A visit to Wightwick Manor

You wait thirty years for the chance to revisit an iconic Arts and Crafts House and then another trundles over the horizon eight days later.

First, though, before I even clapped eyes on the Manor, I picked up this jay feather in the grounds. Yes, it's a bit tatty, but it only proves it's been both beautiful and useful in its time.

As you would expect, Wightwick is full of William Morris designs, beautiful Morris & Co furniture, and exquisite Pre-Raphaelite art, and like Standen, there are lots of books and websites with excellent photographs of its decoration and contents, whereas mine are mostly dark, peering-around-the-corner pictures, or of details that caught my eye and were less overwhelming than the entirety of the place ...

... because it is overwhelming, Wightwick, in a way that Standen isn't. In fact, I always think it would be the perfect place to hibernate in (as long as you could afford to keep it warm, and had the energy to get around somewhere that big), but I wouldn't like to live somewhere like that all year round. I think it's to do with the ornate ceilings that are beautiful but somewhat oppressive, and also the dark feel of the house. Of course, this is due in part to the need to protect the handblocked Morris & Co wallpapers and rugs, and the eye-wateringly valuable paintings and drawings from sunlight, but I wish the National Trust could come up with a way of lighting the rooms to give you a better idea of what they would look like if they didn't have to be so heavily curtained. 

Actually there probably is, but the need to make such a system as unobtrusive as possible would doubtless make it very expensive.

There is a room that takes my breath away, though, and it's the Great Parlour. 

The Kelmscott Chaucer

The dining room

The upstairs isn't open to visitors at the moment, which is a shame as I really love the nursery, but the behind-the-scenes part of the downstairs is, where there is less grandeur to detract from the detail ... 

... and familiar sights and smells from what is suddenly a long time ago.

Wooden tongs, wooden clothes horse, mangle ... 

... carbolic soap!

When I arrived at the Manor, the volunteer on the door told me I'd found nothing had changed over the last 30 years, but that's not the case, as the de Morgan Gallery in the Malthouse certainly wasn't there back in the early 1990s, though it's far too much of a feast to convey here. 

Every time I see Evelyn de Morgan's portrait of her husband, William, my initial and immediate impression is that he's holding the world in his hands, rather than a piece of lustreware, and in terms of creativity, I suppose that's so.

There were still a couple of hours to while away in the gardens and grounds, which were beautiful.

In addition to my jay feather, I found some others I'm struggling to identify. (Feathers are tricky.) The one with straight bars looks quite cuckoo-ey to me, although they should be long gone. (That said, I did hear one late last summer in Bristol.) 

Oh and these I think are mallard feathers, not least because of nearby evidence.

William Morris and his Red House

I suppose breaking a 147 mile journey home at the 17 mile point is a little premature but how much more enticing is the prospect of breakfasting outside the coach house of William Morris's Red House in Bexleyheath than in a cheap hotel in Dagenham?

I'm a bit of a William Morris groupie and I'd already visited Red House twice before we turned off the M25 on the way home from seeing Leonard Cohen at the O2.  It is a special place, however, and as the National Trust are in the process of uncovering more and more art dating from the short time Morris, Janey and their friends spent there, there's always something new to see.  And this time someone congenial to share it with. 

After a wander around the garden, now considerably larger than in Morris' day, we joined the guided tour to see the how the house is looking these days. 

Still enchanting are Red House architect Philip Webb's stained glass birds which look as if they are about to flap off at any moment.  I'd like to have a go at reinterpreting some of them when I get my glass kiln up and running.  

The iconic staircase, forerunner of a million Tudorbethan imitations.

The newly restored blue and gold landing ceiling.

Although he manufactured wallpaper for others to buy, Morris preferred to hang his own walls with tapestries and embroideries. In the absence of any suitable candidates, this papered wall with its door leading into the dining room with its oxblood red dresser looks well enough. 

 What other Pre-Raphaelite works of art lie behind the brown paint job on the hall dresser?

 Always a favourite of mine, the fireplace in the dining room with its Delft tiles ... 

... and the single M for Morris carved into the hearth ... or is it a W for William?

While at Red House, Morris conceived a series of 12 embroidered hangings for the dining room based on women in Chaucer's poem 'The Legend of the Good Women', to be embroidered by his wife, Jane, sister-in-law Bessie, and anyone else in the vicinity who was handy with a needle.   Only seven were ever completed, and this one - of Aphrodite - returned to Red House in 2008 after an absence of 142 years.   The rest, plus two of the planned dozen fruit trees to accompany them, are scattered across the world. 

Morris's motto - here in French - sings from a round upstairs window.  On an early hanging now at Kelmscott Manor, it is also embroidered in English - 'If I can' - harking back to the inscription 'Als Ich Kan' inscribed on the frame of Jan Van Eyck's 'Man in Red Turban'.  

Discovered behind a cupboard in William and Jane's surprisingly small bedroom, this mural is a representation of the Book of Genesis, featuring Adam and Eve on either side of a tree complete with serpent, Noah and Rachel amonst others.  It is designed to look like a tapestry hanging in folds and is believed to have been painted by Lizzie Siddal, who died before it could be completed.  

Another mural has been uncovered in the drawing room, painted by Burne Jones and illustrating the Romance of  Sir Degravaunt, with Morris the model for the knight and Jane his bride, Melydor, seen being married on the far left of this photo, and then forming part of the wedding procession in the adjacent panel.  

    
In this picture, Morris and Jane are seen in the background at the wedding feast. Unlike Sir Degravant and Melydor, their marriage was an unhappy one and within five years of its being built, they had left the Red House, with all its hopes and dreams, behind them.