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Now, as we know, the French have a long and proud history in the decorative arts – they virtually invented the idiom – but, more than any other, there’s one style that encapsulates le style Francais. You might know it as Art Deco. The French called it Moderne. Ah, Art Deco. Just mention it and images of sleek ocean liners, peopled by impossibly beautiful characters wearing Cartier jewels and sipping Manhattan cocktails spring to mind. Or maybe it’s the futuristic styling of Max Sterm’s Metropolis or even the gaudy delights of the Odeon cinema – those streamlined and chrome-plated ‘peoples’ palaces’ that brought Hollywood glamour to the depression-ravaged masses of the 1930s. Art Deco emerged as a style for the new century and an ever-changing, fast-paced world of motor cars, air travel, flappers, and syncopated jazz. It’s the style of the Chrysler building, of the Zigfeld Follies and, as it happens, Victoria Coach Station; an intoxicating mix that continues to beguile us as much as it did in the Roaring Twenties.
Has there ever been a style more luxurious, glamorous, more imitated and, perhaps, less understood? Let’s start with the name. ‘Art Deco’ was actually only first coined in the late 1960s as a sort of two-hander to Art Nouveau which had preceded it. Also, far from being a single recognisable style, there were, in fact, many different strands, depending on when and where it popped up.
Italy, Sweden and, of course, America all had their own particular ‘takes’ on it. But nowhere did the style emerge more coherently than in France. Many books will tell you that Art Deco first surfaced at the Exposition Internationale des Arts Decoratifs et Industriels Modernes, the world expo held in Paris in 1925. Except that it didn’t. The Moderne style actually began to appear in France much earlier, around 1910 and was well into its stride by the time of the exhibition.
So, having de-bunked a couple of myths, let’s look at what is it that makes French Art Deco, sorry, Moderne, so distinctive. It’s all down to time and place. The French interpretation of the style was extremely luxurious, relying on rare and exotic materials like Macassar, ebony, lacquer, shagreen and mother-of-pearl, to give a sheen of glamour. As the centre of the world’s luxury goods market, Parisian designers were well-placed to take advantage of the readiness of these materials and could also draw on the world-leading expertise that Parisian craftsmen had in working them.
So much for place, as for time, le Style Moderne sought inspiration not from the modern industrial world, instead, it looked back in time to the world of Marie Antoinette and the French aristocracy. For a style so synonymous with the twentieth century, the French Moderne style is firmly rooted in the grand traditions of the 18th Century ancien régime – the political and social system of France before the revolution of 1789 – and its time-honoured traditions of apprenticeship and guild training.
During the 18th Century, France established itself in the forefront of the luxury trades, producing furniture, porcelain, glass, metalwork and textiles of unsurpassed refinement and elegance with Paris becoming the style capital of the western world. The ebenistes of Paris became the acknowledged masters of furniture making in Europe, supplying the homes and chateaux of the French court and aristocracy.
Some of the most beautiful and refined furniture ever made, displaying the highest level of artistic and technical ability, was created in Paris during the eighteenth century. Rather than breaking with tradition, the great designers of the 1920s saw themselves as inheritors of a grand tradition stretching back over two centuries. Tradition, however, was not the only source of inspiration. So too were the exotic, avant-garde trends in the fine arts and fashion. The vogue for exoticism developed following the arrival in Paris of the Russian impresario Sergei Diaghilev and his dance troupe, the Ballets Russes, in 1909, with its wildly atmospheric and outré productions. Léon Bakst’s design for Schéhérezade (1910), for example, featured lavish orientalist sets and costumes. The unexpected colour combinations, vivid patterns and louche furnishings – billowing curtains, low-slung divans, piles of tasselled pillows – were immediately imitated in stylish interiors by Paris artist-decorators.
Paris in the 1920s had an abundance of places where objects in the Moderne style were sold and displayed, mostly galleries, showrooms and shops on the more voguish Right Bank of the city centre. What were called Ensemblier showrooms, such as those of Emille-Jacques Ruhlmann, Süe et Mare and Martine, not only displayed individual pieces for sale but presented fully furnished interiors that suggested the range of what the ensemblier could produce on commission. At the more accessible end of the market, the four big Paris department stores established specialised decorating departments and many speciality shops, including Jean Luce, La Crémaillère and Le Grand Dépôt, which sold a wide range of glass, ceramics, linens and other utilitarian and decorative goods. It was as if Moderne had entered the DNA of the French capital.
For those in search of the Moderne style, Paris is, of course, a mere hop and skip over the channel but for a taste of the style that’s a little closer to home, Eltham Palace near Greenwich is a capsule of 1930s Parisian-inspired sophistication. Stephen and Virginia Courtauld of the eponymous textiles dynasty bought Eltham with its semi-ruined medieval Great Hall, moat and bridge, and rebuilt it as a dazzlingly sophisticated semi-rural hideaway. The saloon is a vast Moderne interior, lined with Australian black bean wood panelling, topped with a dome and finished off with a vast, circular, abstract carpet, the effect is like entering the First Class Lounge of a 1930s liner. Not that everyone felt that at the time: one editorial in The Times likened it to a cigarette factory.
The stock market crash of 1929 saw the optimism of the 1920s gradually decline. By the mid-1930s, Art Deco was being derided as a gaudy, false image of luxury. Despite its demise, however, Art Deco made a fundamental impact on subsequent design. Art Deco's widespread application and enduring influence prove that its appeal is based on more than visual allure alone.
Vive la France!
Click here to visit our lookbook 'Iconic Geometry' for our take on an Art Deco inspired interior.
Or click here to shop our full collection of Art Deco pieces.
When the mercury hit 40 back in July, many of us wished our homes were better equipped to deal with extreme heat. While we can’t transform a country cottage or London townhouse into a Provençal chateau overnight, we can still learn some design lessons from Mediterranean interiors.
‘Mediterranean design’ can be difficult to pin down - in part because this style actually borrows from all over the world. And yet certain features make it instantly recognisable, like swathes of natural light, a heady mix of natural materials, and a total embrace of the surrounding landscape.
A common misconception is that it means whitewashed. While you will see plenty of white both inside and out of Mediterranean properties, the true essence of the approach is rooted in colour - a palette inspired by the natural world surrounding the property.
Mediterranean interiors are laid-back yet considered. They're rooted in nature yet they feel contemporary. Below, we discuss a few ways you can bring this look into your own home - whatever the season.
Some are lucky enough to inherit a Mediterranean feel when they move into a property. Ever since the years of the ‘Grand Tour’, British architects have looked beyond our island confines for property inspiration. Archways connecting indoor and outdoor spaces, or courtyard gardens stemming seamlessly from bedrooms or living spaces, provide a natural starting point for Mediterranean-inspired living. It's not all luck of the draw, though, and you can lean into this style through renovating or just decorating.
Mediterranean design relies on organic textures, and this starts at the base level of a space. For example, raw plastered walls, stone flooring and plenty of tiles naturally create a villa feel. Sometimes this is in cool, neutral tones, but not always. Indeed, anyone who visited Portugal this summer will have seen plenty of ‘azujelos’; their iconic royal blue and saffron yellow patterned tiles. Terracotta, too, is at the heart of the Mediterranean look, with its warm earthy tones exuding depth and character.
Terracotta flooring instantly bestows rustic chic on a property, while marble floor and wall tiles bring timeless palatial luxury. However, like with any design device, you can go big or small. Use decorative tiles to create a statement washbasin splashback or to surround a garden fountain or statue, and get your terracotta fix from indoor and outdoor planters.
Throughout the Cotswolds, you’ll often spot sage green shutters in the windows of traditional stone houses. These serve the practical purposes of keeping onlookers and the weather out, but shutters are also synonymous with Mediterranean style. Look to these as a simple way to transform the feel of your home without making any major changes.
As we’ve already mentioned, texture is the crux of Mediterranean design. It relies on natural materials to bring a living, evolving feel to indoor spaces.
Timber is a key ingredient in this, and the more rustic the better. Natural wood brings much-needed warmth to Mediterranean interiors, especially where you do have an abundance of white or neutral shades. Think live edge dining tables and driftwood sculpture, complete with every knot, burl and medallion that speak to their long life.
Similarly, rattan has always brought a sense of warmer shores to our homes. This versatile, strong material is synonymous with laid-back living, whether it's used for a chair or just a lampshade. Rattan and wicker offer a ready canvas for soft furnishings, providing just enough structure while imbuing a space with a welcoming feel.
On that note, linen is your go-to material for softening such a space. The flax plant is native to the eastern Mediterranean, and creates a fabric that’s at once soft and textured - characterised by its raised slubs and flecks. Use a sheer linen for drapes that let dappled light in, or stronger blends for bedding or scatter cushion covers.
The eclectic range of antiques that survive from this corner of the world testify to its diverse history. From furniture to objets d’art, these relics infuse our homes with character and intrigue.
Vernacular Spanish timber tables and benches with heavy, simple joinery ground interiors with their primitive aesthetic and sense of craft. Italian and French armoires, complete with remains of old paint, bring relaxed, farmhouse charm to a bedroom. You can also nod to this style with smaller decorative pieces, like French confit pots with their dripping glaze frozen in time.
Lighting is key to keeping Mediterranean interiors cosy and welcoming in dark winter months. Look to weighty cast iron candelabras and towering candlesticks for magical, atmospheric lighting. For more practical task lighting, choose gilded sconces or table lamps crafted from marble, travertine or ceramic.
We’re fortunate to have a host of sunburst mirrors brightening up our showrooms at the moment. Most originate from Spain or France, and some are by Chaty Vallauris - the Provence-based design house that made the sunburst their iconic legacy. These statement mirrors, with their mesmerising rays and glittering gold leaf, guarantee sunshine on even the bleakest midwinter day.
The Mediterranean embrace of the natural world extends to art and ornaments, too. From giant ammonite fossils to conch shells that whisper of the sea, nature’s sculptures bring a sense of the scale and history of our earth into our homes. They remind us of past travels and encounters and evoke the curiosity of our visitors.
When we think of the Mediterranean, the natural landscape is often the first thing that comes to mind - and not just the sea. From the vivid trails of Bourgainvillia that line Grecian streets, to French fields of lavender, each corner of the Mediterranean has its own chorus of mesmerising flora.
Mediterranean Sea Holly grows wild in this and other parts of the world, but you will also find the spiny plant in some British gardens. Recognisable for its blue, green and violet colours, this herbaceous perennial is as eye-catching as it is low-maintenance.
Olive and bay laurel trees are other staples of Mediterranean gardening, as are citrus trees - although these are better suited to an orangery during the British winter. Watching fruit grow from a mere seed is a rewarding antidote to seemingly endless grey days.
In the kitchen, keep rosemary, sage, or tarragon plants on your windowsill. If they don't spark culinary inspiration, they'll at least waft the scent of the Med your way.
Give your flowers and foliage a fitting home with bold planters. Whether you're drawn to classical stone urns or dramatic metal jardinières, the Mediterranean has plenty to offer in this area, too.
Some of us long for the warmth of a Mediterranean summer all year round, but British reality is… well, quite different.
While this style may feel more instinctive in the summer months, it's actually accommodating of all seasons. The trick is textiles - of every kind, in every room. These form a crucial layer in the make-up of any space, but especially in Mediterranean interiors.
Rugs and runners offer welcome respite from cool stone flooring, while window dressings will soften stone or tiled walls. Contrast is key for keeping your surroundings stimulating as well as comfortable; the coarse texture of a hemp rug softened by woollen throws or sheepskin, for instance.
Textiles offer an opportunity to satisfy our cravings for colour on grey days. The Mediterranean basin was once a vibrant trading ground for pigments, and these original colours offer a springboard for decorating. Blend jewel-like indigo blues and malachite greens with earthier tones of ochre and madder red to evoke Mediterranean interiors.
It can be hard to know where to begin when it comes to such a ubiquitous design style. Browse our lookbook to inspire your own Mediterranean journey.
A Conversation with Stefano Giordano about his latest work and ‘the work behind the work’ for his upcoming solo show ‘Untitled (green)’ which will be on view at Lorfords.
15 September- 13 October
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Stefano Giordano: Nostalgic simplicity… I like that. The idea for this series of paintings started from a friend buying a colouring book for my 35th birthday. A silly joke, kind of ‘oh you are an artist, so you can colour this’, which made me think of my childhood. When I was little all I had in my bedroom were pictures of [the cartoon] Snoopy hugging a big heart or chilling on the beach, while in the living room were my grandfather’s still life and landscape oil paintings. So I thought that taking inspiration from those images might be a way forward in my work.
I have been attracted to the black line for a while now; I’m attracted to its simplicity, elegance and to the fact that it connects to [so many] other things. It breaks and creates space at the same time. They are a human invention, things of the mind.
I like the paintings to have a structure behind them, something they can hold onto. Plus they became somehow monumental when they are composited in that way, without a narrative.
I have always enjoyed going to the National Gallery looking at Piero della Francesca, Pollaioulo or Da Messina’s paintings and the way they split the space in a painting with a cross. One of my favourite painting is Da Messina’s Christ Crucified, it’s such a little painting but the space in it is infinite.
The things you refer to remind me of the experience of being in a church which I guess makes sense with me being Italian, having spent so much time in churches. I do think that painting has to do with some kind of spirituality, if we can call it that.
When I was at college a tutor called Frances Richardson suggested that my work is “deep in light way” and I still think a lot about that sentence.
In the process of painting the black lines are made and destroyed, leaving traces of the process coming through the colours which are applied after a satisfying result has been achieved. Black lines could be seen as a metaphor for our social conventions and rules, and somehow we live our lives filling the space between these rules established by something bigger.
I always liked to think of painting as a way to think about life; the paintings have some sort of violence, pain and destruction together with love, naivety, fun and beauty.
I love direct, simple imagery which invites you in, that wants desperately to be liked but at the same time it tells you to fuck off and keep a distance!
When I started thinking about this project, I was looking for images of colouring books that I loved. I have always liked the landscape made into minimal shapes, just enough to understand that what you look at is a simplified landscape and then I thought, it was necessary to enlarge it.
In regard to the idea of space [travel], that is [an] adult dream now too! The space paintings followed the landscapes, and after reading 12 Bytes by Jeannette Winterson, I got interested in Elon Musk’s space program and how these “boys” want to colonise space instead of cleaning up the mess here on planet earth.
S G : I struggle for sometime to make clear in mind what is it that I want to do. Researching painters and paintings that interest me is an important part of the process. I make preparatory drawings to work through composition and marks, using images that speak to me at the time. I play around with them digitally, then I make small works having researched materials, paints and supports. These are then photographed , and coloured in on an iPad to have an idea of how I want them to look. All the while during the process of making, ideas for another series will come up. I already have an idea for my next project and I’m very excited.
K W: The use of an iPad to plan the colour is really interesting in that you are now working with digital colouring in ‘books’ and an iPad screen does give backlit colour, so the sense of light coming through is very much a planned element to your work?
SG: I always put my paintings or drawings through the “digital” in the making process; I like to think that they live a life similar to ours before coming to completion. When I started colouring the paintings digitally I loved the floating blocks of colours; two thin layers of colours activate each other, plus the blue light of the screen made the whole experience very seductive. I then tried to recreate the effect of having the ‘light coming from within’ on canvas; the process always influence the product and vice versa.
Paintings are made of actions and choices through time; this process is left visible through the materials on the support. In painting one cannot avoid time. One artist who understood that fully was On Kawara, making time the subject of his paintings.
3 painters. 2 dead. 1 alive.
Raoul de Keyser for his informal and intimate way of painting. He also played around with the idea of a work of art being unfinished but completed at the same time.
Sigmar Polke for his continuous inventions, bravado and intelligence with dealing with popular contemporary culture and the history of paintings; in his work he touched almost on every subject you can think of and experimented with a variety of materials. A real artist.
Carroll Dunham for his reinterpretation of classical themes into a comic painting style combined with abstract expressionism and minimalism.
But I’m trying to misunderstand them as best as I can.
Partly green was in other paintings I made in the last couple of years, but on the sides or in the details, and so I decided to amplify it to the max! Another reason for going green and black is because I loved the combination of these two colours in the painting Payasage by Miró.
That’s right when we think about the landscape we think green, however I love when children colour things with dissociated colours. A green sky is something you can find in science fiction, while a green space somehow takes us back to the landscape which I find quiet poetic.
I think about these paintings as MULTIMONOCHROME, they are all greens but different.
When I was little I wanted to be a professional snowboarder, but I never got on a snowboard in my life.
I have too many for different kind of reasons; this is an impossible question…
I have a recycling bin in my studio and I try not to waste paint/ pour paint into the sink. But to be fully environmentally friendly I should probably stop using the paint that I use now and find a “green” one.
Untitled (Paysage 3)
Untitled (Paysage 4)
Untitled (Paysage 5)
Untitled (Paysage 6)
Untitled (Paysage 7)
Untitled (Paysage 1)
Untitled (Stars and Moon 1)
Untitled (Paysage 2)
Untitled (Clock)
Untitled (Space Shuttle)
Untitled (Astronaut)
For any enquiries, please email gallery@lorfords.com
The British, as we are always told, are a reserved people. Along with fish and chips, our stiff upper lip is what we’re most famous for. I must admit that whenever I hear this, I have to remind myself that, within this sweeping statement, they’re talking about me. I don’t know about you but I’ve never considered myself the shy and retiring type, if anything, I’m a bit of a Cavalier. A what, I hear you ask. Let me explain. According to a particular school of thought, we Brits divide into two camps – Roundhead and Cavalier. Students of history will know that these were the opposing sides in the English Civil War – the Parliamentarians aka Roundheads were known for their spartan tastes – banning Christmas carols and anything that looked even remotely pleasurable while, on the other side, the Cavaliers revelled in all that life had to offer and showed it with their big hair, Saville Row tailored uniforms and their all-round flamboyance and love of the good things in life. We have a saying that if someone has a ‘cavalier attitude’ it means they don’t care (like that’s always a bad thing). If ever someone accuses you of that just tell them to stop being such a Roundhead.
Anyway, so the theory goes, these opposing traits have become key aspects of the British character, battling for supremacy in every walk of life like it’s 1642 all over again. As a design historian, one of the things I love is being able to make connections between man-made objects and the wider world. I think, down the centuries, this Roundhead versus Cavalier tension has played out in the way we decorate our homes. Roundheads are all about straight lines and classical order, while Cavaliers are more laissez-faire and letting things go curly. Normally it works pendulum style – think of the florid excesses of High Victorianism being stamped out by William Morris and his smock-wearing acolytes, or those ‘Form Follows Function’ Modernists showing Art Deco exactly what it could do with its decorative flourishes - but occasionally those two forces fight it out at the same time. With this in mind, this week we’re taking a look at the curious affair that was English Rococo.
Rococo, it’s a word you’ll have heard before but what exactly was it? Quite simply, the most self-consciously decorative – cavalier - of all decorative styles. Developed in Louis XIV’s (it was known as “the French taste” in this country) it was the dominant style in northern and central Europe during the first half of the 18th century, affecting all the arts from furniture to fashion and sculpture to ceramics. The word rococo actually began life as a term of ridicule in the 1790s, when the style was already dead and buried. It sounds Italian but actually derives from the French rocaille (pronounced 'rock-eye'), describing the shells and rocks which were used as decoration in shell-rooms and garden grottoes.
There’s nothing straight about Rococo, it’s all about the curve. Flowing lines became obligatory. Think twirly-whirly, think wedding cake decoration, sinuous C and S-scrolls, garlands, ribbons, shells and sea monsters. Familiar objects lose their well-known outlines and, to quote the Bard, suffer a sea-change, into something rich and strange. In Rococo’s surreal world everything swirls, moves and writhes. Designers plundered the natural world for inspiration; crabs, eels, and crustaceans happily rub along with seaweed, mermaids and river gods. Rococo’s essential motif was the cartouche – an amorphous, unformed shape that was somewhere between a jellyfish and the human ear, which could be moulded into any shape. From this basic motif the great French ornemanistes – like Nicolas Pineau, who could take a console table and turn it into an all singing, all dancing gilded extravaganza – produced their extraordinary designs.
Across the channel, the British were grinding their teeth. Paris was the undisputed centre of European fashion and the French luxury trades set trends for all the other European nations. Despite being almost constantly at war with France throughout the 18th century, those thrifty Anglo-Saxon Protestants still craved the exquisite sophistications of the enemy. Rococo arrived in England just at the point when things were getting more square and architectural. Since the 1720s when Lord Burlington had led a campaign to revive the classical splendours of Palladio and Inigo Jones, the Palladian movement had been the dominant force in design. The watchwords were symmetry and balance and, as styles go, it was sober and serious – Roundheaded, even. For some, Rococo’s arrival was looked upon rather like the arrival of a flu pandemic. Frothing with indignation, one commentator had this to say:
They heap cornices, columns, cascades, rushes and rocks in a confused manner, one upon another; and in some corner of this confused chaos, they will place a cupid in great fright, and crown the whole with a festoon of flowers.
The Rococo first inveigled its way into England via the fashionable dining rooms of the aristocracy. Gastronomic success rested not only on the best ingredients, but also on the service, the convivial atmosphere, and the visual interest of the table and eating room. By the 1740s, the best dining tables were groaning with a prince's ransom of rococo silverware: a still-life centre piece or a branching epergne holding flowers and fruit surrounded by a flotilla of tureens, condiment sets and candelabra. The greatest Rococo silversmiths were Paul de Lamerie and Nicholas Crespin (who once found the perfect Rococo shape in a turtle’s shell and so mounted it in silver and turned it into a punch bowl) both of whom specialised in elaborate tableware that were swirling rocaille masterpieces, which must have ruined the taste of the soup for more Palladian-minded diners.
The outstanding English interpreter of Rococo was Matthew (or Matthias) Lock. He was a designer and cabinet-maker who had workshops in Tottenham Court Road but about whose life we know virtually nothing. Lock was an outstanding draftsman who, probably more than anyone else, understood the French style giving it his own, very English, twist. In his fantasy world – best seen on his mirror frames – a riotous assembly takes place; friendly goats confront surprised foxes; monkeys precariously perched monkeys blow bubbles; squirrels admire spring flowers; Chinaman in coolie hots and drooping moustaches cling to trees, the roots of which dissolve into icicles; all among a riot of fountains, shells and running water.
So did, England ‘go Rococo’? Well, for the answer to that, look around. Visit France, or southern Germany, or Austria or northern Italy and you’ll be tripping over Rococo palaces, churches and townhouses, try looking for the same in this country and your search will be in vain. The truth is Rococo made only a brief stay as a fashionable style and only touched the smart and the grand, even then, mostly in the form of small objects – vases, candlesticks, soup tureens, mirrors - rather than whole interiors.
As styles go, Rococo was elegant and charming but insubstantial. This was to sow the seeds of its downfall since it showed a lack of reverence for classical architecture which became unacceptable to the new generation of Rome-inspired architects, like Robert Adam who openly despised it. In fact, what was called Rococo in England bore little resemblance to the rich, creamy, wedding-cake heights it achieved in Europe. Done properly, Rococo was smart, urban and sophisticated it was also expensive and hard to master. Rococo designs demanded that each craftsman be also an outstanding artist as well. That was asking too much. John Betjeman, the great architectural historian, said that political history explains the style’s failure to launch. Because of the Civil War and gradual reform of Parliament, the aristocracy took a greater interest in politics here than on the Continent. Rococo required commitment and we were just too busy with other things. Perhaps it was a victory for the roundheads after all.
Styles never quite come to a full stop. In the early 19th Century the rococo impulse was revived under the flamboyant Prince Regent. Its last hurrah was at the turn of the century with Art Nouveau, when it made a flamboyant if brief return. While the austere geometry of modernism governed much of design thinking during the twentieth century, designers continually returned to organic, natural curves as a source of inspiration in the 1950s, and the psychedelic 1960s.
Fantastical, daring, highly decorative and never, ever sensible, it’s almost impossible not to be charmed by Rococo. There again, as a Cavalier, I suppose I would say that.
During September we were delighted to be asked to contribute to several fantastic events in London. From London Design Festival to RHS Chelsea Flower Show, Lorfords Antiques were at it all!
When the organisers of Jardin Blanc at RHS Chelsea Flower Show contacted us to ask if we'd be interested in contributing to this year's restaurant, of course, we couldn't say no! We were delighted to lend the show two beautiful dining tables and chairs with glorious urns accompanying them, as well as a fantastic large French iron clock face and decorative French gilt mirror.
From France to Belgravia, this 19th Century French fairground horse has been showing off its beauty in a beautiful window display created by Cox London for Belgravia in Bloom. Belgravia in Bloom celebrated its sixth year this year and returned with a series of floral installations all themed around 'Floral Fairground'. Cox London walked away with the silver award and the wonderful horse has now returned back to his current home in our Hangars in the Cotswolds.
de Gournay's crisp rendition of the ‘Chatsworth’ Chinoiserie on White Metal gilded paper creates a glittering backdrop for an imagined bathroom at their London showroom in celebration of London Design Festival. An elegant setting composed around a majestic bath from Drummonds overflowing with gypsophila – its gleaming copper the perfect foil to the hand-gilded walls, illuminated with a pair of plaster standing column lamps from us.
The Decorative Fair returns after a year of postponements and cancellations and we weren't going to miss it! With many of our dealers attending this year's show, it proved to be an event not to miss with the finest treasures from all over the world.
Fiona Porter is the woman behind Cotswold Country Flowers, based near Stroud. She supplies local businesses and individuals with wildflowers cut fresh from her garden. She shares a bit about her life and work and how France inspired her love affair with floristry.
After careers in civil engineering and then maths teaching, I had a calling to... flowers! As I write this, I am surrounded by over 10 different sorts of flowers. They are dangling from beams, curtain poles, and banisters - anywhere airy and warm where they will dry quickly and can be boxed up ready for use later in the year.
As I was hanging up today’s cuttings, I remembered a family holiday to France many years ago. The bustling markets, full of artisan produce, were the highlight of my week. I’m sure most girls that age would have spent their pocket money on a cute piece of jewellery or a trendy bikini, but not me! I came back to the tent armed with several wraps of dried flowers. I had no idea what varieties I had back then, but I enjoyed looking at them for months and remembering that gorgeous country.
Wind the clock forward 40 years, and here I am in the fifth year of running my own cottage business growing seasonal flowers. From April (ish) until October (ish), I use these flowers in all manner of ways. I provide fresh flowers for weddings, funerals, workshops and local bouquet deliveries. I also run cut flower growing courses and sometimes open my gardens for tours or 'pick your own' events.
For artisan growers like myself, the fresh flower season peters out at the end of October - if we're lucky. With this in mind, I spend the summer drying, storing and packing dried flowers which see a surge in popularity from November. I sell these as boxes of dried flowers, as wreath-making kits, or use them in workshops through the winter months.
In the meantime, I love nothing more than just appreciating my beautiful blooms. Included in this week's pickings of over 1000 stems are dahlia, sweet peas, achillea, larkspur, sunflowers, snapdragons, and much more.
They’ll be included in local bouquet deliveries and used at a country wedding on Saturday for everything from marquee decoration to buttonholes.
On Sunday I’m looking forward to a hen party flower crown workshop. Somewhere in between all this I’ll be cutting flowers, weeding or clearing beds, potting up biennials, the list goes on…..
I never stop, but I love it!
See more of Fiona's beautiful work on the Cotswold Country Flowers website.
Arras iron furniture has captivated generations of outdoor lovers with its quality construction and decorative appeal. Over 100 years since the Usine Saint-Sauveur factory closed, we celebrate the enormous legacy of the Arras iron foundries.
You may have heard of the French town of Arras for plenty of reasons. Arras is the former capital of Artois in northern France, around an hour northeast of Paris. It was ravaged by violence, with several devastating battles taking place on Arras fields during both world wars. Indeed, in World War One the Arras foundries were forced to swap furniture for munitions. Going back further, the town has also been the site of peace. In 1482, King Louis XI of France and Archduke Maximilian I of Habsburg signed a peace treaty at Arras to end a complicated succession crisis.
War and peace aside, this northern French town is also famous for producing beautiful wrought-iron garden furniture. Arras furniture as we know it today emerged in 1840. The Grassin-Baledans factory led the way in producing more artistic ironwork and garden furniture in particular. The other foundries soon followed suit, with St. Sauveur becoming the most iconic name associated with Arras iron.
During the 19th Century, the upper classes began to discover the benefits of outdoor living. In response, French towns and cities started establishing green spaces for leisure. Fountains, menageries, aviaries, and parks soon peppered the urban landscape. In particular, the expansion of the park system in Paris demanded new furniture for promenading ladies and gentlemen. This outdoor furniture needed to be light and moveable, but also stylish. The Arras foundries answered the call.
Arras iron production relied on hand-forging and hand-riveting, as welding didn’t yet exist. Their great innovation was a ‘demi tube’ method of iron extrusion, which used one curved half of a hollow iron tube. This method allowed them to get more iron per square metre than using flat iron. It also benefitted their designs, with the tubing creating a rounded finish. This encouraged surface water to run off, preventing rust. Iron furniture with rounded edges is also much more comfortable than flat iron. These important breakthroughs distinguished Arras iron from the crowd.
This iron garden furniture was far more durable than was standard for the time. But it wasn’t all utilitarian; Arras pieces are among the most beautiful iron furniture ever made. Soon, their furniture was cropping up in public and private spaces throughout France. It filled the patios and lawns of the wealthy classes, as well as the communal parks.
Outdoor living was still a bit of a novelty back in the 19th Century, so Arras iron had a ready market for their furniture. Over a century later we are now saturated with garden furniture options, yet genuine and reproduction Arras pieces are still highly sought-after. So, how has this style weathered the test of time?
Arras iron’s combination of durability and decorative impact was a winning formula from the start. These principles are more important than ever when it comes to choosing furniture today. Their iconic look will never fall from fashion, it seems. We recognise Arras pieces for their pronounced scroll forms, often featuring on armrests and table bases. Their designs have a very organic quality and the iron seems to flow almost seamlessly. The foundries used slatted seats and backs with gentle curving frames and outscrolled top rails.
When it comes to identifying an Arras piece, the feet are the best place to start. In fact, they are one of the only ways you can date their furniture. The foundry used ever-stylish lion’s paw feet up until 1900 when they swapped them out for the iconic horse’s hooves. These hooves were only introduced to lower production costs, but they quickly became a defining part of Arras style.
However, between them, the foundries produced a wide range of designs during their production years and you may have a genuine Arras piece without the features mentioned above. The only way to know for sure is some sort of branding. You may come across a small brass plaque bearing the maker's mark, such as ‘Usine St. Sauveur.’ On other examples, you might spot a factory name cast into the design itself, although it might be buried under layers of paint!
Arras iron furniture expertly blends outdoors and indoors. Their fine quality means that Arras pieces should last for generations, whatever the weather. Yet, they also exhibit the decorative quality usually reserved for our interiors. Their whimsical form and flowing lines give them an elegance rarely seen in garden furniture. And it's not just furniture they are known for, but other outdoor iron pieces too. Indeed, their tiered plant stand has become a favourite style in the gardening world.
Antique Arras pieces have occupied many many homes and gardens in their life. Years of painting and re-painting give their tables and chairs a beautifully layered texture and patina. Suitable for indoor or outdoor spaces, Arras furniture is well worth the investment.
You can browse the Arras furniture we have in stock on our website. For more French antiques, read our latest articles on bistro furniture and collecting confit pots.
Our extensive garden antiques collection includes planters, tables, seating and other ornaments.
Dripping with their vibrant glossy glaze, French antique confit pots are a humble yet gorgeous collecting area. We discuss their culinary history, what to look for when buying a pot, and how to bring their magic into your interiors.
Confit pots were made for culinary use and they quickly became staples of the French kitchen. ‘Confit’ comes from the verb confire, to preserve, which inspired the French preserved duck dish of the same name. Confit pots served as the all-important preserving vessels for confit. Luckily, many of these earthenware pots have survived and we encounter beautiful 19th and early 20th Century examples. The great irony of these pots is although they were produced en masse, every single one is unique.
Onlookers all over the world have long admired the French art de vivre. The French bistro is a core part of this 'art of living,' alongside their leading fashion houses and pâtisseries. Although modest in price and relaxed in atmosphere, bistros are effortlessly chic.
The French bistro’s cultural significance extends far beyond the food. Indeed, these establishments are as much a part of Parisian culture as the Eiffel Tower or Notre Dame. That’s the argument of those who want them to be awarded intangible cultural heritage status by UNESCO. For loyal customers, their regular bistro offers comfort and authenticity. This is especially important amidst the rise of big chains and gentrification.
Bistros sit somewhere between a café and a restaurant. They have a relaxed atmosphere and serve moderately priced food, wine and coffee throughout the day and evening. We recognise them for their courtyards and terraces, crowded with small circular tables and folding chairs. Yet, the bistro is so much more than the sum of its parts.
These spaces have acted as melting pots throughout history, bringing together people from all walks of life. You will find a close relationship between owners and customers, with diners often returning on a daily basis. They have served as writing meccas; the famous Les Deux Magots attracted Hemingway and Sartre amongst other literary greats. Their walls have overheard fevered discussions on politics, philosophy, romance and gossip.
Today, bistros are a spot for dining alone, with close friends, or for making new acquaintances. They are a people-watching haven, with seats arranged side by side rather than opposing, so everyone can take in the bustle of the cobbled street. Aside from anything else, the French bistro is a major social institution. So, where did this vast cultural legacy begin?
French café culture sprung from social upheavals and entrepreneurialism. The French revolution and the industrial revolution solidified the bistro concept we know today. This is not to say that restaurants didn’t exist before, however. The oldest Parisian café is thought to be Café Procope, which opened in the early 1600s. It was defined by its small tables with marble tops – now staples of French bistro style. Voltaire was rumoured to drink around 40 cups of coffee a day in this famous café.
Nonetheless, before the French revolution there were estimated to be fewer than 50 restaurants in the city. When the households of the rich were dispersed following the revolution, lots of talented chefs were left looking for work. Many returned to their home villages, whilst others flocked to the poorer parts of cities and towns. It was these individuals, through their changing fortunes, who became the first French bistro and restaurant chefs. The impact was major; one French travel guide listed 3,000 dining options in the city in 1814.
The bistro concept would continue to evolve in light of new advances. In their infancy, bistros were very modest and informal in comparison to the grand Paris restaurants. Indeed, some early bistros started with landlords, who already offered board to tenants, opening to the paying public too.
Bistros operated on a menu of about four or five dishes that could be prepared in large quantities and ahead of time, such as cassoulet, confit, or stew. They would serve some wine, usually from a barrel rather than a bottle. The bistro has evolved, but its core principles have remained more or less unchanged. The name itself supposedly came from the Russian and Cossack officers who occupied Paris in 1814. These unruly men would bang on restaurant tables, yelling bistro! (quickly!) at the long-suffering servers.
Not all cultural developments came out of war and revolution, however. In the 1800s, courtyard and sidewalk bistro seating really took off. This was down to the urban planning of one Baron Haussman, who designed wide boulevards with spacious pedestrianised pavements. The bistro started to expand onto the street – now a crucial part of its culture.
Later, the jollities of the Belle Époque saw bistros become more decorative to suit the zeitgeist. Indeed, plenty of wonderful mirrors and glassware survive from this period. However, it was the industrial revolution that really transformed the bistro in one defining aspect – the furniture.
Bistros are at the humbler end of France’s art de vivre, in comparison to, say, the Christian Dior flagship store. Nonetheless, the French taste for finer things required bistro furniture to be attractive as well as functional.
Marble-topped tables remain an emblem of French bistro furniture. Industrial revolution brought decorative iron bases to these tables, often with cross-stretchers so that you could fold them away at the end of the day. You find plenty of wrought-iron chairs, too, but styles varied depending on the bistro’s personal aesthetic.
Bistro chairs and tables are not just mass-produced functional pieces, but often important pieces of design too. For example, Thonet’s bistro chair, designed in 1859, is an industry icon. He made it using just six pieces of wood, held together by two nuts and ten screws. Not only was it in high demand for bistros, but it also won a gold prize for design excellence at the Paris Exhibition in 1869.
Articulated furniture was widely sought after. By stacking away courtyard furniture at the end of the day, business owners could avoid paying the rent for a fixed terrace. Manufacturers like Fermob led the way in producing this furniture en masse. Fermob's bistro collections still follow Edouard Leclerc’s 1889 ‘Simpex’ patent to this day. This metal folding chair has become a staple, spotted everywhere you go in France and elsewhere in the world.
Exotic woods were coveted in Europe during the 19th Century. Rattan became a prevalent material for bistro furniture, with its lightness and durability ideal for outdoor use. Maison Louis Drucker, founded in Paris in 1885, were the main producers of rattan bistro furniture. The company is still in operation today and a stalwart of fine French craftsmanship.
Regardless of style and material, bistro furniture provided an opportunity for branding. So many beautiful eateries line the streets of France, clamouring for the attention of passers-by. Lots of bistros adopted a signature look to help them stand out on these busy sidewalks. Some furniture sets were very ornate and others much more pared back. Some show remains of old vibrant paint, whilst others kept the wood or iron bare. Whilst some examples may feature the name of the bistro painted on, others might have incorporated a logo or name into the wood or metalwork itself.
When customers returned to the terraces of Parisian bistros after French lockdowns, the heart of the city was restored. It is hard to capture the spirit of these social hubs, but you can bring the French bistro style closer to home. Because bistro furniture sets have been prevalent since the 19th Century, many antique examples survive. Furniture companies today seek to replicate this iconic style - a testament to its longevity - but you can’t beat the character of the originals.
Wonderful indoors or out, marble-topped bistro tables and folding chairs suit a range of styles. They are particularly useful when you have an influx of guests and need a few more seats. To truly transport yourself across the channel, use bistro mirrors and signage indoors. Outdoors, create your own Parisian courtyard with a few sets of bistro tables and chairs and antique lanterns. Bistro glassware has a classic timeless aesthetic, without the airs and graces.
Visit our lookbook 'French bistro chic' to spark your imagination. You can browse all of our bistro style antiques on our website.
If you love all things French, read our articles on collecting confit pots and Arras iron furniture.
The rococo style, defined by its sinuous curves and natural beauty, swept through Europe in the 18th Century. Sweden was then something of a remote northern outpost, but its craftsmen were not to be underestimated. The Swedish Rococo period saw a new royal couple take to the throne and the Swedes' elegant take on the style flourish.
Sweden’s artistic ‘golden age’ spanned three design periods, which naturally followed fashions in Europe’s cultural heartlands. The dramatic Baroque period (1650-1750) gave way to Rococo (1750-1775), which was followed by the refined Gustavian era (1775-1810). All of these styles were influenced by trends in France and England but came later to Sweden due to its location and comparatively small population.
Several events sparked Sweden’s design prowess in the 18th Century. King Karl XII’s wars came to an end in 1718, ushering in a new period of peace and prosperity. Sweden’s upper and middle classes were eager to beautify their homes, and those with the money to do so indulged in lavish interior decoration. Secondly, the Swedish government announced a ban on imported furniture in 1731. In the early part of the 18th Century, Sweden relied heavily on imports from England and France. This measure intended to support native craftsmen and encourage domestic excellence, a move that certainly paid off. Lastly, the fall of the Caroleans brought new royals to the throne. King Adolf Frederik and Queen Lovisa Ulrika of Prussia were a fashionable young couple, influenced by the ideals of the French Enlightenment.
When rococo arrived in Sweden around 1750, the style had already been thriving in France for 20-30 years. The architect Nicodemus Tessin the Younger was overseeing the build of The Royal Palace at Stockholm when he died in 1728, leaving the project incomplete. Luckily for Sweden’s cultural legacy, Tessin had chosen his successor wisely. He left the commission to his promising young student, Carl Hårleman. Hårleman demonstrated a mastery of architecture and became one of the most influential figures of the 1700s. Indeed, the grandest manifestations of the rococo style were in Sweden's great palaces.
Hårleman needed to complete and furnish The Royal Palace in Stockholm for the needs of King Adolf and Queen Lovisa. He largely followed Tessin’s designs, except in one crucial respect. Tessin’s plan revolved around the baroque style, but Hårleman – with a keen eye on fashions in France – adapted it to incorporate the new rococo trend. This was not necessarily a drastic change; we sometimes describe the rococo style as the final expression of baroque. Indeed, the late baroque period had already moved away from overly dark and imposing furniture. Softer designs, often with a painted finish, were increasingly popular. This transitional phase paved the way for rococo to take centre stage.
Queen Lovisa was far from a passive patron; she was one of Europe’s leading cultural monarchs and favoured the playful rococo style. Fortunately, The Royal Palace had many, many rooms to fill. French cabinet-makers came over to contribute designs and teach Swedish craftsmen their skills. One of Hårleman’s major contributions to Swedish cultural history was his insistence on educating others and subsequent generations in order to spread techniques and skills.
At Drottningholm, where the royal couple resided until their new palace was ready, designers refurbished parts of the palace in the rococo taste. A major, and often overlooked, element of Swedish Rococo design was the chinoiserie style. The Swedish East India Company was formed in 1731, sparking enthusiasm for all things oriental. The Chinese Pavilion at Drottningholm, designed for Queen Lovisa’s birthday, is a fantastical palace in itself that combines European Rococo with exotic eastern taste. Examples of classic Swedish Rococo furniture adorn the rooms at Drottningholm to this day.
Rococo is certainly heavy with ornament and celebrates beauty for beauty's sake, but not without thought. The word rococo combines two French words: coquille (shell) and rocaille (stone). Nature’s innate beauty is certainly at the heart of this hedonistic style. Rococo reflects the natural world in both form and decoration. It has a gentle fluidity and embraces asymmetrical shapes and ornament. Any right-angles are softened with rounded corners to create welcoming designs.
We also recognise the rococo style for its decorative motifs. Popular iconography included shells - the style’s namesake - as well as dragons’ wings, vegetation and floral tendrils. Swedish Rococo mirrors demonstrate the many elements of this style beautifully. They feature elaborate gilded foliate frames and shell crestings. The master Swedish mirror-maker Johan Åkerblad spanned both the rococo and Gustavian styles during his career with great success. Surviving mirrors attributed to Åkerblad provoke great excitement today.
Swedish architects and designers naturally drew from French and English designs, but they also put their own stamp on the rococo style. Over in France, Louis XV's interpretation of rococo was at the frivolous and elaborate end of the spectrum. Meanwhile, the style propounded by leading architects such as Hårleman maintained the Swedish sense of refinement and conservatism.
Swedish Rococo cabinets feature pronounced bonnet-tops and doors with gracefully shaped panels. Chairs and tables exhibit beautifully carved friezes and rest on cabriole legs. The Swedish Rococo chair is one of the most famous chair designs in history and the model is still very desirable today. These chairs have simple carved wood frames, and the most popular design has an open fiddle-shaped back with a single gently carved splat. Many examples of rococo chairs remain today in Sweden's great palaces and country houses.
Sweden’s painted furniture defines its legacy, and the Rococo period was no different. We are fond of Swedish antiques for their pastel colour palettes, yet the popularity of black-painted rococo furniture is less well-known. Craftsmen also adopted rich and exotic Chinese hues, so a diverse range of painted furniture survives from this period. There is always a difference between furniture produced in Stockholm, Sweden's capital and cultural centre, and country pieces. Stockholm rococo pieces might have more finesse, but country versions with those tell-tale rococo curves are charming in their own way.
The transition from rococo to Gustavian was similarly subtle to that of late baroque to rococo. Queen Lovisa's place in the royal household continued, as she served as Queen Mother to King Gustav. In addition, many prominent designers of the rococo era fused old and new fashions in their designs. It wasn’t until the end of the 18th Century that rococo's distinctive curves fully gave way to straight-lined neoclassicism.
Design in Sweden underwent exciting development and change throughout the 18th Century. The result is a plethora of stunning antiques, offering furniture and decorative pieces for every taste. Swedish Rococo furniture and furnishings are an excellent choice for today’s home. The graceful curves and fresh paint colours make rococo suitable for traditional and contemporary interiors alike. The soft femininity of the style is perfect for a bedroom or dressing room, whilst the flora and fauna themes lend themselves to a conservatory or orangery setting.
Browse our collection of Swedish Rococo antiques here and all of our rococo-style pieces here. View our lookbook 'Sinuous curves' for a little inspiration.
Forecasted climate projections predict that average temperatures in the UK could rise by 2-6°C over the next century. This stark fact might dramatically change what we currently consider a typical English country garden. We need not sacrifice the beauty of our outdoor spaces, however. Francesca Lawes of Nicholsons explains how to design a more futuristic and sustainable garden.
This article was originally featured on the Nicholsons website.
The rolling lawns and billowing herbaceous borders that are so integral to English garden design today are unlikely to persevere in a warmer climate. Mediterranean plants, such as palms and eucalyptus, might spring up in their place. Adapting to a sunny and warm Mediterranean climate may sound like an ideal scenario for many, but we can also expect far rainier winters. As a result, the future English garden must be tolerant and resilient in the face of both warmer summers and wetter winters.
There are some simple steps that we can all take to create a futuristic and sustainable garden design. Firstly, create a good supply of harvested water. You need to also ensure that any irrigation system using this water supply is both conservative and targeted. Growing plants ‘lean’ ultimately leads to them being more resilient. Watering infrequently and heavily will encourage the plant to establish a deeper root system.
You can also prepare your garden for the future by reducing carbon emissions. The simplest way to do this is to cut your reliance on petrol and diesel-powered equipment. Use alternatives such as peat-free growing media for your sustainable garden.
If you are looking to make a more total change to your garden, there are several genius options.
Converting traditional lawns to dry meadows is a great approach to sustainable gardening. The naturalised bulbs will extend the flowering period and ensure that water is not wasted keeping a lawn alive in the hotter summer months. A beautiful example of this can be seen at the Cambridge University Botanic Garden, which exhibits species especially suited to the Cambridge climate. This sustainable garden combines drought-tolerant and temperate species that can withstand long periods without rain in the summer. The final effect showcases soft, naturalistic flowers from spring through to autumn - the majority of which were grown from seed.
Rain gardens are likely to become a common feature in the future - especially in dense, urban spaces. Expanding urbanisation combined with increased rainfall during the winter results in increased surface runoff. During periods of peak rainfall, this runoff can cause urban flooding. The design of rain gardens allows them to capture surface runoff from nearby roads, pavements and rooftops. These sustainable gardens reduce the flow rate and clean the water of pollutants. Rain gardens also increase infiltration and percolation back into the soil beneath the planting, returning it to the natural system.
As well as their SuDs (Sustainable Drainage Systems) capability, rain gardens also increase urban biodiversity and create wildlife corridors in otherwise ‘grey’ landscapes. By planting resilient trees in rain gardens, we can also achieve urban cooling to combat rising summer temperatures. Nigel Dunnett’s ‘Grey to Green Scheme’ in Sheffield is a prime example of how impactful such measures can be within an inner city.
Derek Jarman’s Prospect Cottage in Dungeness, pictured above, proves that you can create a beautiful and sustainable garden in even the most barren landscape. Beth Chatto’s gravel garden experiment in a car park is now famous for never needing to be watered.
And yet, we often overlook gravel gardens in the gardening world in favour of other styles. This is a shame because gravel gardens can work at all scales and with any mix of plants. Herbs are suited to the conditions typical of a gravel garden. Herbs provide ingredients for cooking and fill the garden with their scent.
Texture also adds to the impact of a gravel garden, with silver-leafed plants automatically creating a more Mediterranean feel. Leaf colour, texture and form are important in creating the desired look for the overall garden and help create a rich plant tapestry. People often perceive gravel gardens as being barren, dull landscapes with sparse planting that does not provide much colour. On the contrary, you can create the same beauty as a traditional garden full of perennials, with the added benefit of considerably less maintenance.
Beth Chatto's tribute garden at the 2019 RHS Hampton Court Palace Garden Festival showcased an abundance of colour, texture and form. Many of the plants were drought-tolerant species, whilst others are able to adapt to prolonged dry spells. These qualities proved invaluable when the garden stood unwatered and glorious for two months during a heatwave. At its heart was Beth Chatto's vision for a sustainable garden: 'right plant, right place.'
As the climate changes, we will have no choice but to change with it. This doesn't mean totally abandoning the English garden style, but rather adapting and evolving it.
Nicholsons provides a range of professional services, including garden design, garden construction, garden maintenance, forestry and agriculture. They are based on a 23-acre site in North Aston, and also offer retail services including Rosara Outdoor Style and their Plant Centre.
A skilled garden designer can help sculpt your preferred ingredients into a cohesive garden design. This will deliver more useable space and give your garden a sense of purpose.
Read all of our gardening articles here.
Convex mirrors, with their bulbous glass plates, have earned their place in interiors for centuries. In all their many guises, these mirrors are a tool for maximising light in our homes and providing a unique decorative touch.
The convex mirror dawned with the development of glassblowing in the 14th Century. Venetian glassblowers would hand-blow a large glass bubble and then cut off a small circular section. The resulting surface would be either concave or convex, with the inevitable imperfections that come with a handmade product. Nonetheless, the production of convex mirrors sparked excitement and a worldwide race to discover the secrets of Venetian glass-makers.
The form of a convex mirror plate makes them naturally divergent; when light rays strike the glass, they disperse without coming to a point. These distortive properties make them quite mesmerising and are an integral part of their charm. They also provide a great perspective tool, as medieval artists well knew.
Indeed, the first known reference to a convex mirror in an interior comes from Jan van Eyck’s Arnolfini Portrait, 1434. This portrait uses the placement of a convex mirror to show the wider context of the room. Girolamo Francesco Maria Mazzola (1503-1540) famously painted his own self-portrait as seen through a convex mirror, with the mirror itself also included in the scene. These unique reflective powers saw convex mirrors used for a variety of means.
Not only are they decorative, but convex mirrors have historically helped various groups to keep a watchful eye out. Indeed, this sleuthing past has earnt them a variety of nicknames over the centuries. From the 15th Century onwards, they were known as ‘banker’s mirrors.’ The likes of bankers and moneylenders placed the mirror in order to survey any dubious characters who might want to enter their premises. A primitive form of CCTV, if you like.
Later on, in the households of Regency England, they took on a new name- ‘the butler’s mirror.’ In artwork from this period, you will often spot a convex mirror or two in the grandiose dining halls. This allowed butlers to keep an eye on guests’ progress through courses without having to invade their privacy. They still serve similar functions today; you will see a convex mirror showing drivers what lies around a bend in the road.
On a less practical level, the French name for convex mirrors was oeil de sorcière – ‘witch’s eye.’ They believed that convex mirrors could ward off evil and bad spirits. A bit whimsical, perhaps, but convex mirrors undoubtedly have a magical quality.
Convex mirrors continued to appeal once glass-making was more widespread. It was the Georgians who made these mirrors a must-have home accessory. Indeed, master cabinet-maker Thomas Sheraton described them as ‘universally in fashion.’ They took on an increasingly elaborate and ornate appearance, alongside evolving techniques. During the Regency, the ‘butler’s mirror,’ reached a grandiose peak, often crested with an eagle.
Few individual names are associated with convex mirror design, but Thomas Fentham is one to be held up in lights. Fentham, a carver and mirror-maker based in London’s Strand, produced some of the most excellent convex mirrors of the 18th and 19th Centuries. He favoured the eagle crest as well as more subtle designs.
Over in France, mirrors in all their forms enchanted King Louis XIV. He sought mercilessly to find out Venice's secret, and he did - recruiting his own band of Italian mirror-makers. His magnificent Hall of Mirrors at Versailles testifies to this obsession. He was fond of the convex mirror plate, and the self-styled 'Sun King' takes credit for the iconic sunburst frames they developed.
Over the years, everyone from moneylenders and goldsmiths to the French king has favoured convex mirrors. They are still a wonderful addition to interiors today, with a distinctive yet endlessly adaptable form. A convex mirror brings dimension, texture, and interest to a room. Their bulbous plates distribute light in those smaller, darker corners of the home – a decorative feature in itself.
Whatever interior scheme you have, there is an antique convex mirror to suit. Burnished and gilded sunburst mirrors have a contemporary and luxurious feel, and their immensely decorative frames will bring the feel of far-away destinations into your home.
For a period drawing room, a grand eagle-topped Regency convex mirror is the obvious choice for an authoritative and traditional feel. On a more minimalist level, a convex plate in a simple round frame brings a wonderful pared-back nautical touch to your interior.
Browse our collection of antique convex mirrors here.