decorating with books

"There is no better decoration for a room 

than a wall of book-filled shelves." 

Henry-Russel Hitchcock and Philip Johnson, The International Style 1932

With the bride and I having something of an affinity for books (we have about a 1,000 of them in the house), the program for our house required a place for books. As noted above by the original arbiters of the Modern aesthetic, Hitchcock and Johnson, books are an appropriate decoration for a Modern house. However, they were probably influenced by their own bookish ways (book people are always fond of displaying their books, whether for ease of access or ease of impressing guests). Books can be rather visually messy, the opposite of minimalism. Others suggest that, in affairs of the heart, a person that doesn't display evidence of bookishness is not worthy of (ahem) rigorous attempts at procreation.

I broadly place decorating with books into two camps: (1) using books simply as props to decorate with and (2) using books as books but displaying them in an aesthetically pleasing way (which, of course, depends on the personal views of who is gawking at them). I would argue that Modernism demands the latter of the two. Books used purely to decorate are anathema to Modernism, which demands the abscence of applied decoration.

Here's a fine example of using books as props (which perhaps get most directly [perhaps too directly...] at the rigorous procreation issue):

via Stylecaster

To avoid using books purely as decoration yet wanting to display them aesthetically, there are middling ways.

There's the color code approach:

via Vintage and Nerdy

I actually have most of my books at my office organized by color, which, for me, works surprisingly well (I'm more likely to remember the color of a book than the author and title...).

There's the back-side approach which introduces some uniformity of color:

via nook and sea

I like the look of this, but this approach pretty much means you've (suspiciously...) given up on knowing what is where.

There's color uniformity (that is, only buy all white books):

forgot to source this one...

But this is also suspicious (unless you also have a blue room, green, room, red room...).

Another option is to encase each book in white (or some other colored paper) and then lightly scrawl on the spine in pencil what it is:

via the decoist

Nice look, but, wow, what a lot of work. I'd rather read a book.

For our house, we chose function with a wee bit of form. Our books are organized by broad topic (for example, architecture, cooking, texana, poetry, existentialism) and randomly placed as far as size and color are concerned (the architecture section is organized by architect). The one nod toward form is making sure all the books, regardless of width, are the same distance from the edge of the bookcase. To achieve this, we use the MAK Center guide to R.M. Schindler, which has the perfect width as well as a long spine for aligning a long string of books.

A good guide on Schindler as well as a good guide for lining up books.

By aligning the books at a constant distance from the front, a nice line forms, adding just enough purposefulness to suggest this ain't a flea market.

The shelves in the living room hold about 350 books at the moment, so we've spent a wee bit of time choosing which books to include out of our general collection for general public viewing. Many are faves or collections of a fave author; others are placed to start conversations if someone sees it. Yet others I've purposely placed to raise eyebrows.

And sometimes, stacks are inevitable, like this pile awaiting our eyes...

marcel breuer's wassily chair

I'm always amazed by how well Modernist furniture designed in the 1920s fits in with our house. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After all, this furniture was specifically designed for Modern structures at a time when there was no furniture to fit the architecture. Nevertheless, here I stand (and sit?), amazed.

Marcel Breuer in his chair circa 1927. 

"This metal furniture is to be nothing more than a necessary device for modern-day living."

A recent acquisition we made was Marcel Breuer's Model B3 Chair, known popularly these days as the Wassily Chair. Designed in 1925 and 1926 while Breuer was the head of the cabinet-making workshop at the Bauhaus (and only 23 years old!), Breuer was inspired by the chrome handlebars of his newly acquired Adler bicycle. His design also echoes neoplasticism, namely Gerrit Rietveld's early de Stijl furniture. It was also the first use of steel tubing in furniture.

1925 Adler (via here). Nice handlebars!

The original chair used black or white canvas for the material and came in a folding and non-folding version. It wasn't until after World War II that the manufacturer introduced leather in addition to canvas. Knoll currently owns the trademark and design, although the patent design is expired and thus available to other manufacturers. The Knoll version retails for (gulp) $2,354 (our unofficial [and more than adequate] version cost substantially less). The name "Wassily" came years later when the chair was re-released and the manufacturer heard a story of how the painter Wassily Kandinsky, at the Bauhaus at the time Breuer designed the chair, liked the chair so much that Breuer had an extra copy of the prototype made for him.

Pleasantly creepy photo by Erich Consemüller of a woman in the B3 club chair wearing a mask by Oskar Schlemmer and a dress in fabric designed by Lis Beyer, 1926.

Original manufactured chair, 1926-1927 at the Vitra Design Museum

Marcel Breuer (1902 to 1981) was a Hungarian architect and early student and instructor at the Bauhaus. He teamed with Walter Gropius at a number of institutions and for a number of projects, complimenting Gropius' lack of drawing skills. Like many of the Bauhausers, Breuer left Nazi Germany in the 1930s. His path took him and Gropius at first to England where they worked for Isokon. While in England, Breuer collaborated with the architect F.R.S. Yorke on Modern houses. When Gropius left England for the United States in 1937 to run the Harvard School of Design, Breuer went with him. Breuer and Gropius went their separate ways in 1941.

Photo of the vintage chair with white canvas from Knoll.

We put the chair in the office, which has a viewscape from the entry and living room along the bookcase. The antique black phone in the rear is from East Germany.

finishing upstairs

As predicted, the impending home tour is inspiring us to get the upstairs in order (and tackle some other projects...). First off is the guest room. 

We went with two twins (two singles) so that if we need to, we can bring the two together for one king (there are kits for that). We have plans for a headboard that will work for the two singles or the big ole king (more on that later...). We also still need to get a bookcase. But for the most part, the room is tour ready!

In case you are wondering how various bed sizes compare (image via Wikipedia):

Next up is the other bedroom, which we will use as a workout room plus spillover library (we have too many books...):

We need to make the rug bigger; easy because we used Flor tiles (another row in this edge and that edge are coming). Scored that Airdyne at closeout at Sears whilst buying a new vacuum!

wires! be gone.

Any good Modernist will tell you you can't have your wires showing. You just can't. It'd be like showing up to your wedding with your fly brutally open while pitching tent wearing Spongebob Squarepants underwear. That ain't cool.

Since the beam holding up the second cantilever was so tall, the plugs and wire receptacles had to be placed too high to hide them behind the console. That ain't cool (see Spongebob Squarepants comments; ibid). So we had Dan and Jessica, our pals over at Coulbury Designs fab up a cover for the plugs and wires.  

o ye of delicate constitution, avert ye eyes! Avert ye eyes! 

I see wires! I see plugs! I see Spongebob Squarepants!

(I also see a photo of myself playing theremin with a country band...)

We designed the thing to extend out from the wall to the right and across all the plugs and the console. We also extended it down low enough to hide the wires coming up from the sub woofer (that white thing) but not so far down that the wires wouldn't come out at the proper height behind the console.

Dan and Jessica came up with the brackets that not only hold up the wire hider but also hold the wires. Brilliant!

BRILLIANT!

BRILLIANT!

And here's the final result: 

The fly is zipped. Spongebob is in his rightful place. The wedding is saved. And the Modernist is pleased.

a Modern Christmas

A true minimalist/modernist would probably seek to deconstruct Christmas (see office Christmas tree last year). We went with a real tree (the first time in our adult lives) and a monochrome theme (white and silver with a lot of owls). We also jumped on a CB2 wreath idea (silver balls with pink wire), a West Elm wreath (lots of woolly balls), and simple LED "icicles" that "snow down". I think we'll leave it at that.

Oh! And we hung some stockings! Since we have no mantle, we hung them from the window (The World Is Our Mantle.).

Hope you are staying warm!

drowning in blu dot

Blu Dot is from Minnesota. Blu Dot is what IKEA could be if it embraced quality. Blu Dot is the bridge between IKEA and Italian (with quite a price span from here to Italy).

We got Dot.

With a sale going on, we ordered a couple of their flat-packed Real Good Chairs. We also picked up a couple cubic ottomans. And the bride, not happy to see me working on an IKEA flimster, bought me Desk 51 (which reminds me of something Shindler would buy for some reason...).

It's all nice stuff. It's Blu Dot.

We first saw Blu Dot stuff in person at a brick-n-mortar store in Los Angeles. And gee, that lamp sure is nice...