"A Heaven on Earth"

 As Everard the printer was inspired by William Morris, so have I been over the years. I also seem to have a penchant for chaotic artistic households, as I spent last winter reading everything I could find about the Vanessa and Quentin Bell household and their uber-creative Charleston country seat. Sadly, I have not yet made it to Charleston, and given its out of the way location, likely won't, so I have nothing to show. I recommend this yummy book written by Quentin Bell who was a boy in that household, and Virginia Nicholson. There are some good photos in the promo; more research inevitable.Here's a workmanlike Wikipedia item if you find yourself teetering on the edge of the same rabbithole.

But for Morris' Kelmscott, thanks to my kind English family,  I have a record and a memory movie of a delighful visit. Our lovely daily routine last May was a drive in the country to a stately home and garden at a reasonable distance. Of course, the drive itself along the iconic tree-arched Cotswold lanes would have sufficed, but then there was 'the house.' While my dear hosts wandered the estate and had tea in the garden, I was indulged time and again in a tour of a National Trust property I had long admired. At the end of the tour, I joined my family in the garden and the visit ended with al fresco tea and sweets. Is it any wonder I long to return?

And so went our visit to Kelmscott, Cotswolds retreat of William Morris, Victorian textile, wallpaper and furniture designer, writer and father of the Arts and Crafts movement. As promised in an earlier post, I won't play expert. Goodness knows there are loads of those. I will share what moved and awed me, and leave you to consult the experts.  Morris called Kelmscott "a heaven on earth", if that tips you off.

 Of course, the structure itself was awe-inspiring. According to Historic Houses Morris "loved the house as a work of true craftsmanship, totally unspoilt and unaltered and in harmony with the village and the surrounding countryside....almost organic...as if it had 'grown up out of the soil.' " I love that description of something that I feel so strongly about. I despair of houses, new and old,  that perch above the level, like birdhouses, rather than flow into the landscape. I love flagstone paths outside back doors, worn stone doorsteps, weathered benches nestled in the shrubbery. 

The house was pretty much 'as was', furniture, textiles and other design elements from Morris' time. Wife and muse Jane Burden and daughters May and Jenny lived in the 1570/late 1600s limestone farmhouse on the banks of the Thames in Oxfordshire from 1871-1896. ( I want to keep track of this article about May Morris, so will link it here.)

As I chatted with a gentlemanly docent at the entrance to the family rooms, I absently brushed a delicious textile on the wall beside me. "I'd rather you didn't, dear, that was worked by Morris" he advised. "What an idiot" I felt.

So, now that I have my breath back, I share some moments from my delighted sweep through Kelmscott's eccentric layout, conscious of my hosts' schedule, phone photos carrying away imperfect images of tapestries and wallpaper, furniture, architectural elements indoors and out, for later research. These few images are memory aids to the revisit I am doing with you this morning. Sorry to go on a bit. Pinching myself to be in this place.

 Above, the 1860s painted Medieval-style settle with embossed and painted leather panels so connected in my mind with Morris, designed by Phillip Webb for the Red House  and now in 'the white room' at Kelmscott Manor. 

The interior was draped in textiles: walls, windows, bedsteads. I suspect a practical reason, warmth, as well as the owners' delight in creating. This work with its design of birds and fruit trees is Morris' 'If I Can' embroidery, designed and worked by him personally in 1857/8. I remember having a go at Turk's Head knots in my earlier days; none even approached this majesty.

Also in the 'white room', The Blue Silk Dress, a portrait by Dante Gabriel Rossetti of Jane Burden, Morris' wife and Rossetti's model and lover for a time at Kelmscott.

Rosssetti founded the pre-Raphaelite Society with painters Willliam Holman Hunt and John Everett Millais.  Many of us will be familiar with Hunt's evocative Light of the World from our childhood, a regular in the Sunday-school prize category.

I'd forgotten the reason for the name of the movement. It was a reaction in 1848 to Royal Academy aesthetic and a look back to simple Italian painting before the artificiality of the High Renaissance. Their work greatly influenced the decorative arts. (Thanks Jimmy Wales.)

Also in the white room are the carved stone fireplace from 1660, the first addition to the original farmhouse, panelled walls from the early 1700s and the wood block floor laid for Morris. A photo in my book dated 1878 shows Jenny Morris in front of the fireplace, when it was painted in a marble effect (that's the Baroque for ya.)

I love this textile with a delightful story.It's the Daisy hanging and was designed by William Morris  and embroidered on deep blue serge found by the couple for their first home together, the Red House. 

Here we are in the Tapestry Room, one of the rooms associated with the Turner family who owned the house in its earlier years. The faded seventeenth century Dutch tapestries (of which I captured a slice) were acquired by the original family, and are majestic despite their faded condition. The stone chimney-piece in this, the principal sitting room, bears the Turner coat of arms.The blue tiles were added at the time of the Morris' residency.

Compare the utilitarian simplicity of this room with its contemporary, the cluttered Victorian interior, every surface decorated. The industrial production of furniture and home decor irritated Morris whose design house Morris and Company sought to revive the styling and craftsmanship of earlier times. 

This is William Morris' bedroom which sits at the junction of the 16th and 17th century homes, resulting in it being a pass-through to other rooms. I read he found it amusing that folk had to pass through his private space to get to other areas of the house.

The bed was constructed of oak pieces from two centuries, and the pelmet and hangings were embroidered by women of Morris and Co. The poem around the pelmet was Morris' own poem about the comforts of his bed - a rather relatable idea made grand in Gothic script. 

The attic with its white-washed elm beams and rafters is a wonderful space. Its tiny gable rooms served as accommodation for farm workers during the Turner's time on the estate. 

Here's an astonishing virtual tour of Kelmscott, should you want to see more than I captured on my flying visit.

And here I am clutching a takeaway from my brush with William Morris, the fine richly illustrated guide Kelmscott Manor, text by Jeremy Musson,  published by the Society of Antiquaries of London. It's a comprehensive history and a feast of gorgeous photos. 

Should you want more Kelmscott (I can relate) there are lots (273) of enthusiastic visitor photos here on the TripAdvisor site. 

And should I one day be able to continue my William Morris pilgrimage, I would add the Red House in Bexleyheath, Arts and Crafts flagship and the Morris' first home together, designed by Morris and the incomparable Philip Webb. And perhaps Morris' London house, home of the William Morris museum. 

After my Cotswolds visit, I spent a few days in London. A London house museum visit to the splendid Leighton House near Hyde Park provided another artist's studio home to treasure.

I'll share that foray into life as art/art as life at another time. I think I've said quite enough for one day.