Categories
Art Fashion People

Daphne Guinness + Sleep

Be Careful What You Dream

Racing across London in the heat of a midsummer afternoon, the car windows down, the wind in our hair, causing waves, making waves, waving to passersby, while over the airwaves Solitaire plays. “She prayed for salvation. She wept for their pride. She cried for San Sebastián. And every single arrow in his side.” We’re duetting with our driver. The anticipation crescendos as we arrive at our secret destination. Diana Mitford’s granddaughter and Desmond Guinness’s niece doesn’t disappoint.

Daphne Guinness is even more exquisite, more elegant and more eloquent in real life. And just a little shy although by the end of the afternoon we have her laughing. She has her grandmother’s sharp cheekbones and her uncle’s piercing blue eyes. A model figure is accentuated by a trademark monochromatic outfit. She knows how to pull off a silhouette. Her white blonde pompadour (‘hair’ is for non human art installations) with just a dash of pink is splayed up with the help of kanzashi. Alexander McQueen sculptures to stride on (again, not mere ‘shoes’) and silver clad fingers complete the look.

Sleep is Daphne’s fifth album and is getting justifiably rave reviews. Traces of Beethoven and Pet Shop Boys are discernible but her music style is unsurprisingly unique. “The album has taken from conception till now three and a half years. I’ve released five videos from it so far. I want to be the crossover between sound and vision, the two different disciplines. And because I’ve been working with many photographers over the years, especially David LaChappelle. To me, when I’m writing the songs they’re all quite visual. Some of the tracks are condensed classical form: first act, second act, third act, fourth act, resolve. Others are just pop tracks with none of that narrative. But several are actually building out worlds in verse.”

“My first album was made with visionary photographer and director Nick Knight. And then Paul Fryer for the second one. Two with David. And then this one with Malcolm Doherty and David and so on. The good times always have to start!” We tell Daphne that every track on her album could be a single. “That’s what you try and do as an artist. In writing lyrics I try to cut out every piece of slack, chop every word that isn’t useful. A song can come kind of fully formed but then you need to sculpt it.” We venture how she has taught a generation to pronounce ‘chimera’. Daphne bursts out laughing. Surprisingly loudly, considering how softly she speaks. “Sometimes you just use a word because it’s really fantastic to use and add some nuance round it.”

“I didn’t go to university. I’m an autodidact. I read books all the time. My song Love and Destruction is a condensed reading of Nietzsche. It’s a philosophical text.” But she needed encouragement to take the first steps in her artistic musical career – that shyness. “I was in the studio for my first album, crouched under the desk in a corner and David Bowie came in and dragged me out by the ankles and said, ‘Come on – out! You’ve got to stand up! Stop hiding!’ Anyway, he really was instrumental in that album and was the shadow producer or godfather producer. I was his project – how wonderful to be his project. He was very funny and great.”

Daphne reminisces about her childhood. “I spent my early life in the country nine miles from Nuneaton, on the border of Leicestershire and Warwickshire. When I was growing up there all the mines were being shut down. It’s very grey, it’s very bleak. But it’s brilliant! It’s actually quite nice growing up in a bleak place. You develop an imagination around that. People ignore the Midlands at their peril. I have moved around a lot – Spain, Switzerland, Ireland, France, the US.”

“I went to school in London to begin with and then I was sent away to a really really bad boarding school and I kind of fell apart. I got into Guildhall where I trained as an opera singer, did all the exams. I then went off and got married at 19 and had three children. And again, the autodidact came out and I continued to train in opera.” We just have to bring up Solitaire. That infectious laugh once more. “You know it’s almost worth going through all the terrible things in my life to get a song like Solitaire. It almost sounds like you need to be nearly killed or put into the most terrifying positions to end up with a song like that! I expelled ghosts. I collapsed after I recorded the song – it was like everything was gone.”

Mishima is the second track on Sleep and is about the Japanese writer. I had a Japanese nanny from I was three to five so I was fluent in Japanese. When Mishima died she was in tears. She taught me how to do reciprocal behaviour – my father found me in tears on the staircase at home and he said, ‘What are you doing?’ I mean, you can see from my hairstyle …” Ah, the origin of the kanzashi. “What’s really interesting is the San Sebastián connection in Solitaire. Mishima famously did these pictures of San Sebastián with the arrows. Our home in Cadaqués was named after San Sebastián. There are so many weird threads that go in and out. You couldn’t make it up!”

“I was going to give up recording after my third album. I thought it was pretty good. It was a monster to mix this album with all the strings and the drums. Normally at this stage of an album I’m ready for hospital … That’s why I started doing videos because I wasn’t sure if I would survive this process. I thought well if I do videos and something happens … Actually I feel alright. I hope people like the album and the words and the atmosphere get through. You have no idea if it’s going to resonate with anybody else but I’d prefer to live and die on a perfect pitch, stanza, iambic pentameter, to get a real message across.”

“We’re living in urgent times. But Sleep has got a very upbeat sound and yet the message is serious but actually there’s optimism in it. All the tracks are my favourites in so many ways. The only person I’m trying to beat is myself really. I don’t even go for a walk without a goal.” We don’t want to leave but our driver has arrived and it’s time to go. He blasts No Joke full volume on the return journey. “You’re flesh and blood. You won’t be here for long. Don’t push your luck … Before your eyes, an enigma lies.” Debo Devonshire’s great niece and Clementine Lady Beit’s cousin twice removed doesn’t disappoint. In Daphne Guinness’s departing words: “It’s a mysterious journey.”

Categories
Architects Architecture Art Country Houses Design Developers People Town Houses

Gosford Castle Markethill Armagh + Thomas Hopper

Norman Gates

In 1970, the Honourable Desmond Guinness, Founder and first President of the Irish Georgian Society, participated in the television programme Whicker’s World. He told the presenter Alan Whicker that, “In England any dovecote by Robert Adam has been written up about 20 times in Country Life.” While the aforementioned magazine featured Gosford House in East Lothian in 1911, it does not appear to have ever included Gosford Castle outside Markethill in County Armagh. Gosford Castle has though appeared in several books on Irish architecture and rightly so.

Brian de Breffny’s Castles of Ireland, 1977, is a serious study of fortresses and fortified houses. He records, “When it was completed after 20 years, Gosford was claimed to be the largest country house in Ireland – a massive complex of circular towers, angular keep, bastions, towerlets and arches linked internally by rambling corridors. Pale granite quarried at Bessbrook in County Armagh was used for its construction. The Norman theme is pursued purposefully and executed with masterful originality.” Gosford Castle is no mean dwelling, but Coolattin and Humewood (both in County Wicklow) as well as Temple House (in County Sligo) would give it a long and strenuous run for its money as Ireland’s largest country house. Its restoration is approaching 20 years in the making.

Mark Girouard in his seminal 1979 work Historic Houses of Britain (before the avalanche of country house coffee table books truly spilled forth) mentions Gosford Castle when writing about Penrhyn Castle in Gwynedd, Wales, “Thomas Hopper had been fashionable ever since George IV – then still Prince Regent – had commissioned a Gothic conservatory from him in 1807 for Carlton House, London. Like most architects of his time, he was prepared to design buildings in almost any style. Hie had already designed one castle and altered another. His new Irish castle was Gosford in County Armagh. It had the distinction of being the first of the new castles to be Norman.”

“By the 1820s there were plenty of new castles but only one other new Norman one, and that in a part of Ireland which relatively few people visited. The reason why most people steered clear of Norman was straightforward. Norman was the oldest, most primitive and uncomfortable of the English styles (except of course Saxon, of which only a handful of churches, and no houses or castles, survived). It was hard enough to build something which looked sufficiently like a castle and was still reasonably comfortable without loading the dice against oneself by making it Norman too.”

The most recently published commentary on the castle comes from Kevin Mulligan, The Buildings of Ireland: South Ulster, 2013. It is part of the series founded by Sir Nikolaus Pevsner and Alistair Rowan similar to that on England, Scotland and Wales. “Set on a ramparted platform in dense woods, Gosford is a great brawny pile. Large and unforgiving, its castellated form rises mirage like, a picturesque grouping of square and circular masses with carefully recessed surface layers and an impressive display of Romanesque detailing. Even in pale granite, the architecture appears grave, a brooding grandiloquent expression of an invented past that represents the most assured instance of a revived Norman style in these islands.”

“It was probably Hopper’s role as arbitrator in a dispute between Nash and Lord O’Neill at Shane’s Castle in Antrim in 1816 that won him the commission here, brought to Lord Gosford’s notice perhaps by his agent William Blacker, who had also acted for O’Neill. It is difficult to gauge the role of the Earl in the actual choice of design, but there is nothing to suggest that he was the innovator. The Romanesque style was never to become popular, the general view holding that the forms of its apertures are inapplicable to our habits. Hopper’s unique feeling for Romanesque forms expressed here, and later in a more ambitious work at Penrhyn Castle in Wales, was undoubtedly conditioned by his birthplace in Rochester … Hopper was to express deep regret that he had come to Ireland, so disillusioned had he become with his patron in 1834. Even then the castle was far from complete.”

“The second phase of work, undertaken by Hopper’s assistant George Adam Burn for the 3rd Earl, involved the creation of a new bastioned entrance on the eastern corner of the north front, along with the completion of the family apartments in the straggling northwest range. The architecture subtly becomes more eccentric and the details more inventive. Adding a new two storey entrance block on the northeast corner, Burn disrupted the formality of its cubic proportions by forming an unusual engaged cylinder as a corner turret to the first floor Billiard Room.”

Sir Charles Brett devoted four pages to Gosford Castle in Buildings of County Armagh, 1999. Charlie’s epic series on the architecture of the Counties of Ulster was cut short by his death six years later. “An important work by one of the leading London architects of the first half of the 19th century, Thomas Hopper, 1776 to 1856. Sir Howard Colvin says that Hopper was an eclectic designer who held the belief that ‘it is an architect’s business to understand all styles, and to be prejudiced in favour of none’, and considers that ‘his most interesting and original works were the two Norman castles in which he effectively combined picturesque massing with a remarkable repertoire of Romanesque detailing which owed something to his familiarity with the 12th century keeps of Rochester and Hedingham.’ His pupils included the young Belfast architect John Millar, who worked on this commission with him, and signed a drawing showing the proposed front elevation.”

“The design was commissioned by Archibald Acheson, 2nd Earl of Gosford, after the previous house had burned down. Mark Bence-Jones says that it was ‘largely paid for by his wife, the daughter and heiress of Robert Sparrow, of Worlingham Hall, Suffolk: so that it is possible that the choice of so strange a style as Norman was hers; she was a lifelong friend of Lady Byron so may have absorbed some of Byron’s exotic and somewhat sinister brand of romanticism.’” Even before the castle was completed, the Gosfords separated and Lady Gosford returned to live in Suffolk where she died in 1841, eight years before her husband. Her Ladyship’s final earthly journey was not without incident. A record from the time states, “On its return journey to County Armagh for burial in the family vault at Mullaghbrack, her coffin was mislaid by the drunken servants whom Lord Gosford had sent to fetch it, and was conveyed by train to somewhere in the Midlands.” Charles Acheson the 7th Earl of Gosford, born in 1942, whose father sold the castle, lives in Suffolk.

Charlie continues, “Gosford is remarkably large, remarkably elaborate, and exceptionally well built – indeed, it appears not just defensible but practically indestructible. It is dominated by its great square keep with corner turrets containing chimneys, with subsidiary round and square towers. Bence-Jones considers that ‘the garden front has a strange beauty; the stone seems pale, Norman becomes more like Southern Romanesque’. The grouping is masterly; the walls are at different angles to each, so that there is a great sense of movement. Although Norman was really unsuited to 19th century living, the interior does not suffer from the heaviness one finds at Penrhyn.”

Bringing the commentary up to date Nicholas Sheaff, first Director of the Irish Architectural Archive, offers these observations in 2024: “The neo Norman style was practised with great conviction by the architect Thomas Hopper in the second quarter of the 19th Century. It was a ‘reinvention of tradition’ (to pirate historian Eric Hobsbawn’s theme) which had its origins in two distinct aesthetic currents. The first current was the neoclassical proclivity for the ‘elemental’ in architecture, awakened by the rediscovery of the Greek temples at Paestum and amplified by the architectural visualisations of Piranesi, particularly his ‘Carceri’ of the 1750s and Paestum etchings of 1778. The second current was the growing pride in British nationhood in the years after Waterloo, with an exploration of the national tradition in architecture and decorative design where the Norman (often dubbed ’Saxon’) was seen as the fountainhead.”

“As the architectural historian Hugh Dixon has suggested, Hopper’s massing of architectural forms at Gosford probably derives from the profile of the great Norman castle of Carrickfergus County Antrim, with its dominating central keep. Hopper’s interior planning embodies a narrative informality which draws on the example of his older contemporary John Nash, each room contributing a fresh spatial and decorative experience to the interior sequence. Hopper’s neo Norman architecture has a sculptural and emotive presence which is the antithesis of the rectilinear, rationalist neoclassical. A lithograph of circa 1830 portrays Gosford Castle in an almost untamed wooded demesne, an irregular architectural grouping set in a vigorous natural environment as advocated by Richard Payne Knight, that leading aesthetician of the picturesque. The lithograph presents a romantic vision of a turbulent landscape under a northern sky, as painted possibly by Jacob van Ruisdael, far distant in its style and impact from the arcadian vistas and golden light of Claude Lorrain.”

It is something of a wonder that Gosford Castle and its demesne both survive for ever since Thomas Hopper put pencil to paper it has had a rocky time. Financial constraints, disputes and overseas sojourns slowed down construction. In 1821 the outbuildings were progressing; in 1828 the Portland stone staircase was erected; in 1833 plasterers and joiners were working on the main rooms; in 1835 Lord Gosford became Governor in Canada for four years; in 1840 Newry architect Thomas Duff took over designing alterations and additions although Thomas Hopper remained involved at some level; in 1852 the Armagh Guardian reported that “a number of tradesmen are now engaged finishing the remaining wing of this building”; in 1864 the 3rd Earl died and the house became a family shooting lodge; in 1888 the 4th Earl sold the library; in 1921 he sold the rest of the contents; in 1940 the British army occupied the house; and in 1978 the Northern Ireland Forestry Commission acquired the 240 hectare demesne and castle. At least Gosford Castle didn’t burn down like its Georgian predecessor which had ended up a charred ruin in 1805.

An estate acquisition by the Forestry Commission normally rang the death knell for a house (not least Pomeroy House in County Tyrone) but somehow even after a failed stint leased to a hotel, Gosford Castle has survived relatively unscathed. The unrelenting permanence of this mountain of a house built of local stone rooted in geography and history continues to shine like a beacon in the woods. The road to its revival has not been smooth and is a story of changing ownership, court cases and construction delays – all sounding familiar as history repeats itself. Hopefully the restoration won’t take longer than the original construction.

At the opening of the 21st century, the Belfast architectural practice The Boyd Partnership led by Arthur Acheson (no relation to the Gosfords) was commissioned by the developer Gosford Castle Development Ltd to design the conversion of Gosford Castle into 23 homes. Arthur had form. He had restored the 17th century Finnebrogue House near Downpatrick and converted outbuildings to residential use. Arthur and his wife lived at Finnebrogue from 1994 until 2009. He died earlier this year. In her condolences, Lord Lieutenant of Belfast Dame Fionnuala Jay-O’Boyle noted the architect was founding Chair of Belfast Civic Trust.

The rockiest of times had immediately preceded The Boyd Partnership’s involvement. Marcus Patton reported in the Summer 2006 Heritage Review of the Ulster Architectural Heritage Society that, “It is one of fewer than 200 Grade A Listed Buildings in Northern Ireland and is arguably our most important building at risk. The Society has maintained a keen interest in its future, and for those with knowledge of its recent history the confirmation of its sale for £1,000 to a private developer on 6 January will have come as something of a surprise.”

“Perhaps the most disappointing aspect of this process has been the lack of vision shown by central Government as the long term custodian of the castle. We all recognise the significant challenges that such a building can present, and we want to see it sympathetically restored. However this surely could have been achieved in a manner which would have allowed public access to the most important internal spaces as well as facilitating wider economic regeneration.” The Society was concerned about the loss of internal architectural detailing and spatial integrity through the conversion process.

Just before his death, Arthur explained, “In the design of this restoration we as a company decided to break away from the typical apartment model usually associated with conversions of Listed Buildings. Instead we opted to develop the castle as a series of individual homes, each with their own front door, hallway, staircase and in some cases, as many as four floors of accommodation. These unique homes range in size from 92 square metres to 371 square metres.” The average sized three bedroom house in the UK is 88 square metres. This vertical arrangement maximised character and minimised room subdivision. Country townhouses.

The contract value of the development is £8 million; work began in 2006 and is well progressed in 2024. This restoration and conversion is in three phases: firstly, the western part of the family wing and the southern part of the courtyard into eight houses; secondly, the northern part of the courtyard into four houses; and thirdly, the eastern part of the family wing and all of the main block into 11 houses. The cylindrical tower is one of the self contained houses. The neo Norman decorative plasterwork and panelling of the principal rooms such as the Library have been restored. It is unknown if any of the military graffiti scrawled on internal walls will be retained in situ. The demesne is open to the public as a forest park.

Dixie Deane records a structure that predates the castle in his 1994 gazetteer Gatelodges of Ulster, “Circa 1700. Off the old county road, now absorbed into the enlarged Gosford Estate, lie two large ornamental ponds between which the avenue to the manor house led over a causeway. The access is below a semicircular headed carriage archway in a large wall of roughly carved rubble whinstone dressed in classically moulded carved limestone.” On either side of the archway are attached 15 square metre porters’ lodges. Each has a Dutch gable reminiscent of Richhill Castle, also in County Armagh, and Springhill County Londonderry. Perched on their roofs are Sir John Vanbrugh style arched chimneystacks mimicking miniature belfries.

A rerouting of the road to Tandragee means the former gamekeeper’s cottage dating from circa 1840 is now accessed off a cul-de-sac backing onto the Gosford Castle Estate. Probably by Thomas Hopper, it is as unique in its own way as the neo Norman castle: this rustic log cabin is a gingerbread house brought to life. Spindly metal columns prop up a steep hipped roof and frame a wraparound verandah. The walls are panelled with narrow strips of wood at various angles and the windows have triangular heads. A simple rendered contemporary extension doubles the ground floor accommodation of this diminutive dwelling. The cottage is now a two bedroom holiday let.

Gosford Castle is a marvel in so many ways. For starters, why did the 2nd Earl and Countess of Gosford select neo Norman instead of the more popular Gothic or Italianate styles? Perhaps it was in the spirit of choosing your ancestors wisely. In a country of castles to show off your ancestry the next best thing to living in a Norman castle would be erecting and living in a neo Norman castle. The turn of the 18th century entrance archway and lodges – Blenheim Palace on Keizersgracht – are very special. The lodges are windowless but roofed and vegetation has been removed. Most marvellous if not miraculous of all is the survival and reuse of the wooden former gamekeeper’s cottage.

Gosford Castle itself has never looked better. The huge revivification is finally nearing completion to house 23 new Lords and Ladies of the Manor. The white stone glistens in its dense forest surroundings like a fairytale scene. Surprisingly there was no enabling new development as part of the restoration and redevelopment. The Planning Appeals Commission has though in 2024 allowed on appeal a development of 11 one and a half storey contemporary cottages in the abandoned car park to the rear of the castle courtyard. The adjoining walled garden will be restored as part of this residential development.

Commissioner Laura Roddy reports, “The scale and massing proposed with the low elevation design would respect the Listed Building. Whilst the proposed dwellings would be of a more modern design than the castle, this, combined with the simplicity of the design would ensure that the proposed dwellings would be sympathetic to, and do not compete with or detract from, the castle.” She concludes, “Overall, I find the appeal proposal would be of a sympathetic scale of development and would respect the character of the setting of the Listed castle and walled garden. Further, it would restore the Listed walled garden, reinstate the historic pathway between the castle and walled garden and include a significant level of landscaping which would be sympathetic to its setting.” So in the end enabling development was allowed – just for the walled garden not the castle.

And that concludes the definitive tale of Gosford Castle, spanning two centuries and delivered in different voices over four decades, its origins best summarised by Nicholas Sheaff’s narrative of two distinct aesthetic currents.

Categories
Architects Architecture Art Design Hotels People Town Houses

IDA Global Headquarters + Iveagh Gardens Dublin

The Green Stuff

Everyone knows St Stephen’s Green in Dublin. But not so many people are aware that its southside buildings back onto Iveagh Gardens, a lower profile yet equally fine park. The brick rear elevations of Newman University Church (a windowless apse), Museum of Literature Ireland (a bow window and a chamfered bay with Gothick windows) and Stauntons on the Green Hotel (a pair of shallow chamfered bays) all rise above the archery grounds.

Iveagh Gardens are entered from the opposite side, off Upper Hatch Street. A new addition to the encircling cityscape, this time facing the park, is the IDA Ireland global headquarters, completed in 2019. Designed by Dublin practice MOLA, the transparent façade is a glacial foil to the verdancy of the gardens. IDA Chief Executive Martin Shanahan says, “The new location at Three Park Place provides IDA Ireland with an excellent location from which to market to global investors.” The IDA was previously located for 35 years at Wilton Place opposite the canal. Wilton Place is being redeveloped to the design of architects Henry John Lyons.

The Anglo Irish Guinness family have done so much for Ireland including Desmond and Mariga Guinness establishing the Irish Georgian Society in 1958. “Without a doubt,” writes Carola Peck in Mariga and Her Friends (1997), “both Desmond and Mariga worked unremittingly and unstintingly to save Dublin’s architectural heritage.” A century earlier, Benjamin Guinness leased Iveagh Gardens to the Dublin Exhibition Palace. The gardens were designed by landscape architect Ninian Niven, merging French Formal and English Landscape styles. His descendent Rupert Guinness 2nd Earl of Iveagh donated the gardens to the nation in 1939. The public – and IDA employees on their lunch break – can still enjoy the one metre high maze, sunken gardens with fountains, archery grounds, rustic grotto and cascade.

Categories
Architects Architecture Design People Town Houses

Nancy Mitford + 7 Rue Monsieur Paris

Love in a Temperate Climate

She adored Derek Hill (the painter) and couldn’t stand Le Corbusier (the architect). She wrote the biographies of Madame de Pompadour, Voltaire and Louis XIV. She was the cousin of Clementine Lady Beit, last doyenne of Ireland’s great house Russborough. Her nephew Desmond Guinness co founded the Irish Georgian Society. She had a pet chicken and cat. She wrote bestselling novels Highland Fling, Love in a Cold Climate and The Pursuit of Love among others. And she loved Paris. Enter Nancy Mitford, our favourite female English novelist.

She lived in the 7th Arrondisement on the Left Bank. “A very charming flat between the courtyard and the garden,” was how she described her French home. “The days go by and I have no desire to move from my house and garden.” Her sister Diana Mosley said, “As soon as possible, in 1945, she got a flat in Paris, where she lived for 20 happy years.” She never lived in England again. Nancy wrote to her mother, “I am so completely happy here… I feel a totally different person as if I had come out of a coalmine into daylight… Oh my passion for the French!”

It was a charmed existence. “The houses she visited ‘glittered like miniature Wallace Collections’ and the women were generally ‘glittering with jewels’,” records Harold Action in his 1975 biography of Nancy Mitford. He offers tantalising glimpses into her Parisian life: “Highly diverted by the difference of French and English social conventions, full of admiration for General de Gaulle, enchanted by the details and incidental episodes of the Parisian scene, she became ardently Francophile, yet she remained English to the core.”

“For the next 20 years, the happiest of her life, Nancy settled in Paris. Even before settling there she had put these words into the mouth of her hero Fabrice: ‘One’s emotions are intensified in Paris – one can be more happy and also more unhappy here than in any other place. But it is always a positive source of joy to live here, and there is nobody so miserable as a Parisian in exile from his town. The rest of the world seems unbearably cold and bleak to us, hardly worth living in…”

“Always a strenuous walker, Nancy was able to familiarise herself with the intimate old Paris behind the boulevards and the Hôtel de Ville, the quays and narrower streets with high roofed buildings, with the venerable Place des Vosges and the classical mansions on the left bank of the Seine so long inhabited by French nobility whose names had inspired Balzac and Proust. Balzac’s Madame de Sauve might even have suggested Nancy’s Sauveterre. The British Embassy was full of her friends. Our Ambassador Duff Cooper and the glamorous Lady Diana made it sparkle as never before with poets, painters and musicians.”

“Before the end of 1947 she had the good fortune to discover an ideal apartment, the ground floor of an old mansion between courtyard and garden in the Rue Monsieur, which she referred to henceforth as ‘Mr Street’. ‘I’ve got a perfectly blissful and more or less permanent flat,’ she informed in December 1947, ‘Untouched I should think for 60 years. I spent my first evening removing the 25 lace mats with objects on them mostly from Far Japan (dainty). The furniture is qualité de musée – such wonderful pieces, now you can see them.” Her character Cedric sounds positively autobiographic in Love in a Cold Climate: “In Paris I have an apartment of all beauty. One’s idea of heaven.”

Little wonder Nancy was a Francophile and honorary Parisian. Aren’t we all? Rue Monsieur is the Lad Lane of Paris. A tranquil oasis surrounded by all the action. Where Rue Monsieur tips the louche sounding Rue de Babylone to the north of Nancy’s pied-à-terre is the intriguing looking La Pagode. Under wraps for now, this oriental building was built as a community hall in 1896 to the design of architect Alexander Marcel before improbably becoming a cinema in the 1930s. Presumably our favourite female English novelist caught the odd matinée at La Pagode.

Categories
Art Design People

Min Hogg + The Seaweed Collection of Wallpapers + Fabrics

Finding Material

Min Hogg The World of Interiors Founder © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

“It’s sort of feeble really,” says Min Hogg. “Open the property section of any newspaper and you’ll see page after page of boring beige interiors. I blame technology. People just want to switch on this and that but can’t be bothered to look at things like furniture and paintings.” Her own flat is neither boring nor beige. Quite the opposite. It’s brimming with antiques and art and personality. And magazines. “The red bound copies on my shelves are from when I was Editor. The loose copies in boxes are all the subsequent issues.” Min was, of course, founding Editor of the highly influential magazine The World of Interiors.

“My mum would have made a brilliant Editor but she was awfully lazy,” confides Min. “She always made our houses really nice without any training, none of that, she just did it. She was a great decorator. You bet! So was my grandmother.” Min’s first plum role was as Fashion Editor of Harpers and Queen. Anna Wintour, who would later famously edit American Vogue, was her assistant. “We hated each other!” Min recalls, her sapphire blue eyes twinkling mischievously. “I was taken on by Harpers and Queen over her. She really knew I wasn’t as utterly dedicated to fashion as she was. By no means!” Nevertheless, Anna was the first to leave.

Min Hogg The World of Interiors Founder Home Garden Brompton Square London © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Thank goodness then for an ad in The Times for “Editor of an international arts magazine” which Min retrieved from her bin. She applied and the rest is publishing history. The World of Interiors was a roaring success from day one, year 1981. “I submitted a three line CV,” she laughs. “I didn’t want to bore Kevin Kelly the publisher with A Levels and so on!” It didn’t stop her being selected out of 70 candidates. “I sort of knew I’d got the job. I ended up having dinner with his wife and him that night. I think probably of all the people who applied, I was already such friends with millions of decorators. Just friends, not that I was doing them any good or anything, I just knew them because we were likeminded.”Min Hogg The World of Interiors Founder Home Brompton Square London © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Studying Furniture and Interior Design at the Central Art College must have helped. “Well it was too soon after the Festival of Britain and I really didn’t get it. The only person who taught anything was Terence Conran. He was only about a year older than any of us actually. But you could tell he wasn’t into Festival of Britain furniture either which, I’m sorry, I don’t like and never did.”

“Come and have a look at the view from the kitchen, it’s really good,” says Min stopping momentarily. “It’s like living opposite the Vatican,” pointing to the plump dome of Brompton Oratory. Back in her sitting room, the view is of treetops over a garden square, a plumped up cushion’s throw from Harrods. As for choosing an interior to publish, “If I liked it, I’d do it. If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t! I came to the job with this huge backlog of interior ideas. We never finished using them all. I’m blessed with a jolly broad spectrum of vision, and as you can see, although I’m not a modernist I can appreciate modernism when it’s good. I don’t like Art Nouveau either but I can get the point of a really good example of anything.”

Appropriately Min’s top floor which she bought in 1975 looks like a spread from The World of Interiors. “I don’t decorate, I just put things together. I’m a collector,” she confesses. Eclectically elegant, somehow everything fits together just so. “John Fowler was an innovator. He was frightfully clever.” So is Min. She laments the disappearance of antique shops. And junk shops. “London used to be stuffed with junk shops. Now it’s seaside towns like Bridport and Margate that have all the antique shops. There’s nothing left in London. Just the few grand ones.” Interiors may be her “addiction” but Min is interested in all art forms. She’s been an active member of the Irish Georgian Society ever since it was founded by her friends Desmond and Mariga Guinness. “I love the plasterwork of Irish country houses,” she relates, “Castletown’s a favourite.”

Min Hogg The World of Interiors Founder Address Brompton Square London © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

With her vivacity and an email address list to die for, it’s little wonder Min’s parties are legendary. She even makes a fun filled appearance in Rupert Everett’s autobiography. But it’s not all play between her Kensington flat and second home in the Canaries. She’s still Editor at Large of The World of Interiors. Plus a few years ago she launched the Min Hogg Seaweed Collection of Wallpapers and Fabrics. It began with Nicky Haslam telling her: “I need a wallpaper for an Irish house I’m decorating. You know about colour and design.” So Nicky gave Min an 18th century portfolio of botanical seaweed prints for inspiration and off she went.

Min Hogg The World of Interiors Founder Seaweed Collection Wallpapers © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Mike Tighe, the former Art Director of The World of Interiors, joined me,” she explains. “For me it was a physical thing, cutting out paper patterns by hand. Mike did all the computer work. I learnt to do a repeat and everything else. It’s funny how you can learn something if you’re interested. By pure luck the finished result looks like hand blocked wallpaper. If someone gives us a colour we can match it. I like changing the scale too from teeny to enormous.” It’s a versatile collection, printed on the finest papers, cottons, linens and velvets. Prominent American interior designers like Stephen Sills love it. The collection may be found in a world of interiors from a Hawaiian villa to a St Petersburg palace. But not in any boring beige homes.

Min Hogg The World of Interiors Founder Seaweed Collection Fabrics © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Categories
Architects Architecture Country Houses Hotels Luxury People

Coopershill House Sligo + Francis Bindon

Louder Sang that Ghost

Really, it’s the perfect Georgian box in the perfect grouping in the perfect setting. Coopershill House took 19 years to build; over 240 years later the house and estate are still in great shape. Dr Roderick O’Donnell succinctly states, “Coopershill is a classic Irish Georgian house – dead symmetrical.” Dr Maurice Craig observed it was “built of locally quarried ashlar, it has a fine bold cornice, as have nearly all Bindon’s houses.” Bindon, Francis Bindon. Coopershill was first attributed to this Irish architect by the Knight of Glin. Much more anon.

Deane Swift generously described Francis (they were friends) as “the greatest painter and architect of his time in these Kingdoms”. His designs tend to group the windows together towards the centre of the façade, leaving a mass of masonry on the corners. This occurs on the façade of Coopershill and at the country house he designed in County Kilkenny, Woodstock. It lends a certain monumentality to the architecture. Coopershill is designed to be seen from all angles: it’s a standalone cubic block devoid of wings, every elevation symmetrical, the house with no back.

A bit like Castle ffrench in County Galway. Coopershill may once have had parapets like those of Castle ffrench. “We recently visited Florence Court in Enniskillen,” says Simon O’Hara. He inherited Coopershill a few years ago from his parents. “I think the main block is about the same size as Coopershill.” These two houses share more than their massing in common: both have heavy rustication, a Gibbsian doorcase and a first floor Venetian Room. This is named after the Venetian, or Palladian, or Serliana window over the entrance door. At Coopershill, amusingly, the sidelights and semi-circular arch over the central light are blind. Inside the Venetian Room, it appears as a regular rectangular six pane over six pane sash window.

There are another two blind windows on the narrower west, or side, elevation. Unlike the entrance, or north, front, they don’t have wooden frames and glazing so are less convincing. “We repainted them to retain the symmetry of the architecture,” he records. But it is the similarity between the two principal elevations, the north (entrance) and south (river facing) which is most striking. They’re virtually identical. It’s a game of spot the difference: the end bays of the south elevation are closer to the corners giving more regular spacing to the window sequence. This even distribution lendsit a more conventional Palladian appearance; the grouping of bays on the north front make it look a little idiosyncratic, somehow more Irish.

The doorcase of the north elevation is replicated on the south except for glazing replacing the door itself. Under this central window, the wall looks unfinished. Could steps have once been there? Or was this elevation originally intended to be the entrance front? “The house took so long to complete,” Simon reckons, “that changes were made during the course of construction. It’s strange how the landing cuts across the Venetian window on the south front. A flying staircase would solve that design flaw!” Indeed a flying staircase like that at Woodbrook, County Wexford, wouldn’t interrupt the landing window. It’s a quirk and a charming one at that. The slope of the land from north to south would reveal the full extent of the basement save for the rubble wall. Below the wall is a kitchen garden which is put to good use for the Monsieur Michelin worthy top notch top nosh dinner:

Candlelit dinner is served in the dining room which looks out towards Kesh Mountain. Owner and Chef Christina O’Hara reminds us that “all the vegetables are from the kitchen garden” and “everything is cooked on the Aga”. At some stage an Irish rhubarb appears with a hint of curry. Nasturtiums add a dash of colour to the pale monkfish. Silverware, glassware, Wedgwood and Mrs Delaney coasters and placemats perfect the table arrangement.

Before dinner, Simon leads a tour of the top and bottom floors. “We’re slowly recolonising the whole house.” His parents spent £100,000 replacing the roof which is cleverly designed to capture rainwater between the two valleys and funnel it down to ground level. The second floor contains family as well as guest accommodation. The first floor – the Venetian Room, the Pink Room, the Blue Room and so on – is all given over to guest accommodation. Simon knows his stuff: he’s President of Ireland’s Blue Book which promotes the country’s finest historic hotels, manor houses and restaurants. Vintage travel luggage labelled “ABC” is piled high in a hallway. “Arthur Brooke Cooper”.

“Look at the architectural detail,” he observes, pointing to the swirl marking the juncture of the doorcases and skirting boards in the staircase hall. A pair of niches (a Francis Bindon motif) add more finesse. The basement is more or less still used for its original purpose. Although perhaps the servants wouldn’t have had a billiard room… A state of the art washing machine stands next to its cast iron Victorian forerunner. The wine cellar has historic earthenware pots from Hargadon Bros on O’Connell Street, Sligo. That pub is still going strong.

The two Desmonds (Fitzgerald and Guinness) were known to arrive unannounced at country houses to investigate their architecture. They certainly did at one other O’Hara house. The Knight of Glin wrote a piece called “Francis Bindon (c.1690 to 1765) His Life and Works” for the Quarterly Bulletin of the Irish Georgian Society April to September 1967 (10 shillings). He makes a convincing case that Coopershill was very likely designed by this architect.

“Perhaps Bindon’s very last mansion is Coopershill, County Sligo, although like most of these houses, no documentary evidence exists for it. Tower-like and stark, of similar proportions to Raford, it is made up of two equivalent fronts composed with a central rusticated Venetian window and door, and a third floor three-light window. The fenestration is reminiscent of Castle’s demolished Smyth mansion in Kildare Place, Dublin. Coopershill is sited particularly well and stands high above a river reminding one of the feudal strength of the 17th century towerhouse. As at Raford, the roof is overlapping and 19th century.

The history of the building of Coopershill is an interesting and typically Irish phenomenon for the house was finished in 1774 though started in about 1755 for Arthur Brooke Cooper ‘before engaging in the undertaking, had provided for the cost a tub of gold guineas, but the last guinea was paid away before the building showed above the surface of the ground’. Cooper had to sell property, and it took eight years to quarry the stone. This 20 years of planning and building explains the extraordinary retardé quality of the house considering its recorded date.”

The Knight isn’t gushing in his summation of Francis’ architectural talent: “With the major exceptions of the Curraghmore court and Castle Morres, the Bessborough quadrants and Newhall, his ventures into the architectural field are not particularly distinguished. As he was a gentleman amateur, moving in the best circles in Dublin, he obtained commissions from his friends and relations. He made the most of his connection with the professional Richard Castle and was quite happy to borrow many ideas from him. His houses are mostly in the south and west of Ireland, an area in which Castle had no connections, so theirs was probably a dovetailed and friendly relationship.”

His critical tone continues, “On looking at the photographs of his buildings… one cannot help noticing the solid, four square somewhat gloomy quality of many of them. They are often unsophisticated, naïve and clumsily detailed but they nevertheless amount to a not unrespectable corpus, worthy to be recorded and brought in from the misty damps that surround so much of the history of Irish Palladianism.” He considers there’s one exception: “If it is his, the forecourt at Curraghmore is certainly his masterpiece.”

Desmond Fitzgerald introduces his piece by writing, “The name of Francis Bindon is today occasionally heard of either as a dim portrait painter to be found in the footnotes of Swiftiana or as the occasional architectural collaborator of Ireland’s most prolific Palladian architect, the German Richard Castle. What role he played in the partnership remains somewhat obscure, but Bindon’s name after those of Sir Edward Lovett Pearce and Castle ranks third in importance in the chronological history of the Irish Palladian movement… Bindon’s documented oeuvre is small but I shall seek to show that a number of houses that cannot be stylistically ascribed to Pearce or Castle probably can be given to him. He designed possibly only one public building [Mountrath Market House], but practised as a portrait painter.”

Coopershill survives amazingly intact. “It was a secondary house for most of the 19th century,” explains Simon. “Annaghmore was the principal O’Hara seat.” So while Annaghmore was much altered, Coopershill remained untouched by Victorian aesthetic enthusiasm. To cut and paste William Butler Yeats’ poetry: Coopershill is an ancestral house surrounded by planted hills and flowering lawns, levelled lawns and gravelled ways; escutcheoned doors opening into great chambers and long galleries. Perfection.

Categories
Architects Architecture Country Houses People

Hidden Ireland + Clonalis Roscommon

The Portrait of a Lady and Gentleman and Artists as Young Men

Dia dhaoibh ar maidin. There really aren’t many left. A study of the 39 (what an odd number, why not 40?) country houses featured in the book Irish Houses and Castles with its strangely coloured plates, published in 1974, reveals just 13 remain in the hands of the same families. So which ones have been so lucky? Ballinlough Castle, County Westmeath | Bantry House, County Cork | Beaulieu, County Louth | Birr Castle, County Offaly | Dunsany Castle, County Meath | Glin Castle, County Limerick | Kilshannig, County Cork | Lismore Castle, County Waterford | Lough Cutra Castle, County Galway | Mount Ievers, County Cork | Leixlip Castle, County Dublin | Slane Castle, County Meath | Tullynally Castle, County Westmeath. Like Hen’s teeth.

Not so much “Where are they now?” as “What are they now?” They’re not all sob stories. Some have never looked better. Sir David Davies has brought a new lease of life to Abbey Leix. Crazy but true. The London launch of a book by William Laffan celebrating the estate’s rebirth was held with great pomp and happenstance at Lindy Guinness’s Holland Park villa mansion. Nancy Mitford’s cousin Clementine Beit’s old house Russborough looks in pretty good nick, even if restoration comes at the price of paintings disappearing. And nobody’s blaming terrorists this time… John O’Connell has worked his magic at Fota Island, the first residential restoration of the Irish Heritage Trust. And there are high hopes that the Hughes brothers, the new owners of Westport House, despite contending, conflicting lights, will preserve one of the last Richard Castle designed houses for the nation. It’s hard to keep up with Bellamont Forest: it’s seriously serially for sale. Luttrellstown Castle might be corporately owned but Eileen Plunket’s ballroom would still give Nancy Lancaster’s Yella Room a run for its money. Christie’s recently told us Stackallen, which appears in later versions of the book, has been “enriched” since it was bought by the billionaire Naughtons in 1993.

Although Clonalis in County Roscommon doesn’t feature in Desmond Guinness and William Ryan’s book, it has been associated with the same family for millennia rather than centuries. Clonalis is the ancestral home of the O’Conors, Kings of Connacht and erstwhile High Kings of Ireland. The most ancient royal family in Europe, no less. Just to be sure, their ancient limestone inauguration stone dating from 75 AD stands proud outside their front door. While the O’Conors’ possession of the land can be traced back over 1,500 years, the house is relatively recent. No surprise they call Clonalis the ‘New House’. In the very grand scheme of things it’s practically modern. Construction was completed in 1878, the year its English architect Frederick Pepys Cockerell (yes, a descendant of the Clapham diarist and a friend of the O’Conor clients) died aged 45. Like most Victorian practitioners he was versatile, swapping and entering epochal stylistic dalliances with ease. Eclecticism ran in Fred’s blood: his grandfather Samuel Pepys Cockerell did design the batty and bonkers Indocolonial Sezincote in the Cotswolds. A rummage through the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography one evening in the O+C Club reveals the architect’s Irish connection: he married Mary Mulock of King’s County (Offaly). “A genial, charming, and handsome man, knowledgeable in literature and the arts, his premature death was widely regretted,” records author David Watkins.

Tráthnóna maith daoibh. Fred’s 1 South Audley Street, 1870, the Embassy of Qatar for donkey’s years, is an eclectic Queen Anne-ish Mayfair house with just about every ornament imaginable thrown at its burnt red brick and terracotta façade. Arabesques, brackets, corbels, friezes, masks, niches, putti… he really did plunder the architectural glossary… augmenting the deeps and shallows of the metropolis. If, as architect and architectural theorist Robert Venturi pontificates, the communicating part of architecture is its ornamental surface, then the Embassy is shouting!

His country houses show more restraint. Predating Clonalis by a few years, his first Irish one was the neo Elizabethan Blessingbourne in County Fermanagh. Clonalis is loosely Italianate. Terribly civilised; a structure raised with an architectural competence, spare and chaste. Happens to be the first concrete house in Ireland, too. A few years earlier he’d a practice run in concrete construction at Down Hall in Essex. A strong presence amongst the gathering shades of the witching hour, a national light keeping watch. Every house has a symbolic function, full of premises, conclusions, emotions. Clonalis rests at the far end of the decorative spectrum from 1 South Audley Street. Venturing a Venturesque metaphor: it talks smoothly with a lilt. Symmetrically grouped plate glass windows, horizontal banding and vertical delineation are about all that relieve its grey exterior. An undemonstrative beauty. Rising out of the slate roof are high gabled dormers, balustraded parapets and tall chimney stacks. The central chimneys are linked by arches – whose identity lie somewhere between function, festivity and topography – creating a two dimensional Vanbrughian temple of smoke. Clonalis isn’t totally dissimilar albeit on a grander scale to another late 19th century Irish champion, Bel-Air in County Wicklow. Especially the three storey entrance towers (campaniles, really) attached to both buildings.

Pyers and Marguerite O’Conor Nash accept paying guests (heir b+b?) under the auspices of Hidden Ireland. Furnishings read like a chapter from Miller’s Guide to Antiques: Boulle | Limoges | Mason | Meissen | Minton | Sheraton. If painting and art measure the refinement of sensibility, as Isabel Archer believes in Henry James’ The Portrait of a Lady, we’re in good company. Who needs money when you know your Monet from their Manet? Ding dong dinner gong. Variations of Valkyries veer toward Valhalla. Suavity bound by gravity. A patrician set of gilt framed ancestral portraits, provenance in oil, punctuate the oxblood walls of the dining room. Plus one (romantic dinner). Plus three (communal dining). Plus fours (we’re in the country). Plus size (decent portions). “Farm to fork,” announces our hostess. A whale of a time. Tableau vivant. Our visceral fear of dining on an axis is allayed by a table setting off centre. Phew. Triggers to the soul, spirit arising, the evening soon dissolves into an impossibly sublime conversation of hope and gloss in the library, while at arm’s length, Catherine wheels of a pyrotechnic display implode and disintegrate like embers in the fire. Beyond the tall windows, a flood of summer light had long waned, and the heavy cloak of dusk, to quote Henry James, “lay thick and rich upon the scene”.

“Yes, that’s the bore of comfort,” complains Lord Warburton in The Portrait of a Lady, “We only know when we’re uncomfortable.” We’re happy to embrace boredom in that case. Like the other three guest bedrooms, ours is light and airy thanks to a cream carpet, summery colour scheme and deep penetrations of natural light. Touches of 19th century grandeur (a marble chimneypiece reassures us this was definitely never a servants’ wing) blend with 21st century luxury. Our bedroom would meet with Lord Warburton’s chagrin: carefully curated completely accomplished comfort. Actually, the niches for turf set into the marble fireplaces of the dining and drawing rooms suggest the O’Conors always had one eye on grandeur, the other on comfort. “Blessingbourne has similar fireplaces,” shares Marguerite. “This season is opulence and comfort,” Kris Manalo, Heal’s Upholstery Buyer, informs us at a party in 19 Greek Street, Soho. Clonalis is bang on trend, then. “And £140 Fornasetti candles to depocket premium customers.” They do smell lovely. We’re digressing.

Donough Cahill, Executive Director of the Irish Georgian Society, reminded the London Chapter of the recent fire at the 18th century villa Vernon Mount in Cork City. “’A study in curves’ is how the Knight of Glin described this classic gem,” lamented Donough. “A great loss. The community are heartbroken and we too are heartbroken.” It’s a reflection on the rarity and fragility of Irish country houses and makes the flourishing survival of Clonalis all the more remarkable. A former billiard room is now a museum of letters and papers from family archives, one of the best collections in private ownership in Ireland. Correspondence from the likes of William Gladstone, Samuel Johnson and Anthony Trollope is displayed in mahogany bookcases next to the harp of Turlough Carolan, a renowned 17th century blind musician. Oh, and a pedigree of 25 generations of The House of O’Conor Don hangs on the wall, starting with Turlough Mor O’Conor, High King of Ireland, who died in 1150. One ancestor brought a certain captive named Patrick to Ireland. And the rest, as they say, is history. Our patron saint. A Catholic chapel is discreetly located to the rear of the house. “There are only three such private chapels in Ireland,” remarks Marguerite. “The other two are at the Carrolls’ house in Dundalk and DerrynaneDaniel O’Connell’s house . Tread carefully. Thin places. “There is really too much to say.” Henry James again. Tráthnóna maith daoibh.

Categories
Architecture Art Country Houses People

Robert O’Byrne + Thomas Heneage Art Books London

A Knight in London 

Robert O'Byrne © lvbmag.com

A life in sound bites and superlatives; there’s no hiatus in the hyperbole. Friday evening. Thomas Heneage Art Books is back to back with aristos and aficionados. It’s the launch of Robert O’Byrne’s brilliant biography of Desmond Fitzgerald, the late last Knight of Glin aka the Black Knight. We’re on Duke Street St James (even the road has a double-barrelled name). Names, names, Madam Olda Fitzgerald and her daughters, son-in-law Dominic West, Min Hogg, Johnny Lowry-Corry 8th Earl Belmore, James Peill, Lindy Marchioness of Dufferin and Ava and more Guinnesses than last orders at the bar from Desmond downwards. My Goodness! My Guinness!

Irish Georgian Society Robert O'Byrne book launch © lvbmag.com

John O’Connell: “Easton Neston today; Chatsworth tomorrow.”

Robert O’Byrne: “You must do Curraghmore.”

Susan Crewe: “We’re really quite eclectic at House and Garden.”

William Laffan: “I seem to remember a lively lunch at St Pancras Hotel.”

Desmond Guinness: “Is Maurice Craig’s book Classic Irish Houses of the Middle Size or Middle Class?”

Hugo Vickers: “I’m on a break between biographies.”

Madam Olda Fitzgerald © lvbmag.com