Review: Wallpaper In Ireland 1700-1900




Review:"Wallpaper In Ireland 1700-1900" by David Skinner, Churchill House Press, 2014




BY ROBERT M. KELLY








A very large number of houses are always changing their tenants — houses of the middling and cheaper classes more particularly — and a ‘fresh paper’ is the usual complement of a new tenant.                       (The Irish Builder magazine, 1868)


This account of the customary use of wallpaper in central Dublin reminded me of my parents’ upbringing in Pittsfield, a small industrial city in western Massachusetts. Elaine McConkey and Richard Kelly grew up during the 1930s in large households surrounded by cheap wallpaper. Renting was a way of life. I also grew up in rented quarters surrounded by cheap wallpaper, the second of their ten children. I began Skinner’s book, then, prepared to hear his assessment of the Irish contribution to wallpaper history. 



The photos reveal that Skinner's predecessors, Mrs. Leask and John O’Connell, had long foraged the countryside securing remnants of Irish-stamped wallpaper (as in England, Irish wallpaper was taxed by the Crown). Many of the samples shown in the book have since found a home at Fota House (Cork) in the Irish Heritage Trust Collection of Historic Wallpaper

The provenance of the wallpapers along with Skinner’s meticulous research give the book the stamp of authority. English and French wallpapers sold and installed in Ireland are no less scrutinized. The samples come from all strata of society. The firsthand evidence is often thrilling. It’s one thing to know that the Cowtan company of London furnished Irish estates, and another thing to have found, as he did, penciled inscriptions from Cowtan’s workers on the very walls of Carton and Coollattin.

On the evidence of this book important paperstaining shops in the United Kingdom were not limited to a few English cities but were common in Ireland, at least leading up to the high-water mark of the mid-nineteenth century. While Skinner's book does not exactly upend the conventional portrait of a dominant English wallpaper culture within the UK, it does confront those assumptions with new evidence. He shows the character of wallpaper production in Ireland and how this production affected that of other countries. 

Skinner challenges assumptions that English or Irish wallpaper is easily sorted into stereotypes. The range of finish was vast. Of course, each nation had areas of specialization, and some genres were quite distinctive. But these exemplars, so visually arresting and therefore so appealing to one’s preferences, can have a tendency to overshadow the essential sameness of wallpaper in context, when each pattern for sale was simply one choice among many. Within these generalities, there were recognizable facts and trends. For example, Skinner all but proves that the “middling and cheaper classes” were the primary consumers of wallpaper in Ireland in the nineteenth century. This seems to have been true for the North American market as well. 

If there was an Irish style, it seems to have been equal parts cheap, harmonious, and staid, judging from these photos. That said, there was also a preference for a significant number of down-market papers of almost punishing vivacity that pose a challenge to our twenty-first century sensibilities. Did people really like these outrageous colors and designs? Apparently, they did. An example of a 'fancy flowered, rainbowed' paper from France sold by James Boswell in the 1830s is shown below (Figure 189).


At the other end of the scale the book shows agreeably-aged wallpapers draping many a stately home. These now-echoing castles, country homes, and great halls may be stately but they are nevertheless domiciles thus validating their inclusion here. 

Historical wallpapers have been increasingly integrated into museum collections and thereby saved for posterity, a generally happy result. But, we must remember that this acceptance is no substitute for what has been lost in the separation from the home, namely that a particular pattern was chosen by a particular person for a particular room. The acquisition of wallpapers by museums therefore presents risks as well as rewards: a risk that these artifacts might be presented and appreciated as what they were never intended to be: art. It is encouraging to see that this risk was avoided in the present volume. The wallpapers come from a wide variety of collections, but they are consistently presented in context as fresh complements to the arrival of new tenants or for enhancing a beloved residence. 

Chapter Six will probably appeal the most to students of North American history. Here we learn how native producers emerged and sustained themselves within a market defined by foreign rivals; how various grades of wallpaper were brought to market; and who bought them. The marketing story, like the question of style, is not simply national. Many of the economic variables (tariffs, taxes, competition, and contraband) were international in scope, and they mattered absolutely: one or two of these variables could make or break a small producer.  

Many of the nuances of Irish history (for example, that the aristocratic lifestyle all but vanished in Dublin after the Act of Union in 1800) are sure to slip by American readers. Yet this in no way lessens Skinner's achievement. He paints a lively picture against a shifting backdrop as the village and family paperstainers of the eighteenth century gave way to the factories of the nineteenth. Skinner demonstrates that Irish wallpaper was dominant in the home market and available for only a few pence per roll by the mid-1830s. Yet, this was a qualified success.

None of the Irish shops grew to the size of English behemoths such as Heywood, Higginbotham, and Smith. The long-delayed utilization of continuous paper and newly-invented machinery for printing combined to spark proliferation world-wide by around 1850. Ireland certainly saw proliferation, but it was hands-on and small scale. Indeed, Irish shops can hardly be described as mechanized since block-printing was almost exclusively employed throughout the nineteenth century. The industry petered out completely by 1880. 

Why did mechanization of paper-hangings skip over Ireland? Skinner makes no claims that his book is a sociological text, but he does point out on page 164 that Ireland lost four million people to famine and emigration between 1841 and 1900, becoming thereby the only European nation to lose population in those years. These losses occurred at the very time that mechanization was taking hold elsewhere. 

Many wallpaper historians have implied that the rise of machine-printing was swift and that it soon replaced block-printing. Skinner’s book throws some light on these assumptions. He notes that in 1845 Moses Staunton was dissatisfied with the new English-made machine-prints: “…he found the colours lasted but a few days from being put on the walls… ”. This technological speed bump has been evident (a discussion of the shortcomings of machine-prints was published in the Journal of Design and Manufactures of 1851) yet shortcomings like thin, watery inks and botched registration have not been brought to the surface in secondary sources until now. This new information rounds out our picture of late-nineteenth century shops and helps explain why block-printing continued in English, French, Canadian, and American shops long after machinery had arrived.

Skinner describes the country house Ballinterry as “solid, rambling, and unpretentious”. That might be said as well about Skinner’s text. I appreciated this foundation as I struggled to keep up with his brisk gallop through two centuries of decorative history. The photography is exceptional. Figure 112 (showing borders from 1810) practically explodes off the page. 

The wooly flock, shiny metallics, pin-dots, and irregularities of the blockprints show the tactile qualities of early wallpaper. The simple but effective designs of the cheap self-grounded papers hint at why they were so popular. Self-grounded wallpapers (colored in the pulp) were very popular in the nineteenth century. Yellow, pink, and brown were typical colors. This coloring saved the work of grounding the paper before printing, thus reducing cost.

The inclusion of many gorgeous photos of oddball print-room types and art-historical darlings such as the Chinese scenics and the Cupid & Psyché series (from Dufour) threaten to tip the book into coffee-table territory. Yet Skinner includes many previously unpublished details about Hamilton’s Etruscan prints in the print-room section. He also explains how Tischbein adapted them for the wall. We learn why Hamilton and Tischbein were inspired, who carried this trade out, and how tastemakers and householders realized the possibilities. The 237 color photos are accompanied by just enough context. Captions and photos are precisely placed, a virtue not always found in wallpaper books. 

 Skinner dutifully reports on the few French arabesques that are known to have been used in Ireland (many more were advertised) and tidies up some lingering anomalies about the late-eighteenth century Sherringham and Eckhardt factories, both located in the London area. His chapter on Edward Duras, who successfully transplanted his paperstaining business from Dublin to Bordeaux, France, is a revelation.

Skinner sorts out many corners of wallpaper history. For example, it’s well-known that a group of Irish paperstainers emigrated to Liverpool in the early nineteenth century and thrived for the next fifty years. He explains their rise and fall. Much fresh information is provided about James Boswell’s company. Boswell’s designs, his upright business methods (not emulated by all of his competitors) and his impact on the paperstaining culture are on display, which is quite an accomplishment since Boswell’s company had been little more than a footnote. Skinner notes that over a hundred Boswell designs have been deposited in the Office of the Registrar of Designs in Kew, forming what is arguably the most comprehensive body of work for any Irish paperstainer. Nothing like this exists in the United States. 

Skinner puts Morris-type papers in context, describing their designs as “organic” and “neo-vernacular”. He shows how Irish manufacturers juggled processes, styles, and regulations to see off competitors, poach patterns, and capture markets.


An art nouveau design on self-grounded paper (Figure 212) proves that no design, however avant-garde, was beyond exploitation. It is a cheap machine-print, most likely English. By the time this pattern was printed about 1890 the Irish industry had collapsed.


To take on 200 years of decorative history, albeit that of a single product in a single country, is a daunting task. Skinner has succeeded by imaginatively reconstructing and communicating the outlooks of those intimately associated with the product — paperstainers, retailers, paperhangers, and consumers. He has contributed a sound history of the rise and fall of the Irish paper-hangings industry, fulfilling one of his stated goals. But, more important, his book will certainly influence wallpaper studies because of its firm grasp on the historical context within which these wallpaper artifacts must be understood. “Wallpaper In Ireland” teaches much about the Irish people and their craft traditions. But it also shows that when it comes to wallpaper, no country is an island.


Wallpaper In Ireland.....a series



Herewith an examination in serial form of David Skinner's recent book Wallpaper In Ireland 1700 - 1900.






Introduction: 

...One of Ireland's lesser-known trades, its history largely forgotten, wallpaper manufacture employed many hundreds of people in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, when locally-produced papers were sold and used alongside those imported from other countries. Charting the history of wallpaper use by examining surviving examples and the documentary record, this book aims to awaken some echoes of the people who bought wallpaper in Ireland or who spent their lives in making it, and to trace the contexts of its production and design…

Paper-staining, as the trade came to be known, took root, flourished and declined in Ireland in an arc of activity spanning the century and a half between the 1720s and the 1870s…In England wallpaper manufacture was developed by well-capitalized companies like the Blue Paper Company, backed by investors with an expansionist outlook on foreign markets, while in Ireland artisanal family businesses, passed on from fathers to sons, operated in an isolated and hermetic economy, training apprentices who, when they became masters, had either to carve out a share of a limited market or emigrate. By the 1830s Dublin was said to have more master wallpaper makers than all of Britain, but only a few of them were doing much more than eking out a living. To a great extent, what differentiates Irish wallpapers from those made in Britain is not so much their design as the circumstances and conditions of their production…





A central aim of the present study is to chart the rise and fall of the Irish paper-stainer, from the artisan workshops which supplied the wealthy elite of Georgian society to the clandestine garrets which sent contraband wallpapers to Victorian Britain....This book illustrates the richness and diversity of the styles and patterns which formed the backdrop to domestic lives in Ireland over two centuries...

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(from Chapter 1)




Single women, either widowed or unmarried, owned a significant proportion
of paper staining and related businesses in Dublin. One of these was the widow
Catherine McCormick, whose career path, from humble beginnings, through early
widowhood and into prosperous old age, shows how an astute and determined
woman could thrive in the artisan milieu. When she appeared as a witness in the
trial of Richard Annesley, Lord Altham - one of eighteenth-century Dublin’s
most notorious legal cases - McCormick gave her occupation as 'stamping or print-
ing papers for rooms'. Her evidence at the trial provides some details about her station
in life before she entered the wallpaper trade. 

In 1714, she had been a servant at the rooming house of a Mr Vice, near Temple Bar. It is not known when she married the paper-stainer John McCormick, but she was widowed in Christmas
week 1741 when her husband was 'taken out of the Liffey at Aston Quay, greatly
wounded in the head and died immediately'. According to a newspaper report he
had been in the company of a friend, and 'being in liquor they both fell into the
river together'. From the time she was widowed in 1741 until she formed a business 
partnership in her sixties with another paper-stainer Thomas Benn, she ran the business on her own from her house in Essex Street. 

A typical advertisement from Faulkner’s Dublin Journal in 1762 gives a picture of a feisty businesswoman intent on seeing off competition: 'The Widow McCormick, Paper-Stamper, ...
continues to make all kind of Paper Hangings, and has lately imported a great
variety of new English Papers - her chief End in importing being to have it in her
power to select the best Patterns, and copy from the Originals, and has at present
finished several Patterns, that, from the great Care taken in executing them, vie in
competition with the English, and which, she presumes, must far excel the copies made after hers'.

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(from Chapter 2: Flock And Chintz Papers)

Among the print works which sprang up on the rivers around Dublin, that of Thomas and
Margaret Ashworth in Donnybrook was unusual in that it produced both textiles and wallpapers. The Ashworths specialised in printing chintzes both for furnishing and 'for ladies' wear in Indian sprigs', and from 1753 expanded their output to include their 'Donnybrook papers for hanging rooms', designed to match their 'chintz patterns for furniture in the cotton and linen way'. Chintz is one of the styles most frequently mentioned in advertisements from the 1750s until the early
1770s, and nearly every Dublin paper-stainer supplied his - or her - own version.

The evident popularity of chintz-patterned papers is reflected in the number of examples which have been found in Irish houses of all sizes, from Castletown, County Kildare, to Dublin's Eustace Street….In copying the appearance of textile chintzes, Dublin paper-stainers used a similar palette of purples, pinks, blues and yellows, contained within black, or sometimes red, outlines, often selecting those pigments which could, in a gum medium, emulate the transparent shades found on printed cloth. Chintz patterns were frequently printed straight onto the paper surface, without a preparatory ground coat of colour, allowing the creamy tone of the rag paper to stand in for the white background usual in Indian cottons. The black or red outlines were block-printed and the remaining colour applied by stencilling or hand-brushing - a process known as ‘pencilling’ - which was often carried out by young girls.

(photo below) Fig. 28: Chintz-patterned wallpaper, block-printed outlines and pin dots on ungrounded paper, stencilled colours, mid-eighteenth century. Casteltown, County Kildare.



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(from Chapter 3: Stucco And 'Architect' Paper




The rivalry between Augustine Berville and Thomas Fuller was conducted very publicly, if relatively politely, through the pages of the Universal Advertiser from 1753 until 1757, when John Gordon, having apparently poached one of the Frenchman’s Irish employees, advertised his own version of paper stucco, claiming that his 'designs, models and moulds, are entirely new and conducted by a native who he engages, whose performance convinces the public, that he is a better hand than any brought from abroad'. This announcement provoked a three-way media tussle, with Berville, Fuller and Gordon taking out lengthy advertisements which sometimes appeared on the same newspaper page (see below, Universal Advertiser of 19 April 1757). 

Gordon appealed to his customers' patriotic sentiments, while Berville responded that 'though not a native, he employs none but natives'. As the quarrel escalated, Berville complained that 'one in particular' of his rivals had 'maliciously reported that he [Berville] had left the Kingdom and that no more of his Manufactory was to be had'. Perhaps in an attempt to hit back at Gordon, Berville began selling paperhangings in July 1757,but this venture was shortlived, and he may have actually left Ireland soon after, as no more is heard of him. Gordon continued to advertise paper stucco into the late 1760s, describing himself as 'Paper-stamper and Stucco-maker in Papier-machi'.

==



In Chapter 3 David Skinner discusses two wallpapers shown in "An Interior With Members of a Family". On p. 48 of Wallpaper in New England (WINE) there are further references - see above for fragments now at Historic New England taken from the General Glover house in Marblehead. The fragments show a woman leaning against the balustrade. Fig. 3-16 in Lynn (Wallpaper In America) shows the English model for the chimney breast paper. Her fig. 3-17 shows an American knock-off, with pattern reversed, from the shop of Zechariah Mills of Hartford.

Skinner, p. 201: The design of the main paper comprises a round arch supported on paired columns resting on sections of wall joined by a balustrade, behind which is a domed tempietto. These features correspond with a wallpaper which was used in the stair hall of Sparhawk Hall
in Kittery Point, Maine, some time after 1759, described in R. Nylander, “Wallpaper in New England” (Boston 1986), 48-51. There, the pattern was further embellished with a pair of birds and the figure of a woman resting on the balustrade - details which may have existed in the Irish example painted by Lowry but were too small for the artist to show. 

The slightly different wallpaper used on the chimney breast in the painting has the same arrangement of arch and columns, but the space beneath is filled with a view of further colonnades in perspective. A similar paper to this was found in the Samuel Buckingham house, Old Saybrook, Connecticut, built in 1768. This is illustrated in Lynn, “Wallpaper in America”, 82, fig. 3-16. Both this and the Sparhawk Hall paper carried English excise stamps.

(see this link for related photos)

https://www.dropbox.com/sh/7t88vuiahtv3i8i/AABRaP2r2IPDCmoL5yJVt-ssa?dl=0

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(from Chapter 4; India Paper and Chinoiserie):




From his shop in Capel Street, Samuel Dixon sold sets of India paper, as well as 'India pictures for Japanning or mock China' and an array of art materials for ‘gentlemen and ladies' amusements', while the upholsterer Claude Duplain suggested these might be used for 'screens, doing up rooms, or making China and French flowered silks'. On a visit to Lucan House, County Dublin, in 1749, Mrs Delany spent the afternoon with her friend Mrs Vesey, who 'had a whim to have Indian figures and flowers cut out and oiled, to be transparent, and pasted on her dressing-room window in imitation of painting on glass'. 

An early scheme which employed small Chinese paintings as wallpaper is the set of around twenty-four individual pictures framed in borders painted to resemble bamboo, bought by Archbishop Cobbe for the museum room at Newbridge, County Dublin, built around 1737. Although the original paper is no longer in Newbridge, it has been replaced by a skilfully painted copy, so that the impression of the room's original appearance has been retained. References in eighteenth-century inventories suggest that the use of Chinese papers was more widespread than the handful of surviving examples would allow: eleven panels of  'India paper pictures' adorned the marble hall of Dromana, County Waterford, in 1755, while those in the parlour of Stackallan, County Meath, were dismissed as being ‘very ordinary' by a valuer in 1757.

photo below, top: Westport House, County Mayo, Chinese wallpaper detail. The group of figures has an identical counterpart in Ballyfin, the only differences being in the colouring. It seems that various methods of serial production, including tracing and the use of printing blocks, were practised in the manufacture of Chinese wallpapers.

photo below, bottom: Detail of Chinese wallpaper now at Ballyfin, County Laois, originally from Schloss Marienburg, near Hanover, Germany.




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Figure 89


(from Chapter 5; The Distinctively Un-French Wallpapers Of Edward Duras, Irish Paper-Stainer Of Bordeaux):

Edward Duras was an Irish paper-stainer with a twist: he moved his business from Dublin to France. Duras's papers employ a number of ingenious devices to suggest the appearance
of brocade and lace. One, printed in black and white on a yellow ground, uses the
'slip print' technique to create an effect of relief (fig. 89). This method of printing
required the printer to use the same block for two consecutive colours, off-setting
the print slightly the second time in order to create the impression of a shadow.
In another pattern, horizontal dashes printed in white onto crimson and pink
stripes convey the shimmer of silk brocade (fig. 90). A similar, though somewhat
cruder, paper with a rich red ground has been found in a small first-floor room in
Dublin's Eustace Street, where it had been hung over an earlier chintz-patterned
paper, probably in the late 1770s (fig. 91). 


Figure 90


The resemblance underlines the fact that Duras's patterns are distinctively un-French and correspond closely with styles described by his Dublin contemporaries in their advertisements. Wallpaper patterns based on Dresden lace and lustering were among those offered by an
anonymous English manufacturer at an auction in College Green in 1770, while Thomas Gibton sold 'lace, compartments and other patterns of the newest and most elegant taste’. Gibton's 'compartments' may have been similar to another of Duras's patterns at Dax, in which the background to a main pattern printed in white is filled in with areas of smaller floral motifs in black, contained within solid black boundaries (fig. 92). The palette of greys, yellows and pinks favoured by Duras reflects the range of newly popular colours advertised by Dublin paper-stainers in the 1770s, which continued to be used mostly as backgrounds, with the main patterns printed in black, white or grey.

Figures 91, 92




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(from Chapter 5):



Of Ulster Scots descent, Moses Staunton of Belfast, 'room paper manufacturer,' was the founding father of the wallpaper industry in Canada…Moses was established in business by 1843, when an advertisement placed in the Ulster Directory informed the public that his factory on Arthur Street was producing 3,000 rolls of wallpaper per week ‘for the English and Scotch markets’, and listed some of the types held in stock - 10,000 rolls of bedroom paper, 5,000 of parlour and drawing room papers, and 1,000 rolls of oak paper. Both 'common Sorts' and 'finer Sorts' of room papers were offered, including a large stock of the novel machine-printed papers imported from factories in the north-east of England, which could be purchased from five pence ha'penny per roll.

...some mystery surrounds the dramatic decision he took in 1854 to emigrate with his wife and six children to North America…after initial hardships, Staunton was able, once again, to set up in the paper-staining business. Staunton’s pride in triumphing over adversity is evident in the Christmas letter he wrote in 1856… 'If I had not laid off my coat and went and done my own paper hanging here, I believe I would have been beat', wrote the former factory owner…'I often make a pound a day putting up paper. I get 10d per piece and it is no trouble to do 15 to 20 of them in the day'. 

Three of his sons, Moses, James and Albert, worked with him, while his daughter Mary ran the small rented shop. By the end of 1856...Staunton was able to write that 'I have got into the finest paper shop I ever had' in 'the very best corner of the city'. With a turkey in front of the fire and the children 'out on a pond with their skates on…we have the happiest house in the Empire, all doing the best they can for each other'.

(above): 3-colour blockprint by Moses Staunton, registered for copyright with National Archives (Britain) 1845.
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'SATIN' OR 'PLAIN': DEGREES OF LUXURY

A family of moderate or comfortable means shopping for wallpaper in Dublin around 1810 would have encountered locally made and imported papers across a broad range of prices. At the bottom (and illicit) end of the scale, wallpaper could be bought 'free' of tax for as little as 1s 4d per roll, considerably cheaper than in England, and at a level of affordability which accounted for the more widespread use of wallpaper in Ireland by 'the humbler sort', as a government inquiry of 1835 put it. 

The same inquiry found that wallpaper was generally cheaper in Dublin than in London, and was used by a greater proportion of the population in Ireland than in England. At the top end of the scale, Patrick Boylan could charge his affluent clients anything from 12s up to 10s per roll. Wallpaper prices were dictated largely by the number of blocks - and hence the length of time - taken to print a pattern, but also by other factors such as the quality of the pigments used, or the time spent on additional finishes such as 'satining'. This process imparted a silky sheen to the otherwise matt distemper ground colour before the pattern was printed, and was produced by rubbing the painted surface with a smooth stone and talcum powder or wax. When picking a pattern, customers were given the choice between satin and plain grounds, as references in order
books and on invoices attest.

The same pattern could be supplied with variations at different costs. In 64 Eccles Street, Dublin, the sprig pattern used in the rear attic bedroom is a two-colour print, but for the front bedroom a third block has been employed to add a pin-dot ground pattern. The promise of novelty and exclusivity could also be used as persuasive selling points and justified higher prices. Papers bought in from English producers or designs purchased by the paper-stainer from free-lance pattern drawers with an eye for current trends may have attracted a higher premium than the standard efforts produced in-house. This perhaps explains the names attached to relatively expensive patterns supplied by Patrick Boylan for Mount Bellew in 1810, such as 'Cooke's damask paper on blue sattin' or 'Cheever's damask paper, black flock on plain scarlet', the most expensive paper on the bill, at 20s per roll.

fig. 100 (below): Wallpaper, block-printed in one colour on ungrounded , poor quality paper, c.1836-40. An example of the cheapest quality of paper available in the early to mid-nineteenth century.


fig. 101 (below): Wallpaper, block-printed in two colours on ungrounded, poor quality paper. Like the example in fig. 100, this was cheaply-produced using low grade materials. Both are hand block-printed on the continuous roll paper which became available to paper-stainers following the abolition of the wallpaper duty in 1836.









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(from Chapter 7):

While richly patterned papers based on rococo silks continued to be made by Edward Duras in Bordeaux and his contemporaries in Dublin well into the 1770s, a simpler fashion developed for plain coloured, unpatterned walls set off with narrow block-printed or papier mâché borders. Schemes of this kind suited the linear, compartmentalised style of neo-classical furniture and decoration generally, and might be compared to the delicate satinwood tables made in Dublin by William Moore, with their inlaid edging and crossbanding. The move to a more simplified decor reflected wider changes in social practice and attitudes, as manners became less formal, dress more comfortable and hairstyles less elaborately constructed and powdered. In North America and England, forward-thinking democrats favoured the new style - George Washington bought 'a handsome plain paper' as early as 1763, and some years later, describing his plans for decorating Mount Vernon, wrote that he had 'seen rooms with gilded borders; made, I believe, of papier Mache fastened on with Brads or Cement round the Doors and Window Casings, Surbase, &ca.: and which gives a plain blew, or green paper a rich and handsome look'.


None of these papier mâché borders have survived in Ireland, but a collection of unused block-printed borders of around 1800 from Killadoon, County Kildare, is of the kind which might have been employed in such schemes (see photo below). The top two examples would have been used with plain papers with matching ground colours, while the bottom two may have had co-ordinating patterned papers.




To decorate a room in this way, the walls would first be lined with a paper of relatively coarse quality before being hung with sheets of 'elephant' - a large-format paper of fine quality often mentioned in paper-stainers' bills. The sheets would be applied with the edges slightly overlapped and, when dry, these would be rubbed carefully with pumice stone to minimise the visibility of the seams. The colour, usually distemper, would then be applied in up to three coats. For country customers the paper could be supplied in rolls, ready painted. In 1776 at her Essex Street shop, 'the Britannia Stampt Paper Warehouse,' Anne Kent offered 'a variety of plain coloured papers prepared for the country'. Five years earlier 'various patterns of gold and white papier-maché borders' were supplied by George Kent of Arran Quay to set off rooms which he offered to 'paint to perfection'.

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(from Chapter 8):

Although the concept of a non-repeating sequence of images has an obvious antecedent in Chinese wallpapers, a more immediate and contemporary stimulus for the invention of scenic papers in France around 1800 can be found in the popular painted panoramas which were displayed in European cities in the 1780s and ‘90s. The idea of painting a 360-degree topographical view onto the interior walls of a specially constructed cylindrical room seems first to have occurred to Robert Barker (1739-1806), an Irish portrait painter living in Edinburgh in 1787, where he produced a view of the entire city as seen from Calton Hill. Barker patented his invention, for which he coined the term 'panorama', and took it to London. Some years later the American engineer, Robert Fulton, introduced similar panoramas to Paris, opening two 'rotundas' on the Boulevard Montmartre in 1799, around the time that the first 'panoramic papers were conceived.

In Dublin they were available from the Grafton Street shop of John and James Boswell.…The Boswells announced that they 'have personally opened a communication with the Principal Houses in their Line in Paris', and go on to list some of the sets in their stock, including 'Cupid and Psyche in bistres and Indian ink’…

Dufour’s monochrome sequence depicting the tale of Cupid and Psyche was based on a 1669 novel of Jean de Ia Fontaine, and was commissioned from the leading neo-classical painters Louis Lafitte and Merry-Joseph Blondel. In the 1860s a set of Cupid and Psyche was installed on the ceiling of the library of Stradbally Hall, County Laois - an unorthodox and probably unique instance of a scenic paper being used in this way. 

(below): Stradbally Hall, County Laois, detail of wallpaper “Psyché recueillie par un Pêcheur”.




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(from Chapter 9; Commerce And Contraband):

Throughout the nineteenth century the upper classes in Ireland continued to employ London decorating firms such as Cowtan... or Dublin firms such as Sibthorpe's, whose intricately stencilled ceilings can still be seen at Fota in Cork, and who can be seen as the successors to Boylan. The middle classes who bought furnishings covered a very wide spectrum of occupations, income levels and types of accommodation, and most suppliers stocked papers across a correspondingly broad price range. Thomas Dockrell of South Great Georges Street, for example, supplied English, French and locally produced paper hangings from 3d to 15s per roll. 

An 1856 advertisement of J. Cosgrave of Dublin's Henry Street is useful in that it provides a range of price levels for different areas of the house, including drawing room 'satins' from 1s 6d to 2s 6d per roll, parlour papers from 1s to 2s, oaked and marbled papers for the hallway or saloon from 1s and 'an endless variety of beautiful Chintzes' for bedrooms from 6d to 1s. These prices are at the lower end of the scale, yet suggest customers whose homes offered a degree of spaciousness and comfort. Papers at this price level may have been largely destined for the rental sector, which constituted the greater part of the housing stock. As “The Irish Builder” noted in 1868: ‘A very large number of houses are always changing their tenants - houses of the middling and cheaper classes more particularly - and a 'fresh paper' is the usual complement of a new tenant'. Machine printing offered affordable decoration in an 'infinite variety of pattern and design', as the anonymous author noted: 'It is one of the advantages of paper-hangings that the commonest and cheapest are often the most agreable or prettiest'.

(below): Block-printed in five colours on a rainbow ground. An example of the type of ‘fancy flowered, rainbowed’ papers sold by Boswell in the 1830s. Killadoon, County Kildare.




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(from Chapter 10; Victorian Abundance):

James Boswell's papers featuring multi-coloured birds and flowers combined with rococo or arabesque scrollwork against white grounds were typical of many French-inspired designs....By 1851, the popularity of French styles with the buying public and the dearth of originality among English manufacturers drove several prominent critics to launch a campaign for artistic reform....The drive to educate public taste began with the identification of styles which were judged to be unacceptable, through events such as the ‘Exhibition of False Principles in Design' staged in London in 1852.... 

Many of the designs registered by Boswell and other Irish paper-stainers exemplify those attributes singled out for criticism: ‘florid and gaudy compositions, consisting of architectural ornament in relief, with imitative flowers and foliage... rendered with the full force of their natural colours and light and shade’, as the artist and designer Richard Redgrave, one of the leading reformers, described such elaborate and popular patterns.

Edith Somerville, recalling the decoration of her grandmother's house... in the 1860s, wrote of the drawing room as 'a place of great sanctity, wherein the foot of child never trod save by special invitation...Its wallpaper was white, spaced into large diamonds with a Greek pattern of gold and it shone like satin. It was less dashing in design than the paper of the inner hall and the staircase, whose pattern was of endless ladders of large blue and orange flowers (tropic, one believed them to be) that raged from the bottom of the house to the top, but the drawing room was devoted to the ladies, and in it dash gave way to refinement'. The 'tropic' blue and orange flowers used in the hallway sound very much like the kind of patterns produced by Boswell in the 1840s and '50s. 

(photo above): Wallpaper block-printed in twelve colours, James Boswell, Dublin, 1842. National Archives, London.

===




the conclusion of the series..... 



David Skinner On Preserving The “mild grandeur” Of Irish Country Houses

The author and Irish peer Lord Dunsany wrote in 1935: 'There is a right and a wrong place for antiquity; it is right in walls, wrong in carpets; wrong too in curtains and wallpaper'. Yet this view does not seem to have been universally shared in Irish country houses, where there is ample evidence of efforts on the part of the occupants to preserve wallpapers beyond what might be considered their natural lifespan. Ingenious makeshifts such as the gramophone needles used
to hold up the paper in the dining room at Strokestown, or the cuttings from colour magazines used to patch the Chinese paper at Narrow Water, seem to imply something more than mere financial constraint, and suggest that the owners of these houses believed, like Henri Clouzot, that wallpaper 'has always been the echo of somebody or something', and might, for that reason, be worth preserving. The novelist and short story writer Elizabeth Bowen expressed something of this kind of veneration in her reminiscence of the literary house parties she gave in her family home at Bowens Court, County Cork:

‘The last act of any Bowen's Court day plays itself out in the drawing
room or library...Pink curtains drawn, lamp lit, with a fire in a
wreathed Victorian grate, my grandmother's drawing room has the
effect of keying us up to its mild grandeur. It was decorated, and has
not been changed since, when that Elizabeth came here as a bride:
1859. She loved its grey-and-gold scrolled wallpaper, and plaster frieze
swagged with roses - and I don't wonder.’

(fig. 111 below): Ballindoolin, County Kildare. Intricate cutting enhances the impact of the prominent border, originally highlighted with silver leaf, now tarnished, which surrounds a vibrant paper printed in the irisé style, and installed in the Drawing Room of Ballindoolin in the 1820s.



Many of the wallpapers illustrated in these pages are found in privately owned houses, whose owners appreciate and look after them as best they can. Beyond a certain stage in its natural ageing process, however, the physical preservation of wallpaper calls for time-consuming and expensive attention, a step which, given the negligible economic value of most old wallpapers, might understandably be regarded by home-owners as a sacrifice to posterity. Replacement with a reproduction is a solution which at best preserves the outlines of an individual pattern within its historic framework or scheme, but comes at the cost of losing a direct link to the hand of the artisan and the eye of the original purchaser. 

Effacement of the artefact entails losing not just genuinely historic paper, binder and pigment, but also the physical embodiment of an entangled network of materials, technologies, skills and human relationships, some of which have been examined in this book. The foreseeable and - it is hoped - gradual loss of authentic examples of wallpapers in their original contexts may be balanced by ongoing research into the wider outlines of the subject. Any piece of historic wallpaper can be the starting point of a web of object-centred lines of enquiry, leading down multiple paths and building into something which might, in its own way, create a pattern worth tracing.

— the end —












All About: The Wallpaper History Review 2015


The Review from 2015 edited by Christine Woods is an overstuffed sandwich of wallpaper. 

It contains close to a hundred pages with an astonishing number of excellent color photos (140) and wonderful articles. The Review has been out for some time but news travels slowly in the wallpaper world. It is is based in the UK, only available through print subscription, and North American wallpaper is rarely encountered in its pages. Nevertheless, the content is rich and addicting.

Below, I am summarizing some of the most important articles from this 2015 issue.  This first photo is from "Matching 'furnitures’ - Some Mid-18th Century Stencilled Wallpapers” by Andrew Bush. Bush, who works for the National Trust, explains how these simple check and plaid and stripe designs made the jump from textiles to wallpaper, sometimes because someone wanted to do up a single room and have them match (custom work) but also because they were so versatile and could be stocked. Most all of these are on ungrounded paper.



1. 200 Years Of Home Decor, by Linda Imhof
2. The American Taste For English “Regency” Stripes, by Philip Aitkens
3. Challenging Assumptions, by Andrew Bush
4. Regional Versus Metropolitan: The Provincial Wallpaper Trade, by Phillippa Mapes
5. Paul Balin, Master Of Illusion, by Astrid Arnold-Wegener 
6. Chinese Wallpaper, A Cultural Chameleon, by Anna Wu
7. Japanese Leather Paper, by Wivine Wailliez
8. A Spanish Odyssey, by Veronique de La Hougue

1. 200 Years Of Home Decor

The photo below could be titled “Date Me!” What year do you think it is from? Now bear in mind that this design features a round motif of raspberries in the middle of the circles. The color has faded terribly so that they now appear white…..but they used to be red.


This quiz introduces an interesting project: a regional study of a canton (state) smack in the middle of Switzerland. Two hundred or so wallpapers were catalogued by freelance art historian Linda Imhof. She did this work in conjunction with her MA thesis to obtain her degree. The wallpapers came from 8 buildings in the Swiss canton of Zug. Two dwellings were in Zug (also the name of the chief city of the canton), three were in rural areas, and three were clerical buildings. According to Imhof, wallpaper research is still young in Switzerland; it started in around 1990.
Her questions focussed on: 1. identification of manufacturing technique and dating of each paper; 2. recording where and how the papers were hung in the houses; and 3. comparison of the use of the papers in the three groups of houses.
The stone city houses are old. Somewhat astonishing to this American, one dates from the 16th century and the other from the 17th. A few blockprints from around 1790 were found; in some cases wallpaper sandwiches of up to 5 or 6 layers as well. These latter were from roughly 1880 to 1960, so a wide range of style and materials were evident.
Not surprisingly, most of the wallpapers hung in the rural areas were cheap. Many ungrounded papers were found. One house in particular was a treasure chest and gave up 66 papers, of which only two were blockprints. These three houses in the country were made of wood. They have since been torn down.
The houses for clerics yielded some upscale papers, and in particular the so-called Biedermeier period is well-represented. Most all of these papers were block-printed. Imhof rounds out her paper with sections on “several options for hanging wallpaper”, “reusing wallpaper leftovers”, and “repapering”. Imhoff found that the type of paper, i. e., whether it was composed of earlier rag paper or the later and cheaper pulp machine-made paper, had a decisive impact on the condition of surviving wallpapers.

2. The American Taste For English “Regency” Stripes 

This is a marvelous exercise in close visual analysis. It considers the question: “How did American paper stainers and their customers move away from imported English designs as independent taste developed in the USA during the early 19th century?”. This article compares three versions of a design that apparently originated in London in about 1800. It was copied closely (but not completely) by Zechariah Mills of Hartford. The design was then adapted in a simpler version by Mills for a paper that was used to line a trunk (shown in “Wallpaper In America” (1980) by Lynn, p. 114).


Aitkens, an English historic building consultant who has a collection of about 500 18th and 19th century wallpaper fragments (!) corresponded with Richard Nylander of Historic New England who shared his unpublished research into the Cadwell House wallpaper in Connecticut. Aitkens reports that his own collection contains not a single striped pattern and ventures a question: could it be that although English custom favored stripes in the 1770s and 80s (among other types) that English paperstainers began “turning away from stripes for a while during the years around 1800”? 

On the other hand, it seems that the USA was not turning away. One can point to the Janes & Bolles (also of Hartford) sample book of 1821-29, which was full of stripes. Although the topic is debatable, Aitkens wonders whether we should be leaning toward emphasizing “late-Regency stripes” in England rather than simply “Regency stripes”.

3. Challenging Assumptions

The article centers on a group of six wallpapers covering notebooks dating from 1733-44. The steps in their production: 1. grounding paper; 2. applying opaque stencil designs; 3. applying a block printed outline; 4. applying a transparent colored glaze. All of this was done by utilizing a registration system.

Bush explains that most wallpaper in the UK from the mid-18th century onward had a registration system of pins in the leading corner of a woodblock and/or bars printed alongside the wallpaper pattern. But not these. Although to our eyes these designs might look somewhat primitive compared to what was to follow, nevertheless, the number of individual processes required for these early examples led to the need for a registration system to help with alignment. 

Note figure 5 (reproduced here). This photo shows edge details from six sheets of wallpaper, and indicates how the registration system worked. The colored squares within the red circles are a result of color being brushed through cut-outs on both sides of consecutively applied stencils. Essentially, what looks like a “notch” (consisting of a square area) was created when the black outline from the woodblock was applied above and below the registration square.



These wallpapers are from the period of transition from individual decorative sheets with stand-alone patterns (like the domino papers of France and Italy, which have the black rectangle around a design, for instance) to a period when paper was joined and all patterns were expected to provide an endless design in both directions. Bush concludes that “the seamless nature of these later continuous patterns required the development of the pin and bar registration aids, and it seems that the earlier system described above faded into obscurity.”

4. Regional Versus Metropolitan: The Provincial Wallpaper Trade 1750-1830

One of the really fine things that the Wallpaper History Society does is that they have a research grant program. One of the recipients, Ms. Mapes, is a paper conservator and has been looking into the trade history of wallpaper as part of her work toward a doctorate.

In this article, Mapes shows that the wallpaper trade enjoyed a period of expansion in the second half of the 18th and early 19th century as part of the economic boom and rise in population attributed to the Industrial Revolution. This enabled middle class consumers to spend more on newly developed consumer goods like wallpaper. Although the wallpaper trade was primarily based in London, Mapes has found a surprising amount of evidence for the migration of manufacturers to regional locations such as Ipswich, Bath, Bristol, Liverpool, York, and Manchester.

She not only traces the sheer evidence that they existed, but notes the various ways that consumer goods either flowed from the capital into the provinces, or vice versa. The way that pricing worked was complex. Mapes does a good job of sorting it out, for there were advantages to producing wallpaper in a city, and other advantages to being in the country. For example, country locations advertised that they could do custom work right away, as opposed to sending to London to have it done where it might take longer due to distances and complications.

The transportation network was often key. But, it was not that factories needed to be near raw materials, as in other trades. It was the mobility, and population concentrations enabled by the new canals and railroads, and the coastal cities, that were important for these regional factories. Even the Isle of Man had a factory, for their citizens were equally impatient for the latest fashions and were willing to patronize a new paperstainer in town, especially if he was employing London blockprinters, rather than wait for the opportunity to visit London to pay what were perceived as huge markups to decorators and upholders’ shops for the privilege of purchasing the wallpaper. 

By the time that heavy machinery arrived into the trade starting in around 1830, these regional centers had grown and were in a position to compete more directly with London, especially since the London paperstaining industry had itself been weakened by a shift in fashionable focus from London to Paris, which had happened in the first few decades of the 19th century. 

5. Paul Balin, Master Of Illusion

This overview of Paul Balin’s career can be seen as a sort of introduction to the 2016 summer show at the German wallpaper museum in Kassel and even more as a sort of teaser for the gorgeous book that resulted from the exhibition: “Schöner schein : Luxustapeten des Historismus von Paul Balin”. 

The book combines the work of a half-dozen wallpaper scholars in telling the story of Paul Balin, a very gifted but somewhat eccentric wallpaper manufacturer who started in the Defosse workshops in 1861 and proceeded to invent and create (along with litigating against and exasperating his competitors) for the next 40 years or so. Of special interest is the “wallpaper affair” in which his litigation threatened to grind the high-end industry to a halt for several years while patent disputes about embossing and finishing machines were resolved, not only in France but in several other countries. Zuber, among other companies, was deeply affected. He seems to  have won most of his cases but certainly did not leave many fond memories behind among his competitors. He was an excellent networker and social butterfly and no doubt would have had an iPhone and a well-used Twitter account in our times. His crowning glory was the 1873 World’s Fair in Vienna where his productions met with acclaim. Subsequently he was able to finagle his way into state recommendations, honors, and awards. In short, he aspired to be a “thought leader” in the luxury trade and succeeded. 

Ms. Arnold-Wegener tells the inside story about how the documentation, some of it discovered quite recently, was gathered, and how the show came together. Of special interest is her explanation of how Balin worked. He was genuinely obsessed with his work, which cannot be understood without the repeated invocation of “historicism” — in other words, the constant quest for finding new processes to carry forward the craft of earlier generations. He was a genuine aesthete but he was nevertheless sometimes accused of a backwards fussiness. It is said that he particularly loathed Art Nouveau as "degenerate art" that he would never engage with or promote.





In these photos, we can see how Balin, a master marketer, took a single pattern from a gilt leather panel (the so-called Peacock pattern) and reinterpreted it in a bronze paper; as well as a leather paper; as well as a chintz blockprint. The last one named has brilliant coloring and was produced as "A" and "B" rolls. This was probably necessary because the usual width of the paper rolls (about 18") would hold only about half the horizontal repeat; it is likely that the original embossed gilt leather was fairly wide.

6. Chinese Wallpaper, A Cultural Chameleon

Wu is an academic expert on Chinese wallpaper and has developed good connections to China where she has done some innovative research and also visited certain high-style hotels and private clubs where contemporary Chinese wallpaper is on display.

In this piece she sets out to tell a comprehensive story of how Chinese wallpaper has remained an exotic presence, a highly-polished craft, and yet at the same time a commodity over the last several hundred years, resulting in worldwide popularity. What makes this piece fresh is that she links up the several traditions of Chinese wallpaper (East and West) and then follows its fortunes  through the many historical twists and turns of the 19th and 20th century, and does not neglect todays wallpaper scene.

As to the blending, for example, it was not only Chinese pictorial traditions and scroll legacies that resulted in Chinese wallpaper, but also the Western ideas of perspective and indeed, the very idea of market-driven and portable “paper-hangings” that were the essential European contribution. She explains her theme: “through an examination of specific designs and use contexts this essay explores some of the contrasting identities of Chinese wallpaper in order to reveal their broader significance, dynamic and multivalent character and the rich variety of cultural ideas contained within them.” 

Her explanation for how Chinese wallpaper became fused with the ideal and idea of the English country house is not exactly new, but it has seldom been stated so clearly. She writes that “Chinese wallpapers are also a regular feature in lifestyle magazines such as Country Life, which, since its foundation in 1897, has featured an article on a country house in every issue, alongside articles on art, architecture gardens and countryside issues. In this context, images of Chinese wallpaper instantly communicate strong visual messages about social and familial connections, heritage, wealth and history: concepts which define the “country house” and underpin the magazines ethos and reader’s aspirations.



She concludes that “the richness of the design presented on them and the stories and traditions which surround them have allowed generations of consumers and viewers to project their own ideas, fantasies, personal histories and aspiration onto Chinese wallpaper, establishing several contrasting identities for this rarefied global design phenomenon.”

7. Japanese Leather Paper Or Kinkarakawakami: An Overview From The 17th Century To The Japonist Hangings By Rottmann & Co.”

One of the things you learn right off the bat from Wivine's article is that the origin of the rather impossible-looking name of Kinkarakawakami makes perfect sense. 

kin = gilt 
kara = foreign 
kawa = leather
kami = paper

Therefore, kin-kara-kawa-kami means “gilt foreign leather paper”. This article is like Anna Wu's in that we get a head-spinning overview of how leather papers started in the East, came West, were influenced by Western design, moved back East, picked up more Eastern influence, and then headed back to be sold in the West. Or something like that.

In this particular article Wailliez pivots nicely from his usual chemical and technical work, at which he is a master, in order to explain why we should care about kinkarakawakami (Japanese Leather Paper) and why this industrialized art form has endured. Reproduced here is a plate which shows the essential steps: beating wet paper onto the embossing rollers; gilding; stenciling; and applying other finishes.


This is an extraordinarily well-sourced article (67 footnotes) and includes dozens of references to important 19th century magazines such as Decorator and Furnisher and The Furniture Gazette, but also hard to find books such as Felix Regamey’s “Japon” (1903) and Alcock’s “Art and Art Industries in Japan” (1878).

Like early Chinese wallpaper, and dominos, Japanese embossed papers were generally made in a single sheet when they were introduced at large expositions. A key arrival was at Paris in 1873 where they caused quite a commotion. Later they were produced in longer rolls, like most wallpaper. Wailliez divides their history into three phases:

1. 1873-1884: many of these smaller pieces had an oily smell and had distinctly Japanese designs, not all of which were acceptable to a European market. They were therefore often used to put into the panels and coves of furniture, for example that of Godwin.

2. Starting in about 1882 a Rottman, Strome & Co. factory opened in Yokohama. This company's public relations campaign touted their new Westernized designs as not only washable but also “…Japanese, but not too Japanese…” This reinvention and blending of designs resulted in an all-over character that most decorators and the public found acceptable.

3. The third phase went from about 1890-95 to 1905. Japanese Leather Paper became a mass-produced commodity. Design luminaries such as Walter Crane, working for Silver Studio, delivered designs, many in the “Modern English” (Art Nouveau) style. 

Wailliez, a conservator at the Royal Institute for Cultural Heritage in Brussels, concludes that “Kinkarakawakami offers a synthesis in the conjunction of Western historicism and a Far Eastern renaissance resulting, paradoxically, in a form of modern industrial art.”

8. A Spanish Odyssey 
(A book review of “La Real Fábrica de Papeles Pintados de Madrid (1786-1836): Arte, artesanía e industria”, by Isadora Rose-de Viejo



This is the story of a royal manufactory of wallpaper. Not England, not France, but Spain. Spain? Spain.

What fascinates is that the de Villette family that obtained the rights to produce in Madrid (and obtained a monopoly on wallpaper production within 90 miles of that city) was based in France, and that the time period was early 19th century. And as we know, early 19th century French wallpaper was about as gorgeous as wallpaper ever became.


Another interesting detail is that the original proprietor after survived painstaking negotiations for years with the Spanish ambassador and various royalty happened to drop dead about a month before the final contract was to be signed. No problem, he had a brother, who signed the contract and set up shop. But then four years later he, too, dropped dead. No problem, there was a third brother. It was the third brother, Peter, who carried the factory into its heyday, roughly 1793 to 1829, and passed it down to his son, Segismundo Giroud de Villette. The life of the factory was about 50 years.


This is a Spanish language book, which of course presents a problem for English readers, but not an insurmountable one among wallpaper people, who are used to looking at pictures. Still, an English translation would be incredibly helpful in this particular case as it seems likely there are many references to the nuts and bolts of how, exactly, a wallpaper factory was set up during the late 18th century, what the working conditions were like, and what sort of product lines were offered. For example, part of the deal was that during set-up they were allowed to import 5,000 rolls of joined paper; they could also import the necessary raw materials such as pigments from France and Holland. Getting back to the product line, it would be interesting to know about not only the de luxe types, but also about the more moderate types which presumably were bought and sold as in most wallpaper factories. What we see in the pictures here are French-influenced and exquisite. Since the de Villettes had a license to import as well as produce it is not always clear which surviving papers were actually made in Spain. 

One tiny detail of the social history is touched on when we learn that 12 local homeless orphans were hired by the factory as part of the deal. No doubt they took the lowest rungs of the work such as tier boys, hanging-up, and rolling up.

=========================

So there! I hope you enjoy this preview about this excellent 2015 edition of the Review!

Having said all that, if you are seriously interested in wallpaper, you _need_ to subscribe. It’s as simple as that.

On the plus side, they have an arrangement on their web site to pay via Paypal. 

Like I said, if you are really serious about wallpaper, you really _need_ to do this. 

Go to the “subscribe” link, plop in “non-UK member, 30£” and fork over $38.72 via Paypal. 

https://www.wallpaperhistorysociety.org.uk/join-us/

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