Atmospheric Intent
Interior ambition
“Il faut une faute de goût pour réussir une decoration (you need an error in taste to make a decoration succeed). Otherwise it’s too sterilized, too perfect.” — Jacques Grange
Atmosphere is often thought of in terms of the character, feeling, or mood of a place or situation. Understanding atmosphere, or lack thereof, is key to designing a successful work of architecture and/or an interior. This might reflect function, as in the case of a public building, or, if designing a private dwelling, a client’s specific personal preferences; not only that, but throughout history, architecture has been used as a medium through which to convey messages to the world at large, whether that be wealth, power, ambition or benevolence. Such factors might be intrinsically linked to a building’s function, for e.g. prisons, cinemas, schools and hospitals, or, a matter of pure unabashed fantasy, as can be seen in the work of architect’s Sir John Vanbrugh (1664-1726) and William Kent (1685-1748) who designed many of the great English country estates. As something of an extreme example, the fanciful Indo-Saracenic edifice of Brighton Pavilion served essentially no function other than to amuse a vein and profligate Prince Regent who needed somewhere suitable to entertain his mistress away from the rigors of Court life. This exotic “mad-house” (as described contemporaneously by the Comtesse de Boigne), in all of its kaleidoscopic silliness and phantasamagoric contradictions was not only an architectural manifestation of early nineteenth-century eclecticism, but a material personification if its patron — a man of easy wit and charm, as well as political indolence and somewhat questionable morals. Swedish architect Martin Brudnizki (b. 1966) employed similar principles when tasked with conjuring up a new incarnation of the decades old Mayfair member’s club Annabel’s; channelling the “the spirit of English eccentricity”, Brudnizki’s maximalist interiors are a veritable cacophony of pleated-silk walls, pink onyx basins, topiary, exotic birds and lest not forget — a coat-check “pagoda” nestled under a Grade I listed Georgian staircase. The result is almost overwhelming, a fantasy land into which an elite roster of wealthy patrons can seek refuge from the real world — a certain sort of “real world” anyway. It is, essentially, built on precisely the same principles employed not only at Brighton Pavilion, but at any number of “pleasure palaces” throughout history, and, increasingly, something the 0.01% are once again employing in their own homes. Such “otherworldliness” can be seen across the multiple homes of Swiss art collector and patron Maja Hoffmann (b. 1956), and, in particular, her India Mahdavi designed London town-house, which features a “celebration” of Royère’s iconic “Ours Polaire” sofas (upholstered in a thick deep purple plush), Rudolf Stingel (b. 1956) designed carpets, copper-leaf ceilings and blue-chip art installations by the likes of Olafur Eliasson (b. 1967) and Franz West (1947-2012).
The home of artist Alessandro Twombly, Lazio, Italy, showcasing an intoxicating array of abstract art, photograph by Miguel Flores-Vianna, c/o Vendome
The wonderfully atmospheric home of Joseph Achkar and Michel Charriere, Paris, photographed by Miguel Flores-Vianna, c/o Vendome
On that note, there are certain items of art, objet and décor that have, over time, become associated with money and power; traditionally speaking it includes ormolu, boulle furniture, panelling, chandeliers, marble fireplaces and works by Rembrandt (1606-1669), Titian (c.1488-1576), Canaletto (1697-1768) and other such illustrious Old Masters. Then, with the advent of modern art and, architecturally speaking, modernism, both of which of course went hand in hand, following an initially cold reception by a stuffy and set-in-their-way European elite, ideas of what it was to be cultured, and to have refined good taste started to shift and change. Iconic interiors such as those designed by Jean-Michel Frank (1895-1941) for Marie-Laure (1902-1970) and Charles de Noailles’s (1891-1981) storied Hôtel Bischoffsheim at Place des États-Unis, as well as the homes of Yves Saint Laurent (1936-2008) and Pierre Bergé (1930-2017), Roger Vivier (1907-1988) and Bunny Mellon (1910-2014) demonstrated the charms of an eclectically curated interior, combining classical, as well as modern art. Then, skipping forward in time, in the late seventies and early eighties decorative-arts dealers like Jacques Lacoste, Alan Grizot, Patrick Seguin and Félix Marcilhac, “re-discovered” pieces by the design greats, Eugène Printz (1889-1948), Émile-Jacques Ruhlmann (1879-1933), André Arbus (1903-1969) and their ilk at a time when they had already fallen into relative unpopularity and obscurity. Super-star designers like Jacques Grange (b. 1944) and Peter Marino (b. 1949) increasingly started to use such pieces in their interiors, sometimes installing entire architectural elements, as was the case with Grange, when, for a very lucky client, he acquired the leather-padded smoking room, originally designed by Frank for perfumer Jean-Pierre Guerlain (1905-1996), and had it installed, in its entirety, in his newly appointed apartment. Very soon a new “luxury” aesthetic started to emerge, which took off in the early 90s, emulated by a myriad decorators catering to those newly minted “masters of the universe”, with near unlimited budgets, who had a desire to be taken seriously by the establishment (in much the same sense as the numerous classically inclined hôtel particulier that sprung up all over Paris at the turn of the nineteenth century). If one breaks down the intent behind such interiors, it essentially comes down to the same desires as those seventeenth and eighteenth century European aristocrats, fresh from their Grand Tour of Europe; for their guests to perceive them as being learned and erudite, with an appreciation of both art and history. In contemporary parlance, this might visually manifest itself as a outfitting ones drawing room with an abstract by Poliakoff (1900-1969), a Roman torso from Galerie Chenel, s couple of Louis XVI fauteuil and a Guy de Rougemont (1935-2021) coffee table.
An interior by Arthur Elrod in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, demonstrative of an easily identifiable mid-century style, image c/o Vendome
These eclectically appointed interiors are, understandably, the subject of multiple shoots in magazines like Architectural Digest, World of Interiors and Elle Decor, and in turn, they’re shared on social media, seen frequently on Pinterest and Instagram and, if there are elements seen used again and again, for e.g. wicker, ceramics or Moroccan rugs, they very soon become “trends” and filter down in price and quality until they appear on the high-street. Specific pieces by twentieth century design greats, Le Corbusier (1887-1965), Eileen Gray (1878-1976), Pierre Jeanneret (1896-1967) et al are also widely the subject of fakes and forgeries for those who wish to achieve a particular “look” without the means to invest in an original, or, an authorised re-edition. This is not only a problem for those on a tight budget, as with a recent slew of auction records, desirable furniture and art is now out of reach for the majority of even the 0.1% — at the recent sale of the collection of Annie and Jean Dalsace at Christie’s Paris for e.g. a Chareau desk and a pair of armchairs went for €812,000 and €620,000 respectively. These were of course from the fabled Maison de Verre, for which there was, inevitably, an added premium to be paid, but, it’s reflective of prices across the board, which are going through the roof and have become affordable to only elite collectors. This is something galleries cottoned onto some time ago, and accordingly, be it furniture or art, they’ve been championing artists and makers whose work is evocative of for e.g. Cy Twombly (1928-2011), Jean-Michel Basquiat (1960-1988), Georges Jouve (1910-1964) and Diego Giacometti (1902-1985), all of whom are much sought after and, more importantly, had a very specific aesthetic style that has been seen over and over again in the homes of the super-rich cognoscenti. Last week at Frieze London, a renowned dealer expressed his bewilderment at why so many galleries were showing work that was, essentially, a rehash of that which had gone before, and the answer, quite simply, is that it’s highly reminiscent of certain blue chip artists, but more affordable to those collectors with a limited spending power. The very same thing can be seen in terms of furniture, with bronze framed chairs and coffee tables, plaster chandeliers and lamps (à la Giacometti), matt black ceramics and rotund Royère-esque sofas. What’s key here is that none of these are copies per se (although some do come incredibly close), but for those interior designers able to pick apart and identify what creates a certain sense of atmosphere in a room, in terms of materiality, fabrics, lighting etc. such pieces really are worth their weight in gold.
An duplex on New York’s Upper East Side, with interiors by Robert Stilin, a designer much sought after for his ability to create interiors with a strong sense of atmosphere, image c/o Vendome
One tends to think of twentieth century design in terms of furniture, but of course a good many ensemblier’s created a Gesamtkunstwerk or “total work of art” — in which they designed every element down to the taps and light switches. However, given the majority of such interiors are no longer in existence, is it ok to pick and choose elements of say, Art Deco interiors, having them reproduced by contemporary artisans without, necessarily, giving credit to the designer? One of my favourite recent interiors is an apartment overlooking New York’s central park; however, I recently came to realise the bathroom vanity, and for that matter, the niche in which it is sits, are both exact copies of a design by French architect Maxime Old (1910-1991). Similarly a well-known interior designer recently incorporated copies of Villa Necchi Campiglio’s iconic stainless steel doors in the sitting room of a turn-of-the-century home in London’s leafy Chelsea. In both cases, these architectural features are an integral part of creating an atmosphere associated with elegant 1940s interiors. A good many people would be quick to jump on a designer who copied an iconic piece by Eero Saarinen (1910-1961) or Mies Van der Rohe (1886-1969), but often their interiors are less known, and so reproductions of elements such as panelling, fire surrounds and staircases attract little attention. On the same note, eighteenth century French furniture and panelling are reproduced, and have been for hundreds of years, without anyone batting an eyelid (as for that matter are works by the likes of Maison Jansen, which in themselves are heavily inspired by the past), and so is it really any different? Whilst I’m sure such questions might elicit a multitude of answers, from whichever century one takes inspiration (however direct), it is with the intention of creating a particular atmosphere. It’s often said that unlike the twentieth century, where the 40s, 50s, 60s and so on were identifiable by their very specific interior trends, the last few decades have been devoid of any such easily identifiable decorative style. Perhaps, however, it should be thought of in terms of a twenty-first century “atmosphere”, whereby designers are taking those elements of the past that remain most appealing, and re-contextualizing them for a contemporary audience.