More Thoughts on Richard Neas

Most of my blog posts about designer and muralist Richard Lowell Neas have focused on Neas's penchant for and proficiency at trompe l'oeil decorative painting rather than his decorating. That's not to say that Neas was not a talented designer, because he was. Neas's interior design work, which was frequently imbued with an unassuming elegance, reflected his innate flair and taste. And it's that flair, I think, that comes through brilliantly in his trompe l'oeil work.

Trompe l'oeil painting tends to be of two varieties. One type is an attempt at mimicry so realistic that one has to touch and inspect the work to determine if it's real or not. Neas was a master at this type of painting, able to make wooden floors look like they were made of centuries-old stone and wainscoting appear to be carved of real marble. And yet, Neas could just as easily execute the other kind of trompe l'oeil painting, which is realistic-looking up to a point and meant to fool somebody in a "wink, wink" fashion. This is the kind of painting at which Neas really excelled.

Take, for example, his work in the yellow dining room below.  At first glance, one might think the walls are embellished with elaborate treillage and wainscoting.  But blink once and look again and one realizes fairly quickly that the trellis, delftware and brackets are really decorative illusions.  The same goes for another Neas project, which featured cabinet doors painted with faux paintings of the china stored within the cabinet.  The value of this kind of decorative painting lies more in its ability to charm rather than to fool.  And charm is something that Neas's work had in spades.

Image at top: Neas's Manhattan apartment, c. 1983, featured a mirrored panel on which Neas painted trompe l'oeil curtains.

It was Neas who designed Brunschwig & Fils's Bibliotheque wallpaper, one of the all-time classic trompe l'oeil papers.

In the Philadelphia dining room of Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Gross, Neas painted the room's treillage, delftware, brackets, and delft-tile fireplace surround in the trompe l'oeil manner.  I assume that he was also responsible for the painted floor.  To be frank, I think that the floor was less successful than the room's other decoratively-painted flourishes.

For Mrs. Charles Engelhard, Neas painted the doors of this china cabinet with trompe l'oeil images of her Rockingham china.

In his own house in France, Neas painted the wood floors to simulate stone.  He also painted the chandelier in a delft finish.

Time to Revisit a Late Designer's Work

I've recently become enamored with a designer whose work is no longer featured on the pages of shelter magazines. I read or hear very little about him these days, which probably adds to the mystique. I'm sure many of you are familiar with this designer, although to me his work is quite new. (Back in his heyday in the 1980s and 90s, I was preoccupied with homework and school activities, preventing me from focusing too terribly much on the design world.) Of course, the fact that he died almost 13 years ago is part of the reason why this designer's work is no longer at the forefront of our design consciousness, and it's really a shame because this designer- Richard Lowell Neas- created rooms that were stylish, sophisticated, beautiful, elegant, and timeless.

I first became familiar with Neas' name when I found out that he was responsible for Brunschwig & Fils' "Bibliothèque" wallpaper- one of my all-time favorite wallpaper designs. As Neas was an accomplished muralist and trompe l'oeil artist, it's no surprise that he would design such a charming print. Then I learned that Neas gradually made his way into a career as a decorator. And what decorating he did!

I've tried to collect a few images of his work, and in some ways it surprises me that I'm so taken with these very traditional rooms. While I am a traditionalist at heart, I do like to mix in some modern pieces- it's a bit like a design checks and balances system. I think that what has drawn me to his work is the fact that Neas created rooms that were completely livable. His New York projects seem to capture the spark that is so evocative of that city: urbane, sophisticated, and cosmopolitan. Yet there's nothing cold or stiff about these rooms. Neas imbued his projects with a softness and warmth that was so inviting. Perhaps it was the collection of unique and striking furniture and objets. Or maybe it was the mix of prints and patterns that was so pleasing to the eye. I actually believe it was a combination of all of the above.

I think Neas described the success of his rooms perfectly when he quoted his friend Annette de la Renta, "some of the most wonderful rooms are ones that seem as though all the objects were inherited from relatives with different styles and tastes- yet everything fits together magically." And this, to me, is the magic formula- and one that makes Neas' work so appealing.


An image of Neas' tiny Manhattan apartment. Note the trompe l'oeil swagged curtain at the top of the mirror. I just love this room.




Two photos of a Manhattan apartment that Neas designed around 1990.




I believe this dining room and bedroom were part of Neas' home in Charente, France. Neas certainly created environments that were appropriate for their surroundings.


A close-up shot of the "Bibliothèque" wallpaper.


Nina Campbell used "Bibliothèque" in her home.

Image at top: Richard Lowell Neas with a chicken at his home in France. (This image and those of his French home courtesy of House Beautiful, 2001. Images of the Manhattan project from HG, September 1990.)

Neas/de la Renta quote from the New York Times, "Home Design; Objects of Much Affection" by Carol Vogel, October 21, 1984.

Richard Lowell Neas in France

It's always a treat to stumble upon the work of the late decorator and decorative artist, Richard Lowell Neas. Over the years, I have collected photos of his Manhattan apartment as well as examples of his trompe l'oeil painting.  What remained elusive to me, though, were photos of his much-admired home in southwestern France. Thanks to a generous friend, who recently gave me a decade-worth of House Beautiful back issues, I finally have my hands on photos of Neas's charming French country house.

The c. 1770 stone house (see above), located in the town of Charente, was built for the village priest, which explains the structure's close proximity to a Romanesque church. When Neas found the house, it was in shambles. But rather than being deterred by the home's sad state, Neas saw it as an opportunity to breathe new life into an old home whose centuries-old structure remained mostly intact.

When I studied the photos of the home's décor, I was left with the impression that Neas must have reveled in creating his dream country house.  The fabrics have a definite French flair (most of them were by Brunschwig & Fils, for whom Neas designed those now-famous trompe l'oeil papers, including Bibliothèque,) while the kitchen and pantry are like French country cuisine: earthy, yet well-seasoned, too.  But what especially charms me are Neas's decorative jeux d'esprit, which can be seen throughout the house.  That stone floor in the dining room?  It's actually painted wood.  And that wooden-clad guest bedroom?  Its walls were painted to mimic wooden boards.

The living room was like taking a step back in time.  It was lit solely by candlelight, while the floor covering was apple matting, which was a favorite of Elizabethans.

Like the painted floor, the dining room chandelier was meant to fool the eye.  In fact, it was made of wood and painted to resemble blue and white ceramicware.

In the earthy kitchen, a trompe l'oeil painted cabinet hid the refrigerator.

Another view of the kitchen.

The pantry held Neas's collection of French earthenware, including what appears to be Aptware.

The centerpiece of the master bedroom was this canopied bed, which was lavished in Brunschwig & Fils' Kandahar fabric.  The paneled walls are actually trompe l'oeil, as are the hanging key (painted to the left of the door frame) and the painting above the door.

A guest bedroom.

Another guest room with trompe l'oeil painted walls and niches.  The dominant fabric was Mexicali by Brunschwig & Fils.

A view of the church from the terrace.

The terrace pot-garden.

All photos from House Beautiful, February 1993, Jacques Dirand photographer

Party in a Garden

I am completely charmed by this article, "Party Tables Set Like Gardens", that was published in the May 1971 issue of House & Garden. As was written in the article, "Big explosions of flowers, one tiny blossom, fruit...china in the shapes and designs of flowers...party cloths sprinkled with flowers-all to turn a table or room into a heavenly scented, gaily colored spring garden." Amen. I do a weakness for floral table linen and china (one of the few places in my house where floral prints make an appearance.) And if you don't have the luxury of having your own garden, why not create one in the dining room? The beauty of it is that the weather will never rain on your parade...nor your dinner parties and luncheons.


Image at top: A luncheon table set with a centerpiece of flowering quince, mimosa, carnations, and lilies on an embroidered organdy cloth. The interior design of the room was the handiwork of Richard Neas.




A Welcome to Spring Luncheon replete with sprays of lily of the valley in pink glasses and Porthault mats and napkins. Strawberry soup was served in crystal bowls placed on top of fern cuttings.






A spring lunch for two. A carnation print Porthault cloth was placed over an egg-yolk yellow table skirt. Wedgwood's "Chusan" dinner plates with their white quince pattern added to the abundance of flowers.




There is a gracious plenty of everything in this room: food, flatware, napkins, glassware, and pattern. The potted hyacinth, placed around a big bowl of strawberries on the cocktail table, is a nice touch. In case you're wondering, the chafing dish holds Seafood Newburg and rice. It photographed a little bland, but I bet it didn't taste that way.





The lilac colored apartment of designer Bebe Winkler. I covet that table (maybe by Bielecky Brothers?) The china was a collection of stackables called "Chromatics" by Block. I probably wouldn't serve wine in that colored glassware, but I do like that pinky/amber colored goblet.






A red lacquered dining room decorated by Joseph Braswell. The table was set with "Medici" flatware, "Chinoiserie" china, and "King Richard" crystal, all by Gorham. The centerpiece was made of plums and white and lavender freesia.

... and Trompe l'oeil Today

Yesterday I posted about the rich history of trompe l'oeil, and this artistic trick is just as popular today. Of course, painting trompe l'oeil designs on walls and floors appears to be the most popular application. For example, some people choose to paint mouldings on a wall to give the illusion of architectural features that in reality are not there. But trompe l'oeil painting is only the tip of the iceberg. There are trompe l'oeil prints on fabrics and wallpaper, and trompe l'oeil ceramics have long been popular with collectors. Here are a few examples of creative uses of trompe l'oeil.


Trompe l'oeil painted headboard (Domino 3/06; photo by Paul Costello)


Trompe l'oeil chair in a Philadelphia home (Cookie magazine)


Closeup of "Bibliotheque" wallpaper from Brunschwig & Fils. This trompe l'oeil print of a library of books was designed by famed trompe l'oeil artist (and decorator) Richard Neas.


"Le Temple des Grec" wallpaper by Studio Printworks. This print has the appearance of a wall built of blocks.


1960s Trompe l'oeil screen by Daniel Greene, available at Benjamin Storck Ltd.


Trompe l'oeil tableaux cloths by Los Angeles designer Mark Cutler


Italian ceramic bowl of Barlotti beans from Gump's

Image at top: Charming trompe l'oeil vignette at Hollyhock. The walls were painted by Paulin Paris.

40 Years of Fabulous

I want to bring to your attention a new book that I think many of you will enjoy: 40 Years of Fabulous: The Kips Bay Decorator Show House by Steven Stolman.  Established in 1972, the Kips Bay Decorator Show House may not be the oldest show house in the country, but it is certainly one of the most prestigious. Held every Spring, Kips Bay, which benefits the Kips Bay Boys and Girls Club, always boasts a roster of America's leading designers, who work their magic in an effort to transform their show house spaces into rooms that will impress or, at the very least, get people talking.

40 Years of Fabulous recounts the history of Kips Bay, taking the reader on a journey through some of the event's more memorable rooms.  In addition to coverage of more recent show houses, the book takes a look back at the rooms conceived by such design legends as Mario Buatta, Albert Hadley, David Barrett, and Irvine and Fleming.  It's these way-back rooms that are sheer delights, as they represent the changes in taste over the last forty years.  I would argue, though, that many of the rooms from the 1970s and 1980s still look good today.

As far as the book's author goes, Steven Stolman is a worthy person to write 40 Years of Fabulous.  While reading this book, I could sense Stolman's unabashed enthusiasm for both Kips Bay and the important role it has played in American design history.  And the icing on this book's cake has to be the brief chapter on the late Rella MacDougall, who served as chairwoman of the show house for decades.  Without the stewardship of MacDougall, would Kips Bay have become the vaunted tradition that it is today?

*To purchase a copy of this book, please visit Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

A room by Albert Hadley

A room by Irvine and Fleming

Rella MacDougall

A room by David Barrett

A landing by Richard Lowell Neas


All photos from 40 Years of Fabulous by Steven Stolman, 2015, Gibbs Smith publisher

Cluttered

I was looking through my copy of Interiors by Minn Hogg and Wendy Harrop for what must have been the tenth time when it finally dawned on me that my favorite chapter of the book is titled "Cluttered".  That's rather strange considering that I have an aversion to clutter in my own home.  And yet, perhaps my appreciation for these so-called cluttered interiors is not so surprising when one reads the chapter's introduction, in which the late antiques dealer Stephen Long defined a cluttered room as such:

There is rarely a contrived scheme or method to such interior design, it is more often a combination of beautiful and idiosyncratic items- just as carefully selected as a single object in a minimal interior- which come together to create a highly personal and enchanting scenario which would be a nightmare to move. 

"Highly personal" and "enchanting".  Those must be the qualities that draw me to these particular interiors.  When I study rooms such as these, I am always left wondering who the homeowner is.  I just know that he or she has to be interesting, eccentric, erudite, or even squirrely.  But when I see a room that has been decorated in an affected manner, I don't wonder who owns the home, because truthfully, I don't really care.  The room no longer has personality; it is simply a congregation of furnishings that probably mean very little to the homeowner.  Long might have agreed with me on this point, as he also wrote in the introduction, "True clutter is very different from those artfully arranged tablescapes, piles of expensive books and endless buttons and bows aimed to give an instant lived-in look."

If you study these rooms, you'll notice that there is a method to the madness, so to speak.  Pairs of objects and collections arranged en masse, for example, do help to create some semblance of order. And although I often complain about the current fad for willy-nilly decorating, I can't pin that criticism on these interiors.  The rooms seen here were not decorated for effect, nor did they take shape quickly.  Rather, they developed their personalities, and enchanting ones at that, over time.

And Long was right about one more thing: these scenarios must have been murder to move.

Photo at top: Isn't it interesting that the house of Sir John Soane was the lead photo to the Clutter chapter?

A French drawing room.

The Manhattan studio apartment of Richard Lowell Neas.

The Long Island living room of Allen Murphy.

A collection of ivory-handled magnifying glasses and letter openers.

A grouping of blue and white porcelain, busts, and marble.

A collection of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century silhouettes, which are displayed in a house in Sussex.

A tomato-red room.

The Manhattan sitting room of the late Keith Irvine.  As much as I admired Mr. Irvine, I have to say that I would go bonkers living with so many piles of books on the floor.

A London drawing room.

All images from Interiors by Minn Hogg and Wendy Harrop.