not alone delight the eye, but will also satisfy and please the mind
and heart, springing as it does from a deeper appreciation of beauty,
will have far-reaching results in the direction of wedding art and
simplicity together. There are many who can no longer enjoy an artistic
life above stairs, undisturbed by the lack of what art could add, in
the life below stairs on which it rests; for they feel that no beauty
in the drawing room can make up for the want of beauty in the lives of
those in the kitchen; no refinement in the study compensate for the
utter lack of it in the workshop. In fact we are coming to realize that
although we may have the right and the power to create for ourselves a
costly palace to dwell in, and to gather around us all the luxuries and
refinements we can think of, and may moreover have plenty of servants
to wait on us and plenty of labourers to help us to support our costly
life; yet art will not make such a life beautiful, simply because of
that want of harmony between the life and all that goes to support it.
However right and just such a life may be thought to be, it cannot be
beautiful.
And so those to whom beauty really appeals are seeking a simpler form
of life, one which need not cost so much of the labour of others to
maintain, or so much of their own to procure. And the more they come to
love & enjoy beauty, the greater must this tendency to simplicity of
life become, not from any virtue or asceticism, but simply as a matter
of choice. Why should one having such tastes encumber himself with
an elaborate household, which but offends his inner love of harmony,
and takes his time and energy from the enjoyment of so much greater
pleasure? He knows that the art in a picture belongs to all who can
appreciate it, not solely to the purchaser of it, who buys not the
art but the right to shut it up; and he realizes that the beauty of a
landscape is a pleasure open to all who can see it, and that it cannot
be conveyed in the title deed. Such an one does not barter away his
time and his freedom to enjoy these solid pleasures, for the sake of
a fine house, fine society, or any other fictitious refinements. He
minds not how simple his surroundings, if only he may be able to dwell
in thought on everything he handles or sees about him without any
painful suggestion of drudgery in the making of them, or squalor in the
maintaining of them, marring his pleasure in their simple elegance. The
most humble house will content him, so only he may have time and quiet
to appreciate the beauties of nature and art, and opportunity for the
sharing with others of like taste the enjoyment of these things. For
the love of beauty is not selfish, it grows by sharing: we all love to
make others see the beauty that we enjoy.
It is true that such a man may be fastidious, that he may hate all ugly
or sordid things, and may demand that everything he has shall be the
best of its kind. But this must not be confounded with a desire for
many things, or a dislike of simple ones. The musician too, is hurt by
harsh sounds and requires his music to be of the best, but he does not
ask that an orchestral concert shall be for ever going on.
This general dependence of beauty on simplicity, at any rate in the
private dwelling house, is of special interest to those whose function
it is to give an artistic setting to the lives of clients by so
designing their homes that they shall be comfortable for those who are
to occupy them and comely for all who shall behold them. The architect
is astonished to find how very conventional generally are the reasons
which dictate the size and arrangement of the house. He is impressed
by the great difference that exists between what are considered to
be suitable houses for different classes of people: and he begins to
wonder whether there are not discoverable some factors determining what
is a suitable size for a man’s shell having more intimate relation to
his life than the depth of his pocket, or some reason for its form and
adornment less conventional than those usually accepted.
For example, an architect receives a commission to design some
labourers’ cottages. The cost is the first stipulation: this must be
low enough for the cottages to yield a fair return on the outlay when
let at such rents as the labourers can afford to pay out of their
present wages. Probably the next stipulation is that each house must
have a parlour, kitchen, and three bedrooms. The usual result of
such instructions is a design for a row of cottages, all alike, each
having a small parlour in front with a front door into it, a kitchen
behind--it is well if this is not smaller still--with the stairs going
up between the two and a little larder under: the kitchen has a back
door leading into the yard, a sink under the only window, and a copper
between that and the fire. Here we have as the living-room for a family
a place twelve to fifteen feet square, containing three doors, a sink,
and a copper. True there is a sitting-room; but that is of little use.
The occupants will have neither money to find coal for a second fire,
nor energy to keep the fire going and the room tidy for use, nor will
there be any inclination for the family to divide for the little
time they are all at home. But a false convention of respectability
demands this sitting-room; and the stern limits of cost preclude the
possibility of having a scullery or washhouse in addition.
How an architect must wish he could attack this commission from another
standpoint. How he must long to design a house to fit the habits
of life of those who are to occupy it. Then he would work on quite
different lines. Knowing that the family will practically live in the
kitchen, he would think out the space needed to give room for doing
work, taking meals, and resting. He would consider what of the work
which must be done most tends to make the living-room uncomfortable
and dirty; and he would banish that to a scullery or wash-house. In
the living-room he would plan so that there might be warm seats round
the fire in winter, free from draughts, and seats for summer near
the window; a good dresser for work, well lighted and supplied with
cupboards, plate-rack, and perhaps a small washing-up sink for the
crockery. Then he would allow space for a table for meals, and a few
shelves for books; perhaps he might even find a corner for a piano or
desk, in case either should be wanted. Instead of the sitting-room,
he would either build a little den for quiet reading or writing, if
any member of the family desired to study, or more probably so plan
one of the bedrooms that a portion of it could be made cosy for such a
purpose, about the only one for which a sitting-room would be at all
likely to be wanted. Remembering too that cleanliness has been placed
only second among virtues, and that probably most of the labourers
would have dirty and arduous work, he would contrive to give a bath;
and if nothing better could be done might put it in the scullery. In
this way he would have obtained a cottage as nearly as possible fitted
to the lives of the people. It would take no more daily labour and
expense to keep up than the conventional one, and would not cost such
a great deal more to build--in fact, omitting the bath, and keeping
within the total size, need cost no more.
Perhaps the next commission is for a country house. It is stipulated
that there shall be dining-room, drawing-room, and library, a good
entrance hall and six bedrooms, together with kitchen, scullery, two
servants’ bedrooms, butler’s pantry, china pantry, larder, laundry,
a lavatory and cloak-room on the ground floor, and a bathroom on
each bedroom floor. Such requirements have probably as little real
connection with the lives of the people who are to live in the house,
as the conventions which dictated the two roomed cottage. The size of
the house has more to do with the social position assumed by its owner,
than with the number of his household; and the library quite as likely
is due to the length of his purse, as to the number of his books or his
literary pursuits.
Somewhere between these two extremes must lie the sort of house which
the lover of art and beauty would desire for himself. Somewhere, in
each case, must the two opposing tendencies of comfort and simplicity
meet. Up to a certain point it will add to a man’s real pleasure in
life to enlarge upon the bare shelter of the labourer’s cottage; but
beyond that point any gain there may be will be too dearly bought. This
point is fixed for any individual, but must of course vary widely with
the temperament and circumstances of each. It is sufficient for our
purpose to realize that there is such a point, and that the development
of a man’s love of beauty and art will in the long run give more and
more force to the tendencies which make for simplicity. Those whose
main desire is for beauty in their lives, are coming to see that to
the rational cottage as sketched above, with its ample living-room and
the other absolute necessaries of a decently comfortable life, they
must add with great caution and reluctance, and only as dictated by
really pressing needs. Every extra room is an added care, means further
demands on time and energy, and makes it harder to maintain the home
without introducing additional inharmonious elements in the way of
service. It is possible, though not easy, to introduce one helper into
the home life on equal terms, but very difficult indeed to do this with
two. The increase of the house must be zealously resisted, if it is to
be kept within the limits of one helper doing a fair share of work.
And not only must the size be watched: the furnishing and decorating
likewise need to be kept simple. It is a good rule in such a house
to add nothing until actually needed, and to think well whether the
pleasure and comfort it can give will repay the care and dusting it
will require.
Working on these lines there will be a good chance that our homes will
grow beautiful, that they will fit our lives and be really filled with
life. When we try how few things we can do with, we also begin to try
how beautiful those few may be made. When we value our time, and the
time of our helpers, by the pleasure which may be had from a wise use
of it, we shall take care that any adornment we have, shall at least
give pleasure equal to any other use we might have made of the time
required to obtain it. Therefore none but good decoration will tempt
us. We shall be content with our bare coloured walls, until perhaps
some artist friend comes along and adorns them for us with some true
ornament, which will be an abiding satisfaction, not only in the direct
suggestion which it conveys, but also in the memories it revives of a
pleasant visit and a guest happy in a congenial task.
RAYMOND UNWIN.
OF FURNITURE. Part 1.
A lecture given before a gathering of art workers.
Our instructions for to-night are that we show you examples of some of
our work. But we have found ourselves unable to comply with the letter
of the instructions, to confine the examples that we show you to-night
to furniture; for, of furniture which can be considered apart from
the building it furnishes, we have scarcely any to show. Complying as
nearly as we can, we will as far as possible keep within what may be
considered furnishing.
Before proceeding to the illustrations of our work, I would like
to point out what we claim you shall find to be its leading
characteristics: and among these I will name first, absolute
simplicity, directness, and straightforwardness. I feel that we are
to-day so completely smothered in lifeless and meaningless fuss of
pattern, moulding, knick-knack, flourish and convention, and the
machine-made & mechanically produced substitute for ornament, that it
is well-nigh impossible for our artistic sensibilities to exist at all
unless liberated from them. I would mention secondly complete unity and
absolute harmony between all the parts, such as can only be obtained
when a house, its decorations and furniture, are all designed by one
man--or at least under the entire supervision of one man. Now when I
claim that if the result is to be artistically satisfactory, nay also
if it is to be satisfactory from the point of view of comfort and
practical utility, the house and everything in the house must from
the first be thought of and designed as a whole, the objection most
commonly made is that a house should reflect somewhat the character,
habits, and taste of those who live in it; and that if the architect
is to make his influence felt in every detail of its furnishing and
decoration, it will show _his_ feeling, taste, and character, not his
client’s.
There seems at first glance to be some truth in this; but a very
little thought will show, that instead of the power of the members of
a household to impress their own individuality upon their home being
lessened by this extension of the architect’s influence, it would be
greatly increased.
The architect who is worth anything will always design a house which
will fit any particular client much better than would any house he
could possibly find not designed for him: and of furniture, fittings
and decoration, and all else belonging to a house, this is also true.
The client wanting a piece of furniture, can otherwise only select,
from those offered for sale in the shops, that which will most
nearly fill the place of something designed specially to meet his
requirements. His own taste and individuality can have no influence
upon it whatever; no say in the form it shall take; this has been
decided for him by a designer to whom he probably never gives a
thought. But if his architect designs something to fit him & his house,
the client can make his own taste felt from the beginning; he can make
known to his architect his own personality, habits, and feeling; and
have some chance of getting what will accord with these and moreover
be in proper relation with the whole. It is not a question whether he
shall have things to his own design or to that of another: this would
be a different matter altogether: the question is: Shall he have things
designed to fit in with him and his requirements, or do the best he can
with what chance may offer him?
It has struck me as very wonderful how good a result has in rare
instances been attained by one of true artistic feeling through long
years of careful watchfulness making the most of such opportunities as
came in his way of picking up & gathering round him--often in a house
which has not a redeeming characteristic--furniture and decoration
which his own taste has told him are good and reasonably congruous. But
I have always felt: What would not this man have made of it if he had
been able to have some influence upon the design for the house and the
things in it! By choosing an architect capable of sympathy with his own
artistic feeling, he could have done more at the very outset towards
procuring a fitting setting for himself and his life, than he has been
able to do by all his care and thought in selection.
That they who lack taste will also stamp their own individuality on the
house they live in, no matter how extended has been the architect’s
province, we know to our cost to be only too true.
All here know that the only right way to go to work to design anything
is to give it that form which will best enable it to fulfil its
functions, that form which is best adapted to the methods by which
it is to be produced, at the same time giving it the most beautiful
form consistent with & explaining these conditions of purpose and
construction: and I contend further that to gain artistic success the
position it is to occupy must also be taken into consideration; it must
be designed for its place; and, to get the best result, its place must
even be designed for it.
Socially morally and artistically one of the most necessary reforms
to-day is that we should simplify our lives; we should shake ourselves
free from all this hampering web of artificialities in which we
have become so degradingly entangled: and in our homes we must
make this possible for ourselves by first sweeping away all these
fussy substitutes for ornament, all these supposed indications and
requirements of refinement. Then, when we have done this, we must set
ourselves to make those things which are necessary and helpful to real
life and true refinement also beautiful.
But have you ever seen the _ordinary_ room with nothing but the bare
necessaries of educated and refined life in it? I can assure you the
effect is not comfortable. And it is not to be wondered at that people
condemned to live in such rooms should try to supplement their baldness
by all sorts of added ornament and bric-à-brac. Some time ago a picture
dealer was looking at some of our designs for rooms, and he said: “Yes,
but it cannot be expected that I should admire them. You, and those
who follow your teaching are the worst enemies I have. I want people
to have houses of the ordinary type, that they may always be trying
in vain to make something of them, by patiently buying & buying in
the hope that by adding first _this_ then _that_ some approach to a
satisfactory result may be obtained. Each of these rooms is in itself
a complete and satisfactory whole: there is no temptation to add
anything.”
Lest the foregoing should give any the impression that I do not find
places for pictures, I will let this bring me to what sooner or later
this evening I shall be called upon to justify myself in, namely, the
amount of realism I admit in a picture to which I accord a place as an
element of decoration. I hold that the degree of conventionalisation
justifiably demanded in any decoration is only such as is necessitated
by the following: The limitations of the materials and the processes
by which it is to be produced; a just appreciation of the special
beauties of these materials and characteristics of these processes;
and a full recognition of its proper relations to all by which it will
be surrounded, and with which it is to be combined as a component part
of an architectural whole. There is no need for adding any further
artificial restrictions. But as a legitimate reason for convention
I would add a perfectly frank acknowledgment of considerations of
economy. If you use one process in preference to another because it is
less costly, there is no occasion to disguise this. But, spite of the
convention justified by this needful economy, seek to retain something
of the effect which the _motif_ that gave the inspiration had upon you.
The easel picture hung on the walls of our houses is certainly
unsatisfactory; that it is only more so when hung on the walls of an
exhibition all will admit: but that all the advance we have made in
our power to represent nature in realistic portraiture is in the wrong
direction we cannot admit. We may insist that our easel pictures shall
be regarded as complete in themselves, and thought of as detached
& dissociated from all that surrounds them; but this is demanding
an impossibility: they must form part of a whole. We find the easel
picture is less unsatisfactory if we do nothing more for it than
consider its frame, the colour scheme of its setting and surroundings
with relation to it: give it a definite place made for it, and it is
better still. But let us add to all its other dignity this too, that
it fulfils all the demands made upon it in its capacity as an element
of decoration, and it will be by so much the greater. The imaginative
picture, or the picture giving a bit of nature with her mood, and
having something of the effect upon one the real scene would have, only
gains by being at the same time also decorative. And it is equally true
that if decoration, by the suggestion of a beautiful scene, can also
have upon us something of the uplifting effect such a scene would have,
as a decoration it is finer.
Do not let us have convention pure and simple. If we are to retain all
that art has gained in the development of the easel picture, we must
face the problem fairly, not shirk it. Let us first have something
which we feel to be really beautiful, and then let us suffer it to
undergo only such conventionalisation as is dictated naturally by
the conditions and processes of its production, the limitations of
the materials from which it is to be created, and a true feeling for
fitness; never losing sight of the essential elements of the beauty of
our _motif_ and the factors in creating that beauty, and sacrificing
nothing we can help of its meaning and charm.
BARRY PARKER.
OF FURNITURE. Part 2.
There is one point touched upon by Mr. Parker in his paper, about
which I should like to say a few words: I refer to the question of
simplicity in furnishing. I feel that in showing to an assembly of art
workers many of the illustrations which we wish to show, some further
explanation on this point is due.
There may be rooms required for state purposes in the palaces of kings
or the mansions of the great, which call for elaborate & very ornate
furnishing: such I do not propose now to consider. I would refer rather
to the homes of average middle-class people, where this style of
furnishing would be out of place.
Such people have usually thought it necessary for their houses to
contain several sitting-rooms, calling them dining-room, drawing-room,
and breakfast-room, although the means at the disposal of the great
majority would not allow three decent rooms; and the desired number
could only be obtained by reducing them all to tiny box-like chambers,
not one of them large enough to make a comfortable living apartment.
From this supposed necessity has sprung the typical modern suburban
residence, which consists of a series of these small box-like chambers
more or less cleverly fitted together; while to meet the demand thus
caused, we find the warehouses filled with ready-made furniture,
supposed to be suitable to these rooms, inscribed “drawing-room
suite,” “dining-room suite,” and so on. These also I will not consider;
they have no interest, no actual touch on life. Such houses and the
furniture which is made for them are no more fitted to the lives of
nine out of ten middle-class families than would be the old hall and
solar of the middle ages with their rude fittings. My contention
is that the great majority of middle-class families live in one
sitting-room. It is even pathetic to watch their attempts to do this
in houses which seem specially designed to make it as difficult as
possible. Many make the dining-room serve them for a living-room,
wasting the best room in the house by keeping it vacant, except on more
or less state occasions; others live in the drawing-room, taking their
meals only in the dining-room. But whatever the arrangement, they all
alike seem to be hampered for want of a good comfortable living-room
designed and furnished as such.
I want specially to speak of rooms of this class, in the designing and
furnishing of which we are at once brought into touch with the daily
life of the household, and have scope to consider and meet their actual
requirements. In such a room, if they possessed it, most families would
take some at any rate of their meals; suitable table and seats must
therefore be provided, with something of the nature of a sideboard
or dresser to hold the many accessories which are most conveniently
kept in the room. The ladies would do their work here and should have
cupboards or other provision for their numerous apparatus. A piano and
place to keep music will generally need providing; while book shelves,
cupboards or drawers for newspapers and magazines, will be required;
and some kind of writing table or bureau properly fitted to contain the
household stationery & business papers would mostly be a great boon.
The room too should have cosy seats, and something in the way of a
sofa or settle as the family will sit and rest here; and these must be
comfortably placed in relation to the fire, door, and windows. A place
would not uncommonly have to be found for children to spend at any rate
part of the day, which implies a toy drawer and some space for play.
It is of course only in the smaller middle-class house--which by the
way is numerically far the most important--that the whole of the
family life is carried on in one sitting-room: but the need of a
good living-room is none the less felt in many a larger house where
the means of the occupants will allow of their having more rooms
than one in regular use. In such houses some of the functions of the
living room will no doubt be provided for separately. There will be
a nursery or play-room for the bairns in one house; a special room
for meals in another: in one, afternoon callers will be received in
a boudoir; in another, a study or library will be set apart for more
studious pursuits; while the tastes of some families may demand a
room set apart for music. But whatever rooms may be added, still, in
the great majority of cases, there will be needed one to serve as a
general living-room. Just as in the middle ages the great hall was
the centre of the house, all the other chambers clustering round and
being subordinate to it; so in the modern middle class house a good
living room is the first essential, and all the other rooms should be
considered in relation to it.