Interiors by Design: Rendering a View

Putting together our most recent showhouse room, I realized that the deadline for the rendering had come forth fairly rapidly.

Though, like all designers, I can indeed visualize the final outcome, getting it down, three-dimensionally, on paper with total intention, atmosphere and an ounce of flair in full evidence is a remarkable challenge. So, when I look through art history’s treasures of interior views and paintings, I am quite astonished with so many artists’ capabilities at capturing a moment in time, not only of the human subject’s mood and character, but of the character of the interior as well.

Skipping over the Greek vase paintings and Pompeiian mosaics that give us a visual description of the furniture, but no hint of what the actual interiors looked like, we head directly into the Middle Ages where, in iconic and secular paintings, rooms appear like sections of a dollhouse with canted floors barely clinging to beds and chests that look as if they are going to slide off onto the viewer’s shoes. Dutch and Flemish painters’ interiors concentrated on the lushly folded fabrics draping over beds and banquet tables (their commerce was richly supported by the fabric trade) and Italian artists, of course, concentrated on elaborate and intricate marble and stone floors tilted almost vertically for the sheer pleasure of their proud owners.

Renaissance perspectives brought us room rendering backgrounds which illustrated interiors of diminishing depth. But no period was truly interested in rendering the room itself without human presence or interaction until the early 19th century. No period until the 1800s was fascinated with the art of interior decoration in and of itself—basically as we know it now in our shelter magazines, which exhibit beautiful rooms primarily devoid of any human physical presence. A smitten celebration of the princely or bourgeois interiors began in the early 19th century as highly detailed, radiantly colored paintings and drawings that photographically encapsulated every architectural cornice, chair ornament and curtain embroidery. The great French neoclassic decorateurs, Percier and Fontaine, rendered designs of extraordinary imagination, emblazoning surfaces with elements dredged up from Roman antiquity hailing the newly popular Napoleon Bonaparte and his imperial leanings. Bonaparte so loved his Malmaison and numerous other interiors (created to glorify and elevate his empire), that he commissioned countless artists to paint and render them, often without human figures.

Thomas Hope is the subject of a recent furniture and drawing exhibition at the American Design Museum in New York. Thomas Hope’s rigorously archeological take on glamorous drawing room renderings exhibits his wonderful affinity for “Greek purity.” Swathed in folds of drapery and emblazoned with medallions and amphora, Hope’s rooms champion the Regency style. Deftly drawn, his furnishings also liberally borrowed from Egyptian, Gothic, Indian and Chinese motifs, all cooked up into grandly tailored interiors.

All over Europe, starting from about 1810, room renderings for the proud palace owner were definitely “must have” items. Yes, human figures were sometimes to be detected in the room, but merely as an accessory to the decorating (sort of like that moment in recent shelter rag history, when blurry homeowners bounded ghost-like through their exquisite rooms). The house-proud Germans in Potsdam and the empresses of Austria cherished their domestic renderings. These highly collectible and decorative paintings are much undervalued in the market and yet are absolutely charming on your wall.

Some of the most famous interior renderings, of course, are from a folio of drawings by John Nash, “Views of the Royal Pavilion at Brighton” published in “An Illustrated History of Interior Decoration: From Pompeii to Art Nouveau” by Mario Praz. In it, Mr. Praz writes, “The Brighton Pavilion surpassed in splendor all of the other exotic follies built in Europe, from the Haga Park pagoda in Scandinavia to the Casino della Favorita in Palermo.” These drawings of the Pavilion represent the ultimate in 19th century draftsmanship and magnificent imagination. Crowds are present, but simply as additional adornments to these astonishing renderings.

With the eventual development of photography, these renderings fell out of favor as did easel paintings, but took up again with the advent of department store advertising. Wizards of fashion illustration tried their hands with interior renderings and talented artists such as Jeremiah Goodman defined the refined style that was at the time the carriage trade’s darling—“Lord and Taylor.” His work is published in a book called “Jeremiah: A Romantic Vision.”

Mr. Goodman, a longtime resident of East Hampton, was the last word in interior renderers. His boldness leaps off the canvas in renderings with brushstrokes reminiscent of the confident slashmarks of John Singer Sargent and the irreverence of Vuillard. Like the Fauvres, Mr. Goodman’s interiors reverberate with intensity, yet are ultimately deferential to the designer’s intentions and reflect the homeowner’s self-created atmosphere. Glamorous because these paintings appear confidently dashed off with an abundance of panache and humor, Mr. Goodman’s work can also appear deeply moody. An artist of note in both East Hampton and the interior design world, his work should be considered seriously and snapped up when one comes across it.

My other favorite room renderer has always been James Steinmeyer. Mr. Steinmeyer has drawn rooms for most of New York’s elite decorators and he has finally been published in a collaborative book with Charlotte Moss entitled “Creating A Room: A Designer’s Guide to Decorating Your Home in Stages.” With the obvious craftsmanship and artistry of Swedish born Carl Larsen, Mr. Steinmeyer’s meticulous draftsmanship hearkens back to the renderings of Percier and Fontaine, executed with clarity and a decorator’s sensitivity to color, comfort, room arrangement and texture. His work, if ever on the market, should also be acquired, and quite rapidly.

Room renderers are some of the unsung heroes in the decorating field. For those of us who love our houses dearly, what better tribute to Home Sweet Home than a beautifully executed drawing of the space we burrow into and treasure every day and night of our lives.

Marshall Watson is a nationally recognized interior and furniture designer who lives and works in the Hamptons and New York City. Reach him at 105 West 72nd Street, Suite 9B, New York, NY 10023.