Zajac & Callahan

Edward Zajac and Richard Callahan. Not familiar with them? Well, they were only one of the hottest design duos around during the 1970s and early 80s. Truth be told, I had never heard of them until last year when a reader mentioned that I might find their work to be of interest. And how right he was!

Zajac and Callahan each had strong design experience before they joined forces in 1966 with Zajac having worked for McMillen and the great Billy Baldwin and Callahan having been employed by Jansen and Valerian Rybar. When they came together, the pair began to create interiors that were a bold breath of fresh air. Zajac & Callahan took traditional furnishings and combined them in exuberant and exhilarating way. One hallmark of the Zajac & Callahan look was pattern upon pattern upon pattern- not an easy look to pull off. But the key was that they took some unifying factor- color or scale, for example- and used that as a guide. And somehow, it seemed to work. Certainly it was a maximalist look and one that was apropos for that era in time, but I'll venture to say that their interiors don't really look terribly dated.

The interior featured here was a Paris apartment designed by Z&C circa 1971. The yellow entryway could have been designed in 2009! The dining room is totally fabulous with the decadent use of canvas fabric on the walls, although if I were living in this interior today I would remove that tablecloth. The bedroom? Okay, so I might have to tone it down a bit, but you've got to admit that it's a look.

In the new release New York Interior Design, 1935-1985, there is a chapter on the two, and in it Zajac admits that he was a bit dismayed that they became pigeonholed by clients who only wanted this audacious look, and he laments the fact that they never really got to do modernist interiors. I'm sorry too because it would have been interesting to have seen modernism in the hands of Zajac and Callahan. Still, I think it's worthwhile for us to revisit their work.


The lacquered yellow rotunda entryway with smashing blue ceiling.


The fabric shrouded dining room, again with a bright blue ceiling. The rope chairs are a Zajac & Callahan design.


A zany bedroom dominated by the classic Tree of Life print.


The husband's study is a blend of shell prints, plaids, geometric prints, and upholstered walls.

Image at top: The living room with its Chinese wallpaper and Indian rug. And lots of prints!

(All images from House & Garden, Nov. 1971)

Rose Cumming and an Ode to the Eccentrics

A few weeks ago I lamented the dearth of true and passionate collectors. In that same vein, I've decided to write about the vanishing eccentric. Whatever happened to those individuals who were bizarre, squirrely, or downright kooky? Of course, where I come from we have our fair share of eccentrics, and they hold a special place in our hearts. After all, they make for good story telling during family affairs. But sadly they are a dying breed.

And in the design world, was there anyone more eccentric than Rose Cumming? Stories abound about this force of nature. First, there was her unusual appearance. A powder puff mass of blue hair was the first clue that this woman was no shrinking violet (or perhaps I should say shrinking periwinkle). In Legendary Decorators of the Twentieth Century, Mark Hampton wrote of the time that Cumming attended a party at Sister Parish's home wearing a very long bright green crepe dress that was cinched around her waist with a gold tieback. And in her hair were plastic fern fronds! That's certainly a look I could not pull off, but I admire the effort nonetheless.

In terms of her work as a decorator, Cumming's look was hard to define. In the book The Finest Rooms, Cumming wrote that she liked Gothic, Chippendale, Austrian Baroque, and early Victorian, just to name a few of the periods she admired. She loved "lush things", birdcages, silk fabrics, and pure color. Her dislikes were as extensive as her likes: faux beams on ceilings; figural wallpaper (unless it was a silver paper or old Chinese); and coffee tables. Oh, and wall to wall carpeting too, unless it was in a bedroom or on a staircase. When Cumming decorated a room, she tended to throw a lot of her likes into a room, making it a melting pot of styles. But in a weird way it seemed to work. Many times her work was quite beautiful, and at the very least it was unforgettable. In his book, Hampton did a wonderful job at describing this enigmatic figure. He remarked that "her version of reality was not like anyone else's". I think that would describe most noncomformists. They certainly march to the beat of their own drummers, but they also possess the courage of their convictions. Perhaps there is something that can be learned from Cumming and her ilk, plastic fern fronds and all.




I first saw these images around ten years ago, and I've never forgotten them. This sitting room was in Cumming's brownstone in New York. Cumming chose to use macabre objects in this room, supposedly as a "reaction against the usual conception of prettiness in decorating." Note the Audubon prints above the sofa that represent animals of prey. The fireplace was adorned with plates of snakes. The unusual curtains were really Indian saris. And what about that unusual lampshade? It's an Indonesian parasol. It's all rather bizarre... but quite interesting too.


Cumming's bedroom was evocative of the 1920s. The curtains are blue lame, which in this room actually works against the backdrop of blue-mauve metallic wallpaper. The 18th century Persian child's bed was used as a low table. Hampton wrote that
Cumming preferred to show her home at night. Can you just imagine what this room must have looked like, especially if it was lit by candlelight?


Cumming could also decorate rooms that were down right gorgeous. I am so smitten with this room, especially that black wallpaper with the gold stars. This room was in Cumming's home circa 1929.

Images at top: A young Rose Cumming in her drawing room circa 1930. An older Cumming appeared in a Harper's Bazaar article in July 1964. Here Rose was photographed in her legendary shop. Thank you to a very kind reader for providing me with these two images.

Let the Good Times Roll

When I planned this post over the weekend, I intended for the topic to be solely about home bars from the 1920s through the 40s. And then I realized that this post would be published today- the day after the election. So I suppose I could say that these images might serve as some inspiration for those of you who are celebrating today.

All kidding aside, have you ever thought about putting a bar like one of these in your home? It would certainly be a far cry from the drinks tray or table that most of us have. Back during Prohibition, some of the design magazines gave tips for designing home bars. Since you couldn't imbibe in public, you had to drink your bathtub gin at home (far safer than hanging out at a gin joint). And it couldn't just be any old bar. It had to be rather swell. The kind of place that would elevate your hooch into something far more refined.

While most of us don't have the luxury of space to create a home bar, it's fun to imagine what it would be like to have a room devoted entirely to recreational fun- or vice, depending on how you look at it!


Elsie de Wolfe designed this bar for her Beverly Hills home After All. That black and white tented ceiling is pretty fabulous, but I would think that it might cause a little dizziness after one too many Singapore Slings.


This bar was designed by the old design firm Thedlow. Rather gutsy to render the doors as giant playing cards.


This was a serious little bar for the hardcore home barkeep. But how great is that floor?

Image at top: This bar decorated by Frances Elkins is seriously cool. And those bar stools have to be the all-time best bar stools ever designed. Period.

Now Available: The Tony Duquette Collection

Big news for you Tony Duquette fans. Baker Furniture, in collaboration with Hutton Wilkinson and the Tony Duquette Foundation, has just introduced the new Tony Duquette collection of furniture and accessories. The new line consists of reproduction pieces that were originally designed by Duquette throughout his long and prolific career. I must admit I have a weakness for furniture and objects that have a story attached to them, so I'm prone to like these pieces because of their history and lineage. But I also like the fact that the collection is anything but cookie cutter- much like Duquette himself. It's quirky, a bit bizarre, and really quite chic. What do you think?

(To see the rest of the collection, visit Baker Furniture's site.)


Regency Pagoda Lamp. Duquette produced various resin pagoda lamps that were originally inspired by an antique pair that were in his possession. Light is dispersed from the tiny windows of the pagoda; I would love to see this piece in person.


Organic Baroque Chair. Duquette came up with the design of this chair while serving in the army in World War II, but it was not until the mid-1960s that Duquette actually had the chair fabricated.


Elsie Tabouret. Not a Duquette design, but this tabouret was an Elsie de Wolfe creation c. 1926. de Wolfe was a mentor to Duquette, and the original tabouret that inspired this piece is ensconced in the Duquette studio.


Abalone Chandelier. This chandelier was originally designed for Duquette's one-man exhibition in Los Angeles in 1952. After the exhibition closed, the chandelier was moved to the Charles and Palmer Ducommun home in Bel Air, where it hung for many years until Duquette purchased it back from the estate.


Sunburst Torchere. The original torchere was designed for the drawing room at Dawnridge circa 1949.

Image at top: The drawing room at Dawnridge with the famous Sunburst Torcheres.

Spatter Pattern

And no, it's not the spatter pattern that is discussed so frequently in episodes of "CSI". It's "Spatter", and it's one of my favorite Hinson prints. Designed by Harry Hinson in 1974, the print was inspired by the spatter motif found often in Colonial ceramicware (this according to a 2001 New York Times article). The article also mentioned that it's a print that counts Albert Hadley and Jeffrey Bilhuber amongst its fans. I've also read that Billy Baldwin used it in his Nantucket home, but I can't find a photo.

So, just where can you use a print like "Spatter"? Well, Harry Hinson used it in his East Hampton home (shown above), and I was thrilled to see it in another Hamptons house designed by Tom Scheerer (and featured in the August '08 issue of House Beautiful). But I do think you can use it in a city home too. How about in a powder room? Or a kitchen? Just think of "Spatter" as a modern take on early Americana.

And speaking of Americana, I was curious about Hinson's supposed inspiration for this print. Just what was spatter and how was it used during Colonial times? Well, one of the prime examples is spatterware. According to a ceramic curator at Winterthur, spatterware was originally manufactured in England where it was known as spongeware. As spongeware was not particularly popular in England, most of it was shipped to the American colonies where it became known as spatterware. And it was here in America where spatterware became extremely popular, especially amongst the Pennsylvania Germans. Sponge and spatter painting was also used on furniture, walls, and floors during this era.

So although I can't corroborate whether Hinson was actually inspired by spatterware or not, it's something to ponder. If you would like to learn more about spatterware, you should visit Winterthur. Henry Francis du Pont was a major collector of it, and there is a magnificent display of his collection in Spatterware Hall at Winterthur. Or you can read more about his collection here in an interview with du Pont's daughter, the lucky recipient of some of her father's collection.


(Many thanks to everyone at Winterthur for assisting me in my research of spatterware.)



Two images of Scheerer's fabulous wallpaper selection for an East Hampton cottage (image from House Beautiful, Aug 08; Simon Upton photographer).


A Spatterware platter, c. 1825-1855, Staffordshire England. Does this not look modern to you? Bequest of Henry Francis du Pont; image courtesy of Winterthur.


Spatterware pitcher, c. 1825-1855, Staffordshire England. Bequest of Henry Francis du Pont. Image courtesy of Winterthur.


Four examples of Spatterware jugs, c. 1825-1855, Staffordshire England. Bequest of Henry Francis du Pont. Photo courtesy of Winterthur.

Image at top: "Spatter" in blue and white on the walls and curtains of Harry Hinson's East Hampton dining room.

Mary Delany and her Paper Mosaicks

I've been doing a bit of research on Mary Delany, the artist whose floral collages so inspired Sybil Connolly. It appears that Delany too was a fascinating and creative woman.

Born in England in 1700, Mary Granville Pendarves Delany was known for her wit, her charm, and her intellect. Like many well-bred ladies of the day, Delany became skilled in both needlework and shellwork, the latter becoming extremely popular in the 18th c. This detail-oriented type work, coupled with her knowledge of Botany, would hold Delany in good stead as she began creating her floral paper collages in the 1770s. As the story goes, one day Delany noticed the similarity between the color of a vibrant geranium and that of a red piece of paper. Delany began to cut the paper into petals and thus created her first "paper mosaick" (her term for her collage work). Until her eyesight failed her in 1782, Delany was prolific with her paper work. Her collection of work, which she called her "Herbal" or Hortus Siccus, was inspired by the numerous plants and flowers that her friends gave her. Or perhaps I should say that her friends were inspired by her work- King George III and Queen Charlotte so admired her work that they supposedly instructed the botanists at Kew Gardens to send Mrs. Delany floral specimens. At the time of her death in 1788, Delany's Hortus Siccus was comprised of ten albums of her work. These albums were later given to the British Museum in 1897.

You'll notice that her collages were pasted onto black paper (I can't confirm whether all of her work was as such, but it seems that most of it was). Occasionally Delany would embellish her work with watercolors, especially if she was having difficulty in achieving the accurate colors. This, however, did not seem to be the rule. Delany was able to source colorful papers, and she was also known to dye her own if particular colors were not available.

On the front sides of her work, Delany tended to include both the scientific and common names of the botanical subjects. You'll also notice that she usually made a cut-out of her initials- MD- on either the bottom right or left corners. From an artistic standpoint, I think it's incredible how detailed the flowers are. Most of her works incorporated hundreds of pieces of cut paper. But what seemed to astonish and impress botanists of that period was the accuracy with which she rendered the flowers. Delany was meticulous about rendering even the smallest detail- veins, stamens, etc.

Unfortunately, images of her work are hard to come by, but I was able to find a few on the web. If you would like to read more about Delany, there is a book that was published a few years ago by one of her descendants- Mrs. Delany: Her Life and Her Flowers. I've just ordered it from Amazon, so I'll let you know if it's a worthwhile book.



Winter Cherry, or Physalis, c. 1772-88 (image from the British Museum)


Bay Leaved (Passiflora laurifolia), c. 1777. There are over 230 paper petals in the bloom of the flower. (Image from the British Museum)


Asphodil Lilly (Crinum Zeylanicum), c. 1778 (image courtesy of the British Museum)


Sea Daffodil (Pancratium maritinum)


A stem of a stock, c. 1781 (part of the Royal Collection)

Frederick P. Victoria & Son and the Famous Billy Baldwin Bookcase

Last week I posted about Ventry Ltd. and their Billy Baldwin Collection. I mentioned the Porter étagères- those famous brass bookcases that Billy Baldwin designed for Cole Porter's Waldorf apartment.

Tony Victoria of Frederick P. Victoria & Son was kind enough to provide me with the history of this piece. The brass étagère originated in the workshop of F.P. Victoria as a collaboration between Baldwin and the venerable furniture studio. The piece was inspired by an English Regency shelf unit that was owned by F.P. Victoria (the Baldwin étagère was obviously designed on a larger scale than the shelf unit). According to Victoria, what made the design of the étagère unusual was the fact that "in order to give the structure the maximum rigidity, there were half round moldings that formed an “X” attached to the underside of the shelves AND soldered to the leg post knuckles. This was no mean feat, requiring a specially tooled and conforming element to be made in order to permit the crossing member to get over the other one without a break. This design factor is, by the way, how one can tell originals from later copies: the latter just have moldings that butt up against each other on the underside and that are not soldered to the posts (if they have anything underneath the shelves at all), it being much too costly to do that work in more recent times."

The bookshelves were handmade in the F.P. Victoria studio by a craftsman named Julius DaSilva. Owing to the retirement of DaSilva , F.P. Victoria decided to give the patterns to Guerin, of which the owner was a close personal friend. And now in 2008, you can buy this design (or some semblance of it) from Frederick P. Victoria & Son, Inc., Guerin or Ventry Ltd .

Tony also emailed me various images and sketches of the original Regency piece and variations of the Porter étagère. If you didn't already want one of these before seeing these images, I think you will become a convert now!

(Image at top: Photo of the famous Billy Baldwin brass étagères in the apartment of Baldwin)

The piece that started it all: English Regency dumbwaiter that had been in the collection of F.P. Victoria and which inspired the Baldwin/Porter étagère. The shelves are made of rosewood.


A variation of the standard Porter étagère that was taller and held more shelves.


Another variation, this time made for Gary Stephenson, a noted antiques dealer. Victoria notes that this photo shows the versatility of the étagères.


A reference sketch of the Regency piece in the files of F.P. Victoria & Son, Ltd.

(All images were provided by and are in the collection of Frederick P. Victoria & Son, Ltd.)

Billy Baldwin and Ventry Ltd.

It looks like Ventry Ltd. has updated their website with new photos of Billy Baldwin designed furniture (some of the pieces may not have actually been designed by Baldwin; instead, he may have lent his name to the pieces). If you've always dreamed of owning Billy B's classic slipper chair, Turkish ottoman, or metal bookcases, then take a look at the Ventry website. And if the unadorned pieces of furniture look a little vanilla on the website, not to worry. Just look at how Billy used these designs in his projects.


The classic Billy Baldwin slipper chair. According to Mitchell Owen's article in the New York Times (Nov. 5, 2000), Baldwin's slipper chair was supposedly designed with Pauline de Rothschild's tall, lean frame in mind (thus making it easier for her to strike a pose and extend her long legs).


Small slipper chair and Porter etagere in the apartment of Baldwin.


Porter etagere from Ventry Ltd. According to Owens, the Porter etagere was originally fabricated by PE Guerin (and is still available through them as well).


Another view of Baldwin's apartment with the Porter etagere and what appears to be a Studio Loveseat


Studio Loveseat from Ventry


The Turkish Ottoman from Ventry...


and in this Baldwin designed living room (the home of Mollie Parniss)


The home of Woodson Taulbee with the larger (?) slipper chair and the Studio Sofa, both upholstered in that famous Tree of Life print.


Large Slipper Chair from Ventry


Studio Sofa from Ventry


These metal tables have been attributed to Billy Baldwin, but there is debate as to whether he actually designed these tables or not. It's possible that he simply lent his name to this design.