Showing posts with label William Morris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label William Morris. Show all posts

Sunday, 17 July 2022

To the manor born

It was Day 3 of our holiday and the weather gods were still on their best behaviour. Wanting to make the most of both the glorious weather and our National Trust Touring Pass, we decided to leave Shropshire behind once more and visit a property which had been on our list for absolutely ages.

This time, our chosen destination was a bit further afield, involving a drive of about an hour and fifteen minutes in easterly direction, to the outskirts of Wolverhampton in the West Midlands.

The marshmallow clouds floating in a bright blue sky and the predicted highs of a balmy 24°C couldn't have been more perfect for what was officially the first day of Summer.



After driving through the varied landscape of South and South-East Shropshire, passing the wonderful high-and-low town of Bridgnorth along the way, we crossed the border into Staffordshire and were then welcomed to Wolverhampton, where our car's Satnav neatly deposited us at the approach to Wightwick Manor.

After some head scratching by the lady at the ticket office, who had clearly never seen a Touring Pass before, we were admitted to the property. We were told, however, that only the downstairs rooms were open and that sadly the Malthouse Gallery would also be closed that day due to a shortage of volunteers. 

She must have seen the disappointment on my face, so she took us aside and advised us to speak to one of the volunteers inside the house and explain that we'd come all the way from Belgium to see the De Morgan exhibition and then, perhaps, they'd find someone to open the gallery for us.



Instead of going straight to the house, however, we went for a walk around the woodland bordered lake lying to the west of the house to stretch our legs and get our bearings. 

Then we strolled towards the house, taking in its plethora of gorgeous architectural details, the front door leading to the porch and hall beyond standing invitingly open.



The superbly crafted rambling manor house was built in 1887 for Theodore Mander, a partner in the local varnish and paint-making firm of Mander Brothers. His architect was Edward Ould. The elaborate timber-framed exterior, with deliberate asymmetrical groupings, features barley twist brick chimneys, oriel windows and carved quatrefoils, which are four-leaved ornaments or apertures common in Gothic architecture.

In 1893 Ould added an east wing with the help from the Pre-Raphaelite glass-designer Charles Kempe, who produced some fine painted glass for the house as well as advising on its decoration.



Wightwick Manor - the name is pronounced as wittick - was built primarily as a family dwelling. Like many affluent Victorians, Theodore and his wife, Flora, wanted to move their growing family out of an industrial town to a healthier location. Although Wightwick was rural, it was only a mere three miles from the Mander Brothers factory in Wolverhampton!

The Manders wanted a comfortable home that reflected their aspirations and tastes, and the house combined exquisite period details - we lacked several pairs of eyes to take them all in - and traditional craftsmanship with modern technology. It had central heating, a modern kitchen and bathrooms and electric light throughout by 1893.



Having finally had our fill of the charming wood carvings - the bat and the owl being particular favourites - we took deep breaths and stepped inside, where we were greeted by a friendly and knowledgeable volunteer, who bade us welcome and proceeded to introduce us to the house and its extraordinary collection of Pre-Raphaelite art.

As soon as I could get a word in edgewise, I told her that we were from Belgium and were gutted that the gallery wasn't open, as a local friend (Vix!) had waxed lyrical about the De Morgans and had urged us to go and visit it.



At first, our ploy didn't seem to have worked (whereupon I shrugged, sighed "Oh well" and walked away), but a couple of minutes later she came running after us, telling us to hang around as she was trying to get someone to open the gallery for us. Result!

We continued our tour of the ground floor, making sure not to venture too far away, and trying but failing to take in room after room of period furnishings and decor, not to mention the volume of Pre-Raphaelite art. It immediately became clear to us that we wouldn't be able to cover everything in one single visit, and that we'd have to return one day.





When Theodore Mander commissioned the building of Wightwick Manor in Old English style in 1887,  he started the Mander family's love for Victorian art and design. However, following his untimely death in 1900, his eldest son Geoffrey inherited the property, entering both the family firm and local politics. After his first marriage in 1906, he and his wife, Florence, became notable advocates of women’s suffrage, holding meetings in the drawing room.

Wightwick as we now know it, however, developed only after Geoffrey’s second marriage - the first having ended in divorce - in 1930. His new wife, Rosalie Glynn Grylls, gave up her ambitions to be a Liberal MP and focused her attention on English literature and art. Starting with a biography of Mary Shelley, her surroundings at Wightwick soon inspired her to research the Pre-Raphaelites, especially Rossetti.



Sir Geoffrey and Lady Mander began to collect works associated with the movement, especially by those artists who had been friends of William Morris: Rossetti, Burne-Jones, their pupils and, interestingly, the Pre-Raphaelite women - principally Evelyn De Morgan and Lizzie Siddal. Their first acquisition was a portrait of Jane Morris by Rossetti. She is the striking red head above the piano in the previous collage. That's her husband William Morris's silhouette on the bottom right in the same collage, as well as one of his iconic wallpaper designs, Pimpernel.



Other works which caught our eye are the luscious portrait of Jane Hughes, Mrs. Nassau Senior (1858) by George F. Watts (top left), Fair Rosamond (1869) by Henry Treffry Dunn (bottom centre) and Music, Sweet Music (Saint Cecilia) by Evelyn De Morgan (1889) on the top right.



Lady Mander also had an eye for a bargain and made canny purchases, not just of art but of items from the Morris & Co range, such as the Trellis wallpaper in the previous collage, Acanthus (above, bottom left) and Daisy (above, top right).

I loved the fact that the chairs you were allowed to sit down on were indicated by cat cushions, a tribute to Rosalie, Lady Mander, who adored cats! 




In 1937, Geoffrey Mander gifted Wightwick Manor, its contents, and a financial endowment to the National Trust. It was the first house given under the recently introduced Country House Scheme. which meant that a family donating their property to the Trust did not have to pay death duties but could continue to live in the property rent free for two generations. In return, the property would be, at least partly, opened to the public.

Thus, Sir Geoffrey and Lady Mander continued to live in the house, opening it to the public on Thursday afternoons. As the property got more popular the National Trust provided helpers to welcome guests and offer guided tours.



We were gasping over the stunning Great Parlour, modelled on the medieval great hall - which you can catch a glimpse of in the photo above the collage - when our helpful volunteer came seeking us out, telling us that she'd found someone and that we were to follow her. She quickly whizzed us through the rest of the ground floor, opening a couple of secret doors to allow for shortcuts, and out through the servants' wing.

After waiting a couple of minutes in front of the gallery (below, top left) a young volunteer appeared, took us up the flight of stairs, produced the all-important key, and let us in. It was quite special having the place completely to ourselves and being able to admire the works of William and Evelyn De Morgan unhindered by other visitors.




William De Morgan (1839-1917) was a friend of William Morris, and the foremost ceramic artist of the Arts and Crafts Movement in the latter half of the 19th century.  That's his portrait dating from 1909 on the bottom right, holding one of his lustreware vases (c.1900) . The portrait was painted by his wife, Evelyn. 

He began his formal training as a fine artist, before being led by his scientific and mathematical investigations to the decorative arts, creating stained glass, designing his own kilns, undertaking investigations in chemistry to create innovative lustre glazes and, finally, enjoying a second career as an author of popular fiction.





Evelyn De Morgan (1855-1919) was a painter who defied the expectations of her class and gender to become one of the most impressive artists of her generation. Her richly coloured canvases featuring beautifully draped figures, deliver messages of feminism, spirituality and the rejection of war and material wealth, making them incredibly relevant today.



From top to bottom: The Cadence of Autumn (1905), Love's Passing (1883-84) and The Garden of Opportunity (1892).



A firm favourite was Demeter Mourning for Persephone, dating from 1906.

Demeter was the Greek goddess of the earth, and particularly of the fruits of the fields, and as usual she is represented here as the corn-goddess. Her hair is covered with ears of corn, from which poppies drop around her. Her daughter, Persephone was kidnapped by Hades and taken beneath the earth to his kingdom. Inconsolable at the loss of her daughter, Demeter refused to allow the earth to be fruitful.

You can see the painting in detail on the website of the De Morgan Collection here.



Our heads still reeling from all that splendour, we made our way to the tearooms for a late lunch. Contrary to the tearooms at Powis Castle, there weren't any queues, and we had the pick of the tables.
We both opted for jacket potatoes (Jos's favourite) with cheese, salad and coleslaw, which were absolutely delicious. 

Afterwards, we returned to the house to continue our explorations and to thank the lovely volunteer for her efforts. We were recognized by another volunteer, who asked us if we were back for round two. When we told her about the gallery, at first she misunderstood and was all set to call around to see if she could find someone to open it for us! 




It was mid afternoon when we finally made it outside but were lacking the stamina to properly explore the grounds and gardens. Yet another reason to come back another time ...

Instead we walked to the terraced garden, swooning over the black and white half-timbering and bay windows of Wightwick Manor's East Wing.



Then we strolled to the formal garden, where several peacock topiary are ruling the roost.

Apparently, new building development in the surrounding area has led to increased water run off through the gardens, which their Victorian drainage system is struggling to cope with. Therefore they are fundraising to develop a long term solution so that the beautiful gardens are not washed away. For this purpose, peacock topiary pins are sold for £ 3. We both bought one and as you can see, Jos started wearing his one straight away!





After another Lady of the Manor pose, it was time for a restorative cup of coffee before driving back to the cowshed.

I was wearing my beloved curtain couture maxi skirt, which I combined with an orange cap sleeved top patterned with tiny black and white dots. Both were ancient Think Twice finds and it was certainly not the first time they were worn together. My haori style cover-up was charity shopped and proved to be my best friend for a couple of days. Both the stretchy belt and my trusted Clarks Cloudsteppers were retail buys.

I'll be back with further adventures as soon as I've recovered from the extreme temperatures which have been predicted for the next days! If you're in the same boat, do stay cool!





Thursday, 31 October 2019

Saturday Night and Sunday Morning

Well, it seems I did leave you with a bit of a cliffhanger at the end of last post! The question is, what did I wear for Saturday night’s birthday party? You know, the one we didn’t feel like going to?

Those of you following me on Instagram already know that my outfit of choice was based around this seriously floral midi dress. I’m sure you’ll be shocked, though, when I tell you that it’s not vintage nor even second hand. No, it was a rare retail buy snapped up in last Winter’s sale.



If the print is familiar and makes you think of wallpaper, it’s because it’s from H&M’s collaboration with Morris & Co. in the Autumn of 2018. I’ve always been drawn to the Arts & Crafts movement, and to William Morris in particular so, even if I didn’t queue to buy anything from the collection when it first appeared in the shops, I was more than happy to hand over my money when I spotted the dress on the sales rails.



We snapped a few quick outfit photos before leaving, but I completely forgot to add the maroon cardigan I wore for most of the evening. I was also wearing chartreuse opaques, which obviously you can’t see in the photos. Both the necklace and the wide, chocolate brown leather belt were charity shop finds.

It felt very odd to be told by several people on Instagram that they have the same dress or another garment in a similar print, as I’m definitely not used to that kind of thing!


Both Suzy and Sheila remarked on the pink feather boa I was wearing in the closing photo of my last post, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint them. It's just a pink frilly scarf, which I only wore outside for warmth, as it was a bit of a chilly evening. I thought it looked rather lonely photographed on its own, so I included this lovely Diwali card I received from one of our Indian suppliers to keep it company.

For the record, back in 2006, when we were holidaying in Oxfordshire, we visited Kelmscott Manor, which was William Morris’s Summer retreat, signing a joint lease with the Pre-Raphaelite painter Dante Gabriel Rossetti in the summer of 1871.


And look, here’s a 13 years younger, painfully thin and extremely short haired me. This was definitely a holiday when I needed all my heatwave clothes!

On Sunday, we were up bright and early, as we had the second edition of this season’s indoor flea market to go to. On second thought, scrap the “bright” part, as Jos still wasn’t feeling very well. However, he couldn’t bear the thought of giving the flea market a miss, so off we went.

Obviously, I had to dress the part in order not to let my fans down. There are quite a few traders who are looking forward to seeing what I’m wearing.  What can I say: in a crowd of casually, colourlessly and often shabbily dressed browsers, both Jos and I do stand out a bit!




My maxi skirt and pussy-bow blouse both came from Think Twice, but were purchased years apart. 

The skirt, in a heavy polyester fabric, black with generous sprinklings of blue flowers, was a recent acquisition. It is fully lined as well, which makes it perfect for the current season. 

The blouse, with its red on white geometrical pattern, has been a wardrobe staple for several years. I love its slippery fabric, which allows the pussy bow to flop satisfactorily. In order to secure the bow, I used a scarf clip which always reminds me of Wedgwood's Jasperware china.

The wide belt is one of my current favourites and was a charity shop find. 




Although I hadn’t done my coat swap-over yet at that point, I'm always keeping some warmer jackets at the ready. This green tweed blazer was charity shopped last year. To its lapel, I pinned one of my vintage silhouette brooches. I do love the slightly faded glory of this one.

Comfortable tan boots made for walking completed my outfit.

There were far more stalls at the flea market venue than there were back in September and their overall quality was outstanding, with lots of treasures on offer. However, several traders were complaining that business had been rather slow on both days (the flea market runs both on Saturday and Sunday) which I thought was a bit odd as it was grey and wet outside: the perfect weather for an indoor flea market. 


So, what did we find? 

Let’s start with a group photo!

I was looking for a pair of wooden shoe stretchers, preferably vintage ones, so how miraculous that I found a pair in my size on the very first stall we looked at! They've already been put to use giving a gentle bit of stretch to my vintage Hush Puppies.


Skipping from our first buy to the last one: these vintage buttons were picked up from a stall in the final aisle. I can never resist rummaging through this lady’s extensive collection and was very pleased to find several sets of green buttons, which are generally hard to come by.



I’d already paid for my purchases when my attention was grabbed by this small glass-topped wooden box at the same stall. I’ve always got room for another trinket box, especially one as delightful as this, with its scene of a girl in a rowing boat feeding the ducks.



It almost goes without saying that there were a couple of brooches among my purchases.

The first one I picked up was the green ceramic dog. The stall holder is a very nice, French speaking lady, from whom I’ve bought quite a few things before. She was thrilled when I pointed out the  brooch on my jacket, as this was one of hers as well.

Another butterfly has joined my collection so that once again I'm having to make room in the creepy crawlies drawer.


I already own several micromosaic brooches, but this part of my collection is only growing very slowly, as I'm not willing to pay the usually exorbitant asking prices.  I was dithering over this yellow-rimmed one, when the seller, who is one of my fans, let me have it at a reduced price. I didn't even have to haggle for it, which I hardly ever do anyway.

Both of the brooches on the bottom right are modern Lea Stein rip-offs. There was a whole tray of them to choose from, and these are the ones that came home with me. 


I've kept my favourite find for last.

Passing a stall displaying a jumble of delectable items, my eyes immediately zoomed in to this delightful ceramic girl's head. I'm guessing she's from the late 1920s, early 1930s. She's got a bit of damage, but for me that just adds to her appeal. The seller told us she is French: she was brought back from Provence.


Here she is, feeling quite at home on the shelf of treasures in our bedroom.

By now it is clear that I have a weakness for these ceramic or plaster of Paris heads or wall plaques, most of which live on our spare room's chimney breast and mantelpiece.

There are even some plastic ones, like my beloved Twiggy (top left), which I was able to buy at a great price when one of my favourite vintage shops closed down back in 2016, and the rather demented looking Sybil (bottom left), a hairdresser's training head snapped up in a charity shop for a silly € 0,50. She's great at modelling hats (as is Twiggy) and owes her name to the brand name (Sibel) displayed on her neck, which I've disguised by giving her a jaunty little scarf.


But my most treasured mannequin's head, who spent her former life showing off the latest fashion in hats in a 1930s shop, is the haughty Idina.

She was one of the last ladies left from a lot in a reclamation shop and I'm forever regretting not snapping up a male companion for her.


I was reading The Bolter at the time, the biography of Lady Idina Sackville (1893-1955) by her great-granddaughter Frances Osborne, and I thought my precious mannequin was a dead ringer for her.

Idina was a cousin of Vita Sackville-West, and her behaviour and lifestyle (she married and divorced five times) scandalized middle class society at the time.

Back in August 2016, I asked my blog readers to suggest a name for my mannequin, as I wasn't totally convinced Idina was the right choice. But in spite of all your efforts, the name Idina stuck, so that's show she's been known ever since. Always prefixed with haughty, though!