L’OISEAU EST MORT. A story of the living dead by Tom Hickman.

 

The bird had seen the old wrecked piece of furniture that lay rotting in the linhay, partially exposed to the elements and had immediately noted the open drawer, and seeing the enclosed space as an inviting and possibly ideal location for a nesting site. The old side table had been discarded several years ago, the paint now pealing and surplus to requirement. Cobwebs and dust-covered household detritus littered the dry scrubbed pine top, while beneath a box of potatoes had been left to chit and then forgotten, leaving straggling shoots to whither and die. The bird alighted and then hopped down into the drawer; although dusty it remain practically empty apart from a small ball of binder twin and the bird saw immediately the potential to build. He made his way to the back of the drawer, which would provide perfect hidden shelter for his expected family, with adequate head height and an easy construction area.

So pleased was he with the space that he hadn’t heard the footsteps and when the shadow darkened he thought it just a passing cloud. The sudden movement terrified him and he froze ridged with fear as he was plunged into darkness and the drawer pushed closed. There followed various rummaging noises and something being placed atop the table, but still he dare not move. Then the footsteps left and all fell silent and still. It didn’t take him long to realise he was in serious trouble as he moved around the space pecking at the sides, probing for some means of escape.

 Then panic struck as he flapped to get free from what he now feared would be his final resting place. Hours past and still he remained imprisoned in the dark, tired and hungry from his exertions he lost track of time and as night fell he finally slept through sheer exhaustion.

When he finally awoke it was due to a sense of movement as the drawer was opened wide. He had immediately thought to fly from the drawer but was horrified to discover his wing feathers had been transformed into nothing more than a bunch of quills. There could be no way these apologies for feathers could aid his escape, and so he moved not a limb as the hand closed gently about him. He found that the warmth of this human hand calmed him and was strangely unsurprised with just how peaceful he felt. He was carried from the shed to the neighbouring red brick farm cottage and still he felt no need to panic. Then, even when he was placed on the clean cool white plate he made no effort to move. The man stepped back from the table and search in an open cutlery tray for a knife and fork, then settling down he pulled his chair up to the table. He stare down at the bird and muttered a few unclear words which the bird thought sounded like “You’re not much of a catch”, and then placing the knife and fork each side of the plate proceeded to delicately turn the bird over between the tips of his fingers. 

Only now as the bird lay on his back in an unfamiliar position did he start to feel uncomfortable. Certain questions flashed through his mind and foremost amongst them was “What am I doing here?” Surely this could not be happening to him and that he would soon awake from this bazaar nightmare. Then to his surprise the man took out a large piece of paper and started to draw. He lay staring back up at the man, watching his deep concentration on his face and he felt powerless to move. The drawing went on for hours it seemed and his mind wandered to all those heights he had flown to, the bushes he’d made nest in and the young he’d help to raise, the close call he’d had once when the farm cat had taken several of his tail feathers. Another terrifying time when he’d become hopelessly tangled in the plastic netting of the strawberry cage. He remembered the big calloused hand that held him so gently as the green plastic was cut from his wings and now realise it was the same hand that had taken him from the drawer. Then just as he thought he was about to get cramp in his left leg the man stopped and rolled him back onto his front. The bird still found himself unable to move and lay there immobile on the plate until the following morning. The man returned at dawn and switching on an overhead light once again began to draw.

 The bird felt calm in his presence and drifted off into a deep dreaming sleep where winds blew strong and skies seemed endless. He rolled and plunged through lashing rain, then floated and basked under a brilliant blue canopy.

 He soared to heights he had never thought possible, rolling and hurling himself backwards to swoop at unbelievable speeds, fireworks flashed and at one point he thought he saw himself floating weightless. 

He was the master of the air, in total control of his body rising in the warm thermals, twisting and flexing every sinew in his body simply for the pleasure. He had found his paradise.  

DOLL'S HOUSES AND THE ART OF THE MINIATURIST.

 

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 18^th 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 17^th 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 18^th 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 19^th 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-20^th 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 20^th 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 18^th 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 29^th 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 26^th 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.

26^th 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.

14^th 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

7^th 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.

14^th 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 10^th birthday was coming up at the end of the month. 14^th 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.

 23^rd 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.

 

 

INVOICE 136                                                                              April 28^th 1980

From: David Lane Antiques, Downs Farm, Compton Abbas, Shaftsbury, Dorset.

To: Tom Hickman, Grampound Antiques, Grampound, Truro, Cornwall.

Mid-19^th 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 17^th 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 18^th 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 anyone would gain access to the house and my main concern was securing it to some sort of base. My workshop is an embarrassing mess, but this is my method work from a point of total chaos. I had decided the roof should be in corrugated tin and this proved remarkable easy. By removing one side of a cardboard box to expose the corrugation it produced the required effect. The interior had a beamed ceiling and a planked floor to the bedroom, however I still hadn’t completed the entrance and instead pressed on with the paintwork. There was to be an outside sitting area. For what is the point in being in such an elevated position and not being able to sit outside and admire the view? For this I would need to attach another support branch and produce some rustic fencing and furniture. I found a bag of driftwood that prove to be perfect for the job. Now I really did have to look at how to ascend into the tree.

A wrap around spiral staircase was the obvious answer. Each tread was cut into the trunk and a rope supported by more driftwood produced a staircase that was equally suited to the style of house. The roof and the two walls right of the entrance door were removable to allow access for placement of furniture and play. A wood burning stove went on the back wall and its rusty old stove pipe attached to the outside. I introduced a touch of rust also to the green painted corrugated iron roof. To make it less like a dead tree stump I added additional twiggy branch, but it was important that these were removable for transport. Now came the tricky part, could I get it out of the workshop. Well it was certainly tricky, but getting it into the studio was a lot easier. Here I could work on the furnishings and a small wood shed at the base of the tree. It seemed only logical that with a wood burning stove one should have a supply of logs and that woodshed should have a rain water butt, and the corrugated tin would match that of the house.

 

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.

   

Back in the workshop I found myself looking at an old mahogany drawer. What could I do with that? It was obviously too small to make into a doll’s house, but I didn’t have to wait long for an idea to form. I had already thought about making single rooms, and an underwater mermaid’s grotto gave me a chance to work again with shells. The walls were lined with mirrors and the ceiling encrusted with shells and seaweed. A single tall blue and white vase was place centrally on a bracket on the back. Sea horses found on beaches in South West Australia hang from the ceiling and small table and chair are the only furniture standing in the centre. The floor is covered in tiny flat pebbles found on a beach in New Zealand, while the dried sponges are from Western Australia.

 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.

If I thought that was difficult then why on earth did I attempt a library steps. There were a couple of times when I almost put my fist through the lot, but once again persistence prevailed. You might detect that it has a definite left hand tilt but that all adds to the charm. The desk turned out to be too large, but somehow that doesn’t matter. The club fender turn out to be a lot easier. The carpet is a fragment of very early woven goat’s hair fabric, possibly 18^th century or earlier Mediterranean.

 

The use of maquettes has been employed by the building industry for centuries and during the 20^th 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-19^th century from the Limerick area. It illustrates how closely people still lived with their livestock. The bowls are displayed whamelled, upside-down so as not to gather dust.

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.