An Inside Job - Esther

The daughter of an architect, I perhaps feel I have a duty to buildings. I like buildings. I like looking at them, I like discussing them. I like their details & I like their looming presence. I make a great deal of the beauty of my city’s architecture & recently during lockdown I have complained of the lack of opportunity “to just wander round some buildings.” 

But what of the insides? The guts, the entrails, the viscera of our urban constructions? We talk of the bowels of a building, why not the intestines, the heart, the brain? Architecture & interior design may be entirely different disciplines, but both serve the eye & reflect our Selves, whether collectively or individually. As we struggle to be a collective right now, we turn the outside in, we face inward for self-examination. If there was ever a time for the interior to take its place, it’s now. 

We’re talking about the art of interiors, not necessarily “interior portraits,” the 17th century European trend for depicting realistic, unpeopled indoor spaces. As a genre it later developed a symbolic element as in Leopold Zielke’s (1791-1861) The Psychological Dimensions of Décor: interior portrait of 1825 & the person was signified by what they had left behind in the room.

This concept was advanced by the likes of Vilhelm Hammershøi (1864-1916, here: Bedroom, Strandgade 30, 1906) & later photographers seeking to capture “the soul of a space” (Jamie Brisick).

Interior of the Church of St Bavo in Haarlem (1648), Pieter Janszoon Saenredam (Netherlands, 1597-1665)

St Bavokerk in Haarlem not only has bats in its belfry, but the transept & nave too. Sadly, Pieter Jansz. Saenredam, a specialist in architectural painting hasn’t pictured them but they can be seen flitting about in real life if you’re lucky. Saenredam’s painting includes human figures however as well as a slight exaggeration of the pillars & vault - merely to accentuate the scale. Nor has Saenredam featured the impressive organ, said to have been played by the young Mozart. The painting showcases the peaceful beauty of the building nonetheless. Not only do we imagine seeing & experiencing the interior in all its majesty, we feel the chill (the one particular to religious buildings) & hear our own footsteps clack along the stone floor. On his death & in a not-unpleasant full circle, Saenredam was buried in St Bavokerk. 

Charles Moore’s Sea Ranch Condo (2018), Leslie Williamson (USA)

Williamson takes the concept of the interior portrait to perhaps its 21st Century conclusion, or at least equivalent: the idea that we are what we own. We are the space we inhabit. It’s a compelling argument during lockdown, when many of us feel most tied - & perhaps grateful - to our belongings & more a part of our living space than we ever have before.

Volpone Adoring His Treasures (1898), Aubrey Beardsley (England, 1872-1898)

Beardsley of course, takes it all a step too far. In his never-ending quest to comprehend the human sins of greed & lust, he puts it all in the art. The lascivious facial expression of Ben Jonson’s unseemly character sums up the essence of Volpone & his dresser practically drips with riches. But look at the beauty of the setting! The classical columns & door arch are quite modestly rendered & decoration is sparse. Compare the relatively simple & tasteful room with the vulpine slavering of the man that owns it. Beardsley’s expert hand leaves us in no doubt as to Volpone’s brutish nature. But his room looks good.

Sunshine on the Corner (1928), Grant Wood (USA, 1891-1942)   

Yes, it is the Grant Wood of American Gothic & whilst that painting isn’t exactly a depiction of cheeriness, this interior too seems devoid of positive human spirit. At least American Gothic has the advantage of fame & time – we apply all kinds of sarcastic drollery to it nowadays. But Sunshine on the Corner is dim & still & silent. It’s a space that looks as if someone just delivered bad news there…or as if someone has died in the next room. The impressionistic dappling of the sunlight on the wall merely adds to the melancholia. I like it a lot.

Empress Alexandra Feodorovna’s Sitting Room (c. 1855), Eduard Petrovich Hau (Russia, 1807-1888)

Hau’s interior portraits, mainly of the palaces & mansions of the wealthy were stunningly realistic & perfect in their detail. These were less of an attempt to convey an imaginative narrative or to symbolise the owner as a human & more of a highly successful attempt to depict enormous wealth & status. This seems to have been desperately important to the royals of particular periods in history. If you can believe it, this example has considerably less opulence & realism than many of his other works. The light lends it a less cluttered effect but it retains the air of being overly fancy – despite the warning of a painted Jesus at the window - & unlived-in.

Interior With Restful Paintings (1991), Roy Lichtenstein (USA, 1923-1997)

I always find Lichtenstein’s work jarring but I have to laugh at the irony of the title compared with the Habitat-hellscape of this work. Not only could I not live in such an interior, I do not find anything about the picture “restful.” In an attempt to depict the banality of everyday living, Lichtenstein’s work nevertheless fizzes with modern shape & pattern. I’m not going to hate on Roy though. He was a pioneer. 

Design for a Music Room (1901), Charles Rennie Mackintosh (Scotland, 1868-1928)

As part of a series of designs for the House for an Art Lover, CRM created this watercolour. The room design included panels by his wife Margaret. Originally the designs for the house were submitted to a competition in a German design magazine & formed the basis for the house itself finally being built & opened for public viewing in 1996. The room design contains many of the motifs & features we have come to recognise as uniquely Mackintosh’s. 

Interior (1905/1915), Helen Galloway McNicoll (Canada, 1879-1915)

In reading for this blog, I’ve been fascinated to see how many artists have portrayed the corners of the rooms. McNicoll’s beautiful work depicts many of the trappings of the middle class woman of her time, whilst breaking down a few barriers of perceived femininity. At first, it looks like a fresh & somewhat informal depiction of a woman’s bedroom but was it appropriate or proper for this kind of thing to be shown? The intimately dishevelled bedclothes, a pillow chucked in the corner…this is a room that is lived in, a bed that has been – horror! – slept in! By a woman! & what is she showing us with that single line of sunlight, as it leads our eye up to the mirror? What are we to see looking back?  

 

Harbour & Room (1932-6), Paul Nash (England, 1889-1946)

A Paul Nash painting is an instantly recognisable thing but he doesn’t always go for the surreal. Harbour & Room tinkers with surrealism & at first you wonder what it’s all about. It might be easier to relate to when you realise that in his bedroom in France, he had a large mirror hanging in front of his bed. At some point, a big ship was reflected in the mirror & if you’ve ever seen a large enough mirror in a small enough room, the picture makes complete sense really…

Studio, Francis Bacon (Ireland-England, 1909-1992)

It’s often satisfying to see how others live, particularly when it’s in a complete tip. The studio of Francis Bacon was at 7 Reece Mews in London. It seems the best that can be said of the property was that it was “modest.” Tiny rooms only accessible from a cramped stairway, Bacon claimed this interior was perfect for him & that the disarray of the studio itself only added to his creative process:   

“I feel at home here in this chaos because the chaos suggests images to me.”

I’d rather not describe what you can see for yourself but I’d invite you to look around the photograph with this thought. This studio is now an exhibit in a gallery. It was removed bit by bit & painstakingly “rebuilt” a few hundred miles away in the Hugh Lane Gallery in Dublin, the city of his birth. In dismantling it, a great deal was learned about Bacon & his processes, his personal life, his artistic concerns, his inspirations & his methods.

It’s the ultimate artistic installation, the ultimate symbolic interior. 

This photograph is by Perry Ogden but to me, it’s all Bacon’s work. 

His life’s work & the evidence of a human, hard-working life.