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Volume 3 Number 6 May-June 1951
Engraving on Page 143 by Mervyn Taylor
Editors
Associate Editors
Design Review is published bi-monthly (under the auspices of the Architectural Centre Inc., Wellington) by
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For several years the owners of this house cherished the idea of building to their own requirements but were forced through necessity to buy what is called a ‘builders’ house. The drawing will give some idea why they were not satisfied. Direct sunlight barely filtered through the small leadlights on each side of the fireplace, and the effect was ecclesiastical. Formerly, when one entered the room, the ‘Tower of London’ fireplace was almost overpowering, but now the fireplace-bookcase unit is very pleasant.
The end wall was extended three feet, and a large corner window was built-in to open up the view across a valley.
At night, the main light comes indirectly from a five foot warm-white fluorescent tube fitted under the pelmet of the larger window—a most successful experiment. There are also two incandescent wall brackets which can be used to increase the light when necessary.
The walls are painted pale grey and the ceiling pale yellow. The mantel, pelmets, bookcase and uncovered floor are natural wood. Curtains lemon yellow, carpet and upholstery terra cotta. The quarry tiled fire-surround is terra cotta also.
An effect of space and tidiness has been created in a room (now 16ft 6in by 12ft) which formerly seemed cramped, overpowering and very restless.
The most important task for building research in New Zealand is in methods of timber construction. Four by twos at eighteen inch centres is a convention more difficult to break than the surveyors' sixty-six foot street. Standard timber framing has evolved by trial and error over hundreds of years, and is written into all local by-laws as required practice. To get a house construction in any other way past the by-law barrier is as difficult as selling ice-cream to Eskimos. As the Architectural Group in Auckland have demonstrated in several houses, conventional framing is wasteful and complicated. Thorough research in Sweden has recently produced a new type of timber construction as strong as the old, which saves forty percent of framing timber.
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In these days of skyrocketting prices it was a pleasant surprise to find some extremely attractive yellow curtain material of contemporary design selling for less than half price. There was nothing obviously the matter with the material so I asked the salesman where the snag was. The snag, I found, was not with the material but with the taste of the average New Zealander. Apparently New Zealanders like blue curtains in the bedroom and green ones in the living room and both preferably with floral patterns. As this material was of neither colour and furthermore was without the slightest suspicion of a flower it was selling for less than half price. It is not very often that one benefits so much from the mistakes of others.
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When we first came to our house we had an unspoiled view of Wellington harbour. Hedges and trees blocked the sight of our neighbours' backyards and the view continued uninterrupted over the city belt down to the harbour itself. But when we prided ourselves on this view we reckoned without our neighbour's passion for the New Zealand gardener's favourite pastime of cutting things down. No one, not even the neighbours, has really benefited by this destruction and the only result is that now backyards, corrugated iron, coal bins and the local rubbish dump all compete with the harbour view.
I doubt if there is another country in the world where trees are so little appreciated as in New Zealand. The bulldozer and the levelled section, irrespective of where the house is to go, seem to be the inevitable first stage of building in this country. You buy your section and then proceed to clear it — ‘Pioneers! O Pioneers!’.
In Sweden however, where house design is in most cases standardized, interest and variety are added to the street by preserving as far as possible all the existing trees — even to the extent of choosing the house site to fit in with the trees. In New Zealand one can only gaze with horror at the treeless and depressing monotony of the Government housing scheme in the Hutt Valley, Tamaki and elsewhere.
And yet the landscape can be mined almost as effectively by planting the wrong sort of tree as by cutting down the existing ones. The Parks and Reserves Department of the Wellington City Council, for example, can only be persuaded to lift its eyes from flower beds and koromikos if it is going to plant cherry trees or pohutukawas, Neither of these trees can survive the Wellington winds and look particularly pathetic clinging half grown to the hills. On the other hand the pines and blue gums, magnificent trees when they are massed together on the hills, are rapidly disappearing.
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In a recent talk to the Architectural Centre, Professor Gordon, Vice Chancellor of the University of New Zealand and Professor of English at Victoria College, deplored the New Zealander's habit of attempting to do the expert's job. He was referring particularly to building and attributed most of our poor standards in appearance and workmanship to the fact that most of us carry out our own house repairs, do our own painting and when building a house do not even consult an architect. I agree. It is a deplorable fact. If any institution is to set an example in good design and in reliance on the expert it should be the University of New Zealand. A pertinent question to have asked Professor Gordon would have been why the College Council appointed an unqualified architect to design the new Student Union building at Victoria University.
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Dr Falla, Director of the Dominion Museum, also spoke to the Centre. A questioner asked whether Dr Falla approved of keeping to the pseudo-Gothic style of the existing building for the new addition to the Canterbury Museum. Dr Falla agreed that functional requirements of lighting, ventilation and layout should not be sacrificed, but thought that this could be achieved if the front repeated the old style, so long as the sides and back were of functional design. I disagree with Dr Falla, for it is only a matter of skill in design to harmonize modern additions with an old building without sacrificing architectural priciples. To repeat or adapt the old design is the easy way out. Those who have seen Asplund's modern addition to the Renaissance Town Hall in Gothenburg will realize that additions to old buildings can be both contemporary in design as well as harmonious.
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I have always thought one of the most pleasant parts of Auckland was the waterfront drive to St Heliers. Mission Bay held special charms for me. After driving below the golden cliffs with their clinging pohutukawas, the broad sweep of Mission Bay with its clear, wide stretch of grass between the road and the beach was always a sight to look forward to. My last visit to Anckland took me to Mission Bay again, but I found it a changed place. The broad sweep of grass was gone. Right in the centre was placed a huge pretentious fountain as a memorial to a citizen. I suppose some good
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Photographs a, b, c, and d, illustrating ‘A Family House and Garden’ in the March-April number, were by
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The process of change in the appearance of city streets is in normal times a fairly gradual one, but with the prevailing restrictions on re-building activity a major change of face is a rarity indeed. One is particularly interested therefore when the scaffolding comes down from a city building to reveal á new facade. Naturally one measures mentally the new against the old. Is the change for better or for worse?
Frequently nowadays it is rapidly brought home to one that the original building has been merely subjected to a ‘face-lift’ and more often than not the change can hardly be recognised as one for the better.
This new popular practice generally takes the form of haoking away every projection from the face of the building and then sterilising the wounds with a layer of coloured plaster. Many of Edwardian Wellington's more lush Baroque facades were wisely reduced in depth against risk of earthquake, but some of the more restrained are still to be found intact. How pleasant it is to see the crisp sun of 40 degrees South catching their pediments, capitals, and consols till they sparkle and dance in a way to lend life and character to the dullest street! And how sad to see one vulgarised into a flat, banal slab of plaster in the name of progress.
The elderly wooden building which once lent a certain charm and distinction to the corner of Featherston and Panama Streets has become the Iatest victim of the vandals. Presumably the wooden cornices were rotting, or were being maltreated in some way by the pigeons. At all events the owners apparently gave no thought to replacing the decayed timbers and, with a magnificent distegard for any visual implications, stripped it down to a flat facade and applied the usual plaster treatment. The resulting monstrosity will no doubt have to be endured for at least as long as it takes for the plaster to crack and peel off and the weather to penetrate to the interior. But at least the pigeons need not now be feared. It would be a stouthearted bird indeed which could gain a foothold on this flat bosom.
But please don't misunderstand me. This is not a plea for another Classical Revival. The existing buildings must go, of course, in time, and we certainly couldn't replace them in the same way today even if we set out to do so. But is there not a case for treating with special care those facades which possess any claim to architectural merit at all, so that their distinctive contributions to our townscape may remain with us as long as possible? Can they not be allowed to grow old gracefully?
A few months ago it was reported from a motor-car show in London that English makers were ceasing to follow American lead in design, and were returning to English traditions. I don't know how far this has gone or will go, but it is a relief to hear there has been a breakaway from a trend that has produced some of the ugliest goods of our time. True, the English car has not achieved the vulgar bloated hideousness of some American models. These expenses of Hollywood spirit in a waste of chromium suggest various comparisons, such as sleek overfed beasts at a show, or the traditional representation of a capitalist, a fat man with a gold watchchain stretched across his stomach. (This is less popular now, for we know that the predatory capitalist is just as likely to be a thin man suffering from a duodenal, incurred in getting where he is.) Most striking description of this type of car, however, is “a pregnant whale with prominent teeth”. True also, the English manufacturer has had to consider his customers, including Americans; there is fashion in car design, as in everything else. The fact remains that in recent years English cars have lost something in aesthetic appeal. Line has been sacrificed to curve, proportion to suggestion of bulk, dignity to fussiness, and window-space to streamline effect.
Windows bring me to the question of utility. Our first car, got second-hand, was a mid-thirties model of an English make. It had agreeable lines, was comfortable, and gave good service, but when it grew old and we had to face the possibility that it might break down in awkward circumstances, we sold it and bought a nearly new 1947 model of another English make. It is a good car and we are lucky to have it. The all-over design is moderately modern and less pleasing to us than that of the old one. Improvements include more seating room, but against this the car is more difficult to get in and out of, the windows are smaller, and the head-room less. Being old-fashioned enough to think that one should be able to enjoy the widest possible view from the inside of a car, I measured the windows first thing. It was a week or so before I sat in the back seat, when I was astonished to find I could not wear my hat, because the top of my head touched the roof. Shortly afterwards I rode in the back seat of a new model of another English make, and found the roof was just as low. I am just under six feet, which is not very tall for a man. There must be millions of men over six feet, and some women, who ride often in cars; how do they fare in these new models. This low head-room has its dangerous side, for if a car bumps in a bad rut you can get a nasty knock from being thrown up against the top. Perhaps the designers think that if your head is already wedged against the top, even without a hat, there is less risk of injury. This cutting down of height has apparently been done to get streamlining effect. Comfort of users is a secondary consideration.
A more vital consideration is drivers' visibility. I don't drive, but I have travelled a good many thousands of miles in the front seat, and I should say that prolongation and bulging of the bonnet, plus lowering of the driver's position, lessens the driver's view of the road, and especially of what may come on to the road suddenly from the side, such as a child. Is it anyone's business to see to this? Can a manufacturer put any shape of car he likes on the roads, irrespective of its risk factor? Is there a Lloyds in the motor-car world, and if not, why not?
This house has a sprawling plan which gives it character, particularly in these days of tight tidiness in planning. It is unconventional in its relation of parts. There is no front door in the suburban manner, nor a back door. The laundry is well separated from the kitchen, and to get from the living room to the bedroom it is necessary to pass through the dining room. There is a continuity, a length of vista passing from the bedroom No. 1 to the far corner of the living room which is exceptional in a house of this floor area.
In place of the usual small back porch there is a very large one — large enough to house the car and the children's play things. In fact, it is now used while the children are small as a covered play place. As the children grow the car will no doubt be housed there, as it is extremely handy to have the car just off the kitchen. It is this carport, play space, back porch which is a specially interesting piece of planning. This and the apparently careless but delightful manner in which the house sprawls across the wide sward of lawn in front of the tall trees.
The house is placed well back from the main west road leading out of Wanganui and thus is seen by all those who travel along the road. Because it does not conform to the average conception of suburban house design it is not acceptable to all who pass by. But it is always remarked upon.
This is an important house not because of its outstanding originality and correctness of detail or design, but because the plan is open and generous and the elevations are vigorous, informal and inviting-in a word it is a piece of architecture.
Above: A glimpse of the meal room from the living room. It is worth noting that the clerestory windows which brilliantly light the inner wall also provide a three-dimensional change in space which is played off against the conventional rectangular room.
Compared with the house as a whole, the living room fireplace is formal. A formality which provides a setting for furniture of other days, though it is perhaps not so suitable for social gatherings of today.
The kitchen window overlooks the carport, back porch and play space. Additional storage space is provided under the water tanks.
I should like to talk about gardening lay-out and planting in terms that have general application; but the more I think about it the more difficult I find it. In the matter of design good gardens have very little in common: they depend so much on peculiarities of site and on the preferences of their owners. That, of course, is a virtue, for standardization of gardens becomes much less tempting than it is with houses. A house, it goes without saying, should have a character of its own which reflects the character and taste of its owner. But most houses have so many practical purposes in common that individual taste and preference are a good deal more limited. A small garden, too, has certain practical requirements that cannot be neglected — a sandpit for children perhaps, or a piece of sheltered lawn or paving, or a vegetable garden; very often, however, there is some ground left to play with according to one's fancy.
Many people, I find, start gardening by growing their own vegetables, a very enjoyable and satisfying pastime. But when they begin to grow flowers too, they cannot get away from the way they grow vegetables: garden-beds are made level and square, and into them go nurserymen's annuals; rows are dead straight, distances precise, for all the world like cabbage plants or soldiers. If the soil is correctly manured and regularly watered the plants will, in due season, present their attendants with fine and healthy blooms. These are cut and used to decorate the house or proudly given away to friends. That is one way of gardening, and the right way if one wants to win prizes at exhibitions. But as it is not my way, I cannot offer any hints or advice or tips about how to do it. Perhaps, however, the experience of making my own garden will be of some interest and help. And perhaps out of a rather discursive description a few useful ideas may emerge.
The main part of my garden which is still in use and which still gives a great deal of pleasure for a small amount of work is the long path that leads rather steeply from the gate up to the house. There are two big macrocarpas that give shelter to some rather nice korako trees and ribbonwoods, treeferns and other natives which were already in the place when we came; but beside the path there was quite a wide space where hardly anything grew but wandering willy, sprawling over heaps of rubbish. Here it was shady enough to plant rhododendrons and azaleas.
When we moved into the house, one of the first things I did was to make a tiny cold frame out of an old window sash. This I used for propagating perennials and shrubs, for I was determined to have plenty of plants, and as I hadn't money enough to buy them I had to propagate them. About thirty erica carnea plants were raised like that and about as many azaleas. I raised regal lilies from seed and other lilies from bulblets. It took three years' patient, waiting before these plants were really big enough to make a show. It is slightly embarrassing if your friends, who know that you are interested in gardening, come to see your achievements and you have nothing to show for your activities but well-fed weeds. We did not even trouble to fight the weeds, as all the time we could spend on the garden, and it was really very little, was devoted to more constructive work, like building rock walls and steps and terraces.
I decided that the best way to treat the side of the path where the rhododendrons and azaleas are would be to think of some woodland when I was planning it. That simply meant that I would not use plants which I could not imagine in wild surroundings. For instance, zinnias and dahlias would not do at all. So between the azaleas I planted tall bellflowers (campanulas)
The top photograph shows the house and its early surroundings in comparison with the very pleasant setting of today.1
The plan above shows the complete layout of the garden in relation to the house. The numbers on the plan correspond with the numbered photographs.anemone japonica) ranging from white and pink to purplish red for autumn. The wood anemones flower at the same time as the blue aconite (monk's hood) and they look very well together. In winter white hellebore makes a good fresh splash of colour. Later there are petticoat daffodils and polyanthus. After that come the various aquilegia hybrids, in all shades from light to dark blue, yellow and pink and dark red. They oblige by seeding themselves and are extremely lovely in this shady, damp sort of place, though in a border they can look quite insignificant.
With every plant I always try to find a place where it looks its best; of course the growing conditions that a plant wants also have to be taken into consideration. The kind of soil, sun or shade, amount of moisture and manure have also to be thought of — but for me the most important considerations are always these: how does this particular plant look in this particular place; how will it look with the other plants; and how will it appear from where one is most likely to look at it? What is the good of a fine gladiolus if it turns its blooms towards the sun and away from you? (Nobody can blame it for that; and as this side happens to be just where you and the path are not, the only thing you see is the back of the gladiolus, which is annoying.) But if you had planted a dahlia or a lily instead of the gladiolus you could have avoided this slight, as they are not so fond of the sun.
Where the trees end there are two old camellia trees, a white one and a dark pink one. The pink one is a special delight, as it starts to flower before the last chrysanthemums are over and keeps on flowering through the whole winter. Then before the path turns and leads on a level towards the house we made a little rockery. I don't like rockeries with the rocks scattered everywhere as though a lorry had dumped them and then forgotten them. Rock gardens made of rocks disposed on the ground freely and naturally can be very charming, but it is difficult, I think, to make them well; you need rocks especially suited to the purpose and many to choose from; you need a lot of time to think about the garden and, most important of all, a skilled eye to design it.
Since there is in Wellington no choice of rocks of the right quality and size and number, we decided to make small level terraces about one to two feet wide, supported by small dry rock walls about one to three feet high. You can buy fairly good rocks suitable
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The dry walls are planted with rock plants, which stay there all the year round and need hardly any looking after. The terraces are full of spring bulbs, lachenalias and various freesias, hoop petticoat daffodils and the pheasant eye narcissus, crocus, iris reticulata and dwarf irises. There is one big erica carnea and a few helleborus niger for the winter.
In the shelter of the camellia I intend to plant lilium formosanum until I have enough of them. Planted on top of the spring bulbs are verbenas, which also remain throughout the year. When the leaves of the bulbs start to come I cut the verbena severely back until there is hardly anything left of them. That gives the bulbs plenty of space when they need it. When they start to become unsightly the verbenas spread over them.
Between the bulbs I have some corms of salvia with its lovely strong blue flowers. This plant, also a perennial, conveniently dies down in autumn and starts to grow only when the bulbs have faded. For this place I choose only bulbs that are moderate with their foliage, and don't (like grape hyacinths or soleil d'or narcissus) take nearly half the summer to finish with their leaves. Such bulbs as petticoats and poet's narcissus and some of the lachenalias and freesias are not so retentive of their foliage; in fact they die down very quickly after flowering and leave space for the other inhabitants. There are also some low deep-blue delphiniums that go very well with the red verbenas, and pink delphiniums that go with the blue salvia. If there is any space left I plant it full of free-seeding lobelias. Lobelias, I think, look well used as rock plant. For this purpose, though, they should be planted in clumps and not in the usual edging.
My main purpose is to make the garden look well at all seasons, and if it is not always perfectly tidy that is because I haven't time to keep it so. I try to achieve tidiness by having some plants in bloom at all seasons and if possible in several shades that go well together. In other words, I make the utmost use of the space devoted to
To continue, then, with the description of the garden. Opposite the rock garden on the right-hand side of the path is a slope which in spring is covered with daffodils. Later on the fuchsias take over. They flower the whole year through and in winter when the daffodils start to grow I prune them hard back to give the daffodils room.
The path then curves out of the trees and leads on to a level with the house. A few wider terraced beds run beside and above the path. Here I grow roses and delphiniums and various kinds of lilies, for I think that the roses when they flower together with the regal lilies and delphiniums look superb. Later on come phlox, many colours planted together, and dahlias and the later lilies and chrysanthemums. Then the erica takes over with iris stylosis and helle-borus niger. And then it is spring again.
This is of course not the whole garden: there is a little hillock which we planted with rhododendrons and various other flowering and berrying shrubs; the ground below them is covered with spring bulbs and lilies. Quite a large part of the hillock is completely covered with erica carnea; in winter it looks very well, especially with the rhododendron Christmas Cheer flowering at the same time. It has the added advantage that one hardly needs to do any weeding as the erica keeps the weeds down.
That reminds me that I ought perhaps to say something about tidiness in the garden. Tidiness should not, I think, be overdone. Plants in exact rows, each little thing marked with a stick, the sticks conspicuously accentuating the order — that to me is a nursery rather than a garden. I prefer a much wilder effect than that: the sticks, if possible, not visible and no bare soil to be seen round each plant. Certainly better specimen plants are grown in this tidy way, but it is better to keep a special part of the garden for them. One must, of course, have good plants, but growing fine blooms is not the purpose of gardening. I remember being quite taken aback when someone once said to me: “This shrub looks very well, but I can't leave it in the garden; it takes all the goodness out of the soil.” And the plant went, but nothing pleasing or interesting replaced it — the soil remains, full of ‘goodness’.
When you plant perennials, prepare the soil well, give them a good mulch of manure from time to time and appropriate artificials. Apart from that, you will find there is very little upkeep. Once established, they cover the soil well; weeds are few because there is very little space left for them to grow. Only with perennials can you have your garden full of bloom all the time, and watch each month bring with it different flowers. You even forget what is going to happen next. Indeed, you are quite surprised when in a very short time the garden changes from roses, delphiniums and lilies and puts on the varied colours of the perennial phlox. And you think: “But surely after this there must be a gap; I simply can't remember what came after the phlox last year.” Then you notice that the buds of the anemone japonica and the blue aconites and the pink and white lilium speciosum are already packed full and can hardly wait to open and show what they can do.
Perennials are like shrubs; in the beginning they are not much to look at, but with a very little care and some understanding they give you more joy every year. Certainly it takes time to get a garden of this kind properly established, but the making of it (and the mistakes you try to put right next year) is an endless delight.
No modern home is complete without an efficient hot water service. In this respect most New Zealand homes are by world standards particularly well equipped with hot water on tap to kitchen sink, laundry, bath and wash hand basin — some include a hot shower. The problem is to provide a really satisfactory flow of hot water for all these purposes as often as it is needed. The question arises when a new home is being planned or when renovations are under consideration.
First, the method by which the water will be heated: availability of fuel, gas or electric power, and their relative cost are factors which influence decision on which method of heating is to be adopted. Often an alternative system is required to supplement inadequate or unreliable service. The question of running cost is important enough to justify careful investigation of the local situation, as fuel costs and gas and electricity tariffs vary considerably according to locality.
The following notes deal with waterheating equipment used in New Zealand homes at the present time and normally stocked by tradespeople. Space allows only a passing reference to installation practice, although a satisfactory layout and good plumbing work are just as important as good equipment.
These appliences use coal, coke or ‘brickettes’, which must be stored by the user to be burnt in a device that requires a flue (often situated in the most inconvenient places). Provided the labour and incovenience of occasional stoking is not considered an intolerable burden, the modern welldesigned fuel appliance is an asset in the home. Modern equipment is economical and reliable and will provide adequate supplies of hot water to meet all domestic needs. A fuel-fired appliance radiates heat. This may prove a nuisance in summer, but is a distinct advantage in winter. It is then that the fuel heaters operate at their highest efficiency. For this reason they are particularly favoured in the colder districts and are also in popular demand during times of electricity shortage and when gas supplies are low.
Where cooking is carried out in a fuel range a high-pressure boiler and storage cylinder are almost invariably installed, but increasingly this arrangement is displaced by an independent boiler or incinerator if electricity or gas is available for cooking. Often supplementary gas or electric waterhatign will also be available, and such a dual service provides a conveninent combination. Such a system must be properly installed to ensure efficient operation. Improvements in the design of heating stoves have resulted in the production of ‘slow combustion’ stoves. They may be bought with boiler for hot water supply, and provide an easily regulated fire that both warms the home and heats water very efficiently. They are much to be preferred to the open fireplace with ‘wet back’ boiler now condemned by the best authorities for their wasteful use of fuel.
Gas-fired waterheaters share to a certain extent with solid fuel heaters the disadvantage of having to be used with a flue. Low consumption flueless heaters (burning about ten cubic feet per hour) can be installed in most rooms provided care is taken to secure adequate ventilation, but large multipoint heaters require flues and often cannot be put in a position where pipe losses are reduced to a minimum. Heaters of the single point type have open outlets and consequently can be connected direct to the cold water main, but supply hot water to only one point. Multi-point instataneous heaters, on the other hand, will supply hot water to kitchen and bathroom taps and are automatic in their operation, being controlled by the operation of any tap. Gas circulators may be fitted to operate independently or in conjunction with fuel-heated storage cylinders. These are also automatic, being controlled by thermostat operated by the temperature of the water in the cylinder. Generally it is advisable that all gas appliances be provided with a proper flue with a baffle on top of the heater where the flue connection is made.
As far as combustion is concerned, electric waterheaters have none of the difficulties associated with solid fuel and gas heaters. Since the electric heating element is totally immersed in water, the efficiency is high and automatic control is a relatively simple matter. Moreover, electric waterheaters are completely safe, as there are no flame fire hazard or fumes. They may be operated without attention and can be left to look after themselves entirely. The storage type of heater is most commonly employed in New Zealand and can be put in any convenient point close to where hot water is most often required. The popular method is to instal the cylinder in the linen cupboard, for although the cylinder is well lagged to conserve heat and enclosed in a metal case, just enough heat escapes to esure a dry warm cupboard entirely suitable for line storage.
Smaller unit heaters for installation either under or over bench to supply hot water at isolated points are readily available and in popular use. Where required these may be automatically controlled and left switched on indefinitely to provide hot water whenver required. These are ideal heaters to use where a supplementary service is required at the kitchen sink when the existing hot water supply is unsatisfactory. There are several available, each with their specil field of usefulness. One of the most popular is the boiling type unit with sight glass feed which enables the housewife to heat up just the amount of water she requires
Cheap hydro electric power available in New Zealand has stimulated the use of electricity for waterheating until 32% of the total units generated are now being used for this purpose alone. It is to be hoped that the development of New Zealand's hydro electric resources. will be sufficient to satisfy the continued use of electricity for this very essential domestic service.
The news that gramophone records are coming off the ‘restricted’ list as far as imports are concerned will be heartily, if cautiously, welcomed. I say ‘cautiously’ because it would be unwise to prophesy an immediate flood of records into the country and the speedy return of the pre-1938 paradise wherein it was at least possible to obtain any record one desired. After a dozen. years of control there is obviously a tremendous leeway to be made up, and this cannot be expected to happen within a few weeks or even months. However, local dealers have recently been told that they may accept a limited number of definite orders for discs not officially released, but available from (presumably) the United Kingdom, and few of us will have been backward — in placing orders for numbers of desirable issues which have obstinately missed the local release schedules.
Turning from the possible future to the actual present, we may survey briefly some of the more oustanding releases here over the past few months.
Chamber Music: Whereas orchestral enthusiasts can generally find at least one acceptable recording of most standard works, the chamber music devotee is in a less happy position. Some of the most important works haven't been available for years — try to assemble, from local releases, a set of the Beethoven string quartets and see how far you get! Brahms is no less haphazardly served, but the recent A minor string quartet played by the Busch Quartet has now been followed by the G minor work for piano and strings, opus 25, in which three members of that organisation are joined by Rudolf Serkin at the piano (Col. LX8685–9). This rich-and melodious work is hardly for casual listening, but is not ‘difficult’; and the dashing Hungarian rondo that ends it gives us the irresistible Brahms of the Hungarian dances. The performance, declares an English friend of mine, ‘can't hold a candle to the old one by Rubinstein and members of the Pro Arte Quarter’, a recording which belongs to the dim distant days of the Brahms centenary and was never made available here in any case. The new set is most happily achieved, the balance between piano and strings is good, and the actual piano tone is excellent. An expensive item, but Brahmsians will not overlock it. Now for something on a smalles scale, Try the isolated Schubert movement in C minor (‘Quartettsatz’) played by the New Italian Quartet on Decca K2329. An excellent issue in every way, and ideal for these who enjoy string quartet music but are not attracted by lengthy works.
Orchestral: The symphonic set of recent months is Borodin's boisterous, vivid, and glowing Symphony No. 2 in B minor (Philharmonia Orchestra under Malko, HMV C7780–3). The playing tends to suggest that the Philharmonia is now in world, class as an orchestra and the performance — in the outer movements — is suitably fierce. So is the recording, but that is as much a gain as a loss in music of this nature and all in all this is the most exciting orchestral issue in many months. It quite outclasses the previous Columbia recording by the Halle Orchestra, and the piece on the spare side, a vivid little tone poem by Liadov, is admirably chosea. For those who would prefer less strenuous music of the Russian school, I would recommend the entrancing ‘Valse Fantaisie’ of Glinka (same orchestra and conductor, HMV C3949). Southern elegance (Glinka trävelled extensively in Spain and Italy) is here coupled with a striking pre-echo of Tchaikovsky's waltz style and this record should appeal to music lovers of whatever inclination. Not exactly ‘orchestral’ in the modern sense are two Parlophone-Odeon discs containing Haydn's Divertimen to in F (Field Partita) and a March for the Prince of Wales (R20578–9). The partita, a relic of spacious days when aristocratic armies took their little orchestras even on to the battlefield, uses English and French horns, bassoons and violins. The March is for woodwinds, trumpet and pereussion. I shall not attempt to describe the extraordinary freshness and charm of this music — suffice it to say that these players, described at the ‘London Baroque Ensemble’, are all leading members of the Philharmonia Orchestra, and that the recording, especially in the fascinating March, seems as near perfection as we are ever likely to have.
Operas: Four stray records from
A number of Italian operatic recordings, not all of them new, is being slowly released here under the Parlophone-Odeon Iabel. The standard varies a great deal but the records give, in many cases, interesting scenes and arias which have not previously been obtainable here. Most welcome is the reappearance of that great soprano, Lina Pagliughi, who was here with an opera company in 1932. Try her singing of the florid ‘Bel Raggio’ from Rossini's almost forgotten ‘Semiramide’, coupled with a very beautiful and touching aria by Giordano (R30001). Try Gianna Pederzini's really startling singing of the Seguidilla and Card Song From ‘Carmen’ (R30017). And for something off the beaten track, you should hear Gabriella Gatti in a virtually unknown air from Weber's ‘Oberon’ (B 30017). The men are less in evidence in this series, but you may hear the new young Italian basso Cesare Siepi in well-sung versions of excerpts from Verdi's ‘Vespri Siciliam’ and Boito's ‘Mefistofele’ (R30007).
Instrumental: Solomon's performance of the early Beethoven sonata in C (No. 3) makes a most desirable issue. Touch and style seem exactly right and there is no jarring impression of someone pounding a concert grand (HMV C7747–9). Louis Kentner gives us the strangely neglected fourth scherzo of Chopin (Col DX1626), the only one of the group which seems really gracious and light-hearted in style. I wish I could say as much for the playing. It is good to have the piece available again but we must deplore the disappearance of the magical Horowitz record. If Cesar Franck is your meat, do not on any account miss Malcuzynski's recording of the Prelude Choral and Fugue (Col LX1269–70). We have waited twenty years for a new recording of this, and now have no cause for regret. Those who feel that Busoni's transcription of the Bach Chacome is one of the few cases where a piano setting completely justifies itself need not hesitate to procure the almost super-human performance by the Italian pianist Michelangeli (HMV DB2 1005–6). Few will resist murmuring ‘greatest piano recording yet made.’
The Golden Cockerel Press, London, concentrates on the production of new scholarly editions of the classics, previously unpublished records and first editions of modern authors of literary distinction, all finely printed and produced under the personal supervision of Mr Christopher Sandford, proprietor since 1933. Mr Sandford is quite unique among publishers. He likes to do almost everything himself, even to writing his own letters and sticking his own stamps. With one man, part time, to sell the books and keep accounts, he attends to all the editorial and publication himself. In planning his books, literary content is, of course, his prime consideration. Then comes fine printing of the type and illustrations on durable rag paper. Illustrations engraved on wood or copper harmonise wonderfully with type, and the Golden Cockerel has exploited this as no other press has done. During the
Cockalorum is a bibliography of the Golden Cockerel Press from June 1943 to December 1948. There are specimen illustrations from the twenty-six books listed, details concerning format, price, etc., and delightful notes on each book by Christopher Sandford. There are biographical studies of Dorothea Braby, John Buckland-Wright (born in New Zealand in 1897) and Clifford Webb. In Memoriam records tributes to the late Eric Ravilious by Christopher Sandford and Mrs Ravilious speaking in the B.B.C. Third Programme. John O'Connor, a former pupil, recalls Ravilious as a teacher.
Printing for Love and Printing and Life, both by Sandford, brings us to the final page, leaving just room for a Cockerel device by Buckland-Wright.
The lending library has had its influence on contemporary book production. A great many books that do not find a permanent home on the private bookshelf are circulated through the library. Save that the bindings need strengthening, the books generally are well enough suited to the purpose. The type is clear and reasonable in size. The book jacket announces the title and flavour of the book, and on the flaps there is usually a brief summary of the nature of the contents. Then there is the inexpensive pocket edition, clearly set on cheap paper and ideal for tram or bus. But there are the books that we want to read more than once, books that we want to enjoy as book-craft, and the Golden Cockerel gives us these. Books that cost a little more because they are not mass-produced. Not that a massproduced book need be badly designed, but refinements in such matter as page
The editors of Design Review apologize for the late publication of the March-April and of this issue.
proportions, margins and bindings and the extra trouble involved in fine printing of text and illustrations on handmade paper are economically the prerogative of the private press and the limited edition.
This Work follows a similar one on the Twelfth Century, published in 1944. The present work is in two volumes, one for text and one for illustrations, and they are ‘volumes’ with a real medieval flavour in their bulk. Most of the illustrations are from Collotypes of Tristram's drawings, beautiful drawings that capture completely the spirit of the Middle Ages, drawings that must have inspired Bawden, Ravilious and many other brilliant students of Professor Tristram.
It is fitting that English art of the 13th Century should be worthily recorded. So much of this glorious period was destroyed during the Reformation that only a lifetime of research, such as E. W. Tristram has devoted to the task, can reveal the beauties that might have been preserved for us. It was a period when native English Art exercised a very considerable influence on Continental work; when it enjoyed a prestige that was shattered and remained dormant till the coming of Hogarth and the great portrait and landscape painters.
The text is fluent, scholarly and teeming with interest without being ‘popular’. We are reminded that Chaucer was appointed Clerk of the King's Works at Westminster by Richard II and that he referred in his poems to the art and artists of his day. In the ‘Knight's Table’ we have:
So that the tree stumps and driftwood motif is not so very novel after all! In fact Chaucer might easily have suggested Paul Nash's ‘Monster Field’. There is no doubt that since William Morris many artists have found inspiration in the Medieval. Tristram's volumes certainly open the door.