Category Archives: ART + MUSEUMS

Three ways to be beside the seaside—in London, now!

Oh I do love to be beside the seaside—especially when it’s in London, in February. Well, if Margate and Hastings can open art galleries with urban style, why shouldn’t London steal some of their holiday fun?

Classic gem: one of photographer Martin Parr’s retro seaside postcards, on show at the Barbican Art Gallery.

Every seaside foray starts with a stroll along a breezy promenade. I let the blustery winds on the Barbican’s High Walk blow me to its art gallery’s Magnificent Obsessions exhibition where 14 artists’ private collections are on show. Magnum photographer Martin Parr’s trove of 1950s and 60s seaside postcards got me straight into the sun-and-sand mood. There were, of course, the cartoon images of busty blondes in polka dot bikinis scaring wimps with knotted handkerchiefs on their heads. But I most enjoyed the nostalgic scenes that Parr himself might have captured when working as a rookie photographer in a Butlin’s holiday camp.

Many of the postcards were of seemingly mundane scenes such as the new motorway service stations that drivers en route to Bognor would have sent to impress friends. Others showed hotel rooms with candlewick bedspreads—the ultimate in postwar style. As a collection they skewered a vanished era, of innocence lost and luxuries gained.

Parr’s sharp eye was just one highlight of an exhibition that ranged through Howard Hodgkin’s ravishing Indian paintings, Arman’s African masks and Edmund de Waal’s netsuke, including the hare with the amber eyes.

But soon I was off to seafront attraction number two: Swingers crazy golf. This uproarious tee-party took place inside an abandoned printer’s warehouse near Old Street roundabout. Stepping inside I walked past the bar serving craft beers, the stalls cooking artisan street food and on to the nine-hole course. I grabbed my club from a wooden shack and tapped my ball up and under bridges, along teetering ledges, past miniature windmills and around swerving bends. I’m proud to have steered round the water hazard but confess to landing in a bunker twice.

A player circumvents the water hazard at Swingers crazy golf.

The last stop on my seaside jaunt was Novelty Automation, a witty take on the amusement arcade. This new “museum” of slot machines in Holborn is all screams and wry laughs. I slipped my tokens into “Micro Break”, and settled into a mechanical armchair that rocked and rattled as it took me on a simulated package holiday by a palm beach. At the adjacent machine, Is it Art?, I put my house keys before a model of Tate Director Nicholas Serota and was disappointed when he shook his head.

Tim Hunkin’s Micro Break slot machine experience at Novelty Automation.

Place an object in front of a model of NIcholas Serota and he will tell you whether or not it’s art.

Sadly my keys did not make the grade.

These were just two of a clever collection of machines created by cartoonist and wacky engineer Tim Hunkin. Some I had enjoyed before, in his arcade on Southwold Pier. But with the many coastal capers going on all around, they now seem perfectly placed in their new home at London-on-Sea.

Magnificent Obsessions: The Artist as Collector, Barbican Art Gallery until 25 May; Swingers Crazy Golf is a pop up open until 26 February, then returning in September; Novelty Automation, 1a Princeton Street, London WC1A 4AX

Butlin’s Bognor Regis postcard courtesy of Collection of Martin Parr.

London Slant: What are London’s three most important ships? All aboard to explore!

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Can you name London’s three most important ships? There’s Cutty Sark at Greenwich, of course, and HMS Belfast beside Tower Bridge. But what’s the third?

SS Robin, raised up on her pontoon dais.

Congratulations to all who immediately shouted SS Robin, whose crimson flanks catch the eye at east London’s Royal Victoria Dock, close by City Airport and ExCel. She completes London’s great seafaring trio—our only ships to be part of Britain’s National Historic Fleet, the nautical equivalent of a Grade I listed building.

SS Robin seen behind a light ship, adjacent to Millennium Mills, with City Airport as a noisy neighbour.

Curious to see why SS Robin merits this acclaim, I hopped on the Docklands Light Railway to explore. I found her nestling in the shadow of Millennium Mills, a grand but abandoned early 20th century factory which, like the former steam coaster herself, is part of a wharf landscape now being revived.

Visitors can tour the ship with its expert project leaders and roam the decks, opening doors and peeking into the innards, to view restoration work in progress. Soon she will open as a museum ship that showcases both her beauty and the colourful story of her life on the high seas.

SS Robin was built in 1890 at the famous Thames Ironworks shipyard on London’s River Lea, just a mile from where she currently resides. Her first adventures took her around Britain and Northern France as she carried cargo including grain, coal, steel and granite to build Scotland’s Caledonian Canal. In 1900 she sailed off to work in Spain where she changed her name to Maria and continued “in steam” until 1974.

When SS Robin then returned to the UK for preservation a difficult choice eventually had to be made: should she be kept intact or should much of her original structure be replaced to maintain her seaworthiness? When I got up close to the wonderfully battered sheets of steel that make up her bow, it was clear that the decision to take her out of the water was correct. Every joint and rivet spoke of great Victorian engineering and every pitted surface of a life well lived.

Fabulous flanks: the crimson body of SS Robin close up, all pitted steel and beautiful rivet work.

SS Robin now sits in grandeur, raised up on her own pontoon vessel. I marvelled at her propeller and coal/oil-fired engine room—and how the 12-strong crew survived endless days in cramped quarters and exposure to the elements out on the upper deck. But, just as the craft herself remains the only complete steamship still in existence, endurance is the name of SS Robin’s game.

Read more about SS Robin‘s fascinating history and sign up for tours, with proceeds going to fund the continuing restoration project to turn this national treasure into a heritage, community and education centre. Other activities in the area include walking over Royal Victoria Dock Bridge and a trip on the Emirates Air Line—both offering great views.

London Slant: A sensual experience in Savile Row

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Would you like a luxury spa experience without the nuisance of having to undress? Or how about going deep inside a tropical forest without the bore of flying long haul? Even better, why not alleviate the guilt of overspending at the London sales by entering a sanctuary that promises “Worry Will Vanish” without paying a psychiatrist.

Disappearing into the sunset at Worry Will Vanish Horizon by Pipilotti Rist.

Worry Will Vanish Horizon is the title of the latest immersive work by one of my favourite video artists, Pipilotti Rist. It’s the most spectacular of four video pieces in an exhibition of the same name (with the word Horizon added—indicative of its scale).

I’d had a hectic morning before I arrived at Hauser & Wirth’s Savile Row gallery but as soon as I arrived and took off my shoes I felt myself exhale. I padded through heavy curtains into a vast, dark chamber and snuggled onto one of the many duvets scattered across the floor. Then I lay back to become immersed in the scene as giant images flowed over the walls.

Scene upon scene unfolded: jungles of fleshy plants, sunsets over the sea, glistening water droplets on a forest of spiders’ webs. I roamed through mossy undergrowth, along streams, across a starry sky, among the fronds of giant ferns. I delved deep inside human bodies and explored fingers and eyes close-up. Bizarre faces and a lotus flower of flames drifted and disappeared.

All the while strange music and sounds filled the room: rippling water, sighs, plingy harmonies. By the time I’d reached the fourth loop through this exuberant celebration of life I was indeed feeling thoroughly de-stressed. But was all this joy and wonder just that bit too much? I’d had a terrific virtual massage, but would my muscles pay the price the following day?

I’ve seen many works by Rist, a Swiss artist from Grabs, over the years. I’ll never forget my first encounter at a Venice Biennale when she projected images over the ceiling of a church, while viewers lay on mattresses beneath. As with Worry Will Vanish Horizon, it included naked people gambolling through sylvan glades. The church fathers objected and it was closed down shortly after I’d been. The tailors of Savile Row have no such qualms, and you’ll be able to drop by Hauser & Wirth, free of charge (and with your Oxford Street bags of bargains) next week, until 10 January.

Meeting of psychedelic jungles.

Bizarre forms lurk in natural settings.

A swirling kaleidoscope of colour and shapes.

London Slant: My top three Bond Street art treats

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If London’s Bond Street is synonymous with excess and the extraordinary, now’s the time to catch it at its most exuberant. Glamorous peacock feather illuminations arch over designer stores in full Christmas plumage. But best of all its galleries and auction houses have pulled out all the stops with several must-see shows.

In fine feather: New Bond Street.

I dodged the faux snow cannoning out of Fenwick and braved the Victoria’s Secret scrum to check out what is an exceptional crop of art exhibitions, free for public view. All feature a small number of works, beautifully displayed in calm surroundings—perfect for a gentle stroll at a time of year that threatens sensual overload. Here are my favourite three.

1. Bonhams. 101 New Bond Street. Burrell at Bonhams. A selection of eclectic masterpieces from The Burrell Collection in Glasgow is arranged around the magnificent Wagner Garden Carpet, an Iranian paradise of watercourses filled with fishes, exotic trees and flowers, animals and birds. The many highlights include a poignant Giovanni Bellini Madonna and Child, Paul Cézanne’s glimmering Château de Médan and a 1480 tapestry showing King David dispatching his page with a message to entice Bathsheba to his bed. There’s the elaborate bedhead that failed to work its magic on the wedding night of King Henry VIII and Anne of Cleves, and treasures hailing from Egypt and Assyria. Soft background music was playing as I roamed around: a Chinese pipa strummed while I peered at a Yuan Dynasty jade vase and as I arrived in front of a Degas ballet scene it segued into an orchestra playing Debussy.

Château de Médan by Paul Cézanne.

Medieval works, including stained glass and an alabaster house shrine.

2. Christie’s Mayfair. 103 New Bond Street.The Bad Shepherd. I came to see the two splendid Brueghels of a smirking shepherd scarpering while a wolf devours his sheep, and a good shepherd being mauled by a wolf as he allows his flock to escape. But I was just as taken by the haunting waterscapes by contemporary artist Peter Doig, all atmosphere and crunchy textures, presented as “in conversation” with the early Flemish works. There was Jan Brueghel’s flower painting with its overblown blooms, a lively peasant scene that turned out to be The Murder of the Innocents and Jeff Koons’ saccharine, yet disturbing cherubs—all hinting that beneath a beguiling exterior lie more troubling elements. As if to underline this, the works are presented in a series of stylish yet darkly claustrophobic rooms.

The Good Shepherd by Pieter Brueghel II.

Night Fishing by Peter Doig.

3. De Pury de Pury 3 Grafton Street. Wojciech Fangor: Colour Light Space. A few steps off Bond Street brought me to this collection of 1960s and 70s works from the US-based Polish artist Wojciech Fangor. These Op Art paintings were shown to great effect in a Grade I listed Georgian townhouse replete with a sweeping onyx staircase, decorative ceilings and giant chandeliers. The works positively vibrated with—well—colour, light and a feeling of infinite space. I drifted among them, relishing the blurry forms and subtle gradations of hue that made them shudder and pulsate.

Modern works in a London townhouse dating from 1767.

Upper floor: Wojciech Fangor: Colour-Light-Space

Rippling forms beneath a dazzling ceiling.

Op Art between classical columns.

The great pleasure of visiting these small galleries is that you avoid the blockbuster crowds. Much as I adored the National Gallery’s Rembrandt: The Late Works, it was particularly pleasurable to view the artist’s self-portrait at Bonhams without having to elbow my way to the front.

Shows run into early January 2015. Opening hours vary over the holiday season. Please check before making a visit and note the exhibition opening hours may differ from those of those of the auction house itself.

London Slant: An exotic evening at Leighton House

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An oriental crescent moon was shining as I arrived at Leighton House and entered its bejewelled Arab Hall. Ever since this One Thousand and One Nights fantasy was unveiled in 1879 by its artist/owner, Lord Leighton, it has dazzled visitors with its panels of Islamic tiles, golden dome and mosaic floors. Queen Victoria was one of many who have come to marvel at what he built “for the sake of something beautiful to look at once in a while”—and to showcase paintings that included his own, executed in his upstairs studio.

A fountain, fabulous tiles and a golden dome: the Arab Hall at Leighton House.

But not since Leighton died in 1896 and his collection was dispersed has there been a better time to soak up its atmosphere. Its silk-clad walls are currently hung with 52 rarely seen paintings owned by Mexico’s Pérez Simón, the largest collection of Victorian art outside Britain. These include four works by Lord Leighton that have returned for the first time since he painted them here.

Greek Girls picking up Pebbles by the Sea by Frederic, Lord Leighton

Back after a long absence: Greek Girls picking up Pebbles by the Sea painted by Lord Leighton in his vast studio upstairs.

Roaming around these sensual rooms I felt as if I were being drawn into a dream. A fountain lazily trickled and Moorish lanterns illuminated lustrous friezes of fantasy creatures and calligraphy. Many of the paintings feature women draped in flimsy robes and I could imagine them descending from the walls to perform the dance of the seven veils.

A cruel Roman emperor drowns his dinner guests in petals: The Roses of Heliogabalus by Lawrence Alma-Tadema.

Adding to the mystique was the heady scent of roses that billows from the room with the stand-out painting: The Roses of Heliogabalus by Lawrence Alma-Tadema. This unsettling depiction of the depraved eponymous Roman emperor drowning his dinner guests in a sea of sumptuous petals is particularly strange for the lack of expression on the guests’ faces: neither horror nor blind pleasure as they suffocate in this exquisitely rendered onslaught.

Inspired by the Pre-Raphealites: Song without Words by John Melhuish Strudwick.

Inspired by the Pre-Raphaelites: Song without Words by John Melhuish Strudwick.

Indeed many of the works feature wistful subjects gazing as if in a reverie. Don’t come here for psychological insight: this show is about entering a magic kingdom of myth and romance. I drifted through rooms with paintings such as Alma-Tadema’s woman on a Neapolitan terrace: Her Eyes are with her Thoughts and they are Far Away, Henry Arthur Payne’s princess sailing on a shell: The Enchanted Sea, and John William Waterhouse’s woman gazing into her future: The Crystal Ball.

I looked at works by painters who often visited Leighton in his house—Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Edward Burne-Jones and John Everett Millais—and imagined the artists sprawling on the ottoman divans.

Fabulous Iznik and William De Morgan tiles and ceramics catch the light at Leighton House.

A Victorian Obsession: The Pérez Simón Collection at Leighton House Museum, near Holland Park, London, continues until 29 March 2015. It is both a chance to view art and a piece of “immersive theatre”, where the setting is part of the show.

My tip for maximum atmosphere is to attend one of the many upcoming evening events. There are regular late night openings and curator tours plus debates, music, poetry, film and theatre evenings. I especially like the idea of the Aesthetic Soirée on 25 February. I’m only sorry that Lord Leighton, known for his “princely manner”, won’t be there to act as host.

London Slant: Bournemouth—art, fantasy and haddock by the beach

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Art is now as much a part of the English seaside as fish and chips on the beach. Margate has Turner Contemporary, Hastings has The Jerwood Gallery and then there’s Bournemouth—with the granddaddy of them all. So, one sunny Saturday found me heading out of London Waterloo bound for a splash of culture on the south coast.

The Russell-Cotes Museum, set in beautiful gardens.

Jumping down from the train, I made straight for Bournemouth Pier—then turned to look back inland at what I’d come to see. Perched high above the promenade was the flamboyant former East Cliff Hall—now the Russell-Cotes Art Gallery & Museum—the treasure-stuffed extravaganza of wealthy Victorian entrepreneur Merton Russell-Cotes. Owner of an adjacent grand hotel, he built the mansion in 1901 as a gift for his wife, Annie.

The Dining Room of the Russell-Cotes Museum.

If I was impressed by the turrets and balustrades of its fanciful exterior I was even more dazzled when I went inside. This was once home to a couple who travelled the world and brought back curiosities from every continent. When they went to Japan in 1885 they returned with 100 packing cases stuffed with objets d’art, many now displayed in The Mikado’s Room.

Page from a “manga” produced by the museum, based on Annie Russell-Cotes’ travel journal of the couple’s trip to Japan.

The couple’s enthusiasm for culture and life itself pours out of every artefact and architectural flourish. Golden peacocks strut around the wood-panelled dining room ceiling. A fountain surrounded by torchères sits at the centre of the Main Hall, its walls hung with lavish paintings including Rossetti’s sultry Venus Verticorda. There’s a Moorish alcove inspired by their visit to the Alhambra, a fanciful boudoir where Annie had tea with Queen Victoria’s daughter Princess Beatrice and a room full of memorabilia associated with Shakespearean actor Henry Irving whom Merton greatly admired.

The grand staircase leads down to the Main Hall, with its exotic pool.

Victorian portraits, landscapes and genre scenes cover every surface; four art galleries unfold one after another, with sculptures, ceramics and works by artists like Alma-Tadema and Lord Leighton. Ethnographic pieces range from a Norwegian sleigh the couple brought back for their children to an Ashanti wisdom stool and an impressive model of a Maori canoe. It’s a heady mix, but there are seats among the palms in the conservatory to take a break and admire the sea views.

The Upper Gallery, crammed with art.

Even the elaborate ladies’ loo is a work of art.

As if the permanent collection was not reason itself to visit, the Russell-Cotes is currently hosting an exhibition of works by William and Evelyn De Morgan: The De Morgans and the Sea. This display of paintings and ravishing Arts and Crafts ceramics is every inch as exuberant and colourful as the house in which they currently find themselves.

William De Morgan: sea snake tile panel.

Evelyn De Morgan: The Sea Maidens.

The Russell-Cotes sits in beautiful grounds that include a small Japanese garden and a grotto. I sat there in the sun, then wandered down to the beach below. And there, right on cue, was a Harry Ramsden’s fish and chips shop offering haddock in crunchy batter to complete my classic day out beside the sea.

Journey from London Waterloo to Bournemouth takes just under 2 hours, then 15 minutes’ walk. The De Morgans and the Sea continues until 28 September 2014.

London Slant: An exotic encounter outside Brighton

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Imagine the quintessential English country scene: emerald valleys, swathes of buttercups, cows gently munching the grass. It couldn’t have been more idyllic when I climbed up the South Downs on a day out from London.

On top of the South Downs, between Ditchling and Brighton.

A path from Ditchling village led up to a ridge; I walked along enjoying fabulous views of fields flowing down on either side. Then, as I began to descend towards Brighton, a strange white dome emerged behind a slope. As I approached it took on a distinctly Moghul form; I felt as though I was being transported to the banks of the Ganges. I wasn’t expecting any sort of building in this rural setting, let alone one that appeared to be transported from a hot, sandy plain in India. Whatever could it be?

The Chattri Memorial, on the spot where Indian soldiers who died after fighting in WWI were cremated.

I drew closer and discovered a plaque describing it as the Chattri Memorial, built to honour Indian soldiers who fought alongside Britons in the Great War. Constructed in pure, white marble, I found it very moving, alone among a scattering of windswept trees.

The word “chattri” means umbrella in several Indian languages. It was designed by Indian architect EC Henriques and is now a listed building.

We’re all familiar with Brighton’s Royal Pavilion, where the future King George IV played out his oriental fantasies as the 18th century drew to a close. Less well known is that this extravagant palace was a hospital for thousands of Indian military casualties who served on the Western Front. Fifty three Sikhs and Hindus who did not survive their injuries were cremated here on the South Downs and the Chattri Memorial built in 1921 on the actual spot of their funeral pyres.

The dedication ceremony for the Chattri Memorial in 1921.

The Prince of Wales presided at the memorial’s opening ceremony. Now, every June, crowds continue to gather here to remember the dead.

Royal Pavilion at Brighton, an unlikely hospital for Indian soldiers injured in WWI.

I was pleased to have come across the Chattri by chance during the World War One centenary year. As I continued my walk down into Brighton my thoughts turned to the Pavilion: it seemed fitting that the Prince Regent’s extravagance could have also served a worthwhile purpose, and that many more men were nursed back to health under its outrageous chandeliers than turned to dust in the green hills beyond its domes.

I travelled from London to Hassocks station, walked to Ditchling village with its Museum of Art+Craft, then continued up over the South Downs to Patcham and into Brighton, for the return train journey.

London Slant: Sensational spectra lights up the night

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On Monday night London switched out lights all along the Thames—with one amazing exception. Streaming up into the sky from Victoria Tower Gardens, 49 huge spotlights sent glowing white columns soaring into infinity. Spectra, an installation by Japanese artist Ryoji Ikeda, is visible from all over London. But the main experience is close up—so I headed towards the adjacent House of Lords.

Spectra marks the centenary of the First World War; its beams stream up over the Union Flag fluttering on the House of Lords.

Spectra is supported by Artangel, known for its strong track record of exciting events. The work launched to mark the centenary of the First World War.

Approaching along the Thames, I first spotted it rocketing out Tate Modern’s chimney.

Spectra above Tate Modern and the Millennium Bridge.

Then as I went upstream it appeared behind the National Theatre. The Southbank complex was glimmering blood red and scrolling on its illuminated sign Sir Edward Grey’s poignant words “The lamps are going out all over Europe, we shall not see them lit again in our lifetime”. Further on, spectra rose above the London Eye, three orange lights burning at its top, like a candle flame.

Spectra shoots through the night sky like a wartime searchlight. Three orange lights atop the London Eye evoked a candle flame.

Between 10 and 11pm the whole city switched off lights to remember the start of the First World War. The Houses of Parliament were barely discernible in the dark, apart from the clock face in Big Ben’s Elizabeth Tower, floating like a moon. Now I was close enough to see dazzling specks of light flitting through spectra’s beams: birds and insects which, like me, were being drawn in. A helicopter flew straight through, its rotating blades turned into a whirling silver plate.

Entering Victoria Tower Gardens I roamed among the giant lights. Strange sounds—pings and hisses—emerged from speakers to add to the other-worldliness. Moths and butterflies hit the lights, sizzled and died. Just like all those young men who eagerly signed up to go and fight in the trenches a hundred years ago.

I lay on my back and looked up through the trees.

Spectra continues every night until sunrise on Monday 11 August.

London Slant: A day out in Ditchling, home of art and craft

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A couple of weeks ago The Art Fund announced its Museum of the Year 2014 award. The six-strong shortlist featured winner Yorkshire Sculpture Park, Tate Britain, Portsmouth’s Mary Rose Museum…and Ditchling Museum of Art + Craft. How come I hadn’t been to the last one? Given its illustrious company, clearly I had to go and check it out.

Entrance to Ditchling Museum in a former coach house close by the church.

A pretty South Downs village near Brighton, Ditchling makes a great day trip from London. I hopped on a train at Victoria and in less than an hour had disembarked at Hassocks station and was striding past a white windmill above meadows full of poppies along what’s known as the artists’ walk. I soon arrived at the cluster of old cottages that have attracted a community of creative luminaries from sculptor Eric Gill in the early 1900s right up to today. The village has a strong association with the written word: in addition to the man behind Gill Sans lettering, other craftspeople with studios here have included Edward Johnston, designer of the London Underground typeface, and printer Hilary Pepler.

Display of work by Edward Johnston, creator of the London Underground font.

There has been a museum in Ditchling since 1985, when it was set up by two sisters who knew many of the artists whose work is now on show. But it was transformed by a major refurbishment and reopened in September 2013 with engaging, fresh displays and those other must-haves of the modern museum, a cafe and shop.

Edward Johnston’s desk and painter David Jones’ serene Madonna.

The displays bring together hand-printed books, paintings, wood carvings and rural implements. I enjoyed the woven textiles by Hilary Bourne who, when reluctantly approached to make costumes for Ben-Hur, tried to dissuade MGM by asking four times the going rate—to which they promptly agreed.

It was also fun to encounter a display by silversmiths Pruden & Smith, which also has a workshop and boutique in the centre of the village. Its co-owner, Anton Pruden, is the grandson of the silversmith who was part of Eric Gill’s original craft guild. Visitors to the shop may be invited to tour the warren of work rooms underneath. Be warned, though, that once you’ve seen what goes into these stylish pieces you are unlikely to emerge empty-handed.

Pretty cottages and tea rooms: a slice of Ditchling village life.

On a ramble around the village I stopped at the churchyard to admire lettering in stone carved by Gill. A visit to one of the tea shops was another must. I then walked out into the fields and up onto the South Downs, en route to Brighton on the other side. From there, it was easy to catch the London-bound train—but not before I’d come across an extraordinary sight, which I’ll tell you about next time…

Ditchling Museum of Art + Craft, open daily from 11.00-17.00 (Sun from 12.00).

London Slant: Be among the first to step inside a Huguenot’s house

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If I was asked to pick my most fascinating road in London, Fournier Street in Spitalfields would be near the top of my list. Ever since its houses were built in the early 18th century it has been home to artist-craft workers starting with Huguenot silk weavers and leading up to current residents Tracey Emin and Gilbert & George. I love to look up and see the garrets where looms once rattled and it’s rare that I visit and don’t encounter the Besuited Duo striding along. (On one particularly surreal day they came gliding along the pavement towards me: without breaking gait they parted to let me go between them, eyes fixed on the middle distance, then came back together and continued their unruffled trajectory once they’d passed by.)

First floor of 31 Fournier Street, transformed into an atmospheric art gallery.

I grab any chance to go inside these houses. I’ve visited gardens on open days and attended a handbell concert in one as part of the Spitalfields Festival. So when I heard that No 31 was opening by appointment for an art exhibition, I didn’t hesitate to book.

The garden at 31 Fournier Street.

This inaugural show by Trevor Newton was the perfect choice to kickstart what will be a series of exhibitions, book launches and performances over coming months. Many of his works capture idiosyncratic architecture and interiors—perfectly at home crammed onto the wood-panelled walls of a house that its owner, Rodney Archer, describes part salon, part cabinet of curiosities. Other works, from Newton’s travels in the Australian outback, went rather well with the tree ferns and other exuberant greenery in the garden outside.

Part salon, part cabinet of curiosities.

Many of the house’s original features have been preserved, while incomers, like the fireplace that once belonged to Oscar Wilde, lend a theatrical touch and yet only add to the Miss Havisham atmosphere. It was a delight to amble around with a glass of wine, and imagine who had lived here before Archer arrived 35 years ago.

On 1 July a new exhibition of prints and drawings launches: portraits-cum-caricature by Edward Firth. Then, on 12,15 and 17 July the house will be buzzing once again as part of the Huguenot Thread Festival, when it will host a collection of original 1850s silk velour patterns. All the shows mentioned are selling exhibitions, at advantageous prices since there is no gallerist involved. The opening of the house is a win, win, win situation—for buyer, seller and owner, who gets to share his fascinating home with an eager public for the first time. See 31 Fournier Street for full details.

Front door…

…back door