you love and when it comes to styling them mismatching will only add to their charm.
Bookcases often form the architecture of a country house living or drawing room. Whether it’s a majestic breakfront piece, built-in shelves, or a matching pair of low-lying cabinets, bookcases are indispensable for achieving this look. Besides providing a beautiful piece of furniture, having treasured books and collectables close at hand and on display gives the country house its lived-in look.
Embrace the quirky, niche, and eccentric
Certainly one of the best things about the English country house style is its room for personality and eccentricity. Nancy Lancaster herself saw this as crucial: 'One needs light and shade because if every piece is perfect the room becomes a museum and lifeless.' Indeed, the origins of country house style were in florals, chintz, and china. For some, these details now feel dated and passé. However this is an unapologetic style, and there is plenty of room for ‘Granny chic.’ We all have antiques or collectables that we love in spite of them being a bit ‘kitsch.’ Souvenirs from our travels, our grandparents’ silver, Staffordshire pottery, an old family portrait… this maximalist interior scheme embraces it all and is better for it.
Much of the success of this scheme is in the details. Whether it’s a ball and claw foot, a fabulous gilded frame with the red bole showing through, or the blue and white patterns of a ginger jar, these decorative and intriguing accents draw the eye and make a space feel exciting.
Colour and pattern
The English country house style is far from drab and dreary; it is actually often daring and eclectic. When Nancy Lancaster bought a set of rooms above Colefax & Fowler on London’s Avery Row in the 1950s, John Fowler encouraged her to paint the drawing room bright yellow. The famous ‘Yellow Room’ set the tone for grand living rooms and is far from dull. Floral fabrics, plentiful wall art, and opulent chandeliers all complement the yellow beautifully. Colour has always been at the heart of the English country house style and it is becoming even more prominent in today's interiors.
Statement antiques, upholstery, bright colours, and due prominence to books and collections. The final key ingredient in this scheme is textiles. Not only do they bring colour and pattern to rooms, but textiles also give the English country house its crucial homely feel.
Rugs, runners, and carpets are vital for rooms with wooden or stone floors. There’s an increasing urge to bring far-flung destinations into our homes at the moment and fabrics are a brilliant way to achieve this. Our collection includes Swedish flatweaves, beautiful kilims, and vast carpet rugs.
Bedrooms ought to be the most comfortable and welcoming spaces in the home. Soften a traditional four-poster bed with antique linens galore- maximalism is the only way with furnishings. Pillows, quilts, bedspreads, and throws will make a bedroom feel charming and loved. Blending plenty of materials helps to achieve the layered tapestry that typifies an English country interior.
Make the English country house style your own
Contemporary designers have grabbed the reigns of the English country house style and are steering it in a new direction. The essence of the style will likely stand forever, but it's sufficiently versatile to welcome new interpretations. These adaptations and variations on this scheme reflect the powerful appeal of country house interiors and the desire to make them work with modern requirements.
Those who wish to live a less cluttered life can pare this style back and go for fewer but just as impactful pieces. When styling a smaller house or apartment, colourful paint, gallery walls and sconces will bring character whilst saving space. However, don’t fear large statement pieces either because playing with scale can transform a space. When it comes to bringing colour and vibrancy, the outdoors is your untapped resource. Bringing foliage and flowers indoors has a transformative effect on an interior.
Whilst grand English houses may have provided the original canvas for this style, today it is achievable in pretty much any home. This versatility is a testament to the design ideals at the heart of the country house style. It encourages fun and colour, it mixes historical pieces with new influences, and it reflects our human nature to seek joy and comfort.
Get inspired with our lookbook, 'Life well lived.'
When rumours of an impending lockdown were circulating back in March, office workers everywhere were hauling technical equipment home. As restrictions ease, it seems that the option to work from home will be part of our lives for the foreseeable future. Spending time curating your perfect home office is well worth it, for the sake of comfort and style.
Home office through history
Office life has been ingrained into modern society for decades and is a part of our culture. However, prior to the industrial revolution it was the norm to work from home. Humanity has always had some version of this concept, from medieval merchants operating from home, to women in post-World War II Britain who began the industry of in-home sales.
Indeed, working life was redefined by the success of Brownie Wise’s Patio Parties in the 1940s and 50s. Working in sales for Stanley Home, Brownie saw an opportunity for selling Tupperware by bringing women together in a social capacity.
There is a plethora of antique furnishings dedicated to working, reading and writing. Despite modern technology, the office doesn’t have to strike a jarring contrast with the rest of your home. The highly efficient laptop you work from may not resonate with the 18th or 19th Century study, but your desk and décor certainly can.
Oasis of peace
When the country was instructed to work from home if possible, there were some happy novelties- namely endless cups of tea and waking up ten minutes before your first meeting of the day. But then Zoom calls became exhausting, interrupted by children or pets, and the home WiFi cracked under the pressure. The line between working life and free time became increasingly blurred.
Love it or loathe it, working from home for lots of professions is going to remain prominent. Creating the perfect home office space is vital for the most productive and aesthetic work environment. A study ought to provide an oasis of calm amidst the chaos. Technical equipment is the interior designer’s worst nightmare and the key to reconciling cables and screens with attractive furnishings is storage and clever use of space.
A handsome secretaire can ease all your work-from-home woes. Introduced in the late 18th Century, these enclosed cabinets became a staple for middle-class homes. The secretaire, which translates literally as ‘writing desk,’ keeps your unruly paperwork, many notes-to-self and quirky possessions safe and out of sight. Archival boxes serve a similar purpose and will keep your desk clutter-free.
Just as important as an attractive, practical desk is the accompanying seat. Long days sat at the computer cry out for a good chair. A finely crafted antique chair will give you the support you need to get through a lengthy meeting or project at your desk. In addition to a desk chair, a good library chair is perfect for the coffee break or a morning meeting.
Office envy
We have been given unprecedented insight into each other’s homes during this period, seeing our colleagues in a more personal light. On a video call, it seems as though people compete for the most extravagant house plant, the most diverse and
thoroughly stocked bookshelves or the finest painting in their background.
Excess decoration is often a distraction in an office environment. However, some décor is necessary and a good clock is a must for counting down the minutes until your next tea break. The odd attractive painting, sculpture or vase is worth including to provide something pleasing to the eye when you’re on your eighth Zoom call of the day. In the midst of a long working day, a few memoirs from travels and adventures can help to keep you motivated for your next trip.
The home office should have several sources of light; a desk light is vital and a floor lamp a pleasant decorative addition. A Maison Jansen palm standard light in the corner of the room will out-shine even the most over the top house plants.
Take a break
Necessities aside, why not put a daybed in for when the constant stream of video
conferencing gets overwhelming? Lorfords even offer a bed for your (very small) dog or cat, so that they don't miss out.
Consider investing in a drinks trolley to keep nearby, Mad Men style, so that your 5pm drink comes that bit faster. Alternatively, stay true to the sober Victorian beginnings of the bar cart and use it to keep a constant stream of tea going.
Visit our new lookbook, ‘Curate the perfect antique home office’ to browse the pieces featured.
Winter gloom getting you down? If it is and you happen to be in London over the next few weeks I recommend you hot foot it over to Bermondsey where some instant sunshine can be found.
The Fashion and Textile Museum (who knew?) currently have a rather wonderful exhibition about the architect and designer Josef Frank and his work for the Swedish company Svensk Tenn. Linens pulsate with tropical blooms in eye-popping colours; a curtain fabric is printed with an abstracted map of 1940s Manhattan in red white and blue; and floral patterns with names like Dixieland, Himalaya and Hawaii are as fresh as the breath of Spring. It’s Prozac by the yard and a revelation if you thought that 1940s fabrics were all about cut moquette and black out curtains or that design in Sweden starts and ends with the Billy bookcase. But that’s the thing about Swedish design – it packs a punch.
You’ll be hearing a lot more about Sweden this year and it’s all done to one word: Lagom. Remember hygge? It was the Big Thing from Denmark that you would have to have spent the last six months living as a hermit in a cave not to have heard about. Well, it seems our appetite for all things Nordic remains as healthy as ever. Lagom is a Swedish word which (very roughly) translates as ‘just enough’. It stands for moderation and not going over the top and has its origins in the country’s Lutheran religion. Lagom is central to the Swedish sense national identity and influences all aspects of the country’s life, language and culture. Anyway, it now appears that lagom has the power to enhance our lives in a similar way that hygge had just a few short months ago. I won’t go into details here, lest I have to add ‘Lifestyle Guru’ to my already heaving CV. Oh, but maybe I’m being too harsh. As so often in life, I think it’s a case of “For those who like that sort of thing, that is the sort of thing they like”. Personally, I prefer the more tangible aspects of Swedish culture and, for those intent on getting some lagom in their life, I’d say look no further than Swedish design.
Lagom is at the heart of a favourite Swedish saying: ‘enough is as good as a feast’. At its best, Swedish design isn’t about having enough of one thing but the right amount of morethan one thing; a melding of different styles and influences which unite to create something uniquely Swedish. For this reason, the history of Swedish design is a history of happy marriages – the formal with the informal, Neo-Classicism and Rustic, Functionalism and Classical; Modernism and traditional crafts.
LONDON, ENGLAND - JANUARY 26: General view of exhibits in the show space during the "Josef Frank Patterns-Furniture-Painting" exhibition at the Fashion and Textile Museum on January 26, 2017 in London, England.. (Photo by Ian Gavan/Getty Images for Fashion and Textile Museum)
Swedish design is about getting the ingredients and the proportions just right. What do I mean? Well let’s go back to where we started. At first sight, you couldn’t get further away from lagom than a room full of Josef Frank’s fabrics, but that’s not how they’re intended to be seen. Used economically, however, on a series of cushions, a blind or to upholster a chair, they bring it that room to life: lagom in action. Used in this way, the mantra of moderation, actually adds to rather than restricts creativity and it’s in the very DNA of Swedish design.
The roots of a distinct design identity in Sweden can be traced to the 18th century, when, after an extended stay at the court of Louis XVI at Versailles, the future King Gustav III initiated a style of decoration that took its lead from the Neo-Classicism that was sweeping Europe at the time. Gustav III was a patron of the arts, founder of the Swedish Academy and commissioner of the Royal Opera House. Since his death (from a gunshot wound sustained at a masked ball - quite a party, by the sounds of it) the king has become synonymous with this style of furniture. The Gustavian style emphasised elegance, simplicity, lightness and comfort and offered a more liveable and more modest interpretation of Neo-Classicism than that found in England or France. It is a pared back version of French neoclassicism. Large mirrors, which maximised the light during long winters, were gilded, while chandeliers tended to have five or seven arms with candleholders. The style spread from the royal palaces of Drottningholm and Gripsholm to the town houses of the well-to-do and out to their country cottages, where it became more rustic and homespun but was still recognisably Gustavian in its origins: countryside homes were decorated with painted furniture; either white-washed or painted grey or soft cream. The light painted finishes provided a reflective quality that was desired during the long dark winters. Life in the region was primarily responsible for shaping Scandinavian design. Long, harsh winters with very few hours of daylight kept people indoors for many months. Besides, most people lived in small houses. So it was imperative to make homes feel cosy yet airy, with every object in it reflecting as much ambient light as possible.
By the early 1920s the phrase on everyone’s lips was Swedish Grace. Swedish Grace was born out of Functionalism, the uncompromising aesthetic that sought to eradicate decoration and produce furniture and homes for the Machine Age. But pure Functionalism was always a bit too extreme for lagom loving Swedes and by the following decade designers like Josef Frank developed a style that was a more easily digestible version of Functionalism– still uncompromisingly modern but with the edges rounded, a style that would make a home feel cosy and comfortable, characterised by elegance and simplicity and even a little (whisper it) decoration. But it was in the middle decades of the twentieth century that Swedish design entered its golden age.
When we think of Scandinavian design in the twentieth century, I suppose it’s the Danes with their sculptural furniture in rosewood and teak and the Finns with their Functionalism that tend to grab the limelight. But, for my money, it’s the Swedes, with their ceramics, glass, textiles and love of pattern who provide a particularly sweet filling in the Scandi design sandwich. Let’s take a closer look at some of the people who put Swedish design on the map.
Bruno Mathsson (1907-88)
Bruno Mathsson was a furniture designer and architect. Like Josef Frank Mathsson believed in giving the machine age
a human face and designed furniture with the user in mind. The Evachair (1934) is one of the outstanding designs of Swedish modernism. It features a seat section constructed of moulded solid wood and woven hemp webbing that follows the body’s contours, providing comfort without the need for upholstery. Mathsson once said ‘comfortable sitting is an art – it ought not to be. Instead the making of chairs has to be done with such an art that the sitting will not be any “art”’. Mathsson practised what he preached and the Eva chair is a perfect synthesis of ergonomics and sculptural craftsmanship.
Stig Lindberg (1916-82)
One of the outstanding figures of mid-century Scandinavian modernism, Stig Lindberg was also one of Sweden’s most prolific and best-known designers. He designed across a range of media, including glassware and textiles, but it is probably his ceramics that are his best known work and which sum up mid-century modern Swedish style. Lindberg’s work has two distinct strands. One is sculptural, with elastic shapes and organic decoration, the other colourful and decorative. His Karnevalseries of ceramics, with decoration based on folk art and looking for all the world like illustrations from childrens’ books, was one of Lindberg’s most successful designs and a highpoint in 20thcentury ceramics.
Erik Hoglund (1932-98)
Sweden’s glass industry began to develop in the early 1920s and, over a short period, Swedish glass became a by-word
for restrained elegance and refinement, with firms like Orrefors and Kosta gaining international acclaim. But, for my money, a far more interesting episode in the history of Swedish glass is provided by Erik Hoglund, a man who brought a punk sensibility to the world of glass. Hoglund was chief designer at Boda Glass from 1953 until 1986. His early work at the firm really pushed the boundaries and included a series of heavily textured bowls and vases that was achieved by throwing potato peeling into the furnace. Hoglund’s designs, with their lumpy forms and earthy colours, were in startling contrast to his contemporaries but, despite this, were a commercial success and today Erik Hoglund is remembered as one of the key figures in mid-century Swedish design.
For “Antiques Roadshow” expert Chris Yeo the latest exhibition at the Victoria and Albert Museum was just the starting point for a surprising journey following in the footsteps of one of the twentieth century’s outstanding designers – and a Soviet spy ring - to one of London’s most revolutionary and glamorous buildings. Who would have thought plywood could be so interesting?
When you think of plywood (as we all do from to time) what is it that comes to mind? If tea chests and cheap D-I-Y are all you can think of then the curators at the Victoria and Albert Museum are keen for you to pay a visit. As the museum’s latest exhibition Plywood: Material of the Modern World is quick to point out, despite its humdrum image, plywood used to be seen as a “wonder” material, favoured by engineers and avant garde designers at the cutting edge of technical and artistic innovation. The exhibition features a bewilderingly diverse array of objects - from bi- planes to skateboards -alongside design classics a-plenty by the giants of 20th century design, including Alvar Aalto and Charles and Ray Eames, to tell the story of how plywood made the twentieth century.
Plywood - the technique of layering cross-grained veneers to make a material stronger than solid wood - has been around for a long time; the ancient Egyptians were using it in around 2600BC. But it was only in the early twentieth century that designers began to exploit and celebrate its ability to be shaped into strong, curved forms, when plywood started to be seen as chic. Amongst the exhibits on show one piece stood head and shoulders above the rest; something so jaw droppingly beautiful that it stopped me in my tracks. A symphony of sensuous curves, the item in question could easily be mistaken for a piece of Modernist sculpture by Henry Moore, but was, in fact, a lounge chair. It was designed in 1936 by Hungarian émigré and Bauhaus golden boy Marcel Breuer and was manufactured by a British company called Isokon. This chance encounter was enough to make me hunger for more. I’ve always believed that every great piece of design has a bigger story to tell and, in this case, that certainly proved to be true. By the end of the day I had traversed London with all the assiduousness of one of Agatha Christie’s detectives. You’ll be hearing more of her later. In the meantime, let me tell you of the story of the incredible house that plywood built.
Let’s start with Isokon. The design studio was founded in 1929 by young husband and wife team Jack and Molly Pritchard. They were idealists and visionaries who passionately believed in the power of good design to change society for the better. Both had travelled widely in Europe where they were impressed by the new ‘international style’ of modernist design that was emerging there. The Pritchards probably qualify as the unsung heroes of 20th century design in England, mainly known today for the furniture they produced – design classics like the Long Chair and the’ Penguin Donkey’ (not, as it sounds, a nightmarish hybrid from the island of Doctor Moreau but a storage system for paperbacks) – all constructed from plywood. For most of the 1920s Jack Pritchard had been Sales Manager of Estonian company Venesta, at that point the largest manufacturer of plywood in the world and as a result ply was used almost exclusively by Isokon in the furniture it produced. Pritchard’s contacts within the European design scene meant that by the mid-1930s, as well as Marcel Breuer, Isokon’s payroll included celebrated ex-Bauhaus designers like Walter Gropius and Egon Riss and Isokon furniture was a must have amongst the capital’s in-crowd. But Jack and Molly had plans that went beyond furniture; their magnum opus was to construct a building the like of which England had never seen before; a vast Modernist block of apartments which would not only look revolutionary but which would also offer a radically new way of living. The Isokon building - also known as the Lawn Road Flats - was to be a bold experiment that would introduce the concept of communal living to the middle classes. They decided to bring the revolution right to the heart of respectable middle class Britain and a plot in the leafy north London suburb of Hampstead was bought.
What the Pritchards needed was someone who could make their dreams concrete. In 1932 they found that person in the shape of a young Canadian architect, Gordon Wells-Coates. Wells-Coates turned heads wherever he went. He was good looking, dynamic, slightly eccentric and, according to Jack Pritchard, “cooked Eastern cuisine and was known to sit comfortably in the lotus position for hours”. Born in Canada to Methodist missionary parents, Wells-Coates spent his childhood in Japan and, as a young man during the First World War, had joined the Royal Flying Corps (where he had flown a Sopwith Camel – a plane largely made from – as if you didn’t know – plywood). After being demobbed, he studied at Whitehall’s Department of Scientific and Industrial Research. But ever the free spirit, instead of taking a job in industrial design, Coates became a writer for the Daily Express and became part of the 1920s Bloomsbury set; a Martini swilling fixture in the fashionable haunts of Soho and Fitzrovia. Alongside his appealing personal traits, the young architect shared the Pritchards’ vision of a modern world shaped by good design. It was a meeting of minds and the air between them positively crackled.
Wells-Coates had very little experience of designing buildings, certainly nothing on the scale of the Isokon building. But what he lacked in practical experience he made up for in charisma and the Pritchards were sold. Their confidence was not misplaced. A trip up the Northern Line showed me that Wells-Coates lived up to his promise and delivered with a super engineered, sleek, jaw dropping, timeless slice of beauty. Sitting among the Georgian terraces of leafy Hampstead the Isokon building was truly revolutionary when it first opened its doors in 1934. Built of reinforced concrete – the first time in Britain this had been used on a domestic building - with cement wash render (white with a hint of pink), the main elevation facing Lawn Road features a cantilevered stairwell giving access to cantilevered balconies that are carried the full length of the building. Today the streamlined apartment building still feels fresh with its crisp, sculpted outline and floating balconies suggesting a great ocean liner moored among the trees. Not surprisingly, plywood featured strongly, from plywood wardrobes and fitted kitchens to the penthouse flat – originally occupied by Jack Pritchard and his wife Molly - its walls and floors clad in Finnish birch ply.
Jack Pritchard labelled his brainchild ‘an experiment in new ways of urban living’; a bold claim but one which rang true. The flats were intended for young professionals: people who could not afford to buy homes and would otherwise be living in digs presided over by hatchet-faced landladies in curlers, prone to imposing curfews at nine and breakfast at eight. Residents were originally expected to dine and socialise in the communal restaurant –the Isobar - on the ground floor, rather than privately in their flats. It was the UK's first attempt at communal living. In 1930s Britain this really was revolutionary.
The Isokon building offered a raffish escape from grim inter-war reality: nude sunbathing on the roof terrace soon became de rigueur. While the flats were originally intended for the not so well-off, they quickly became the epicentre of North London's avant-garde scene during the 1930s and 1940s, populated by a fashionable elite of artists, writers and other free thinkers. Laurence Olivier and Vivienne Leigh could frequently be seen in the Isobar sipping cocktails and talking philosophy with Betrand Russell. Famous residents at this time included the sculptors Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth; ex Bauhaus Head Walter Gropius lived there as did Marcel Breuer but perhaps its most famous resident was Agatha Christie, who wrote her only spy novel N or M?while she was living in the flats. Christie often said that she invented her characters from what she observed going on around her and at the Isokon building she would have found plenty of material. Communal living attracted communist sympathisers. Alongside its intellectuals and artists, the Isokon building became a haunt of some of the most prominent Soviet agents working against Britain in the 1930s and 40s, among them Arnold Deutsch, the controller of a notorious group of Cambridge spies and Melita Norwood, the longest-serving Soviet spy in British espionage history.
Glamour, notoriety and a whiff of revolutionary fervour, the Isokon building had it all. But from being a shining beacon of modernity the building’s fortunes slid and, by the end of the twentieth century it had fallen on hard times, a haunt of drug dealers and drop outs. Fortunately a few souls with all the visionary insight of Wells-Coates and the Prtichards saw beyond the graffiti. After an extensive restoration in the early noughties, the Grade 1 listed Isokon building is riding high once again: a tribute to its creators, it will always be the house that ply built.
Did life exist before Mad Men?* It’s a question I’ve been pondering a lot since the peerless series faded to black for the final time (*answer: yes, but it didn’t look as good).
Critics may have focused on the internal machinations at the Sterling Cooper ad agency but, as we all know, the real star of the show was the sumptuous mid-century styled sets: Gorgeous eyefuls of caramel coloured interiors with sleek, sensuously curved furniture and desk lamps that deserved their own mini-series. Has there ever been a tv series so determined to make the viewer drool with couch envy? Of course our love of all things mid-century was already well established by the time Don Draper sparked up his first Lucky Strike. Hard to believe that it’s twenty years since furniture of the 1950s, ‘60s and ‘70s came in from the cold and started making serious headway in the style supplements and salerooms. Fashions come and go; nowhere is this more true than in the conjoined worlds of antiques and interiors, but, two decades on, mid-century is still here, stronger than ever. It remains the chic-style option it always was and, no longer hobbled by its former retroassociations, Mid-Century has taken its place alongside Art Nouveau and Art Deco as an established epoch in 20thcentury design history. Before you embark on a full Mad Men inspired home makeover, here’s my guide to the essentials of mid-century furniture, a style that remains as fresh and innovative in 2016 as it did half a century ago.
What do we mean by mid-century?
As the name suggests, the style dates from the middle decades of the 20thcentury, roughly from the mid-1940s to the late 1960s. Rather like Art Deco, the name was coined long after the period in question. When it first emerged, our parents and grandparents knew it as Contemporary, and as a decorative style it influenced everything from the shape of a sofa, a vase or a coffee pot to the pattern on a tablecloth. It was youthful, stylish and bang up to date, and that was exactly what people wanted. Every style comes with its cultural baggage and mid-century speaks of an era of confidence, one which looked ahead optimistically to a bright future of ever increasing economic prosperity with more money and leisure time to relax and enjoy life. Mid-century interiors were all about chic style and ease of living, and this was also reflected in the furniture. Small wonder it appeals to us so much today.
Deciphering the mid-century style can at first seem something of a challenge. Certainly not all modern furniture from this period will be in the mid-century style. Plastic inflatable furniture from the 1960s, for example, is definitely not mid-century (it would be an example of Pop design, in case you were wondering). As an
illustration, let’s try this: At first sight a Danish rosewood and leather dining chair by Neils Moller seems to have very little in common with an American high-gloss white fibreglass Tulip chair by Eero Saarinen, yet they’re both hailed as mid-century design classics. So what’s going on? Well, I’d say what unites these seemingly unrelated chairs boils down to three things: simple, modern elegance, functional comfort and fine craftsmanship. In my view, it’s the mix of those three essential elements which is the hallmark of mid-century design. Mid-century designers had a dictum: Form follows function, in practice this meant no excess decoration or unnecessary flourishes. In less capable hands it’s a mantra that might have resulted in some very boring furniture. Fortunately for us, the generation of designers who followed it was one of the best the design world has ever seen. With the possible exception of the Regency period in the early 19thcentury, perhaps no other point in history has produced quite the same number of top calibre artists and designers as the 1950s and ‘60s: Charles and Ray Eames, Robin Day, Eero Saarinen, Harry Bertoia and scores more. Unlike the Regency period, however, when only the wealthiest could afford the best furniture, mid-century designers were driven by a mission to bring good design to the many rather than the few and embraced mass-production with the result that their designs are still relatively plentiful today and Amen to that. But the mid-century movement is more than a mere roll-call of designer names (nice though that is). The philosophy of good design available to all, which those great designers championed, was taken up by manufacturers at the more affordable end of the market, with many smaller factories producing good quality, well designed furniture within easy reach of the middle class. The names of most of these designers have mostly been lost to history but today, these pieces can be picked up at reasonable prices while still ticking all the boxes for style and quality.
Where did the mid-century style originate?
After World War Two furniture designers began to move away from the hard lines and polished chrome of pre-war German inspired modernism towards a softer, warmer aesthetic. The great architect-designer Marcel Breuer led the way and others soon followed. The mood was for something more human, more organic and for this everyone looked north. Since the 1930s Scandinavian, especially Finnish, designers had developed a soft modernism, relying on wood rather than metal and drawing on their own native skills in cabinetmaking, producing designs that were simple, understated and elegant. This fitted the mood exactly and Finland, Sweden and Denmark moved centre stage, becoming the benchmark for the best of mid-century style. What we tend to think of as classic mid-century furniture, in rosewood or teak with soft, fluid curves and simplicity of form has its roots in 1940s and ‘50s Scandinavia. It wasn’t just the north that had a part to play in the mid-century look. The 1950s was a time of convergence in design, when Italian, French and British, as well as Nordic influences began to merge together, creating a style that was truly international in its outlook. But at its heart the mid-century style was solidly American. America in the 1950s was the powerhouse economy of the world with previously undreamt of levels of wealth and international influence. A new generation of young designers set out to reshape the look of modern America, pushing the boundaries of furniture design by experimenting with new materials and manufacturing techniques.
Harry Bertoia (1915-78) was born in Italy and moved to the USA in 1930. He studied at the Cranbrook Academy of Fine Arts near Detroit, Michigan and eventually became head of the metal working department at the academy. Bertoia brought a sculptor’s eye to his furniture designs, particularly in the series of wire mesh chairs he designed in the early 1950s. The Bird lounge chair, designed in 1951-2 for Knoll, has been described as looking like a piece of sculpture suspended in space. The chair, which was mass-produced but by hand rather than machine, was made by welding a sheet of metal mesh into shape and then welding it on to the wire legs.
Mid-century designers eagerly embraced the possibilities created by new materials like plywood and plastic. Eero Saarinen (1910-61) was particularly influenced by developments in the field of plastics. His Tulip chair was one of the first chairs designed with a single pedestal base and was revolutionary when it was introduced in 1956. A true Modernist, Saarinen’s chair was a solution to what he saw as the clutter of chair legs under a dining table. A design classic, the Tulip chair anticipates the Pop design movement of the 1960s by a good ten years and is every bit as striking today as it was when it was new.
Although America and Scandinavia drove the mid-century look, other countries produced significant designers whose work is highly desirable today. In Britain, William Plunkett (1928-2013) was a designer with a background in engineering who worked in a highly individual style. Like Harry Bertoia, he combined his engineering skills with a sculptural flair and created a series of elegant metal-framed seating that won many design awards.
An essential ingredient in the mid-century interior was lighting. Lighting has, of course, always had a practical use in the home but was now more closely integrated in the overall decorative scheme. The floor lamp, designed in 1950 by George Rispal is a highpoint in mid-century lighting design. The coolie shade and cylindrical shade provide task and ambient lighting respectively, while the strikingly organic form, inspired by the work of German-French artist and sculptor Hans Arp (1886-1966), means it works as a piece of sculpture every bit as much as a lamp.
Well designed, refined, slick without being cold, at times a little decadent but never camp and very grown up; the appeal of mid-century furniture is highly seductive and it’s easy to understand why, twenty years after its rediscovery, it’s in ruder health than ever.