IN 1966, Oliver Messel (1904-78), one of Britain's foremost stage designers, retreated to the Caribbean island of Barbados following a punishing theatre season. He was three decades into a stellar career that had seen him, among other things, disguise countryside pillboxes as haystacks, castles and cafés in the Second World War. Aged 62 and suffering from recurring arthritis, he would have been forgiven for taking early retirement or, at least, slowing down-but Barbados proved exactly the tonic he needed. He largely remained on the island-and on neighbouring Mustique-until his death 12 years later, designing and creating nine houses on the former and 18 on the latter, in spite of the fact that he had no formal architectural training. One such project, Fustic House, in the Barbadian parish of St Lucy, was described by former COUNTRY LIFE Architectural Editor Jeremy Musson (author of Fustic House & Estate-A Messel Masterpiece) as 'something out of a dream... one of those rare places, which once seen, is never forgotten' (COUNTRY LIFE, January 26, 2011).
Unsurprisingly, Messel's houses often took on theatrical qualities-proscenium arches replaced with open walls, gently curved, giant windows, and bi-fold shuttered doors. They were stage sets in their own right-beautiful to look at and look out from. Neither did the multi-hyphenate artist shy away from colour, inspired as he was by the saturated, tropical hues of the landscapes around him. 'Messel Green'-as it's now known-was its user's trademark, the 'Barbie Pink' of its day, daubed on shutters, ornamental bridges, awnings and woodwork.
Denne historien er fra December 06, 2023-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra December 06, 2023-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.
