This week I visited Hardwick Hall, a 16th
century stately home that was built to impress and has a fascinating history.
It was commissioned by Bess of Hardwick who worked her way up from relative
poverty - via four marriages - to become the second wealthiest woman in the
kingdom. She specified an unusual layout: there is no grand entrance hall at
ground level and the lavish state rooms are situated on the upper floors.
Although it was occupied by her descendants until 1959, the building escaped
re-modelling because it was used as a mere secondary home. The last, solitary
occupant made herself cosy in just a few of the smaller rooms, which she
equipped with modern appliances and furniture. The rest she left alone. She had
done what many of us do - she had adapted the space to the way she actually
lived.
Hardwick Hall |
Bess’ other house, Chatsworth, which was preferred
by her descendants, is in a later but no less magnificent style. In talking
about it with a friend we agreed that, although the architecture and setting of
the house are exquisite, the interiors - lavish and opulent though they are -
do not impress in the same way: they are messy. The rooms are decorated in a
variety of fashions and contain a seemingly infinite and disparate collection
of furniture, ornaments and knick-knacks. Consequently they do not cohere
stylistically. While the vision for the building and its setting was clearly
realised according to strict professional disciplines, the interior reflects
the fact that daily lives are not
lived according to immutable patterns. Only a vigilant and fastidious stylist is able to
resist the gradual accumulation of mismatched items and it takes a rigid
disciplinarian to throw out granny’s sideboard because it doesn't meet the
current design aesthetic.
Chatsworth |
Is it possible to design interiors that suit
the way people live? I read that, in California, a billionaire is having a
house built to his specifications, one of which is a dressing room for his wife
which incorporates a raised catwalk so that she can try on her outfits in front
of an invited audience. Extravagant, but I suppose it could double up as a nifty
skateboard track for their kids. Most of us, however, don’t have bespoke
residences built for us; we make do with what has been built speculatively, in
which case the organisation of the interiors involves a little compromise. And
stylistic integrity, if it is considered at all, takes second place.
In mid 1940s America there was a serious
attempt to re-think the way that houses for the masses were designed and built,
and husband and wife designers Charles and Ray Eames took up the challenge
enthusiastically. Their idea was to make a flexible living space that could
meet the requirements of the ways in which people wanted - or were obliged - to
live. They were driven by philosophical ideals that valued knowledge,
discovery, technology and science for the common good, and saw no separation
between life and work. It was a bold idea, but it didn't catch on; not everyone
is a talented designer who can work from a home studio and, maybe, people
prefer to separate their home life from their work - or perhaps they have no
choice but to do so. In any case America subsequently filled up with “tract”
houses built to patterns which allowed for none of the individuality which the
Eames’ envisaged.
Eames |
The Eames’ were very successful in other
fields, however, especially furniture. Some of their pioneering chair designs
are still being manufactured and can be found all around the world. I even
spotted some in the cafeteria at Hardwick Hall.
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