Why Dolls Houses?
This
goes way back. The first dolls house I remember seeing was in my
cousin’s playroom. Ann had a black and white mock Tudor house complete with
electric lights, and from the start I found its miniature details fascinating.
At the age of ten when attending a small weekly boarding school in Burford we
were taken into the local museum, and there I saw the wonderful 18th
century model of the Mansion House. It left a lasting impression and four years
later when I started to become interested in antiques I tried to buy a
magnificent Georgian Dolls house. Sitting on a drawer base stand, it had three
floors plus attic rooms and a splendid architectural façade. I scraped my
pennies together, but £100 only made me the under bidder. I regret now not
asking my father for a loan. However, when I eventually started dealing in
antiques there was plenty of opportunities to buy and sell dolls houses. I sold
one splendid simulated Bath stone house, which ended up in Arundel toy museum
and another with a sliding sash front above a to cupboard to a museum in
Ashburton.
My first
house. (The Mary-Anne Harper House)
I bought what I now call Mary-Anne Harper’s Doll’s House at
the end of April 1980 from antique dealer friends David and Pat Lane when
visiting their new home in Compton Abbas, Dorset. I was delighted with the
purchase and knew immediately I would not be selling it. Over the next ten
years I bought and sold several doll’s houses, but most of them had no or very
little contents and often the few bits that there were I kept for the Harper Doll’s
House. Since then I have added extensively to the contents with my own
handiwork, papering the walls, constructing demi loon tables, and shell
encrusted pole screens, various tables, pictures, more miniature books and new
curtains throughout. The house has gradually obtained the busy crammed look
that is so reminiscent of my own home.
The idea of having a doll’s house exhibition has been floating in the back of my mind for more than thirty years, but as the years rolled by it became increasingly obvious that I should do something about it, or let it go. Tenacious as I am the latter was not an option. I was delighted to be given the opportunity to mount an exhibition at my local art centre, An Lanntair in Stornoway. Doubly so since it would span the Christmas period and be seen by a much younger audience than usual. Running up to the show there would be school projects to build a Mystery Hotel. This was also open to the general public, and I felt it important that this should be exhibited within the exhibition space. All that was left to do was to get into my studio and workshop and start playing.
The earliest examples of doll’s houses come from Holland and
date from the close of the 17th century. Such elaborate examples as
those in the Rijks Museum in Amsterdam were too valuable to be the constant
plaything of children, and were more likely intended for the amusement and
edification of adults. Despite the tremendous attention to detail the objects
were seldom to scale and this is what gives them their charm. By the first
quarter of 18th century doll’s houses were appearing in Great
Britain but only in larger wealthy houses. The realistic architectural design
could incorporate sash windows that opened and fine interiors. Doll’s houses
became increasingly popular throughout the 19th century and during
the Victorian period many well to do families had a doll’s house. Although they
were playthings for children they also had an important educational roll for
young girls. Through play they would learn what was involved in the running of
a house. By the mid-20th century doll’s houses were being mass
produced and virtually any young girl could hope at some point to have her own
doll’s house. With mass production came a uniformity of scale and a resulting
loss of charm. Today doll’s houses have been further debased into
non-recyclable plastic fantasy trash. There is no question of handing them down
through the generations and instead end up unloved along with all the other
plastic toys in the charity shop. At the end of the 20th century
rather expensive kit doll’s houses were being made to one twelfth scale, but
once again they lacked charm, being simply too perfect. A doll’s house is not
difficult to make and need cost practically nothing if recycled materials are
used. Having said that I’ve often found myself wishing my hands were smaller,
especially when it comes to the intricacies of stair cases. Each year at the
end of October when I see large mounds of wood piled up to celebrate the
unsuccessful attempt by Guy Fawkes to destroy parliament I imagine how many
doll’s houses could be constructed and how much greater the enjoyment might be
for children than a yearly bonfire. As children we used to make miniature
gardens on a plate and to do so meant thinking small, searching out the finest
moss for a green lawn and only the very tiniest of flowers. I use that same
mind-set today when making miniature room settings. It’s not just a matter of
looking for miniature things, it’s also looking at detail and how a part of one
thing might be transformed into another. There is obviously the straight
forward working in miniature and this can be seen clearly when it comes to
making books. The same process is followed, paper cut, pages bound a fitted into
hard covers. There is plenty of choice when it comes to purchasing miniature
objects and these can play an important part in the final dressing of a room,
but there is nothing quite like the homemade house that has acquired handmade
objects over the years.
THE CROFTERS DOLL’S HOUSE.
I wanted to base this as near as I could to my own home,
however I decided that instead of a porch, which in itself produces certain
structural difficulties to the façade, I would add a third dormer window to create
a very charged roofline and more intrigue to view the upstairs landing. It is
important for me to use as much reclaimed timber as possible and the bulk of
the construction was done with old v-lining. For the stand I dismantled two
damaged dining chairs and reused the turned front legs. I decided to give a
simple grey cement harled grey colour with a green roof in what would have been
traditional diamond asbestos slates. The internal layout is identical to my own
house as far as fire places and windows go. The furniture and furnishing came
gradually over the months as various small pieces of fabric or wooden molding
caught my eye.
It was having discovered a source of local clay in Tolsta
and produced some Neolithic style pots which got successfully fired in my
Rayburn that I decided to make some tiny ceramic items. The plated on the
mantelpiece and bowls in the cupboard along with the candlestick on the table
are formed from this local clay. I enjoy using old fabrics for the furnishings
and the carpet in the parlour is a piece of my own weaving. The books in the
bookcase are all individually hand bound and again made from old damaged books.
The cloth covers and inside marbled fly leaf pages can all be recycled.
RESTORATION OF AN 1880’S VICTORIAN DOLL’S HOUSE.
Early this year I purchased a fine large Victorian doll’s house. To find such houses with their original paintwork is increasingly rare and although somewhat battered and touched in places by gloss white paint the external renovation was quite straight forward. The interior showed signs of some serious use with layers of later wallpaper and two fire places missing. The staircase was the most peculiar feature being totally out of scale and very steep. The risers of each step would equate to a good two foot, but it was lino covered and original and must stay. I did however add a banister rail which helped. Upstairs there was signs of decoupage wall paper and although none of this was redeemable I did decide to stick with the idea and papered over retaining the decoupage theme. For the other rooms I approached Moira McLean who has a wealth of old wall paper collected over decades during her documentation of abandoned houses on the Outer Hebrides. I was fortunate to have access to a large collection of doll’s house furniture collected back in the 1950’s by Eileen Scott Moncrieff’s mother, the bulk of which came from the USA.
The upstairs parlour contains a particularly fine assortment of 18th century style furnishings including a highboy, lowboy, chest of drawers, settees, mirror and wall clock. There is also a framed photo of Bing Crosby for good measure. The dining room and kitchen both have very high ceilings to accommodate the bay windows, but this only goes to add to the charm of the house. In the former I decided to hang a goodly number of pictures including a period photograph above the mantel piece, and to re-wallpaper with a striped paper that would if anything accentuate the height.
The needlework carpet is from a Victorian cushion cover as is the carpet in the parlour. For the kitchen I made a tall dresser and used the height for a cloths drier. The floor covering is again period small patterned lino. I decided to make it the bedroom a children’s bedroom since I had a full suite of blue furniture which contrasted well with the pink wallpaper. The twin sisters from the same collection also had a good assortment of toys.
THE MARY-ANNE HARPER
DOLL’S HOUSE.
I felt the Harper Doll’s House had become as packed and complete as a home that all it now required was a history. Its true history will never be known, but why not invent a history to complete the picture from its beginning back in 1846.
THE BACK STORY.
My name is Elizabeth Sutton and I was given this doll’s
house for my tenth birthday, on June 29th in the year 1900 by my
Great Aunt Mary-Anne Harper. My first memories of the house are of it standing
on the back wall of her drawing room behind a deeply buttoned chesterfield
settee and each time we visited I was allowed to open the doors and play
carefully with it. During those visits my Great Aunt Mary–Anne Harper recounted
the story numerous times of how she had received the house on her tenth
birthday, and how she had shared so many stories with my Grandmother Jane
Sutton, who also had a dolls house. I was fortunate to discover amongst my own
Grandmother’s papers two letter from Aunt Mary-Anne concerning the doll’s
house, and in the base draw of the doll’s house two more from my Grandmother
Jane. My mother Emily was very helpful, filling in any gaps in the
history. On the 26th of July
1846 Mary-Anne Harper received this doll’s house for her tenth birthday. She had
longed for a dolls house ever since seeing her Cousin Jane’s house two years
before. On the day of her birthday she was up with the lark and crept down
stairs to see if there was anything for her in the hall or withdrawing room.
Nothing, and so she returned to her bedroom and tried to read, but the
excitement and suspense was proving too much for her to concentrate. An hour
later at breakfast it was all smiles with birthday greetings and cards. When
her father had finished his third cup of tea and looked like he might continue
eating toast all morning her mother produced a parcel from the pedestal
sideboard. It was wrapped in red paper with a matching bow and looked like it
might contain a pair of new shoes. Mary-Anne was excited and disappointed at
the same time as she pulled at the two ends of the bow. As she opened the lid,
her young brother Steven, curious as always was already on his way round the
table. There was tissue paper, and below more tissue paper around four small
objects, so not shoes. Lifting out the first her excitement grew as she felt
between her fingers the tiny form of a miniature doll. It was a china doll, no
more than four inches high, in a cook’s uniform, with minute little hands and
feet in white porcelain. Her father informed her that it was her mother who had
so carefully dressed all the dolls. There was a lady of the house in pink silk,
a diminutive scullery maid with apron and the moustached master of the house in
evening dress, but where was the house, and was there going to be a house?
Steven was at her elbow having climbed onto the chair beside hers and wanted a
closer look. “Gently Steven” her mother rebuked as he snatched at the male
doll, “These are Mary-Anne’s, and you will have to ask her if you wish to play
with them”. Steven looked up at Mary-Anne and then placing the doll back on the
table replying, “Boys don’t play with dolls!”
Mary-Anne sat gazing at the four little dolls and marvelled
at the care her mother had taken over the tiny details of petticoat ribbons and
bows. “Now”, said her father, beaming from ear to ear, “I’d like you to follow
me into my office, for there is something else I want you to see”. Mary-Anne
could not contain her excitement but did not run on ahead for her father’s
office was strictly out of bounds to all children. Her father opened the door
wide into the darkened room, the only light coming in from the hall, and from
outside between a slight gap in the heavy brocade curtains. He stood aside and
told her to take a look behind the curtains that stretched across the bay
window, and there it was, the doll’s house that she had been dreaming of. It
resembled, at least in building material their own comfortable brick and
sandstone Regency villa, Waverly Lodge on the London Road leading out of
Berkhamsted.
“It will be up to you Mary, to choose
which room will be which” said her mother who was now crouching beside her.
“There are a few bits of furniture in the drawer”. The doll’s house stood on a
turned leg base with a single drawer. Mary-Anne opened it and found carefully
wrapped two tiny drawing room chairs. Next came the smallest of dinner gongs;
two coal scuttles, a basket of cutlery, candlesticks, a pewter tea urn complete
with working tap, and teapot with lid and hollow pouring spout, plus two glass
pots with little metal flowering plants. There was so much to arrange and sort,
and she couldn’t wait for the day that she could show all this to her cousin
Jane. From on top of the house her father produced yet another box, and within
this was more furniture. Miniature tables and dining chairs, chests of drawers,
gilt framed mirrors, a china cabinet and unbelievably the smallest of pianos.
She could almost hear the music that it might make even though there was no
actual mechanism.
Later that afternoon the house was transported upstairs to
Mary-Anne’s bedroom rather than the playroom. The house was hers and not for
just anyone to play with. If she wished she could invite people to play there
but it was Mary-Anne who would hold the key to the house.
26th July 1846. Dearest Jane, It is the best
birthday of my life. I now have my very own dolls house. It had been hidden as
a surprise in Papa’s office. I have decided the owner s will have the same name
as us, Mr Robert J Harper and his wife Agnes. The cook is Mrs Manners and the
scullery maid Elsie Gardener. I am so excited and can not wait to show you on
your next visit. Your happy cousin Mary-Anne.
14th August 1846. Dearest Mary-Anne, I was
delighted to see your splendid dolls house last weekend. It is so pretty. I
have made new curtains for the bedroom in my house with some fabric left over
from Mamma’s new day dress. Emily is stitching a new sampler which has a red
house very much like yours. There is a large area of grass with two deer. She
has already asked father if he will get it framed in bird’s eye maple. I have
started to collect wild flowers from the meadow near the river for pressing. I
am to start painting water colours and the Reverent Sumner has promised to give
me some tutoring. I think my house needs more pictures and therefore plan to
paint some miniatures. I hope you will come and stay with us soon. Your cousin
Jane
7th July 1848. Dearest Jane, I was so
thrilled to receive the tiny blue box from you for my birthday and felt sure
that it would contain something for the house. When I discovered the little
baby doll I immediately thought back to the last time we played with your house
and that your own little family had a small boy and a tiny baby doll. I am so
pleased that my household are starting a family. I think Agnes is very relieved
not to have gone through a period of confinement. Papa has made a sweet little
rocking cradle from one of his old cigar boxes, and I have lined it with some
bright red blanket material, the same as on the bed. Mamma tells me that you
will be unable to come to visit this month due to the arrival of your baby
brother Harold, but that we will be seeing you all in August. We are sure to
have some fine weather and papa has promised a boating trip. Your cousin
Mary–Anne.
In 1867 Mary-Anne’s brother, Steven and his bride of four
months sailed for Adelaide in South Australia. Her mother was devastated, but
her father put a brave face on it saying that he would surely return a wealthy
man. Mary-Anne did not marry and as her parents aged she became their carer. In
1872 they moved a few miles south to a smaller town house in Amersham with a
single story shop extension.
14th Sept 1872. Dearest Jane, I have just
finished unpacking and setting up the doll’s house in my bedroom at our new
home in Amersham. The bedroom is smaller than at Belstead Place, but I have a
small dressing room adjoining which takes the large wardrobe. The move from
Berkhamsted was not an easy one despite not being that far. Father found it
difficult to dispose of some things which I ‘am sure normally would have been
passed on to Steven. We had news only last week from Adalaide that they have a
second daughter and that they have moved into their new home on the outskirts
of the town. They have a very large garden and plan to plant lemons, oranges
and all manner of fruit. His timber business is doing very well. Mamma has been
under the weather since we arrived here and misses her garden. However, I have
plans for the little shop and have engaged a sign writer “Harper’s
Haberdashery”. I am sure that will distract her. We look forward to welcoming
you soon. My love to all the family Mary.
Here in Amersham Mary-Anne opened a dress making business.
Her mother died in 1882 and her father the year after. She continued the
business until 1904 when fire destroyed the shop storeroom. She sold and moved
to a small cottage looking out over the common. The cottage was too small for a
dolls house that served no purpose, so she contacted her Cousin Jane’s
daughter, Emily Sutton who had a daughter Elizabeth (my good self) whose 10th
birthday was coming up at the end of the month. 14th June 1904.
Dearest Emily, In two months’ time I am to move home to the little cottage that
I showed you in Old Amersham and am sorry to say that there simply will not be
room for my doll’s house. I know that your sister Rachael has Jane’s dolls
house and wondered if now that little Elizabeth is to be ten at the end of the
month if she would like my dolls house. On your visit last autumn I noticed she
was enthralled by it and I enjoyed seeing her delicate little hands taking such
care with the miniature items. I think I mentioned before that it was given to
me on my tenth birthday. It would give me great pleasure to know that my old doll’s
house had found a new home. I have already spoken with Mr Harris and he is
willing to organise the transport with his son. I look forward to hearing about
your holiday in the Lake District with Edward’s family. I remember old Mrs
Semple showing me a photograph of their magnificent home in Near Sawrey and the
countryside looked very picturesque. Much love Mary
In the winter of 1912 my aunt Mary-Anne died after a short
illness, and she was buried alongside her parents in the churchyard of Old
Amersham.
The doll’s house remained in the playroom even when it was
no longer used as such and became the sewing room. In the summer of 1919 I
married Michael Antrobus. We had known each other for almost six years, and had
been engaged for three of those years. However the First World War had put a
stop to so many things and Michael felt it wrong to enter into marriage when
there was a possibility that he may not return from France. He did return, but
like so many others he was a changed man. During only two home leaves, and for
over a year after the war he would not speak of what he had witnessed, beyond
saying it was a terrible time. I found him on several occasions sitting on the
bench at the far end of the garden beyond the vegetable plot, spade by his
side, hands covered in soil and sobbing. I would sit silently beside him until
it passed. I learnt that he had buried many of his fellow soldiers, at least
what they could find of them. The conditions seemed beyond any human endurance
and yet here he was, damaged, but one who had survived. We lost my older
brother Harry right at the end of the war, but as the months past and I found
myself with child we began to make plans. We had moved into a newly built red
brick house on Shrublands Road in Berkhamsted and Michael caught the train into
London each day for his work at Somerset House. When our son was born he was
christened Harry Edward. It was just before Christmas 1921 when the doll’s
house returned to Berkhamsted. Harry was still too young to be playing with a
doll’s house, but by the time he was able to walk he would peer in through the
windows. I introduced him to the occupants of the Harper household. In 1927
when Harry was five he knew that the key to the house was kept in the drawer of
the stand and he was able to open it at will. I had wondered if he wasn’t too
young to be trusted to play with it but Harry was a gentle child, and although
he did play with it on occasions his real passion was a tin train set. He was
going to be a train driver and drive his father to work every morning. The war
was never mentioned, but one day when I noticed the little man of the house was
no longer there I asked Harry where he might be.
23rd September
1927.
Dearest Mamma, Do you remember the little man of the house from
Mary-Anne’s house? It’s been missing for some time now, but I was sure it would
turn up. Having given the playroom a real spring clean and found nothing I
decided to ask Harry if he could remember where it might be. Without a trace of
distress he said that Mr Harper had died. I was somewhat taken aback, but
manage to continue the interrogation. He told me that they had had a funeral
and that Mr Harper was buried in the garden. “I can show you where” he said
cheerfully, so we headed outside. He indicated a spot at the base of the privet
hedge and with a trowel I started to dig. Harry was distraught, “You can’t dig
him up Mummy, he’s dead.” I then said the most stupid thing along the lines
that I just wanted to check he was still there, but Harry looked at me so
sternly I had to stop. Later that evening I went out again but found nothing. I
could not rebuke him but fear some small rodent must have made off with Mr Harper.
Remember when I was a similar age, leaving my teddy bear in a hollow at the
base of the old yew tree. I thought it the most perfect home for a bear. I
cried and cried the following morning when he had gone without trace. You
suggested that he must have run off with the woodland folk, but I knew. I’ve
told Harry if he wants to play at funerals then he must ask me first so we can
at least arrange a coffin. He is such a serious little boy and at times I worry
that we have allowed those terrible war years to creep back into our lives.
Michael is planning on digging up a part of the lawn for fruit bushes so who
knows we may yet exhume Mr Harper. Fondest love Elizabeth.
When a second war was declared on Germany Somerset House and
all the records were moved for safety to Llandudno in North Wales. We travelled
north with Michael’s work and rented a furnished terraced house looking out
over Penrhyn Bay. Our home back in Berkhamsted was rented to William and
Jessica Sutton the older brother of my sister Janet’s husband. I stored our
personal affairs up in the attic and had wondered if it would be best to lock
the doll’s house door, Sutton’s had twin girls aged seven and they had been
used to playing with the doll’s house at their Aunt Janet’s so it seemed rather
mean not to allow them to play with my doll’s house.
In 1940 Harry joined the Royal air force at the age of 19.
He became a gunner, flying in Lancaster bombers and in 1942 was shot down
returning from a raid on Amsterdam. There were no survivors. Michael and I returned
to Shrublands Road at the end of the war, but the death our only son Harry saw
Michael floundering in bouts of deep depression.
In 1958 Michael took early retirement and we cut all ties
with Berkhamsted moving to a thatched cottage in Fontmell Magna, a few miles
south of Shaftesbury in Dorset. The doll’s house went with us, but remained
shrouded under a blanket in an adjoining barn. Inside the house were three
boxes containing all the miniature house furniture and a forth box containing
nine bisque headed dolls and two wax dolls from my mother Emily‘s collection. I
had never been allowed as a child to play with these dolls and had always found
their lifelike appearance and closing eyes rather spooky. During those war
years the doll’s house had received constant use from the Sutton twins along
with some minor damage. The interior had survived remarkably in tacked with
only one lead candlestick lost and a chair leg broken. The house rested
untouched closed to the world and the curiosity of tiny hands for the following
twenty years. In 1968 my husband Michael Antrobus died.
In April 1980 I read an advertisement in the local Blandford
Forum newspaper offering to pay top prices for old dolls. When I rang the
number, Pat Lane answered the phone, and after a short discussion we agreed
that she and her husband David would call the following evening.
I was shocked at the price that Pat offered, and no idea
they were worth so much. I gave them tea and was rather embarrassed by the
large amount of cash that was counted out. I asked David and Pat if they might
be interested in an old painted pine chest of drawers that was out in the barn
and so I went with David to look while Pat packed up the dolls. The chest of
drawers turned out to be of little value but David’s eye caught sight of the
doll’s house partially covered by a dust sheet. Was it for sale? I was unsure,
but realised it had sat there unloved for years. Maybe it was time that someone
else gained pleasure from it. Pat came through to join us as the sheet was
removed. After a thorough inspection we agreed on a price of £120. The doll’s
house was loaded into their van and back in the kitchen I told them a little of
the houses history adding that they should find in the drawer along with much
of the original contents an envelope with a more complete story.
Another chapter in the history of the doll’s house had
begun.
From: David Lane
Antiques, Downs Farm, Compton Abbas, Shaftsbury, Dorset.
To: Tom Hickman,
Grampound Antiques, Grampound, Truro, Cornwall.
Mid-19th
century doll’s house on stand with original brick painted exterior, an
assortment of doll’s house furnishings. £180.
Paid cheque with
thanks David lane
In 1982 the Harper Doll’s house came with me to South Devon
where I traded from Zeaston Farm outside South Brent. In 1983 I moved up to
Frome and started to restore my 17th century town house, No.10 Bath
Street, and the doll’s house following on a few months later. Having given up
the antique business around 1991 there followed a couple of years trying to
take myself seriously as an artist. In 1993 I sold up and moved to an old farm
house in Brittany, where I was able to continue painting without any financial
worry. The doll’s house moved with me to France, where it resided in the large
attic bedroom and received only light supervised use from friend’s children. In
2005 after the death of my father I took his ashes back to the island of Davaar
that we once owned. I then followed in his footsteps to the Outer Hebrides. I
could not resist such a magical place and after many summers of working on my
little croft house in New Tolsta on the Isle of Lewis I brought the Harper
doll’s house with me placing it on the back wall of the newly decorated parlour
where it now stands. My first full winter on Lewis coincided with the Corona
virus pandemic which gave me time to look again at the doll’s house in detail.
There have been several repairs and a few new additions, two new easy chairs
with boxwood legs and upholstered in small patterned arts and craft material. A
new bookcase in the dining room houses the miniature book collection, while the
four poster bed now has a pot cupboard on either side.
Now in my early 70’s, I still enjoy busying myself over the
winter months in making doll’s house furniture and loving how the Harper House
in particular has become crammed with intrigue and history. With no children of
my own the future for the Harper doll’s house is unclear, but in its completeness
it has become such a rarity that I feel sure the story will continue.
In 2022 my little croft house won BBC Scotland’s Home of the
Year and the judges during their visit were equally captivated by the Harper Doll’s
house, finding within like a Russian Matrooshka doll an even smaller minute
dolls house. Houses within houses, homes within homes.
THE TERRACED BATH STONE HOUSE.
I was busy pulling useful timber from a neighbours skip when she appeared with a wooden box that was also being chucked out. Perfect for adaption to a doll’s house I loaded it up with the rest. There was little in the way of constructional work required. Holes were cut for windows and door, while two partitions inside divided the house into three floors. When working with a limited number of rooms it is always interesting to make the choice, and in this case it was influenced by the items I wanted to display from the Scott Moncrieff collection. The ground floor became a 1950’s kitchen, the first floor a gentleman’s study and the top floor the music room that boasts a grand piano with wind up music box.
The kitchen is crammed with vintage items, and the two women of the house are also from the same period. The refrigerator and shelves are well stocked with food.
The parlour has wallpaper that I have used several times before. It is a late Victorian landscape boarder paper that would have been originally placed above the picture rail. The hooded fire place was made using a small decorative drawer pull handle. The gilded furniture I found in while living in France, but the red velvet uphostry left a lot to be disired. Both the small center table and the chairs had a dark mahogany varnish which replaced with gold paint. The breakfront bookcase and loncase clock are once again from the American collection.
Up on the top floor in the music room the only noise is from the cleaning lady busy with the Hoover.
THE AUSTRLIAN VERANDA HOUSE.
The inspiration for this house came from one I’d seen while visiting friends in Western Australia. It was once again constructed from scrap materials, but the veranda made for an interesting departure from the basic box form. The stand originated from the local charity shop, once a pair of dining chairs of which the only redeeming feature was the front legs. In using old timber already painted I was able to achieve a look that would fool most people into thinking it was well over a hundred years old. The dimensions of the house are such that the only practical division of the interior was into two with a kitchen downstairs and a bedsit upstairs.
The wonderful brightly coloured lino was a fortunate find discovered underneath several other layer in a derelict house. The brass fire hood is once again adapted from a drawer handle. The dresser cupboard was originally a rather cumbersome thing. By cutting it in half I got a wall cupboard for the Harper kitchen and a rather Scottish looking dresser base. The incorporation of a beamed ceiling helps to give a cottage feel along with the hand painted brick chimney breast. The stick-back chairs look complicated to make, but like most country furniture they are of simple construction most of which can be achieved with a sharp Stanley knife and a small drill. Anything with four legs is straight forward and it is only when turning to three legs as with the cricket table that things become a little more complex. Hardest of all was the folding ironing board. There are times when I think something is going to defeat me, but persistence is a great virtue.
The upstairs bedsit is a wonderful jumble of scale with a tiny fragment of 18th century glass reversal print framed in what looks like a colossally deep frame, as is the oversized needlework cushion beneath it. This was made by an Australian friend who used to make up cushions for when I was dealing in Antiques and she thought it might fit the Harper house. The tripod table is another one of those three legged triumphs that entailed no lathe work for the turned column. The American mule chest on the back wall is vibrantly painted in the manner of Thomas Matteson, from South Shaftsbury, Vermont.
TREE HOUSE DREAMS.
It is said that to dream of a house is to discover another part of oneself. In my case dreaming of houses is a relatively frequent occurrence, indicating perhaps a certain complexity within my own makeup, or simply the magical pleasure I take in night time creativity. One such memorable dream was of five bottle-like towers constructed entirely of glass and hanging from the face of a cliff. The magnificent edifice was entered via a tunnel descending into the dark and giving no indication of its incredible crystal interior. Everything including the furniture was made of glass and the light dazzled and reflected from every part of the room as if I was taking a shower under a sun drenched waterfall.
A large part of my childhood was spent in trees to the point
where I felt as comfortable high in the canopy of their protective branches as
down on ground level. I once fell from the top of a very tall Western Hemlock
pine, having disturbed a screech owl from her daytime perch. I let go but only
dropped a few feet before being caught by another branch. I certain woods I
could pass from tree to tree, dangling hand over hand until the bending branch
left me in reach of another. I could hide in the trees where nobody thought to
look up and nobody could follow me. This was my kingdom, my world. Fifty years
on I still found myself climbing trees simply for the pleasure and to imagine
being housed and cradled by a living structure.
Now I could dream again, all be it in miniature. The first step was to find a suitable tree, not always obvious on the Isle of Lewis, however Lews Castle grounds was the obvious starting point and it did not disappoint. I drove my van up to high point above the golf course and there found a large fallen limb. I only needed part of it so with saw in hand made an appropriate cut which allowed me to get it in the van. Getting it in the workshop was another matter which required further cuts. The first step was to create a platform from which to place the house. The design was inspired by a sketch I made back in 2007 for the book “A disappearing world”. The black and white timber framed look came from tree houses produced back in Tudor times but for ease of construction my timbers were made of thick cardboard and stuck on. There was no overall plan and much like a true tree house it gathered its form from the tree itself.
I still had no idea
how
ON THE ROAD.
Given the profusion of camper vans visiting the islands I felt I should include at least one form of mobile home. Not the summer month’s holiday variety but a real traveller’s home. The gipsy caravan came ready built from a friend, but it had never had the colourful paint job that traditionally displays the pride they have in their home. Living very much an outdoor life meant that the bed was the most important part of the interior even if the wagon was accompanied by a bender.
TWIN BEDS AND BATHROOM.
Sticking with the idea of boxed dioramas I dug out two wooden champagne boxes. The first was to house twin beds as well as twin occupants. As much as possible this took on centralised mirror image with an internal decoupage window at either end. The wallpaper was again from my own collection of freeze paper and this time it was with an Arts and Craft feel. The paintings were pre-Raphaelite with tiffany lamps in each corner.
The second houses a very elegant 1950’s bathroom suite which again came from the Scott Moncrieff collection, while the walls are covered in period wall paper to the dado rail, and beneath avocado green hand painted tiles All it lacked was an occupant, which as yet I haven’t found.
Mr RAIKES’S LIBRARY.
Many years ago when I first started out as an antique dealer I came across a small Staffordshire bust of Mr Raikes who was the founder of the Sunday Schools. Larger bust were also produced, but since this particular tiny likeness was damaged I shoved it into a draw. However I didn’t forget it, and now on deciding to construct a library I retrieved Mr Raikes and based the room around him. I made his desk first which I decided needed to house as many of my miniature books and to that end the desk had no drawers but large open compartments at each end for books. When creating an interior there is also a wonderful opportunity to design your own furniture. I very carefully sliced in have some spindles from the back of a chair in order to decorate and define the upper half of the bookcases. Although I made thirty hand bound book for the library I was not about to embark on filling all the shelves with real books. I discover a basket full of terrestrial globes in a local Stornoway shop. They were just polystyrene covered balls but just the right scale to be included if I could make a stand. Somewhat of a fiddle I did in the end manage but it was one of those jobs where you require at least two pairs of extremely small hands.
The use of maquettes has been employed by the building industry for centuries and during the 20th century stage design invariably involved the construction of a scale model in order to deduce what the audience were going to see from all aspects of the auditorium. Since the exhibition was to be held in the An Lanntair Art Centre it seemed sensible to base the scale model on our own stage. The only book I can remember my mother reading to us as children was Wind in the willows, and so I began thinking of a production. Two scenes sprang to mind, one of the interior of Toad Hall and a second set outside on the banks of the river. I had some very valuable help from Colin Thompson who had years of experience in theatre design.
PORTABLE SAMPLES.
There was one more thing on my list of miniature things that I felt had a place in the exhibition. The miniature sample or apprentice piece. During my trips to Ireland in the late 80’s I saw only a couple of miniature dressers and both those had been stripped of their original paint. The small Irish dressers could have been apprentice pieces, or occasionally made as toys, however most were made as portable samples of craftsmanship and design for their journeymen cabinet makers. There was no way I could put my hand on such rare pieces therefore the only alternative was to make them myself. All three were made entirely of scrap wood removed during the renovation of a croft house. The two tier chicken coop dresser is a mid-19th century from the Limerick area. It illustrates
The fiddle fronted dresser with drawers and sledge feet is from County Down and its base would have store pails of milk and spring water.
The blue and cream painted dresser has a facia of pierced hearts, shamrock the favourite “flying wheel” which occurs in the west and south-west as well as parts of France. This particular dresser comes from County Tipperary.
