Hubert Savage, Architect (3)

 

 

Magdalen College Hall, Oxford, built circa 1500 (note flattened Tudor arches)

 

 

Tudor Gestures

One aspect of Victoria's Arts and Crafts architectural tradition was about summoning continuity with the past, without trying to mimic its style or literally copy its building practices. This was more complicated in the new world than in Europe, where traditions of local building dating to medieval times and before were living parts of the built environment. Hubert Savage shared the local aspiration for a reassuring modicum of historic continuity, which he achieved through a smattering of details from the Tudor era (Savage was an emigre who trained in Britain as an architect). 

 

 

 Aberconwy House, Aberconwy, Wales: 15th century room

 

Generally, Arts and Crafts architects eschewed copying specific styles, preferring to place emphasis on local building practices and local or regional materials. They also preferred effects that were achieved by expressing the inherent qualities of the materials used to construct and decorate the building. On Vancouver Island, these materials usually involved old-growth fir, stone quarried in the region, and to a more limited extent, locally made brick for utilities like chimneys and fireplaces. Arts and Crafts architects preferred local building practices to those deemed exotic and remote, because staying with the way buildings were built locally increased the likelihood that new buildings would fit in. A convincing continuity of tradition could be created by incorporating a few elements gesturing in the chosen direction. And in Victoria, that direction also tended to be Tudor, which was perhaps unsurprising in a market comprised largely of expatriate British (the Tudor era fell roughly in the sixteenth century in England). As this use of Tudor details was intended to be more decorative than functional, it was important that they be used sparingly. Spare use of these details could give a building distinctive character, reflecting the progressive design idea of 'alluding' to a prior era. Allusive Tudor imagery (for example, Tudor boards used in the gable ends, or similar boards used elsewhere on the exterior) had been shown to work in the Victoria housing market, convincingly so by the works of talented society architect Samuel Maclure (see photos below, where Tudor-style boards are shown gracing three of Maclure's smaller structures). Maclure is sometimes referred to as a Tudor Revival architect, but I personally think this understates his versatility.

 

 

913 Burdett Avenue, Victoria, chalet for Cecil Roberts, built in 1905

941 Meares Street in Victoria, bungalow for William Christy, built in 1906

2141 Granite Street, Oak Bay, built in 1912, colonial bungalow for A.O. Campbell

 

The use of Tudor boards (also called half-timbers) was standard practice back in 1913, imparting feelings of familiarity to the largely British clientele with the resources to commission architect-designed homes. Architects serving this market strove to incorporate a smattering of Tudor details into structures that were otherwise modern in layout and equipment. Savage's use of a limited palette of such details on his own house thus nods in the same direction. Hence, Tudor boards used in the cross-gables defining the front facade are obviously not meant to appear to be authentic half-timbers (thus reflecting a precise method of using oak planks to construct buildings, which in Tudor times also appeared inside the building) but instead are a device serving to panelize the gable space in ways not inconsistent with Tudor times. Its overall  intent was to generate feelings of familiarity. 

 

 

Authentic Tudor building, with arch and timber details in oak, reconstructed

 

I think Savage designed the original panels between the Tudor boards to appear as plaster (perhaps they were originally plaster-on-lath, a common wall treatment in 1913). But whatever Savage's original approach was, the effect had been 'updated' by the time I landed there. Now the panels between the Tudor boards were of plywood, painted in what struck my eyes as undercoat-white, of the contemporary grade of plywood known as good-one-side. Good-one-side plywood is made from the inferior product of younger trees that have grown in replanted forests - or second growth timber, as it's known locally. This product comes with lots of knotholes in it (the residue of branches) which are then patched-over in manufacture, with the patches reserved to one side (hence the grade, good-one-side). This plywood is notionally intended for uses requiring a single good face. The strange thing here, however, was that whoever bought the plywood replacement panels hadn't paid attention to how they were used - so they had been installed with the patches facing outwards. And the patches were now at the point of showing through the fading colour scheme. The problem of patches showing through was resolved at the suggestion of Mike Abernethy, of Double A Painting, a heritage paint contractor who has worked extensively on the building and oversaw the first full repainting. Mike proposed mixing coarse-grained sand into the exterior paint that was to go between the boards, which he felt would dry to resemble the look of plaster. It took considerable work on the part of his skilled painters to keep the heavy sand suspended in the paint, but the strategy worked like a charm.

 

Panels mimicking the look of plaster, hiding the formerly visible plywood patches

Patches-be-gone, and via the magic of sand suspended in the paint, they were

Another element of Tudor imagery in the Savage bungalow is extensive use of clear leaded glass. This includes diamond-shaped panes in a fixed window on the north wall, rectangular-shaped panes in the dining room, and hexagonal panes in twin bays on the front elevation, and in one fixed window on the south wall. The use of Tudor-style leaded-glass throughout the bungalow contributes enormously to the overall atmosphere within, adding classy, artistic touches that enrich rooms while remotely evoking Tudor times. The Tudor era was smitten with the newly found possibilities of joining small pieces of glass into larger panes, held in place with a lead cames, at the moment such glass was becoming more widely available (see next photo). 

 

 

Tudor-era building with leaded-glass windows and opening casements  

 

 

The manufacture of larger sheets of glass using lead cames to hold smaller panes in place, and which in turn could be framed with wood, allowed designers to open up walls and bring more light directly into buildings. In the rainy, often overcast English climate, this constituted a revelation that took those who could afford to purchase such glass by storm. Look closely at surviving Tudor-era buildings and you will see this new effect being actively explored (see photo above). The overall feeling a particular window evokes derives to some extent from the shape and size of the individual panes it's composed of, which are typically a repeating form. As a result, the use of clear leaded-glass panels still evokes the Tudor era, and Arts and Crafts architects were very much alive to the possibilities of using this type of glazing. But the phenomenon of its continued use had as much to do with the unique impacts of leaded glass, so it isn't primarily out of nostalgia for the past.

 

 

The play of light reflecting from leaded-glass panes

 

 

"Think of the beauty of leaded glass compared with the lifeless hard mechanical perfection of polished plate. This beauty has nothing to do with its old-fashioned look, with romantic associations, or quaintness of effect; it is simply an inherent property of all leaded glazing, due to the wonderful and never ending charm of the play of light and shade on the different panes, each one catching the light slightly differently from any other..." Barry Parker & Raymond Unwin, The Art of Building A Home, 1901.

 

 

Hexagonal panes running horizontally (right, above) at dusk in early spring 

One unique configuration of Tudor-style leaded glass at the Savage bungalow is the trio of fixed windows with hexagonal panes, two of which appear in the projecting bays bookending the verandah, the third as a standalone in the south wall of the living room (seen in the photo above). I have been unable to find any precedent for this design among pictures of surviving Tudor-era glass (unlike the more-common rectangular panes shown below, or the diamond-shaped panes on the north wall) so this use may in fact be a Savage-original. In Tudor-era buildings, the leaded-glass panes tended to run vertically (as for example the casements shown below, second and third photos) whereas in Savage's use the hexagonal panes run horizontally, occupying more width than depth, in a pattern reinforcing bungalow lines.

 

 

Hexagonal window in one of two bays flanking the projecting verandah

  

Transom above opening casements, with stays

  

Casement windows framing a built-in window seat that invites sitting

 

 

There are also vertical panels of leaded glass in casement format (casement windows are hinged on one side, so they can be opened, and they come with locking and holding devices, called stays or adjusters) in the dining room, as well as the fixed panel serving as a transom above the built-in window seat (see last two photos above). This arrangement forms a cozy niche in a glazed area inviting people to sit, especially as the casements face due south and are set into a projecting bay. The device of a seat crafted into a bay window also serves as a light trap, magnifying the amount of daylight entering the room.

 

 

Diamond-paned glass graces the walk-in closet

 

 

At the rear of the house there is a single diamond-paned window in clear leaded-glass (the only north facing window in a bedroom; the main bedroom has no north-facing windows). Whenever the walk-in closet was added to the bungalow (the exact date isn't known) two small diamond-paned windows were installed as casements (see photo above). Overall, Savage's use of Tudor-style glazing is spare but inventive, reinforcing the theme of continuity with Tudor times in ways that add considerable feeling to the place while also enriching its details immensely. And because these windows are all made of clear glass, they neatly sidestep any association with Victorian times where coloured-glass effects were widely explored. They are thus, if you will, that much more pure in effect. We appreciated the subtleties of the leaded-glass windows, so it was natural to add more of them when addressing situations where windows needed replacing, as they did in what became our conservatory room. At the time of the initial exterior renovation, back in 1999, I had David Helland, our skilled joiner-carpenter, fabricate matching casement windows with rectangular glass panes (similar to those in the dining room) to replace two hyper-cheesy aluminum sliders bookending a small picture window. On plan, the original concept referred to this rear porch as a "summer tea room", which apparently was left open to the elements most of the time, but that could be shuttered for winter. David did a fantastic job of making and installing the new casements, which we dressed with hardware in an oil-rubbed bronze finish. 

 

 

New leaded-glass casement, conservatory room

 

 

A further use of details evoking Tudor-era themes are the arches above the inset wall shelves in the dining room, spare bedroom and the kitchen (photos below). This was another of Savage's many artful touches, tastefully appearing throughout the house. The Tudor arch is one that has been flattened so it comes to a low point (in contrast to Roman or Gothic arches, which are either rounded or brought to a sharp point) done in a style that is said to be of Moorish origin. Many themes of Medieval architecture came from contact, via the crusades, with the more architecturally advanced Middle Eastern nations.

 

 

 

Tudor-style arches at Hatley Castle, designed by architect Samuel Maclure

 

The arch as a device over inset shelving reinforces continuity with the Tudor era, but again not as functional replication. In fact, taking advantage of the wall cavity for inset shelving is actually a very California-esque thing to do, adding one more American Arts and Crafts touch to this bungalow (it is in fact an example of 'revealed construction', which is a Puginian construct that was later taken up by Gustav Stickley). These arches gesture in the direction of Tudor without literally trying to copy what was done in that era (pictures below).

 

 

Tudor arch set above inset shelving, dining room

 

More severe (deco-era) Tudor-arch beneath diamond-paned glass

 

Tudor arch set over incised shelving in the kitchen

 

There are, of course, other Tudor references embedded in the interior: the matte black wood panelling, plate rail, boxed beams, and the mantle piece and mirror above the fireplace, for example. Matte black wood was a favourite choice of many British Arts and Crafts architects anxious for continuity with Tudor times, and Savage and his coterie (the James brothers, both of them architects and close personal friends) tended to prefer this type of treatment in houses of their design. Rosemary James Cross (Percy Leonard James's daughter, who regularly visited the bungalow as a child) swears that in the early days, the architects' wives would organize blacking parties where the woodwork (in the Savage bungalow, matte black woodwork was dominant in the entry hallway, living room, and dining room) was actively re-coated with black shoe polish! You can just imagine the ladies having a go at the walls with rags and black shoe polish!

 

 

You can see the ladies having a go at this room, blackening the walls

"In the English Arts and Crafts tradition, Douglas [James] insisted on having interior wooden trim finished in black...the black finish to interior woodwork has been preserved in most cases." Rosemary James Cross, The Life and Times of Victoria Architect Percy Leonard James (2005). 

 

Books for Looks:

 

Rosemary James Cross, The Life and Times of Victoria Architect Percy Leonard James, Dear Brutus Publishing, 2005.

Martin Segger, The Buildings of Samuel Maclure - In Search Of Appropriate Form, Sono Nis, 1986.