ARRANGEMENT IN GRAY AND GREEN: MISS ALEXANDER.
Among the houses that were decorated under Whistler's supervision are the Aubrey house, Kensington; Carlyle cottage, Chelsea; the home of Mr. D'Oyly Carte, on the banks of the Thames, the music room of Sarasate in Paris, for whom it is said, he also designed the furniture, and the "Pink Palace," where he lived with his favourite model "Maud," in 1885.
Occasionally he may have designed the furniture as a particular favour to a friend, but it was not his habit. All he did was to give advice or to make the selection. Now and then he may have made a hasty sketch to make his idea clear to others, but it is not known that he ever made a regular design that could have been used by a skilful cabinet-maker to work from. He merely suggested, and, if conditions allowed, to establish beauty of proportions. Beauty of design should exist, no matter whether it be in the vault of the Sistine Chapel, or a writing desk, but colour is imperative. His "style" consisted of little more than selecting a special colour scheme. He took pride in mixing the colours, but never put them on himself. An ordinary house-painter served the purpose just as well. He looked at a room, decided what parts should be dark or black, and then proceeded, in his most scientific manner, to find a colour, delicate and luminous, that would brighten the walls. No doubt, he laboured under favourable conditions. But we should not forget that he himself created these conditions, in which his artistic personality perhaps found its happiest and most characteristic expression.
Exquisite colour and simplicity and the desire to gain the possible effects of light were the leading characteristics of the Whistler style. Whistler committed one great error. He invariably preferred beauty to comfort. He frequently lost sight of the practical, with the result that use and beauty were not always combined in due proportion. He had little regard for physical requirements—he himself was always active, he had no time to lounge, consequently decorative possibilities alone interested him. It is the same trouble with L'Art Nouveau. Although infinitely superior to the soulless copyism of different styles as practised by sterling bronze and artistic furniture companies, it lacks that true artistic feeling for ornamentation, which makes the designer at once realize the proper limits of his materials and show proper judgment in the uses to which he puts them. Whistler was so sensitive to any discord of line or colour, that he, no doubt, would have endured inconvenience rather than have destroyed the harmony of an effect. Most of us do not care to exist that way.
A house is built to live in, with as much grace as possible, but primarily with a feeling of comfort. Most people would prefer a modern apartment to an old palace at Fiesole. The material demands of the owner should determine the construction of the house. The American architects begin to realize this more and more. What principle rules the construction of a window? The dimensions of the room. The windows are not made for the street, to be looked at from the outside; they are there for the room, to distribute light and emphasize any special use they may be put to. In a parlour, for instance, people are more apt to look out a window than anywhere else; for that reason the parlour windows should be wider than in other rooms to enable several people to look out comfortably at the same time.
A chair is made to sit upon comfortably, not merely to look beautiful. The most beautiful design in a chair will not condone the torture that may be caused by a shape that does not adapt itself to the human form. The chairs in the Sarasate music room were exquisite but too stiff to allow any repose. Imagine listening to a concert sitting erect, without being able to stretch out one's limbs. The main reason for not having any comfortable chairs in his own studio was one of self-protection. It was his work-room, and he wished to prevent visitors from making it a hall of gossip. He preferred to have it empty; a promenade to contemplate the next master stroke on one of his paintings.
When Whistler was forced to give up the "White House," and all its beautiful contents were dispersed, he was enraged that the succeeding owner, "Arry" Quilter, took liberties with the facade. Quilter had added a bay window, and, to Whistler's idea, destroyed the entire effect. After that he never wanted to look at it again. On one occasion he expressed his anger in a most amusing manner. "To think of Arry living in the temple I created," he said. "He has no use for it. If he had any feeling for the symmetry of things he would come to me and say: 'Here, Whistler, is your house, take it, you know its meaning, I don't. Take it and live in it.—But no, he has not sense enough to see that.'"
Harry Quilter, no doubt, got as much enjoyment out of the house as Whistler did, although in a different way. Extreme sensitiveness in regard to line, colour and form produces a beautiful result, not unlike a handsome painting, but I fear it would prove monotonous in the long run. A beautiful room is like a simple melody, but if the melody has any striking individuality, we soon tire of it. If the decoration could be kept entirely neutral the problem could be solved satisfactorily. But pink and lemon-yellow are not neutral. Not everybody would feel happy in a blue room decorated with purple fans. Even a woman in a certain gown would destroy the harmony, and a definite colour seen all the time, even if unconsciously, would soon disturb our mental serenity. The Whistler rooms were beautiful when no human being moved in them. They were there for the photographer, but not for congenial habitation.
I believe most people will agree that the most beautiful bed is the one in which one can sleep most peacefully; the most beautiful chair the one which allows perfect relaxation of the body; the most beautiful glass that which lends itself most gracefully to convey to our lips the special beverage it is intended for. This may sound unæsthetic, but it is common sense. Comfort comes first, whenever ordinary living purposes are concerned. There is plenty of opportunity for the exploration and exfoliation of beauty, but it should be subordinated to the primary causes.