A cheery coincidence yesterday, noting that the theme for the special exhibition at the San Francisco Fall Antiques Show is chinoiserie. This followed fairly quickly with an email notice from Enos Reese Interior Design of the launch of their new website. Mark Enos and Carmen Reese are designers we’ve been happy to know for a number of years. Amongst their design portfolio is a mid Wilshire high rise featuring, you guessed it, a piece from Chappell & McCullar, and, right again, it was a bit of chinoiserie, a red japanned George II period coffer.
Interesting, this fanciful piece is actually composed of rather durable vernacular materials,
with the quarter sawn oak of the casework making it a practical as well as a decorative piece. Oak seems to have been popular for the European construction of furniture meant to look far eastern. These pieces often were a marriage of a European made stand to support a Chinese lacquer cabinet. This example is entirely European, English in this case, and constitutes a collaborative effort from at least three workshops- a joiner for the cabinet, a carver for the stand, and a painter-stainer for the surface decoration of both pieces.
Actually, I left one workshop out- a clock maker for the construction of the brass hinges and lockplates, finely wrought, and perhaps more precisely made than the Chinese metalwork it sought to imitate.
The use of oak makes for an eminently practical choice. Durable, of course, but with the use of quartersawn planks in construction, also less likely to warp and expand and contract, which movement would damage the surface decoration. I have to say, on both pieces, the decoration is in surprisingly good condition. Also, in the case of the cabinet on
stand, it is particularly important the piece maintain its structural integrity to allow access to its hidden compartments. Nothing worse, I’d imagine, than when trying to access the treasures hidden within, to find the drawers warped shut. And the treasures we found? Sad to say, nothing beyond some late 17th century dust.








Things do go in and out of fashion and I suppose the fact that, for much of the last century, Brighton was a bargain day out for Londoners occludes its glory days. It’s still pleasantly seedy, as are most seaside resorts, but no where else is the Brighton Pavilion.
With an increase in funds with accession to the Regency, the now Prince Regent let imagination run wild. The forest of onion domes and minarets executed by John Nash, while lavish in their number were a bit less extreme in cost, built as they were of stucco over a wooden and iron frame. The vaguely Mughal exterior gives way to a riot of Chinoiserie, with the long gallery with walls and trim painted an astonishing pink, with a bamboo motif overlay in a blue-green.
The bamboo motif carries on with chairs and tables made of split bamboo. Even the staircase that leads to the upper floor carries on the bamboo motif, but in cast iron, faux painted to match the yellow color and ribbing of the furniture.
The effect of all of this is less of anything oriental than of exotic excess. Moreover, the design of the pavilion was even in its day not in the most fashionable taste, which tended more toward studied antiquarianism in the manner of Thomas Hope, who’s Household Furniture and Interior Decoration was published in 1807. It’s interesting to note that the interiors at the Royal Pavilion were realized by Crace and Company, whose more sober commissions included the interiors of Sir John Soane’s London residence. And, of course, with the accession of Victoria, sobriety became the order of the day. The Brighton Pavilion was sold by her to help pay for her decidedly more practical and domestic seaside home, Osborne House on the Isle of Wight.