Future Heritage
Contemporary british design
“Furniture and food are ways that people define their attitude toward life. They'll buy better stuff if it's offered to them.” — Sir Terrance Conran
The U.K. has an incredibly rich history of architecture and design going back centuries; indeed as a country we helped to create and define numerous formal styles as well as archetypes of decorating. From Christopher Wren (1632-1723) to Richard Rogers (b. 1933) and Norman Foster (b. 1935), there has been continual and continued innovation in design, pushing the boundaries, not only materially speaking, but socially, in terms of ways and modes of living and working. With that in mind, it seems bizarre that as a country, we’re still hung up on mock period styles that often result in phenomenally poor examples of pastiche architecture. This is of course equally applicable to interiors with a preponderance of buttoned chesterfield sofas and floral fabrics and papers. After the IKEA invasion, and its battle cry of “chuck out your chintz”, there seemed a brief national consensus that modernism might be the right way to go. Now, just three decades later, we seem to have come full circle, plastering our interiors in luridly patterned papers and pineapple print lampshades. Of course, we’re not the only country with a strong connection to our past architectural styles; in France the Louis XIV armchair must have been copied and reproduced just about as often (sometimes appallingly so) as the Rolex Oyster wristwatch. The little known designer Isabelle Hebey (who helped Yves Saint Laurent with one of his early projects and designed Danielle Mitterand’s Office — formerly Napoleon III’s bathroom — at the Elysee Palace) if oft credited with curing the French of their penchant for period pastiche; and boy did they run with it. Of course, that doesn’t mean obliterating the past entirely: “For me”, Hebey said in 1968, “nothing compares to a piece of Boulle furniture placed before a wall clad in steel,” and Ayman to that. She was followed by the likes of Andrée Putman (1925-2013), Christian Liaigre (1942-2020) Philippe Starck (b. 1949) et al (all by way of Jean-Michel Frank, naturally) who took lessons of the past and reinterpreted them (sometimes directly as with Starck’s now iconic Louis Ghost Chair) for modern living, whilst at the same time, remaining utterly modern. This is the approach as a country we should be taking to design and not stagnating in some saccharine rose tinted ideal of chocolate box cottages and rows of cookie cutter Victorian terraces. This illogical preoccupation with a past that has long since sailed can be seen at Poundbury, the Dorset toy town and brain child of Prince Charles, who famously described Peter Ahrends’ proposed National Gallery extension as a “monstrous carbuncle” and who recently killed off Lord Rogers’ designs for the Chelsea Barracks development.
The home of interior designer Kelly Wearstler, Beverley Hills, with its intricate neoclassical moldings offset by a typically eclectic collection of furniture and art
An apartment in Florence designed by Dimore Studio, referencing mid-century Italian architecture, photograph by Andrea Ferrari
“The interiors crowd in England is a bit stuck in being pretty and predictable,” bemoaned Viola Lanari, an Italian-born, UK-based designer in a recent interview with Another, “I’ve been observing and talking with Jermaine [Gallacher] … and we have been wondering what happened? All of these people have personalities of their own, [so] why are they following this pastel-colour fashion?” One of the entrenched reasons for our national distrust of modernism could be the hideous swathes of 1960s architecture built after the Second World War so as to rebuild cities and provide accommodation for a quickly growing population. There was an international idea of creating a modernist, egalitarian utopia that would improve upon Georgian and Victorian back-to-back slum housing; unfortunately, despite lofty, well-meaning intentions, a good many of these experiments were failures. Buildings were susceptible to corrosion, difficult to repair and quickly became synonymous with grim, concrete swathes of densely packed sub-standard inner city high-rise council estates (Even Le Corbusier’s L’Unite d’Habitation in Marseille was a relative failure). Seemingly the country came out of this once bitten twice shy and the 1990’s saw Barratt Homes build acres of semi-traditional pastiche properties, catering to the baby boomer generation; repetitive streets of brick, pitch roofed box housing that seemingly tapped into a national nostalgic yearning for the past (too far removed to fully appreciate the poverty and poor standards of these “charming” nineteenth century terraces). Laura Ashley made a fortune peddling her floaty floral summer flocks and British Home Stores and Marks & Spencer pumped out pastel dinner sets and wallpaper borders to a receptive public. Although the late great Sir Terrance Conran had bombarded people with good design (both through his eponymous stores as well as Habitat and Heal’s), it wasn’t until 1987 when IKEA first entered the U.K. interiors market that the country at large seemed truly to accept modern design and a contemporary approach to living; a huge factor, of course, was its relative affordability (I’m sure we’ve all winced at the price of a Knoll sofa or a Saarinen dining table).
Interior in Wilrijk, Belgium, designed by Vincent Van Duysen, a painting by Lucio Fontana hangs above a Jenneret lounge chair, the fireplace evocative of its Georgian predecessors yet unmistakably modern
After decades of social and economic upheaval (numerous financial crises, Brexit, Trump, and now a global pandemic to top it all off, the proverbial cherry on a pie to the face) people are yearning for comfort and warmth in their interiors and it would seem, en masse, this is a characteristic attributed to traditional English country living, or rather, country style, e.g. floral fabrics, blousy curtains, clashing colours, clutter, a preponderance of wicker log baskets and vividly patterned wallpapers; with such accompanying “buzzwords” as quirky, eclectic and fun (think Cecil Beaton by way of Brideshead revisited and 1980s Colefax & Fowler). Whilst an eclectic interior, or rather an interior that is personal to the occupant, should only be encouraged (a topic on which we have recently written: see Sense of Self), it can be done without quite such a literal and clichéd interpretation of the past. Readers have asked why on our Instagram account we post so many images of French interiors — we are, after all, called “The London List” — and it’s a question to which I’ve given a great deal of thought; essentially, it’s the way in which (particularly in Paris), designers and individuals have a way of taking those great elements of the past (whether that be furniture, art or architectural details) and putting them together in a way that is unexpected, and unashamedly and unreservedly contemporary in character. The raison d’etre of these interiors is not to create a stayed approximation of the past, but to honour it, to take lessons of proportion and materiality, and to reinterpret them for a twenty-first century lifestyle (particular favourites include the Parisian apartments of Claude Berri, Patrick Seguin, Jacques Lacoste and Martin Hatebur, all of which are great expressions of their owners individual tastes).
If one takes the idealised English Country house and asks what it is that makes it so appealing, superficially speaking, it’s the use of natural materials (wood, stone, brick, marble), tactility of surfaces, light, practicality, generosity of space and proportion and a degree of interesting interior and exterior decorative detailing. These are, granted, elements missing from a good deal of mass-market contemporary housing, but one can take them and apply them to an unashamedly modern piece of architecture (for e.g. Rose Uniacke’s pool house at the home of White Company founder Chrissie Rucker, in Buckinghamshire), and one will feel an equivalent sense of warmth and character — despite the prevailing stereotype modernism and modern architecture is not restricted to an uninviting palette of raw concrete, brilliant white walls and plywood furniture. Architects like Joseph Dirand (b. 1974) and Charles Zana (b. 1960) are wonderful examples of how contemporary design can harness those elements of the past — that are understandably so appealing — whist steering clear of an historical rehash. Whilst the work of architect John Pawson (b. 1949), an arch minimalist, might be too austere for some, it responds to local vernacular and landscape in a way that should be applauded; his own farmhouse in the Cotswold’s is a masterful example of how unashamedly contemporary architecture — suitable to our evolving way of life — can be integrated within a period structure. From a furnishings perspective, The New Craftsmen curates, commissions and sells unique contemporary objects (spanning everything from chairs and tables to lighting and artwork) that are rooted in British craftsmanship and narrative. Again, and key, they’re not copying, or reproducing what’s gone before, they’re commissioning contemporary designers to create furniture, art and objects that draw on our country’s rich heritage, without any twee, kitschy overtones.
Interior, Chelsea, designed by Pierre Yovanovitch, taking inspiration from the Arts and Crafts architecture of original fabric, whilst creating an unmistakably contemporary interior
Whilst there are a myriad of named designers worldwide who are championing modernity and pushing the boundaries of contemporary design (to name but a few, Vincent Van Duysen (b. 1962) in Belgium, India Mahdavi (b. 1962) and Pierre Yovanovitch (b. 1965) in France, Dimore Studio in Italy and Kelly Wearstler (b. 1967) in the U.S.), in the U.K., a great deal of contemporary design — and interior design in particular — seems stuck in an Arcadian world of columns, pilasters, William Morris wallpapers, shaker style kitchens and faux period fireplaces. Historically speaking we are a country of innovators, and architectural styles changed dramatically over time; from the twisting red chimney pots and mullioned windows of Elizabethan houses to elegantly proportioned, stone fronted Georgian terraces, the pomposity of Victorian Gothic and in the 1950’s the emergence of an “international style”. In 1729 Lord Burlington thought nothing of tacking a Neo-Palladian folly (Once described by Lord Hervey as “too small to live in, and too big to hang on a watch.”) onto the side of his parents Jacobean house at Chiswick; yet now instead of such a modernist “carbuncle”, we see planners rejecting contemporary interventions and developers building rows and rows of naff little cottages mimicking the architecture of a bygone era. In the 1980s English interior decorator David Hicks (1929-1998) pioneered the use of bold colours, mixing antique and modern furnishings and contemporary art, in a style inimitably his own. Now the industry, at large, seems split between the bland hi-gloss style of international prime-resi and tired reinterpretations of country style; where are the U.K. equivalents of Atelier AM, Clements Design and Luis Laplace?
Clearly a country should preserve its history, buildings should be listed and sensitively restored and great furniture, be it antique or vintage, should be preserved, used and appreciated; but as a nation, we should move forward and build and decorate in a style that takes from the past, but has its sights set firmly on the future. Our recent reality might seem grim, and perhaps it fosters in us a nostalgia or romanticism for a bygone age we perceive as calmer, kinder and more gentile, a means of escaping from the realities of an increasingly fractured and disturbing world (or perhaps it is just a reaction to some of the unremittingly awful modernist architecture we saw thrown up in the 1960s and 70s). Let’s not turn our back on the new, the avant-garde, the modern, for that is what drives us forward. Whilst there are a plethora of cutting edge British architects (Will Alsop (1947-2018), David Adjaye (b. 1966), David Chipperfield (b. 1953)) a large part of the interior design industry needs to open its eyes to what’s happening in Europe and the wider world and innovate. Returning to Terrance Conran, he was an innovator, he showed the British public how appealing contemporary design could be, and now it’s up to the industry to take that baton and to run with it; and please God, no more Willow Boughs wallpaper. As a country we trade heavily on ideas of “heritage” — something immediately apparent in the worlds of fashion and design — and whilst there’s nothing wrong with that (indeed it’s something to be applauded), it’s time to focus on our future heritage; designs and techniques that subsequent generations will celebrate and take lessons from.