Tag: dr anna keay

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The Landmark Trust + Obriss Farm The Weald Kent

A Gentle Revisitation of Days That Are No More

An article in the May 1990 edition of the now defunct Traditional Homes magazine marked The Landmark Trust’s silver jubilee. Julia Abel Smith records in History for Hire, “The organisation was founded in 1965 to save minor but important buildings, and to give them a new life by letting them out to holidaymakers. In co founder Sir John’s words, ‘The Landmark Trust was set up ‘to tackle projects too troublesome or unfashionable for anyone else.’” So there might be a midnight dash across a roof terrace to the bathroom or the need to duck under low ceiling beams. Julia notes that generally the Trust does not take on buildings that could be restored as permanent homes.

Some are urban oases such as Marshal Wade’s House in the centre of Bath. Others are coastal retreats like St Augustine’s Grange and St Edward’s Presbytery on the edge of Ramsgate. And at least one has a kilometre long drive and a view unbroken by any other buildings stretching across fields towards infinity or at least the far side of The Weald. That will be Obriss Farm betwixt pretty Edenbridge and even prettier Westerham. Except for the occasional plane streaking the sky en route to Gatwick, it’s hard to imagine the property is a mere 61 kilometres from The Ritz (London not Paris). A copse and an orchard and fields form a green and pleasant apron round this red house and attendant barns. The Trust lets out the 65 hectare farm for pasture.

Obriss Farm was bequeathed by Helena Cooper in 1990. It was formerly part of the Chartwell Estate which was bought by Sir Winston Churchill in 1922 and is now a major National Trust tourist attraction. The oldest part of the complex is the late 16th century dark stained weatherboarded bakehouse immediately behind the farmhouse – a standalone kitchen. The front half of the house also dates from Tudor times. It was doubled in size down the centuries. Later stables and a cowhouse to the west of the house and a wool store to the east have similar dark stained weatherboarding. A 17th century threshing barn is set back from the end of the lawn. The two storey plus attic house has tile hung upper floors on the side and rear elevations matching the roof tiles. Brick is used elsewhere.

The rectangular floor plan is simply laid out to accommodate five guests. Leaded casement windows, exposed timber frame walls and terracotta tiled floors provide a robust backdrop to antique pieces and comfortable furniture. Everything is so beautiful and simple. “The countryside was still in its summer green,” rhapsodises the poet Siegfried Sassoon in his 1940 autobiography The Weald of Youth, “and the afternoon roads hot and dusty.” That’s just one of many local interest books in the sitting room. On a warm summer weekend little has changed. Rabbits and pheasants and buzzards appear and disappear. Apples and blackberries and damson plums are ripe for picking. Local placenames are quintessentially English: Bardogs; Pootings; Puddledock.

Richard Harwood OBE KC, Joint Head of Chambers of 39 Essex Chambers, and Clarissa Levi, Art and Heritage Counsel of Wedlake Bell, host a podcast series Art and Heritage Law. The Landmark Trust at 60 episode is an interview with the historian and charity’s Director, Dr Anna Keay OBE. “We were established to do two things,” Anna explains. “Firstly, to rescue historic buildings in jeopardy in the UK, principally, and to repair and rejuvenate them. Secondly, and really importantly, to make them into places people can really enjoy and specifically through making them available for people to stay in for breaks – for holidays. That’s what we’ve been doing for the last 60 years.”

Anna expands on the origins of the Trust. “We were founded by two individuals, John and Christian Smith, both sadly now dead. They were quite involved in the conservation movement in the Sixties and of course this was a postwar time of unparalleled destruction and damage to historic fabric – partly the impact of war and partly a process of what was seen then as national renewal. The rate of Listed Building demolition in the mid 1960s – I always find this amazing – was 400 a year in England.” While the big institutions, notably The National Trust and the Ministry of Works, concentrated on saving stately homes, smaller properties were being overlooked.

Clarissa mentions how she likes Sir John Smith’s quote about rescuing troublesome and unfashionable buildings. Anna responds, “That’s us!” John Smith was an MP for a short time and was one of the people responsible for introducing the Planning Act 1965 which created Conservation Areas. “They started small,” Anna confirms. “The first two buildings they took on were quite modest vernacular buildings: Church Cottage and Paxton’s Tower Lodge, both in south Wales. They placed an advert in The Sunday Times in 1967 saying holiday cottages from The Landmark Trust available to rent and they went from there to completing three or four buildings every year.”

When you enter a Landmark Trust property, after being bowled over by the architecture, there’s a distinct interior look to admire. Anna says, “Essentially it’s an old English country house vibe slightly merged with a sort of Arts and Crafts quite spare approach which is totally born of personal taste. It’s timelessly lovely.” Old Turkish rugs, oak furniture, comfy sofas and pictures of local scenery or historical characters create a formula that works along with branded details like clothes hangers and soap. Richard remarks, “It comes over in the fabulous book for the 50th anniversary by Anna and Caroline Stanford that the Trust was a personal mission of the Smiths but also how they would pull their friends and contacts into how things were designed and how things were thought through.”

She observes, “The irony is that such is the strange world for demand of different types of furniture and paintings and stuff from the past that if you were to go into John Lewis to buy a new dining room table it would cost way more that if you were to go to an antiques fair and get one from a bloke in a field.” Old pieces are more sustainable, often better made and look more at home in period properties. What Anna calls “a whole cycle of positives”.

There are three core criteria for choosing to take on a new building. It must be of really special historical or architectural significance. It must be at genuine risk and not saveable by the market. And it must be financially viable under the Trust’s model. “Our work not only involves the physicality of trying to save somewhere but also trying to untangle complicated tenure or freeing a building from the status that may in part be why it’s got into such a bad state.” Clarissa comments, “I love the reimagining of buildings for places to have a lovely holiday in that were never intended to actually be stayed in. I am thinking of when I was a child I went to stay with family one time in the Landmark Trust’s Pineapple. It blew my mind – it still does really!”

The charity also plays a wider role. Over to Anna again, “The Trust has shown how adaptable buildings can be ever since it was converting old industrial buildings to domestic use in the Seventies. Now of course we’re all used to the idea of an old mill becoming flats but in the Sixties that was unthinkable. As well as being a lovely thing for people to stay in them it can be a way of showing how changes can be made sympathetically that will hopefully inspire other adaptations.” A philosophy of care guides each restoration (and often a conversion is involved) from the outset. The Trust considers what are the special characteristics to enhance and preserve. This founding principle is referred to when practical decisions need to be made. The volumes of the original space and its former use are respected and celebrated.

Anna says, “Projects take a long time so we always have some we are just about to finish on and hang up the curtains and others right at the beginning and we’re trying to do the land acquisition. One we are working on at the moment which is a really exciting is a World War II project: what was RAF Ibsley down in the New Forest. It was what was known as a ‘watch office’. The building is derelict and in a really bad way.”

“Another big one that we’re right at the beginning of and we’re so excited about has been a cause célèbre of heritage at risk for actually 50 years is a house called Mavisbank. It’s just outside Edinburgh – it’s not a remote building. The house was designed by William Adam, father of Robert Adam, the progenitor of that amazing dynasty of architects. His client was John Clarke who was one of the people who signed the Act of Union between England and Scotland. Mavisbank is really the first great neo Palladian house in Scotland and has been derelict, roofless and in the most dangerous state for decades now. It was nearly demolished in the Eighties. The compulsory purchase order is under way and all being well by the end of the year we will be the proud owners of a totally derelict 1720s house!”

Anna concludes, “We’re thrilled to be part of the rescue of these buildings but we’re only a part of the journey. Those people who come to stay in our buildings or financially support our campaigns or write letters of support – they are travelling with us. It’s a real mass movement activity. We haven’t got a shares portfolio; we don’t have a mega investor. We are literally a charity that survives on the support people give us because they choose to and the fact that people can stay in our buildings. The pioneering spirit of the Edwardian philanthropists is in our DNA.” Richard ends the podcast, “What you’ve set out is not only the philosophy of heritage but also the way you go about it, the way you think about buildings and how they should be rescued and brought back into use.”

Browsing through more books in the sitting room, Sir William Addison could easily be referring to Obriss Farm in Farmhouses in The English Landscape, 1986, “Eventually the prudent yeomen of The Weald realised how destructive of every local interest reckless felling of timber would be if it continued much longer. So what was called half timbering was introduced, with thinner timbers wider apart built into the structure in square or oblong panels to be filled with wattle and daub in the East Anglia manner. But in Kent, as early as Elizabeth I’s reign, tiles were being used for wall cladding in half timbered buildings as well as for those built up to first floor level in brick. In the later years of the 17th century weatherboarding came into competition with hanging tiles for wall cladding.” Half timbering can best be seen in the south wall of the single bedroom at the rear of the house: it was once an external wall.

And Roger Higham nicely sums up the county in Kent, 1974, “There are at least three good reasons why Kent makes a fit literary and photographic subject: firstly, it is large; secondly, it is diverse; and thirdly, it is accessible. A fourth reason perhaps transcending the first three, could be suggested: its importance.” The last reason could apply to an article and even more so when it focuses on Obriss Farm in The Weald.

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Architects Architecture Design Developers People Town Houses

St Augustine’s Grange + St Edward’s Presbytery Ramsgate Kent

All Saints

It’s the 172nd anniversary of the death of Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin, an important day to arrive at St Augustine’s Grange, Ramsgate, where he died on 14 September 1852. Despite his considerable contribution to architecture, he was only 40. But there is nothing morbid about our sun soaked visit to the Gothic Revivalist’s home and adjoining property, St Edward’s Presbytery, high above the shoreline of east Kent. This Grade I Listed enclave has been pristinely preserved and rationally revived as holiday accommodation by The Landmark Trust, that keeper of follies and other quirks of built heritage.

The interrelationship of the two houses set in the wider context of St Augustine’s Church next door (by Augustus) and St Augustine’s Monastery opposite (by Augustus’ eldest son Edward) is best experienced from the viewing platform of the tower (which houses water tanks and WCs) of The Grange. It’s a complex and clever Gothic jigsaw. Glorious built form, glorious urban scenery. Excitement of architecture is matched by thrill of geography: a sweep of coastline takes in Sandwich Bay and a distant Deal.

In his Introduction (2003) to The True Principles of Pointed or Christian Architecture and An Apology for The Revival of Christian Architecture (1841 and 1843) Dr Roderick O’Donnell writes, “Pugin was to be at his most influential in reforming the practice of the Gothic Revival and domestic architecture of what, in another context, he called the ‘middle class’ home, and his revolutionary influence on its construction, planning and decoration was first demonstrated in his own house, St Augustine’s Grange, Ramsgate (1843). Pugin thus stands at the wellspring of 19th century architectural and design reform, which was to be reflected in the institution that would become the Victoria and Albert Museum, the publications of Ruskin, and the architecture and decorative programme of William Morris … the paternity of the 20th century Modern Movement can be tracked back to Pugin and to True Principles.”

To the early 21st century eye The Grange and The Presbytery may appear to be simply high quality Victorian architecture, but to the mid 19th century eye the elevational subservience to the plan would have appeared as a radical reversal of the neoclassical norm. A striking honesty is at work: no blind windows or screen walls; instead a proliferation of asymmetric window arrangements and visible buttresses. Augustus’ work is the antithesis of the contemporaneous symmetrical Italianate pair of villas closer to Ramsgate Royal Harbour called Vale and likely built by the developer William Saxby.

The Grange, a family house, looks across to the English Channel over the West Cliffs. The Presbytery, a secular priest’s house which came seven years later, is tucked between The Grange and St Augustine’s Road. Both were designed by Augustus; both have light filled additions by Edward. The porch of The Grange and the first floor studio of The Presbytery, each glazed above dado height, are second generation Pugin.

There is weight to the choice of materials: the unknapped flint of The Presbytery symbolically straddles the secular and religious: St Augustine’s Church is built of knapped flint and Whitby stone; The Grange, of London stock brick with Caen stone dressings. Dr Anna Keay, Director of The Landmark Trust, sums up the two properties as “Gothic heaven and available to all of us to book for a stay”. Upon entering through Edward’s gates to be greeted by a pair of heraldic stone lions on top of the gateposts, we’re enjoying Augustus’ oft quoted “delight of the sea with Catholic architecture and a library”.

The internal layout of The Grange was just as quietly groundbreaking as the exterior. A practical arrangement of main rooms clustered around a central staircase hall without any servants’ corridors would prove to be the forerunner of later Victorian suburban housing. Subsequent architects like Sir Edwin Lutyens would be inspired by Augustus’ thoughtful design such as the positioning of windows based on capturing the optimal light and framing the best views.

The family chapel, reception rooms and bedrooms are richly decorated with a wealth of pattern and colour provided by stained glass windows, wallpaper and encaustic tiles. In contrast, the uncontrived simplicity and solidity of the kitchen dresser would herald the honesty of workmanship of the Arts and Crafts movement led by among others Philip Webb and Charles Voysey. Augustus believed features should be decorated but must be functional. According to Stephen Coote in William Morris His Life and Work (1995), “Pugin declared, ‘Ornament should be no more than enrichment of the essential composition.’” This dedication to functionality as a starting point would sew the seeds of Modernism in the following century.

Dr Roderick O’Donnell wrote the entry for Edward Welby Pugin in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004): “Edward Welby Pugin (1834 to 1875), architect, was born on 11 March 1834 at Ramsgate, the eldest son of Augustus Welby Northmore Pugin (1812 to 1852) and his second wife, Louisa Burton (circa 1813 to 1844). He was trained by his father and at the age of 18 found himself in charge of his father’s practice, which he developed with many pupils and various partnerships, most importantly with his brother-in-law George Coppiner Ashlin in Ireland (1859 to 1869) and his brother Peter Paul Pugin (1851 to 1904) … Edward Pugin’s practice was overwhelmingly Roman Catholic. He worked initially in his father’s preferred Decorated Gothic style … From 1856 his style became more elaborate but his church plans simpler by widening the span of the arcades, diminishing chancel arches, and abolishing rood screens, so as to achieve simple sightlines set in shallow apses.”

Edward died unmarried in the arms of his brother Cuthbert Welby Pugin at his home on Victoria Street, Westminster. He was more outgoing than his father, frequenting Turkish baths and attending charitable functions. Roderick argues he was less important an architect than his father yet notes his style and plans became normative for Roman Catholic churches in the British Isles in the latter half of the 19th century. We reckon Edward’s surviving additions provide another layer of interest to The Grange and The Presbytery. The family firm continued as Pugin and Pugin.

Surrendering to the familial draw of Ramsgate, Cuthbert retired to The Grange where he died unmarried on 25 March 1928, outliving the combined age of his father and older brother by five years. The Landmark Trust decisively removed most of Edward’s additions to The Grange including a drawing room extension, conservatory and several chimneypieces. Cuthbert’s 1880s alterations to The Presbytery were also demolished. We depart Ramsgate with a newfound understanding and appreciation of Pugin the Elder and Pugins the Younger.

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Architecture People

Clifton House King’s Lynn Norfolk + Henry Bell

Saved by the Bell

Clifton House King's Lynn View from Tower © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Who needs the walls to speak when there are learned historians in spades. It’s like The Interregnum happened yesterday. King’s Lynn is a microcosm of academia. Such rigour. Barley twist columns (inspired by Solomon’s Temple) supporting a most generous half moon pediment form an enigmatic doorcase on Queen Street. Instead of opening into a panelled hall, the doors lead into a porch, open on one side to a walled garden, home to two black cats. Apparently this is a common arrangement in historic Lynn. It means the windows and doors of the house beyond can be left freely ajar on a sunny day.

Clifton House King's Lynn Garden © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Clifton House, named after a previous owner who sadly sold some of its architectural features, is now the home of Dr Simon Thurley and Dr Anna Keay. It’s hard to believe that when they bought the house 13 years ago “it had no electricity and part of it was an archaeological dig”. The building had a rocky time during the 20th century. Lady Fermoy, Princess Diana’s maternal grandmother, campaigned with King’s Lynn Preservation Trust to stop Clifton House being demolished for a car park in 1962. The Trust along with English Heritage was determined that it should be returned to a single family house. Almost 800 years after its commencement, the house is finally in two pairs of safe hands. Simon is former Chief Executive of English Heritage; Anna is Director of The Landmark Trust. Both have published books on history and architecture.

Clifton House King's Lynn Tower © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

“Wine was a very important part of Lynn’s economy,” he records. “Lynn traded with France, Madeira, Spain and the Canary Islands. Queen Street used to be called ‘Winegate’. The introduction of trains wiped out the local economy. The ground was cut from beneath its feet. As a result nothing really happens in the house architecturally after 1850.”

Clifton House King's Lynn © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

The entrance arrangement is the first of many surprises. An early Georgian façade cloaks a medieval merchant’s house. A five storey tower with mullioned windows is an unexpected feature in a corner of the walled garden. “It’s relatively recent, 1570,” smiles Simon. Flues in the four corners of the tower with alternating fireplace positions on each floor make the top room especially snug. Interior surprises of the main house include vast vaults from the 1220s (the earliest brick building in Norfolk) and 1260s tiles under the kitchen floorboards.

Clifton House King's Lynn Garden Elevation © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Clifton House King's Lynn Border © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

“Clifton House is arguably one of the most complete medieval houses anywhere,” Simon continues. “It’s a complex: the adjacent counting house, yard and warehouses would all have been part of this house.” Following mid 16th century alterations of the medieval house, from 1690 to 1700 a “big remodelling” occurred. Then owner, wine merchant and MP Samuel Taylor, turned to the distinguished local architect Henry Bell. The façade owes much to this period. “Bell was mad keen on big pediments.” The architect inserted a sweeping staircase leading to the piano nobile: the landing doorcases all have most generous pediments.

Clifton House King's Lynn Sashes © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Halfway up the staircase is the dining room with panelling mostly pre dating Henry Bell. But it does have a highly unusual late 17th century decorative niche hidden behind sliding sash panels. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it!” he beams. Two panels are counterweighted by lead weights. The original paint scheme of sunrays bursting out of a gold shell against a pea green background has been reinstated. “This room is always five degrees cooler than outside! But with a massive fire lit and the curtains pulled, it’s great for entertaining.”

Clifton House King's Lynn Undercroft © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Simon and Anna are currently restoring the upstairs drawing room. An old photograph shows it once resembled a “1950s Indian restaurant”. Removal of the unforgettable forget-me-not blue flock wallpaper has revealed long forgotten stone coloured panelling. “What we are doing is completely recessive. It has a shattered appearance which we quite like!”

Clifton House King's Lynn Wine Cellar © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley

Like the unpeeling of an onion, the gradual restoration of the house continues to reveal itself. Really, it’s a conversation about conservation.

Dr Simon Thurley Clifton House © Lavender's Blue Stuart Blakley