Stuff: The Deep Dish on Porcelain, Among Other Things
Interior designer Carey Maloney, also known to Rural Intelligence readers as The Wandering Eye, has the enviable gift of making his interests, be they erudite or off-the-wall, compelling and entertaining to others. In his first book, Stuff, recently published by Pointed Leaf Press, and lavishly illustrated, mostly with examples of the work of his firm, M (Group), Maloney uses erudition, anecdote, and telling detail to convey his passion for the things he puts in rooms. This Saturday evening from 5:30 until 7:30 p.m., Stair Galleries in Hudson will host a reception to celebrate the book’s publication, with Maloney on hand to sign copies. The public is welcome to attend. Meanwhile, RI‘s Mariyn Bethany chatted with Carey Maloney about the stuff in STUFF.
RI: Yours is the only decorating book I’ve ever seen that made me laugh. And that was even before I got to the title page. The full-page photo of Cary Grant, wearing an apron and dusting off the painting he’s showing to… is that Ethel Barrymore?
CM: That question makes me laugh because I debated including the photo since Cary looks like he is scamming poor Ethel. That is not the message I wanted to send… The film is None But the Lonely Heart, and it’s sort of a bummer. Now the shot from You Can’t Take it With You that I used for the Contents page, that one sums up the book.
RI: Yours is not the usual interior designer’s monograph. Yes, it is a compendium of the wonderful work you and Hermes [Mallea, the architect who is CM’s business partner and spouse] have done for nearly 30 years (such as this kitchen in a Greenwich Village penthouse), but it’s also a Cliff’s Notes on the things in those rooms—their history, why you, Hermes, and your clients value them, and what they contribute not just to a space, but to a life. It’s a tremendous undertaking, all that information crammed onto the page in tiny type; virtually every item identified—a far cry from the typical “a table graces the corner” caption floating in a sea of white space. What made you decide to go to all this trouble?
CM: There are plenty of “beautiful” books on the market these days with bright, glossy photos, snappy graphic design—and zero information. Not even captions. So the concept of writing about the wonderful things we’ve worked with was more interesting to me than describing why we chose a rosy beige over a green-y beige. The idea of doing “Topics” let me focus on the things and explore areas I was interested in.
RI: And as if all that small type weren’t enough, the information literally overflows the page onto your own website and beyond. By downloading the Digimarc app onto a smart phone, then aiming it at a symbol on the page, the reader is transported directly to the complimentary page on the Stuff site. How did you get that idea? [Note to reader: OS 5 is required, so you may have to upgrade, which is said to be easy. If you find it otherwise, as I did, make an appointment at an Apple store, and they’ll do it for you for free. Or go directly to the site: mgroupstuff.com]
CM: From Day One, when I was proposing the book to publishers, I knew there had to be an interactive aspect. I didn’t know how, on Day One, how it would manifest itself, so I was thrilled to discover Digimarc via House Beautiful. What I couldn’t cram onto a Topics page in that tiny font (sorry about that!), I could link to via mgroupstuff.com. My plan was to send the book to the printers, then spend the summer calmly working on the interactive part. Easy, right? Simply find lots of fun links to films and books, museums and dealers. The work must have been 80% done, right? Wrong.
Well, the interactive morphed into another stand-alone project. There are over 500 links for the 40 Topics, and each needed a caption and an image. Happily, for me, this is fun. But, indeed, it was a lot of work.
RI: When you first moved to New York, before becoming a designer, you worked at a top auction house. What difference do you think that made to your outlook and your approach to interior design?
CM: My couple of years in the Christie’s Estates Department gave me incredible exposure to wildly divergent collections. Seeing great stuff, whether it was cowboy art in Arizona or American furniture at 1 Sutton Place South, put “things” into perspective.
The Christie’s gig was one big learning opportunity. We saw it all—decorative arts, fine arts, junk, and treasure. In those days, it all came past the Front Counter at Delmonico’s at 59th and Park. An unexpected perk of working there was a crash course in fur. I was surrounded by rich glamorous Front Counter blondes. All these unsuspecting women ascended the stairs past our gauntlet. Within weeks, I could spot a bad mink, a good sable, and a knock-off Hermes bag.
RI: If a reader could gain “taste” just by ogling pictures of beautiful rooms, every design magazine-and-book junky would be transformed willy-nilly into a professional-grade decorator. Instead, I’m afraid we amateurs stare at a photograph and mutter, “I love that,” without knowing why or how to get from where we are to there. By breaking down the pictures, as you do, and identifying each element, you coax people like me into a deeper reading of the picture and give us a list of ingredients, so we can at least understand what’s going on, if not replicate it.
CM: That’s nice. I’ll go with that!
RI: You and Hermes have been staunch supporters of the New York Public Library since I first met you, when you were practically kids. How did that happen?
CM: As babies in New York, we decided to choose a cause and work on it together. The library was our first idea, so we made a $100 donation, called the volunteer office, and sat in a room with nonagenarians addressing and stamping benefit invitations. That was 30 years ago. Thankfully, we were discovered, like Lana Turner at Scwab’s Drugstore, and the head of the NYPL Special Events Office asked us to rustle up some young people to come to a big dinner. We did that and soon we were working to create the Young Friends of the NYPL. Then we segued to the Library Cubs programs for children, and a few years ago we became co-chairmen of the Library’s LGBT initiative. That group has raised almost $3 million to support the world’s greatest collection of archival and literary materials related to LGBT’s. We are most proud of the programming the Library provides for youth—the Anti Prom, which this year had over 500 crazy kids dancing in Astor Hall. Kids who may not be safe or even visible in their schools and neighborhoods are welcomed, honored, and given safe haven at the Library.
And volunteering at the Library as a couple has been the best. I always say, put us in a bag and shake it up, and you’ll have something… The Library got two of us and together we make one very good volunteer!
RI: Did this close relationship with one of the world’s great research facilities and repositories of printed matter impact the way you did this book? I suppose what I’m asking is, do they let people like you, who are practically family, into the stacks?
CM: Our library is all about information, freely and graciously disseminated to anyone who wants it. Ask for a book on, say, colonial residential architecture in the Congo, published in 1911, and half an hour later, there it is, in a box because it is falling apart. Amazingly efficient. So there was never a need (not that I ever would!) to ask for something en famille.
I did a lot of the research digitally from the comfort of my apartment—the digital image collections are vast. But no, I would not be allowed to wander the stacks. And if I had been, I would never admit it….
RI: You should get a wallpaper company to reproduce your book’s endpaper, the close-up photograph of a chock-a-block bulletin board; yours, I assume? I’d love to have it reproduced for my powder room.
CM: LOL It isn’t an “inspiration board”—if I had gone to design school, I might know what that really is. It’s just bits of paper I keep layering on. You might want to look at it closer. One friend must have used a magnifying glass to read the New Yorker cartoon. He texted me that he’d been laughing for half an hour and that his wife saw nothing funny in it. Bingo!(0) Comments
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Art et Industrie: Man, Meet Nature
Owner Jordan Schlanger and co-worker Caitlyn Schomaker on Jesse Reimer’s “Mother-Daughter” bench
Housatonic is a study in contrasts. In this Berkshire town, brick mill houses and graffitied trains long out of service nestle alongside a gushing river and hills flocked with trees. “It’s real country out here,” says Jordan Schlanger, a sculptor and jewelry designer who opened the home design gallery Art et Industrie on the second floor of a former textile mill this July. “But in this little valley, it’s this industrial, post-apocalyptic, crumbling Soho mill scene.”
That’s perfect for Art et Industrie, which showcases home décor at the crossroads of nature and manufacturing. Its inaugural show, with more than 200 designs by 20 regional artisans, features works exclusively made from reclaimed and salvaged materials — from antique shovels and wind-fallen maples to wood ripped from Coney Island’s boardwalks.
The results are a testament to eco-friendly ingenuity. Warren Barber, a Becket craftsman, scored the cedar fencepost that he shaped into a lamp ($2100) from Sheffield’s farmlands. Woodstock’s Jesse Reimer often goes dumpster-diving to create works like “Grandpa’s Secret,” a chair fashioned from an iron tractor seat and a bowler figurine from a Coney Island arcade ($1500). Pull a lever at the chair’s bluestone base, and the bowler juts forward, aiming for a strike.
For Schlanger, blending organic forms with man-made materials scores an aesthetic perfect 10. He first became interested in the 19th-century period when agrarianism met industrialization while restoring Dutch barns in Saugerties. With Art et Industrie, he wants to make that moment new. “The period this mill represents is when people were still working farms,” he says. “Forging and tools were all being used, but they had the sweat and thumbprint of the maker on them.”
Modern-day artisans have certainly left their imprint on the furniture at Art et Industrie, which begs to be touched. These days Schlanger can’t keep his hands off the smooth black walnut table ($10,700) by Jessica Wickham, a Beacon woodworker. Her five years’ training in Japan shines through in the table’s asymmetric lines and rough edges, which are hallmarks of wabi-sabi—a principle that embraces the beauty of imperfection. “She has very quiet details; no ego,” Schlanger says, pointing out the sliding dovetail joinery on Wickham’s nesting stools ($1625).
The mushroom brooches, earrings, and fascinators ($75-$200) that Livingston’s Carole Clark creates from foraged fungi have more razzle-dazzle. With delicately scalloped edges and blooms, her jewelry is both rugged and feminine—and a far cry from the high-end materials Schlanger typically sees in the jewelry business he’s run for more than 20 years. “I was used to pavé diamonds and gold and silver,” Schlanger says. “Carole came to me with fungus earrings, and I was like, ‘Yeah! Absolutely.’”
Some pieces seem transported straight from the pages of a fairy tale. Peter Dellert’s ambrosia maple armoire ($4900), made from salvaged firewood, features details such as twig handles, turquoise siding, curlicues, and a softly glowing light. It looks ready to burst open its doors and start singing “Be Our Guest.” Michael King’s pine table ($4000), pierced through with a three-pronged branch, draws inspiration from the enchanted broom of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.
Over in what Schlanger calls “the hobbit corner” are friendly, hefty benches that Jesse Reimer shapes from single logs and stones drawn from Hudson Valley creeks. “Mother-Daughter,” a maple base bench with a walnut back ($2000), lets sitters face in opposing directions: ideal for those on the lookout for approaching orcs.
More machine-minded are the manhole cover coffee table ($2185) by Fingerlakes designers Miles and May (“It’s legally acquired,” Schlanger promises) and the abstract paintings ($1600-2800) that Paul Neuman composes from textile mill cards. A slat chaise by John Corcoran ($3170) offers a modern take on beach chairs with maple reclaimed from shipping pallets.
Wondering how to come up with such creative ideas? Try sitting at a creative desk. It would be almost impossible to color inside the lines at Richard Johnson’s wavering “Dear Diary” desk ($5800). Jason Rosky’s claro walnut console table ($5800) has a live edge that could double as a worry groove for workers brainstorming their next big ideas.
As for big ideas, Schlanger’s got plenty. A New Rochelle native who moved to Housatonic a year ago after long-term stints in New York City and Saugerties, he’s pumped to be a part of his new town’s thriving arts scene. He’ll be expanding on his love for all things reclaimed with the upcoming winter show Art and Artifact, which will feature scavenged iron and steel factory parts. “They’re just as valid as any sculpture,” Schlanger says, “things people can put in their homes and which will enrich them by their history and craft.”
Potential buyers and admirers can scout out the current show through November. Schlanger threatens that some of the grander pieces, like Richard Johnson’s 12-foot-long , rough-hewn “King’s Table,” may be around even longer. “It belongs in a castle,” he says of the table. But in order to reach Camelot, someone would have to figure out how to move it. “We had to bring it up and around through a neighboring mill, through the window, and around the back,” Schlanger says. “It’s never leaving.” —Sarah Todd
Art et Industrie
420 Park Street, 2nd Floor
Open Wednesday through Sunday, 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.
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At Hancock Shaker Village: A Once-in-a-Lifetime Auction
Items from the McCue Shaker collection: sister’s cupboard, print of Shaker “broom corn” in a jar, and poplarware boxes.
There are collectors in the world who, in retrospect, seem almost clairvoyant about what is of lasting value and may appreciate over the years, particularly in the decorative arts, a realm especially vulnerable to the whims of what’s in or out at any moment in time. The secret really is in the eye of the discriminating beholder: the ability to see beauty in every form—however quotidian in nature. Thank heavens for people who have it; they turn out to be preservers of an American cultural heritage that could be easily discarded or ruined over time.
Trestle table in cherry and pine, with wrought-iron brace.
Drs. J. J. Gerald and Miriam McCue, of Lexington, Massachusetts, were just such people. On Saturday, September 8 at 1 p.m., Willis Henry Auctions will present 100 lots of their exceptional collection of Shaker furniture and artifacts at Hancock Shaker Village in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, one of the handful of original sources for many of their items, and the first Shaker auction there since the 1990s.
The McCues began collecting Shaker furniture and objects in the late 1940s, when other styles were considered far more worthy of attention, let alone money. “The height of fashion at the time was fine French furniture—Louis XIV, XV, and XVI— a favorite of 1940s decorators like Elsie de Wolfe and super-wealthy clients such as Jayne Wrightsman,” says David Petrovsky, an antiques historian and specialist from Churchtown, New York, a Columbia County hamlet near Hudson. “Collectors of Americana were more into high-style 18th century case pieces,” he says, “pieces that, apart from the masterpieces, the industry sometimes now disparages as ‘brown furniture.’”
The McCues (at right) went a different way from the beginning, starting out with six small functional household items that Gerald first purchased for his small, spartan bachelor’s apartment in Northampton, MA. (He was an Associate Professor of physics at Smith College, where he met Dr. Miriam Crowley, an Assistant Professor of psychology. They were married in 1949.) Lifelong academics, the couple did not have a lot of money, but they fell in love with the Shaker aesthetic. As time went on (and their fortunes improved), the couple amassed a world-class collection of furniture and objects, sometimes from other notable collectors but often directly from the source: existing, still functioning Shaker communities such as the ones in Canterbury, New Hampshire; Sabbathday Lake, Maine; New Lebanon, New York; and Hancock, Massachusetts — each at a time when Shakers still lived and worked at these places. McCue became not just a buyer, but someone who went out of his way to visit and befriend the Shakers, taking the time to personally understand their lifestyle and ethos— a pretty amazing hobby for someone working on atomic science at the time, both at MIT and at Smith. (Gerald died in February 2011.)
In its own way, at the time, the McCues’ obsession was a very hip way of looking at the decorative arts, to the point that one could even say that there was a stylistic connection between the couple’s appreciation of the simplicity and utility of Shaker form and design with the innovative contemporaneous creations of people like Charles and Ray Eames, Paul McCobb, and the Danish moderns, all of whom valued functionality and natural, translucently varnished materials in their designs. “Clean lines and the stripped-down ornamentation certainly are hallmarks of both styles,” says Laura Wolf, Director of Operations & Marketing at Hancock Shaker Village. “Many mid-century modern designers were picking up on the emergence of Shaker as an aesthetic.”
A wood pine box in its original yellow painted finish.
“The McCue Collection stands out not only for its original finishes and fixtures, but also for its breadth in terms of representing Shaker material culture,” says Wolf. “Their first purchases included an infirmary cupboard, bake shop table, benches, a bedside stand, and a blanket chest. The collection also boasts a number of exemplary small items, including poplarware, metal ware, and sewing supplies that speak to the craftsmanship and attention to detail that are the hallmarks of Shaker work.”
“Dr. McCue was careful to select pieces that retained their original stain finish or paint,” Wolf adds. “The same holds true for cooperage handles, porcelain drawer pulls, and cast iron door closures. Though many finely constructed pieces may have been considered for this collection over the years, if they had been refinished by a previous owner, they were eschewed.”
All of this connoisseurship comes at a price, of course. It may be “the gift to be simple,” as the Shaker song goes, but this time around, it won’t be free. According to estimates from the Willis Henry catalog, available online, some of the objects—such as a gorgeous (and very Danish modern looking) cherry and pine trestle table, are reaching the $70-90,000 mark. The lovely yellow box pictured atop the table for the catalog cover is in the $10-15,000 range. For those looking to start their own collection a bit more frugally, there are plenty of appealing lots of eye glasses, hangers, and sock forms, as well as hook rugs, door handles, and prints in the mere three-figure range. But just watching and previewing is a more than worthy endeavor, a way to learn not only about the value of American ‘folk’ craftsmanship but also perhaps about how to see afresh even the most basic, everyday objects. —Scott Baldinger
Willis Henry Auction of the McCue Shaker Collection
Hancock Shaker Village
Auction: Saturday, September 8, 2012, 1 - 4:00 pm
Previews: Thursday, September 6, 2 - 5 p.m.; Friday, September 7, 11 a.m. - 5 p.m.; Saturday, September 8, 10 a.m. - 12:30 p.m
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Selina van der Geest: A House Designed for Living
In 2000, British interior designer Selina Woodruff emigrated to the U.S. to marry the love of her life, Eduard van der Geest, a director of Graff Diamonds, who himself had emigrated from the Netherlands some years before. Six weeks later, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. The couple then did something very wise. They flew to Paris for the weekend. Sitting in a cafe, they drew the plan for the house they would build the moment the nastiness was behind them. And nasty it turned out to be. But one year later, just as they’d planned, they purchased some land in Stanfordville (Dutchess County), NY and began construction on the very house they had drawn on a paper napkin that awful day.
Selina van der Geest’s shop NL-GB (short for the Netherlands - Great Britain) in Bangall, NY will be celebrating the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee this weekend with a trunk show of summer dresses by Katherine Hooker London, one of the Dutchess of Cambridge’s favorite designers, and an exhibit of paintings by fellow-Brit-ex-pat and Stanfordville neighbor Leora Armstrong. NL-GB shares a parking lot with Red Devon restaurant, which will also be celebrating the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee with a special menu.
“I grew up in centuries-old stone houses. I’m used to something solid, with some age,” says Selina. To give their new-from-the-ground-up house that essential gravitas, they used the board-and-batten siding from an antique Canadian barn to sheathe the exterior. The entry doors of the rear elevation, above, are on axis with the swimming pool (below).
The pool, here from a different angle, and, in the foreground, a four-foot stone ball Selina had made for Eduard as an anniversary gift. The stones, all found as is on the property, knit together so tightly each seems to have been sculpted into the correct shape.
Inside, the frame from the same Canadian barn, a stone fireplace surround from Bordeaux, and several 19th-century Chinese doors are incorporated into the design of the “one big room”—an airy living-dining room and kitchen that accounts for much of the plan’s 3,000 square feet.
After working for Osborne & Little, the English fabric concern, Selina started her own interior design firm, Johnston Woodruff Designs, with a partner. This was followed by a decade of designing installations for Colnaghi, a gallery in London that has specialized in Old Masters since 1760. Though she maintains that her decorating style is not “typically English,” a certain English-ness informs it. Like the Queen herself, van der Geest is modest, hard-working, grounded, and unflappable—“typical English traits” that show in her work. There’s an insouciance, a lack of fussy, superfluous detail; a preference for solidity (such as the metal cabinet at right, part of a range she designed and shows at her store), a lack of gloss and glitz. As she asks, “How many people would choose to have a completely unfinished oak-plank floor?”
And how many would put an IKEA kitchen into a house this chic? For the cabinet beneath the Bosch cooktop, she switched materials to stainless steel. The concrete island is sufficiently large to accommodate an assortment of glass jars holding cereals and grains. “I sanded every drawer and painted them myself,” says the intrepid van der Geest, who also does her own mowing and snow-blowing—no small feat on a 38-acre property with a very long drive. “I don’t think you have to spend a fortune on a kitchen,” she says, “I’d rather spend money on a 19th-century Turkish kilim rug. I like being creative with the budget, finding things that are not too expensive but with a lot of character.” In addition to just such a rug, among the things in their house that lay claim to character is an art collection, mostly 19th-century drawings, that Selina has been building for the past twenty years. “I’ve taken elements from the big English houses and put them into a simple environment.”
Simple, in its way: Dotting the property are woodstacks reminiscent of those Selina knew growing up in the north of England. Split logs are stacked side-by-side to form a circle. Once the circle reaches a certain height, a layer of logs stacked end-to-end is added, then the side-by-side layers resume. “The end-to-end layer corrects for a natural tendency of the stack to narrow as it gains height,” says Selina. Making much of what is simple (after all, it’s just firewood) and little of what is actually quite grand—that’s giving it English. —Marilyn Bethany(1) Comments
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Diane Love & Robert Frye’s Modern Mountaintop Farmhouse
Photographs by Åke E:son Lindman
It looks more like a house of self-restraint than self-indulgence, but Diane Love designed her pared down-country retreat in southern Columbia County to be her all-purpose personal haven. Blessed with self-awareness, Love knows that her happiness depends on her ability to be many different people at the same time—painter, photographer, playwright, actress, hostess, wife and grandmother. Brimming with self-confidence, she was determined to design the house herself and to only consult an architect to refine her concept and do the technical drawings.
As the author of a book called Yes/No Design (Rizzoli, 1999), which helps people delve into their psyches to determine their own taste, Love was crystal clear about her own desires. A hyper-active Manhattanite—she’s just written a play called Twin Sweets—she wanted the weekend house to be simultaneously a place of activity and tranquility, and she wanted it to take advantage of the breathtaking mountaintop site that has panoramic views of Connecticut, Massachusetts and the Catskill Mountains.
She knew the plot of land very well, because it’s just up the road from the 18th century farmhouse where she and her husband, Robert Frye (a documentary filmmaker whose latest feature, In My Lifetime, focuses on nuclear proliferation), had been spending weekends for nearly two decades. “I would sit at our Arts and Crafts dining room table and make scale drawings of this dream house,” says Love, who was a pre-HGTV lifestyle guru: In the 1970s and 1980s, she had an eponymous shop on New York’s Madison Avenue, where she sold antiques, jewelry, her own home fragrance and extraordinary silk flower arrangements that were de rigueur for the beau monde. “I worked on the design of this house for several years,” she explains. “I was very aware of how we like to live, what would work for us.”
Naturally, she was extremely concerned with aesthetics—she loves to create still-lifes on tabletops with seasonal flora—and how the house would relate visually to its surroundings. It can be seen from more than a mile away in several directions and from the distance it reads like an old barn. “There’s a dairy farm across the road, which we love,” she says. “We watch the seasons pass and the cycle of the crops. It seemed only right that the house fit into the landscape. That’s why the color of the house was really important. It’s a green-y brown color and there is no season that this house sticks out.”
However, it’s the timeless, bucolic views from inside the house that reflect both Love’s reverence for nature and her perfectionist streak. “It was important that every window would frame a wonderful scene, so each window is in effect like a painting,” she explains. “We used to come up here with stakes and string to determine how to site the house. It was very important how we angled it.” (The final elevations and technical drawings were done by New York architect Larry J. Wente.)
The choice of windows became paramount to Love’s plan—and Wente found a window manufacturer to fulfill her vision. “I wanted metal windows,” says Love, who decided most of them should be very large: 8 x 7 feet. (The clerestory windows upstairs are 2 x 7 feet.) “It’s the windows that have established the sensibility of this house.” Once she located a fabricator of metal windows in Ellenville, NY, she was told that they could not make windows in which every pane was the same size. But Love, who apparently does not understand the word “no,” went back to the dining room table with her ruler and figured it out. “The windows are made in three sections,” she explains. “There are two side panels and one center section.”
The geometry of the windows echoes the design of the house, whose center section contains the staircase, bathrooms and other utilities, which is flanked by two equivalent sections. On one side of the first floor, there’s a combination living room/kitchen with a cathedral ceiling; on the other side, there are two guest rooms that double as Love’s studio. “I’m a strong believer in rooms that are multifunctional,” she says.
The galley kitchen is fully one wall of the living room, and there isn’t an island or bar so it is fully exposed to the room. She painted the cabinets and appliances a sage green that compliments the surrounding landscape in every season, and she mirrored the back wall so she can see her guests even when she’s at the sink. “I didn’t want a kitcheny-looking kitchen. I guess this is a glamorized interpretation but we haven’t sacrificed any function,” she says, opening a door to reveal a large pantry with all her pots and foodstuffs. Instead of opting for modern furniture, Love mixed Art Deco upholstered pieces that she already owned with metal lamps and tables (from shops in Hudson) that work in concert with the metal windows.
The upstairs is basically two rooms: there’s a mezzanine office/TV room that overlooks the living room and has its own spectacular views from a window high on the living room’s southern wall. Down the hall, there’s a large master bedroom with an unusual bathroom configuration: Love and Frye each have their own entrances, sinks and toilet areas, which are linked by a large shared shower. The master bedroom has two long window seats that look like cozy places to daydream or read a book, but they were actually designed to be extra beds. “We have five grandchildren, and I worked it out so that there would be a place for all of them and their parents if they all came to visit at once,” she says. Without compromising any detail, she’s created a house that reflects and nurtures her idiosyncrasies, where her family and friends are meant to feel at home, too.
Every object in the house has a strong aesthetic presence.
Love is a master of the tabletop still-life.
Love’s most recent paintings are watercolors.
Love and Frye on the front porch with its views of Connecticut and Massachusetts.
The house complements the rural landscape.
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Hillsdale Tour of 19th-Century Rural Houses
This Saturday, the Hillsdale Preservation Committee will sponsor a pedestrian-friendly tour of historic houses.
Some of the houses on the tour originally had been home to farmers, others to farmworkers. But, though all have grown and changed over the years, their 19th-century character has been retained and all, miraculously, still overlook broad green fields.
The largest house on the tour, from the early 19th-century Federal period, was built by the Van Deusen family and remained in Van Deusen hands for several generations. The building, which started as just a kitchen was added to gracefully over the centuries.
The next house up the road is a colonial style farmhouse that was, in the Van Deusens day, their “tenant house” for a hired hand on their farm. Although it has been expanded, it retains the characteristic steep staircase and it oldest rooms still have their original floors.
This elegant Italianate Victorian with floor-to-ceiling windows and a graceful center stairway probably started out as a one-room house. Expanded at least three times, it now has an inviting porch with a balustrade above, added in about 1860.
Two of the properties also have small barns, both of which were restored by Michael Carr, a local timber-frame carpenter who will be on hand to answer questions
Greek columns frame the front door of a country federal with small rooms, original floor and interesting woodwork and architectural detailing throughout. Modern improvements include a big screened porch off a large country kitchen.
The tour culminates with the 1860 eyebrow colonial, once home to a wagon maker. Several additions have masked some of the original architecture on the outside, but the upside is a sunny interior that still reveals its old bones. Speaking of which, visitors may also explore an historic cemetery, where some of the original owners of these houses are buried.
On Sunday evening, the owners of the houses on tour will be honored guests at a patron’s cocktail party to be held at a house that is among both the oldest and the newest in Hillsdale. Its core, a Dutch timber frame built in 1780, was extended in 1801, then again just recently. Now the broken-back saltbox has an open plan, original wainscoting that has been re-purposed, and old posts and beams, well marked by the original builder with how-to diagrams, that have been left exposed..
The Hillsdale Historic House Tour
Saturday, August 13, 11 a.m. - 3 p.m.
Tickets/$35, includes box lunch.
For advance tickets visit Tour website; day of tour, at Passiflora and B&G Wine, both in Hilllsdale on Route 23 just west of Route 22.
Sunday, August 14; 5 - 7 p.m.
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Florence de Dampierre’s New Book on Walls that Talk
If they were less witty and exuberant, it might be tempting to describe the books written by Florence de Dampierre (her 5th, Walls: The Best of Decorative Treatments, has just been published by Rizzoli) as reference works. Thorough and intelligent, rich in history and anecdote, they are rarities—“coffee table books” that are as valuable for their text as for their stunning photographs. Which may explain why, in a world where such books are wont to come and go in a season or two, de Dampierre’s are perennial bestsellers. Her first, The Best of Painted Furniture, published in 1987 and still in print, is a must-have for anyone who aspires to be well-versed about interior design.
Born and raised in Paris, Florence de Dampierre attended a now-defunct, famously rigorous all-girls lycee on the Rue des Invalides. “We were taught by nuns,” she says “Nearly all of us did the baccalauréat,” the secondary school curriculum that screens students bound for university. De Dampierre went on to study medicine, before abandoning academia to decamp first for London then New York.
Nothing about her flamboyant life thereafter would suggest such an earnest start. In the mid-80s, Florence de Dampierre Antiques in New York, specialized in 18th- and 19th-century painted furniture and was famous for the conviviality of its proprietor and for its Pompeian red walls. When I interviewed de Dampierre around that time for New York Magazine at her stylish upper east side apartment, she epitomized young French chic—pretty, vivacious and au courant in her size 2 Chanel. Shortly thereafter, Eleanor Lambert named her to The Best Dressed List.
So how did this French glamazon end up in Litchfield? De Dampierre, normally chatty, disposes of the topic with a quick, “My husband [investor Sean Mathis] had some property near here,” as if no further explanation were required for such an obviously propitious move. The mother of three, her two youngest grew up in this seat of apple-pie Americana. Son, Cameron, 21, now at the University of Pennsylvania, played soccer at Taft, then did a post-grad at Hotchkiss (not coincidentally, his mother strongly implies, the very year they won the soccer championship). Her daughter, Valentina, 13, attends the public school. De Dampierre, a self-taught interior designer, has clients in Connecticut, New York, and around the world. Somewhere in all of this, between her business, attending distant soccer matches armed with snacks, and whipping up a mousse au chocolat for a Saturday-night dinner party, she manages to write worthwhile books.
“I write at night, in English,” she says. “I like doing books that have meat.” In Walls, her concern is not with the ordinary walls most of us live with—“a solid-colored backdrop blending in with furnishings and paintings,” rather with decorated walls—murals, wood paneling, stenciling, and wallpaper—that make a substantial contribution to ambiance. The book starts with antiquity and gradually brings us into the present, with countless amusing stops along the way. Drawing on a 1437 treatise on egg tempera, she paraphrases the Italian author’s earnest advice: “Country eggs are redder and better suited to making the color blue. Towns eggs are whiter….He suggested painting young faces with town eggs, while country eggs were preferable for painting old men.” She tells how the poet and artistic visionary Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828 – 1882) fell short when it came to practical concerns: His pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood failed to properly prepare the walls of the Oxford Union Society’s Debating Hall before painting them with murals depicting Arthurian legends: “Sadly,...the brilliantly colored works dissolved almost immediately.”
The principal photography in Walls is credited to top interiors specialists Pieter Estersohn and Tim Street-Porter, both of whom have extensive archives. De Dampierre drew up lists of the rooms she needed. “I kind of know the subject,” she says. For images that could be gotten no other way, such as this close-up of the remarkable stenciling at Olana, she and Street-Porter hit the road. “Tim took many of the pictures expressly for this book.”
A dressing room with Etruscan-inspired painted walls, above left, designed by Robert Adam (1728 – 1792) shares a spread with a contemporary Parisian study, above right, with walls adorned with a charming adaptation of Adam’s design. This contemporary room, alone, would be enough to satisfy the most skeptical reader that we do, indeed, need a thorough knowledge of these old-fashioned, often antique, labor-intensive, decorative effects. “They’re very good on sheetrock walls in new construction,” De Dampierre points out. “They give age and instant nobility to a room. You don’t need much art—just wallpaper or stenciling and curtains, and a room is immediately cozy.”
This Saturday, Florence de Dampierre, along with many other local authors, will be at Trade Secrets in Sharon between 10 and 11 a.m. to answer questions and sign copies of her book at a special table sponsored by Johnnycakes Books .
Saturday, May 14
Limerock Farm, Sharon (Route 44 on the Salisbury/Sharon line)
10 a.m. - 3 p.m. Admission/$35
Book signings from 10 a.m. – 1 p.m.
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Annie Kelly’s “Litchfield Style”
Anyone who has ever driven through Litchfield County and been mesmerized by its magnificent 18th- and 19th-century houses (which is to say, anyone who can see), can now satisfy the longing to snoop around inside some of the best of them. Litchfield Style, by the decorator Annie Kelly with photographs by her husband, Tim Street-Porter, who live part-time in Bantam, is a memoir of houses the couple has visited and loved. Some of the interiors Kelly features will satisfy the voyeur because they are everything those drive-bys promise. Others will fascinate and surprise because they are not at all what anyone other than their owners could have possibly imagined.
The first few houses featured are owned by people who are intent on keeping things authentic, such as George Schoellkopf, whose Hollister House (right) is but one of the properties featured whose gardens will be familiar to denizens of the Garden Conservancy Open Days tours. These homeowners take their interior cues from the exterior of the house. Reverential toward Litchfield’s aesthetic legacy, they have put considerable resources and resourcefulness into choosing furnishings and finishes that are as historically authentic as 21st-century practicality will permit.
A new entry (left) seamlessly blends the original Hollister House with an 18th-century-barn addition, containing a new kitchen and living room, that Schoellkopf and his partner, the French artist Gerald Incandel, had moved to their property.
But as the book progresses, so does the sense of adventure. “I wanted to show what Litchfield County was in the past but also what it is today,” Kelly says, whose own Bantam living room is featured on the book’s cover. And one thing Litchfield is today is a magnet for aesthetes of irrepressible originality.
Robert Couturier, a French interior decorator, and his partner Jeffrey Morgan, an architectural historian, sketched a series of neo-classical garden pavillions one Sunday afternoon, then had them built. The results (above and left), while contemporary with Litchfield’s 270-year-old architecture, owe more to English and French traditions than American.
Annie Kelly, an Australian, and Tim Street-Porter, who is British, met and married in Australia while Kelly was an art student and Street-Porter was there on a working vacation. “When people from different countries meet and marry, the question arises, which one shall we live in?,” Kelly says. “Rather than his or mine, Tim and I chose the States.” They settled in Los Angeles, where Kelly began to establish herself as an interior decorator even as Street-Porter, who had studied architecture, cemented his position at the top of the interior- and architectural-photography field.
The couple still live part-time L.A., in what is arguably the most beautiful historic house in town (left). But since much of their work is on the east coast, they had long felt the need for a base near New York City. “We both grew up in the country,” Kelly says. More drawn to the country than the city itself (“I grew up on 3,000 acres,” she explains), they began their inquiry into Connecticut in Greenwich and Westport, where their work often takes them. Since the towns on the sound felt more like L.A. than the country, they started driving north and west until they reached Litchfield County, where they—and their hearts—stopped.
Annie Kelly will sign copies of Litchfield Style and answer readers’ questions at Hickory Stick Bookshop, Washington Depot, CT, on Saturday, April 23, at 2 p.m. She will be joined there by fellow Litchfield designer-authors, Matthew Patrick Smyth and Florence de Dampierre.
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At Home with Interior Designer Matthew Patrick Smyth
Like the rooms he designs for his city and country clients, Matthew Patrick Smyth is easy-going, tailored and unpretentious. The interior designer, who divides his time between homes in Manhattan, Paris, and Sharon, CT, has built an enviable career by combining his good taste and sense of appropriateness with a genuine concern for his clients’ needs and happiness. In his new book, Living Traditions: Interiors by Matthew Patrick Smyth (Monacelli Press; $50), he details his decorating rules in carefully chosen words and lush photographs by John Gruen (who lives in Lakeville, CT.) “I’ve never doubted that rules exist for a reason,” he writes. “In design, they are essential and must be taught. Right and wrong do exist in matters of planning, scale, proportion, the proper height relationship of chairs to tables.”
One of his favorite rules is One Mirror Per Room. “What I love about it is that it directs my thinking: it tells me to stop and weigh all the options from every angle before making a decision,” he says. “Of course you can have more than just one mirror in a room. Practically speaking, though, it’s imperative to consider what the first mirror will do before even contemplating adding a second. Then it’s critical to analyze what effect that second—or third, fourth or fifth—will have. Will it reflect something it shouldn’t? Will it create visual chaos? Will it add more light?”
Smyth became a household name in northwestern Connecticut when he oversaw the renovation and redecoration of The White Hart (“Salisbury’s White Hart Inn Gets a Makeover”, RI April 14, 2010). When it abruptly closed last fall amidst much finger-pointing (“Say It Ain’t So!” RI, November 2, 2010), nobody blamed him for the inn’s downfall. Indeed, the owners, Roxanne and Scott Bok, found no fault with his work. “I’m working on a project with them right now,” says Smyth, and the farmhouse he renovated for them (“A Cinderella House Makes Its Debut for Charity” RI, September 4, 2008) is featured in his book.
Smyth has had a house (see below) in Sharon for eight years. “I used to spend weekends on the other side of the Hudson, but then I came to Connecticut to work with Carol and Richard Kalikow and fell in love with the area,” he says. “I love living here and have made so many friends here because of parties at Dan Dwyer’s,” he says, referring to the sociable owner of Salisbury’s Johnnycake Books, who will be hosting a book signing for Smyth on April 30 from 5 - 7 p.m.
What makes Smyth’s book especially enchanting is his honesty, explaining how a tuxedo model at an upstate New York mall became a globetrotting decorator with clients in places like the Hamptons and Palm Beach. Although he originally envisioned the Sharon house as a retreat, he keeps getting jobs that keep him busy on weekends. He says it is so much less frustrating to work on a house than an apartment. “It’s especially easier for the tradesmen,” he notes. “They can work past five o’clock if they want . They don’t have to wait for service elevators. They don’t have to worry about parking tickets!”
He explains that creating a coffee table book about your work has become a right of passage for top tier decorators. “It used to be the Kips Bay Show House,” says Smyth, who will be participating in the prestigous show house that raises funds for after-school programs for underprivileged children in New York City. “But now all the clients expect to see a book. It’s important to be on the shelf with your peers.” With Living Traditions, he’s now officially part of the interior design canon.
A room off the kitchen in Smyth’s Sharon house boasts original beams and a fireplace with a new stone surround.
Many of the pieces in Smyth’s living room are leftovers from Kips Bay Show Houses.
Smyth turned his upstairs landing into a light-filled reading room.
Living Traditions: Interiors by Matthew Patrick Smyth
Book signing April 30, 5 - 7 p.m.
12 Academy Street
Salisbury, CT; 860.435.6677
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Splendid Peasant Antiques: A Modern Approach to Folk Art
Martin Jacobs stares into the fireplace at the house he designed in Sheffield, MA.
Kitty and Martin Jacobs understand if you’re just as interested in their stunning contemporary house as their museum quality collection of antique folk art. After all, they built this house on a dirt road in Sheffield two years ago not only as their home but as a destination for aesthetes like themselves. “We wanted to live with all these things we love,” says Martin, a one-time psychoanalyst who is jolly and cerebral—a haimisha Santa Claus of a man. “Yes, almost everything is for sale, but we get such pleasure in enjoying these objects every day,” he says while tossing another log on the fire. Their hallways and staircase were designed as galleries with niches and natural light so you feel like you have arrived at a small but serious museum.
For two decades, the Jacobs’ Splendid Peasant antiques store operated out of an 18th-century blacksmith’s shop in the heart of Egremont, which was a popular destination for serious collectors as well hosts whose weekend guests wanted to go antiquing. “You always need outings for house guests, and we were a good place to stop,” says Martin. Having lived for many years in Oyster Bar, Long Island, Martin always yearned to be near the sea, and a few years ago they moved to a condominium in a converted factory in Bristol, RI, and opened a shop downstairs. “We didn’t like it. The people and the place were too glitzy,” he says. “We realized how special the Berkshires are and decided to come back.” In Rhode Island, they discovered that they liked living in a loft-like environment and wanted to live that way but in a rural setting. Thus, the interior of their new house looks almost exactly like the photographs of the Bristol condo that was featured in Rhode Island magazine in 2006. They have the same matching desks and steel dining room table by John Haas of Amenia, NY, and the same cherry sofas by Boyd Hutchinson of Sheffield, MA, which flank the fireplace. They even have the same custom interior window dividing their kitchen from the dining room.
The couple’s passion for folk art parallels their own late-in-life relationship. “I had an MBA from Columbia, but I was pretty much adrift until I met Martin,” says Kitty. “We’ve done this together.” For a couple who are experts in their field and display their collection with curatorial rigor (“Martin is a lighting master,” Kitty says adoringly), they do not take themselves too seriously. How could they when what appears to be an important abstract sculpture hanging over the fireplace turns out to be a rusty bedspring? “Martin calls it the poor man’s Calder,” says Kitty. “You would be surprised by how expensive it was.”
Part of the mystique of folk art is that it was not created to be collectible. The game boards, decoys and fairground art they sell were once utilitarian objects. “We have a definite point of view. We like bold, graphic pieces, and we like objects with texture,” says Kitty. “We’re not generalists. We don’t sell painted furniture. Quilts and hand-hooked rugs don’t do much for us. Our specialty is weathervanes.”
Like all antiques dealers, they now do much of their business online. “We have a reputation so collectors can trust us based on photos,” says Kitty. But then you’d miss the delight of experiencing their serene house, seeing the Indian clubs displayed in a niche, or the hand of a particularly well-painted checkerboard. “We love things with ravaged surfaces.” Martin mentions that when he first got into the antiques business, he made the mistake of buying fine English furniture. “One of the best things about folk art,” he says cheekily, “is that it never has to be polished!”
992 Foley Road, Sheffield, MA; 413.229.8800
Open most weekends, but call first to make sure.