Twopence Plain — Penny Coloured

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 24, 29 January 1938, Page 3 (Supplement)

Twopence Plain — Penny Coloured

MTN a plain, but extremely 1 expensive white frock, she sat at the head of the table. ..." This sentence in a novel I read the other day set me thinking. She who wore the frock was a young American with heaps of money. The author, I reflected, might almost have said "a plain but therefore extremely expensive white frock," for often plainness is expensive. I recalled a conversation with a shop assistant when I was choosing spoons for a wedding present. The plain spoons cost more than the ornamented ones, and he told me that was generally so. I had never seen an adequate explanation of this until just after reading my novel I came upon a series of articles in the "Listener" in which an English investigator of tastes and conditions among people with less than £8 a week summarises his findings and states his opinions. A Widespread Fallacy Two University psychologists said they believed people often bought highly decorated objects under the impression that "there's a. lot more work in them," and, therefore, they were getting good value. Another correspondent assumed that plain goods ought to be cheaper than decorated goods, and he charged designers with working a racket by selling them at the same price. This fallacy, says Mr. Anthony Bertram, the writer of these articles, seems pretty widespread; things ought to be penny plain, twopence coloured so to speak.

Actually, or course, bair the decoration and staining , and what not of cheap goods is to cover derectlve maiteniial. Plain waxed oak furniture, for example, must be made of pood material, because any fool can spot Taults, but It takes a sharp rellow to find the faults under applied ornament or nice thick gravy-coloured stain. It is the same with thlng-s made in synthetic materials. If they are mottled, defective moulding does not show; or with pottery —highly ornamental stuff is orten inferior material, and the ornamentation Just a mechanical business or transfers. So you see in these days or machine production the case is just as orten penny coloured, twopence plain. You may amuse yourself applying this to various things. Obviously a severely plain dress will show up defects in material and workmanship more clearly than one with frills and furbelows. If the wood in a door warps, which is not at all uncommon, the warping will be more easily seen if the door .has a flush surface than if it is cut up into raised and depressed panels. A simple design puts a craftsman on his mettle; indeed, it is probably reserved for the better man, which helps to account for the higher cost. Nature of Art In a way this is a pity, because it is highly desirable that appreciation of simplicity of design should be encouraged. We have moved a fairly long way from the ftoriditess of Victorian domestic design—the overwrought furniture, the curled vases, the clutter of writhing ornaments —and we are even in danger of making our homes like those dismally

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tidy, chromium plated, glass table topped business offices that look like operating theatres. (I advise anyone who wants to persuade me into an investment not to attempt it in such surroundings, but to choose a place where he can thaw me into a good humour.) It should be possible, however, to get more simplicity of design in many common factory-made things at little or no greater cost. Primarily it is a matter of demand. If the public can be induced to value simplicity, its requirements will be supplied. The trouble is that with so many people art means ornamentation and often unnecessary ornamentation — something added, something fussy, like the terrible filigree work that used to be common on New Zealand verandahs, or the carbuncle effect that mars so many bungalows. True beauty is inherent in a thing, like the limbs and blood of a body. Design begins the moment the object is thought of, and is conditioned by the material to be employed and the use to which the object is to be put. Mr. Bertram mentions clocks. The natural shape of the face of a clock or watch is round, but man, seeking out many inventions, sometimes makes it square or oblong. '"When you see a square face, don't you sometimes get

an uncomfortable feeling that the poor hour hand is stretching out at the corner to try to reach the numbers?" Yes, I do. Or take motor car design. If scenery means anything, windows of cars should be large, but the desire for : streamlining has made them small; that! is to say, in striving for a certain kind of design usefulness has been lessened. It is the business of the designer to combine use with beauty or dignity. Importance of Design It ie easy to understand, therefore, why some teachers are eager to have children taujjht the principles of desijrn. J One schoolmaster wrote to Mr. Bertram ' ' that he wanted as much time given to , education in design as was now p-iven to arithmetic or English. A science master declared that design was integral to life. "If you don't get it good you will get it had. It is not like literature 1 or music or painting, which you need : not have at all if you don't want to.' , J This quoted passage contains, a very j important truth, which some time ago;' I emphasised about architecture. You \ don't have to read a bad book or look j at a bad picture, but if your house or ' office is ugly or irremediably inconvenient you've got to put up with it. , Thie i is what makes bad architecture so tragic —its omnipresence and finality. This applies also to numbers of things we live with —utensils and furniture, the lamp-posts and lettering in our etreets. Once they are there it is very difficult, or impossible, to change them. Utility was the chief concern of most of those Mr. Bertram met in his enquiries. Hardly anyone worried about appearances. They wanted such things as saucepans with lips on both sides,

square saucepans, and saucepans with bevelled angles for easy cleaning; carving dishes with a drain round for the gravy; sinks that emptied easily; fiirni- j ture that, didn't boss you; and a more J intelligent arrangement of lighting and j i power plugs. '"You would imagine that i mankind would have learnt by now to , i make a perfect saucepan ever*" time, but j I he has not. any more than he always j ; makes a milk jug or a tea-pot that does , not drip." Mr. Bertam is pleased about j this insistence on usefulness. '"In the useful arts utility must come first, and if a thing fulfils its purpose and ie honestly made of good stuff, the chances ' are that beauty conies in as a sort of j by-product." And if you men imagine that this sort of thins is purely woman's concern, let me add that for everv woman who wrote to Mr. Bertram five men did so. How Not to Build These articlee cover a range that cannot be dealt with here, but in conclusion I should like to mention hie investigations into the arrangements- of new houses and flats. The speculative builder comes out badly and the municipal provision well. Mr. Bertram visited a house costing £850 which had no cupboards, no light over the sink, and Ho shelves in the pantry wide enough for a dinner plate. He does not say whether it was private or public enterprise. But apparently it was a speculative builder who provided a flat with a pantry between the fireplace and the bathroom, with the hot water pipe* running through it, so that no fresh food could be kept there. The only other cupboard in the house was the meter cupboard. Probably this builder would say: "What do you want to employ an architect for? What you want is a practical man."