quotes), and text from the bulletin board discussing the optical and psychological effects of color and pattern as well
Eastern Illinois University From the SelectedWorks of Ellen Corrigan
2013
Wallpaper Mania Ellen Corrigan
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons CC_BY-NC-SA International License.
Available at: https://works.bepress.com/ellen_corrigan/15/
Exhibit curated by Ellen K. Corrigan
in support of The Literature of Prescription: Charlotte Perkins Gilman and “The Yellow Wall-Paper" traveling exhibition installation at Booth Library, Eastern Illinois University on display 23 September-2 November 2013
This document includes the caption text from the exhibit cases featuring reproductions of late 19thcentury wallpapers, selected based on the description of the wallpaper in Gilman’s story (with excerpted quotes), and text from the bulletin board discussing the optical and psychological effects of color and pattern as well as social and health aspects of wallpaper in the nineteenth century. Reformatted from original presentation.
On the heels of the Industrial Revolution came the Great Exhibition of 1851, a celebration of the latest developments in manufacturing from around the world. Wallpapers were among the wares on exhibit, displaying the technical achievements made possible by mechanization. Design had been neglected, however, and critics decried the items as excessively tasteless, objecting to everything from subject matter (realistic pictorial scenes) to form and style (a poorly-executed miscellany of historical ornament). The outrage led to a mid-century reform that added a moral dimension to design: Wall decoration should use simple, preferably nonrepresentational, two-dimensional pattern so as to be honest to the flat surface it adorns. Out of design reform two overlapping yet ideologically distinct art movements developed. Arts and Crafts carried on the moral element of reform by remaining simplified and relatively stylized, though more naturalistic. The movement was marked by an anti-industrialization return to craftsmanship, using traditional hand block printing methods and vegetable-based dyes to emphasize the quality of the materials used. With “art for art’s sake” as its motto, Aestheticism viewed the arts as independent of morality, didacticism, and utilitarianism, exalting beauty above all else. The Aesthetic style was characterized by more sensuous, highly decorative sensibilities, finding particular inspiration in Japanese art. As described in the story, the “yellow wallpaper” is a hybridization of styles and motifs too complex to be embodied in any single wallpaper. As it is unknown how long the wallpaper has been in place, it is possible that the narrator is describing an example of early Victorian “bad” design. Indeed the wallpaper defies the principles set forth by design reformer Owen Jones in The Grammar of Ornament (1856). Of the art movements contemporary with the writing and publication of Gilman’s story, the wallpaper most closely resembles the Aesthetic style—in its color, ornateness, and unfamiliar design principle—rather than Arts and Crafts or the emerging Art Nouveau.
(At left) Walter Crane’s frontispiece illustration for The House Beautiful (1877) depicts a middle-class domestic interior decorated in the Aesthetic style. Note the yellow wallpaper.
Scroll, William Morris, 1872 Branch, William Morris, 1871 Sleeping Beauty, Walter Crane, 1879 Briar Rose, Walter Crane, 1880 Jasmine, William Morris, 1872 The flat frontal perspective in the “Scroll” and “Jasmine” designs abides by the reform principle of conforming to the wall surface. At the same time, the inclusion of an underlying pattern of subtly-colored foliage gives the wallpapers an illusion of shallow depth. In “Scroll” the layers of pattern remain separate; a wallpaper with only the background “Branch” design had previously been issued separately. “Jasmine” is slightly more sophisticated: The loose meandering jasmine stems simulate not merely natural, but untamed growth, daring to suggest three-dimensional form by interweaving among the hawthorn branches. Late 19th-century wallpapers were rarely figural, with the exception of those papers produced specifically for use in nurseries. Often cited as the first designer of nursery papers, Walter Crane based his wallpaper patterns on his illustrations for children’s books. “Sleeping Beauty” features the pronounced use of yellow and intricate forms characteristic of Aestheticism. Crane reworked the background design without figures, issued a year later as “Briar Rose.”
… a smouldering unclean yellow … a dull yet lurid orange … a
sickly sulphur tint … One of those sprawling
flamboyant patterns…
... a kind of sub-pattern
in a different shade …
Untitled, R. Hamilton, c.1891-1900 Acanthus, William Morris, 1875 Iolanthe, C.F.A. Voysey, 1897 The acanthus leaf has been an enduring motif in art since its original use in classical Greek architecture. Although Renaissance verdure tapestries inspired Morris’s later venture into the weaving medium, the acanthus forms in his wallpaper design appear to draw on direct observation of nature rather than historical sources. Stylized by the heavy use of line and set against a flat background of tiny calligraphic detail, the curving form of the leaves adds dimension to the design as well as conveying a sense of majestic, wavelike motion. The naturalism is enhanced by the use of fifteen subtly different colors in printing. A large-scale pattern such as “Acanthus” would seem to overwhelm a smaller room, but Morris himself made the point that “if properly designed they are more restful to the eye than small ones: on the whole, a pattern where the structure is large and the details much broken up is the most useful.” The wallpapers designed by Hamilton and Voysey also feature large-scale acanthus patterns. Hamilton’s design provides three-dimensionality by superimposing layers of pattern, but the graceful flow of floral and foliate forms is more suggestive of gentle growth than dynamic vitality. Voysey’s acanthus is pure ornament; the asymmetrical composition and flatness of color show the influence of Japonisme. The two-dimensional nature of the design causes the acanthus form to appear static, also contributing to difficulty in figure-ground perception.
... lame uncertain curves … plunge off at
outrageous angles … ... bloated curves and flourishes …
... that undulating wallpaper …
Bruges, William Morris, 1888 Arcadia, May Morris, 1886 Indian, George Gilbert Scott, 1868 “Indian” is a third-generation pattern, adapted from an 18th-century wallpaper based on an indienne chintz. This portion of the design isolates the dominant motif, a palmette atop a vertical yet impossibly serpentine axis. The stiff appearance of the heavily stylized, formalized shapes is contradicted by the curving, slowly undulating lines. A discreet diagonal meander in “Arcadia” softens the verticality of the attenuated columns of foliage and sends a ripple of organic motion through the design. The twisting, interlacing vines appear to sway breezily in unison, barely brushing as they climb. Amid the tangle, tendrils and offshoots reach forth, and small flowers on delicate scrolls fill the space between. Although the pattern is distinctly punctuated by a rhythmic repeat, the vegetal forms seem to interconnect endlessly. While this narrow breadth of the “Bruges” wallpaper does not fully capture the emphatically oblique structure of the large scale pattern, it offers a glimpse of the plant life attempting to head in every direction.
... wallowing seaweeds … Up and down and
sideways they crawl …
… waddling up and down in isolated columns of fatuity.
… they connect diagonally …
Untitled, Henry H. Mott, c.1880-1890? Untitled, Jeffrey and Co., c.1880/90-1900 the Fulford, Arthur Sanderson and Sons, late
19th century
The term “arabesque” can be a source of confusion: In European art it refers to a decorative motif in which, at its most basic, two spiral-scroll acanthus leaves face inward, forming a symmetrical heart-shaped composition. The motif in Islamic art similarly derives from scrolling foliate decoration, but the plant forms are significantly more stylized, overlapping and interlacing in a complex pattern. (See the “Arab Vine” wallpaper by Lewis Foreman Day; near left, top.) “Grotesque” is another ambiguous term: Based on Roman decoration discovered in a grotto-like setting, this elaborate decorative arrangement is composed of arabesques, human and animal figures, interwoven with foliate ornament; additional elements such as fruit, festoons, masks, and fantastic creatures may also be included (as seen in Walter Crane’s “Peacocks and Amorini”; near left, bottom). The word was later applied to the drolleries in the margins of medieval illuminated manuscripts, and became an adjective used to describe bizarre, distorted forms. Absent any explicit mention of these additional features, the narrator is likely referring to the European arabesque and to the “grotesque” “faces” in the scrollwork of what domestic advice author Mrs. Haweis calls “Raphael ornament” (illustration from her 1881 treatise The Art of Decoration, far left.) The wallpapers on display illustrate three different interpretations of the arabesque form: full and naturalistic in Mott’s design; baroquely ornate in the Jeffrey version of the motif; lush, lithe, and dramatically flared in the art nouveau “Fulford.”
… a florid arabesque,
reminding one of a fungus ...
… interminable grotesques … … a kind of “debased
Romanesque” with
delirium tremens …
Cactus, Lewis Foreman Day, 1892 Artichoke, Walter Crane, 1895 Though quite dissimilar in stylistic execution, these two wallpaper designs are filled with delirious swirls of pattern. “Cactus” is part of Day’s series of low-price wallpapers (less expensive to produce designs printed in only one color). The single unvaried shade of yellow, the stylized forms, the use of line and color to create pattern within pattern, and the asymmetrical allover composition meld into one big dizzying optical effect. “Artichoke” is the result of Jeffrey and Co., the wallpaper manufacturer for which Crane worked on commission, requesting that the artist reduce the scale and number of colors used in his designs. In terms of the printing process the design may be simplified, but this energetic pattern gives an initial impression of uncontrolled chaos. As the active forms lead the eye to dart around, the details printed in the secondary color—the thistle flower, the striated hatching on the leaves, and the fill pattern of scrolls—appear to warp and vibrate. An elongated acanthus leaf grows into a neverending exaggerated S-scroll wending its way through the flowers. Until the large repeat is detected, visual confusion reigns.
All those strangled heads and bulbous eyes and
waddling fungus growths …
... toadstools, budding and sprouting in endless convolutions …
… great slanting waves of optic horror …
... always new shoots on the fungus, and new shades of yellow ... I cannot keep count...
“Whatever you have in your rooms think first of the walls for they are that which makes your house and home.” –William Morris
The Victorian-era obsession with wallpaper began with the mechanization of papermaking and printing processes during the first half of the 19th century. The resulting mass-production and affordability of wallpaper transformed what had been a status symbol into a standard wall finish in most households. Production increased from 2 million rolls in 1840 to 100 million in 1890. The wallpaper craze reached its peak in the 1870s and 1880s with the tripartite wall--three horizontal divisions, each with its own pattern.
r The walls set the mood for each room in the house. Regardless of their treatment--although papering was the most popular choice--color was the most important consideration. Designers followed the theories advanced by chemist Michel-Eugène Chevreul earlier in the century, especially that of color harmony, in striving to achieve the optimal use of colors to produce visually pleasing designs. Newly-introduced synthetic dyes expanded the range of available colors, producing intense, sometimes lurid hues. The Arts & Crafts and Aesthetic movements favored palettes composed of relatively muddied shades and muted tones, chiefly among greens, blues, and browns, though the Aesthetes also showed a fondness for yellows.
r Although there is little consensus on the exact psychological and physiological effects, for centuries color has been believed to affect mood and behavior. Even more than the basic hue, saturation and tint affect the visual perception of and psychological reception to color. Early color theorist Goethe found yellow warm and comfortable as well as alerting, assigning it the symbolism of "good” on his color wheel. Despite its primary associations with sunshine and cheerfulness, studies have consistently found is that yellow is the least preferred color on the spectrum. As the most light-reflective color, yellow is the most attention-getting. As a "warm" color it is stimulating... in small doses. The brightness of the pure hue irritates the eye and thus the mood through overexposure. Its use was recommended for small areas deprived of natural light, and lighter shades were approved for spaces intended for repose such as drawing rooms and bedrooms.
r Pattern can cause a variety of optical illusionary effects, to which both color and lighting may contribute. Following the lead of mid-century design reformer Owen Jones, Morris and others employed geometric structures to give order to the patterns in their wallpaper designs, although the repeat was sometimes disguised. In the domestic advice manuals that proliferated after 1870, authors expressed concern for invalids for whom rest was prescribed, repeatedly advising against strong patterns: • “avoid any outré forms which the eye … could torture into the form or face of demon or grotesque horror” (Beeton, 1865) • “no broad blank spaces to fatigue the mind or exercise it to devise possible additions, nor patterns which teaze the eye to count and follow their impertinent gyrations” (Haweis, 1881) • “distinct and strongly-marked patterns in which the ornament stands out and repeats itself in endless multiplication and monotony … would be a source of infinite torture and annoyance in times of sickness and sleeplessness, would materially add to our discomfort and nervous irritability, and after a time have a ghastly and nightmare effect upon the brain” (Edis, 1883)
Wallpapers might have appeared discolored for a number of reasons: accumulated dirt and dust; gaseous emissions such as those from gaslight; yellowing varnish used in an attempt to preserve pigment. Wood-pulp was first used as a base in the 1850s and became standard for commercial papers by the 1880s—not only could acids from the papermaking process lead to discoloring, but the paper itself turned brown and brittle with age, leading to peeling and flaking. Although aniline dyes manufactured from coal tar introduced new brilliant colors and increased color accuracy, they tended to fade or bleed. Of greater concern, however, was their toxic content. 80% of late-19th century wallpapers were produced using these arsenical pigments, and a 500 sq. ft. room could contain a lethal amount, up to 240,000 times the medicinal dose. Arsenic-laced dust could be ingested when pigment loosened, inhaled as vapor when putrefying wallpaper paste decomposed under damp conditions, or absorbed through the skin. Although only so much can be inferred from the story, the nonspecific physical symptoms suffered by the narrator-loss of appetite, fatigue, insomnia, confused thinking, dizziness--do not seem to indicate arsenic poisoning. It is possible that she was exposed to another toxin by another means, perhaps in the tonics she consumed as part of her treatment. For example, digitalis was more widely used during the 19th century to treat a variety of ailments, and one side effect of digoxin poisoning is xanthopsia, or "yellow vision." But even at that time the contents of herbal remedies were kept secret in order to enhance their mystique.
r During the 19th century dedicated areas of the house were set aside to accommodate children and their caregivers. Nurseries were to be light, airy, cheerfully attractive spaces with washable surfaces. Wallpaper, if used, should be more instructive than entertaining, illustrated with didactic narrative scenes from nursery rhymes or literature. These rooms were typically located on the top floor, isolated from the main activity of the household. In combination with the wallpaper, the rest cure treatment, and the narrator's preexisting emotional state, confinement in the nursery goes beyond contributing to a psychotic break. Helpless to control her situation, the environment in effect infantilizes the narrator, leaving her crawling around the floor at the end of the story.
r More than making a space look pretty, interior decoration has the psychological aspect of self-expression. Moreover, it was viewed as a reflection of the personal character of the woman of the house, who was responsible for making proper decorating choices to ensure the comfort and moral education of her family. This furnishes another reason for the narrator to have fixated on the wallpaper, aside from being confined within the same four walls for months: The yellow wallpaper would have reinforced her feelings of failure at performing her domestic duties, as the color and pattern are clearly inappropriate for either of the room’s intended uses or inhabitants, convalescents or children. Changing wallpapers--even in a rented house, which was not uncommon at the time--was easy and inexpensive, and also frequently necessary due to their cheap manufacturing. In her restricted circumstances, the narrator is unable to correct the offense despite her wish to do so. The wallpaper had its own failings on two counts, comfort and cleanliness. The narrator acknowledges the undesirable effects of lighting, observing changes in the wallpaper's appearance between day and night, which hinder her ability to rest and recover. The story also offers solid evidence that wallpaper was produced using synthetic dye: The narrator describes the color change and fading on the walls and the smudging of dye on her clothing, as well as an intensified odor during damp weather. Interestingly enough, by tearing down the wallpaper, the narrator is actually in keeping with decorating trends: By the end of the 19th century, the mania for wallpaper was dwindling due to health concerns as well as boredom with being constantly surrounded by so much pattern, and bare white walls were coming back into fashion.
