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Showing posts with label Catherine Beecher. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Catherine Beecher. Show all posts

Paint It White

I opened the doors and windows of America and let the air and sunshine in,” Elsie de Wolf exclaimed. The early twentieth-century interior decorator is often credited for being the first to toss out the dark and heavy gloomy Victorian palette to make way for a lighter and brighter scheme.

But was she really the first to brighten the Victorian interior?


Philip Connard (1875-1958), May Morning, late 19th century, Musee d'Orsay


The mid-nineteenth century saw an increase in concern about health and hygiene. Most middle class homes included a ‘sick room’ for use when members of the household were ill. The decoration of these rooms, suggested by household manuals, was for the wall paper to be subdued (preferably the walls to be white washed), the textiles simple and the crockery bland. Air and circulation were mandatory. Nothing in the room was to excite or disturb a feverish patient.

Félix Vallotton, The Sick Girl, 1892 (Private collection)


Dust retaining surfaces and heavy draperies were being eased out towards the end of the century, while beds made of polished oak, brass or cast iron were being brought in. They did not harbor dust or mites and could easily be cleaned. After all, de Wolfe suggested the use of white painted brass beds in one’s home, as hospitals did. All this, she argued, helped to allow for more air, light and space.

Catherine Beecher, an important advocate of the systematization of housework and the education of women, suggested the need for light and bright kitchens, and whenever possible to wash the walls with white paint.

By the turn of the twentieth century, the attraction and influence of the Arts and Crafts movement was powerful. The British influence reached almost every Western nation, especially in America. The Arts and Crafts movement wasn’t all about handiwork, the use of oak wood with exposed mortise and tenon joints, and a dusky color palette. There were architects and designers who, long before de Wolfe began to practice, believed in her value of “light, air and comfort” as they opened up space and painted walls white.


William Morris’ summer home in Kelmscott Manor.

Though Elsie de Wolfe detested her dark childhood bedroom with walls clad in a William Morris design, I wonder if she would have disapproved of the Kelmscott Manor drawing room Morris redecorated with his wife, Jane, in 1871. They painted the walls white and chose simple white wool drapes. They also upholstered the furniture with a pattern on a calm blue ground he created for Morris & Company.


First floor drawing room, Red House


Prior to designing the interiors of their country get-a-way, Morris commissioned friend and architect Philip Webb to design their first home when he was newly married. Red House was completed in 1860. Although the style of Red House was based on a medieval theme and wrought with subtle medieval details, it is comparatively light and airy with an open floor plan and many white painted walls.


Drawing room in Standen. (image from The National Trust.)


Billiard room in Standen. (image from The National Trust.)

Philip Webb designed a number of English country houses. Many of his interiors had simple white-painted paneling -- much in contrast to the Victorian obsession of dark color palettes and rooms filled with clutter. A Wilshire house, Clouds (1881-1891), also designed by Webb included white walls and white painted plaster and woodwork with just a simple fireplace.


English architect CFA Voysey designed his own living room in The Orchard (1900) completely clutter-free. The interior space is very simple: he covered the walls with a violet fabric just to eye level then painted everything above white. The tiles around the fireplace hearth are a pale green. Though he did not align himself with modernists of his time, to our eyes this room is fresh, light and very modern.

Arguably, two designers who really let the air and sunshine in are Charles Rennie Mackintosh and Margaret Macdonald Mackintosh.


The Mackintoshes married in 1900 and moved into a flat in Glasgow decorating it in their own very unique language. Above is their studio drawing room – clear, calm and bright – this room is certainly the opposite of most dark, cluttered interiors so prevalent of the time.


The Mackintosh’s bedroom: walls, ceiling and furniture were all painted white with white drapes surrounding the white bed – designs stenciled on the frieze of the bed were repeated in embroidery on the bedcover and the valance (not shown). This all-white room was a radical departure of the time not only in color, but form and style.


The bedroom of The Hill House.


Designed in 1902 and completed in 1904, The Hill House was designed for the family of Glasgow publisher Walter Blackie in Helensburgh, Scotland.

The Mackintoshes understanding of spatial relationships, ability to deliver a clearly defined program, as well as create a unique repertoire of forms, colors, and exquisite details were truly a groundbreaking vision of the time. Their rooms were bright, airy and spacious and their furniture creations light and finely crafted. Their spaces weren’t simply decorated, they were designed.


The bedroom of The Hill House, expanded view.

Margaret was an incredibly talented artist and had great influence on her husband’s work. Exactly how closely the two collaborated on the interiors is unclear, but often her initials were added to his drawings and renderings. Particularly notable are her gesso murals and embroidered panels she alone created. One wonders if she lived in a country where her vision was more acceptable, wasn’t hampered by her disagreeable husband who lost clients, had the important social connections and the ability to self-promote what work we would be seeing?

Top image: Elsie de Wolfe's dining room on Irving Place second remodel c. 1900; Last five images: CFA Voysey from John Pile’s History of Interior Design, Mackintoshes Blake, Essential Charles Renie Mackintosh and Swinglehurst, CRM.

Kitchens: What Do They Say About Us


I, unfortunately, have a small kitchen. Though the design is filled with fancy stainless upgrades and sparkling granite slabs, it is STILL small and I can’t seem to manage to prepare more than one thing at a time. However, I must make do.

The height of the kitchen counter is too tall. I don't like this new standard of raising the heights of kitchen and bathroom counter tops -- I'm too short and you can't get a good grip when stirring a mixing bowl when the bowl hits your belly and not your hip. Counter tops, cabinets, work space, accessibility, visibility and storage are primary considerations in the design of cooking spaces and they all must be responsive to human dimension and body size. Fine… although I'm shorter than most, I still need space to work.

Second, it is a narrow galley kitchen. I feel like a pin ball bouncing back and forth in a corridor moving from stove to sink back to stove to counter space to refrigerator to oven and back counter space. Furthermore, I can only exit on either end to, say, hand someone a glass of wine. Better yet, retrieve one for myself. The addition of a husband shuffling around sneaking bites of food in the midst of preparation while a ruthless, determined little white dog begs for bites blinking his wet brown eyes makes the space seem awfully, awfully crowded.

Pic of my cousin’s daughter holding Billy. She tried her mood ring on his paw and it read ‘romantic’. An ex-stud dog (he was forced into sexual slave labor prior to being rescued) and is truly a Romeo with all the lady dogs on the block – he gently nuzzles his nose in their ear yet respects their boundaries.

So I have wondered what other people have done with small kitchens. I mean real kitchens that people have actually used. Kitchen filled with necessary cooking utensils, pots, pans, measuring cups and cutting boards.


Miles Redd, of course, configured a U-shaped plan which is most efficient. His kitchen provides enough space for several simultaneous activities and less claustrophobia.


Although the kitchen is now considered the most important room in a home, it still must be efficient and functional. The kitchen is the domicile center. It is where all social activity takes place despite efforts to shoo guests (and little white dogs) out. Although I have designed my one-day-in-the-very-distant-future ideal kitchen -- an enormous space with a two-story window, a blazing hearth and gleaming utensils -- in reality, the space plan must work.


Dream Kitchen: Steven Gambrel


Dream Kitchen: Nate Berkus



Dream Kitchen: George Terbovich

(I’ve been in this space and I am certain I would cook, feel and look better if I had this kitchen. However, I would need to upgrade my tattered, stained apron in this place.)



I like to check out homes – especially open houses – and comb over the kitchen with a careful eye. I honestly wonder who configured some of these spaces, including the one I have lived in for the past few years. Clearly not by a kitchen designer and nor a cook.


Catherine Beecher had it right when she first published A Treatise on Domestic Economy in 1841. She discussed in detail the needs of a kitchen user, the relationship with items needed to cook, and the need for greater efficiency and organization of space. She addressed the three main functions in a kitchen: storage, preparation, and cooking. And she was also a proponent of open shelving for easy and quick access.


American Woman’s Home published in 1869 by Beecher and her sister Harriet Beecher Stowe.


I was recently in a situation where I thought (hoped) to move. The kitchen floor plan and configuration was all wrong. But on a very limited budget (thank you recession), I configured a new plan using hearty materials from modest means. Open shelving was one solution. It would provide quick and easy access. And as long as I kept items on the shelves tidy and of the same color, I don’t think it would look chaotic. Many people are opposed to open shelving, especially realtors, but I want a room to bear evidence of its function. A kitchen is a space for work and not toiling around.


During the twentieth century, psychological, hygienic and technological concerns changed the attitude of the kitchen. Adjusting to the peace after WWI, designers with social concerns began to re-evaluate the space. Just because a home was not fitted with servants and domestic help, did not mean that users of the kitchen could not function efficiently.


Original photo of The Frankfurt Kitchen (1926) designed by Bauhaus architect Margarete Schütte-Lihotzky (1897 – 2000)


"How can household chores be facilitated for women by appropriate house building" was the title of an article written in 1921 but the Bauhaus architect Margarete Schütte-Lihotzky who is said to have invented the ‘modern’ kitchen. The Frankfurt Kitchen was modeled on a train railway car and regarded as a "housewife's laboratory". It used minimum space but efficiently for the working woman.


Kitchen restored today. Makes me rethink my desire for an all-white kitchen to polo-blue enameled cabinets and non-staining leather pulls. Peach tiles most certainly to be replaced.


After all, despite working several jobs, I’m still the Heimkulter -- a modest (working) housewife who chose and placed the furnishings, lamps and accessorized in every room. I decided upon the color scheme and painted the walls, upgraded lampshades, chose the bedding and the towels. I’ve been accused of taking over, however, I’m the heimkulter – who else scrubs the toilets and gets everyone fed.

History, no doubt, has moved many women forward, but women have always rearranged things within their house. We’ve let the light in. We largely make all the choices on dishes, bed covers and furnishings in all the rooms. We’ve enhanced the dignity of domestic work. But what remains is what a kitchen symbolizes – it is a repository for all sorts of values, attitudes and judgments. The kitchen is particularly revealing about what it says about the homeowner. It is a microcosm of the larger house. And I for one do not like what mine says about me: small, sleek and inefficient.

What does your kitchen say about you?