Friday, September 6, 2013

Apropos a po


Despite telling everyone we know that after thirty-four years together we neither needed nor wanted anything, we received two wedding gifts  – one a beautiful old piece of Meissen from my old prof and, only last week, a colourful and gilded, if disconcerting, chamberpot. "WTF," said the Celt, when he saw it for the first time. Mild-mannered as he normally is, seeing a chamberpot, or po as we both knew such an item, on the dining table threw him, I think. 

There was a time when bathrooms moved inside and chamberpots, in theory, were no longer necessary and as late as the 1960s they flooded antiques stores in Britain (I remember Portobello Road, so many chamberpots on display, it looked as if the market had prepared itself for an epidemic of dysentery) and it was thought amusing to deal with them as cachepots and display them in a daring, if whimsical, way and, frequently atop an art nouveau-ish pedestal. The spider plant, looking for all like a big splash, was the favorite. Never got it, myself, but each to his own. 


However strongly I theorized about an aesthetic tension between a mid-nineteenth-century utilitarian object and an early twentieth-century iconic modernist table it was a friend's fixed grin that convinced me it did not look good on the coffee table. Unimaginable as it is to use it for the dining table or even as a vessel for nibbles at a cocktail party, and the idea of using it as a plant pot is just too waggish, we are faced with what to do with a gorgeously decorative po. Thus, as we wait for inspiration to strike, it sits in the office, bracketed by pairs of red sandstone carpet weights, high on a shelf, the whole ensemble looking like some forgotten souvenir of the Raj. 


Remembering as I do the freezing bathroom of my childhood – in winter the windows had ice on the inside – I cannot, nowadays, bear an uncomfortable bathroom. I don't need carpet, though a good thick toweling bathmat is welcome if the floor is unheated – that 1980s decorette mode of creating a "country house" bathroom to look like a conversion from a bedroom or library was not and still is not to my taste.

Having gotten used to Italian hotel bathrooms, marvels of compression and utility that they are, they have given me a taste for the luxurious finish – marble-clad bathtubs, vanities and shower stalls, mosaic paneled walls, heated towel rails and flattering-to-early-morning-skin paint colors.


It's not easy to think of bathrooms as being timeless yet the functions are quite clearly defined and unless there is drastic change in human physiology those functions of elimination and cleanup will remain as they always have been. A third function, essential of course, is to provide lighting sufficient to the task of performing the necessaries efficiently. Anything else ascribed to the space, be it as a retreat or spa, is just fluff designed to appeal to the aspirational and envious amongst us – as pleasant as it might be to have warmed floors and towels, the costliest of marbles and glass, and every scented candle known to mankind.

 
The first bathroom is by William Sofield, photographed by Fritz von der Schulenberg and taken from Mr Schulenberg's excellent book Luxurious Minimalism, and is the definition of aspirational from my point of view, that is.

The second is by Tino Zervudachi from his book Tino Zervudachi: A Portfolio – another excellent book that I frequently dip into. Having been raised without a shower and only a tub, I feel if I ever see a bathtub again it'll be too soon, still I love this bathroom – despite the wc and bidet being by the window. Below the window, by the window or across from the window doesn't matter but when it's in full view of the neighbors be they human or flying squirrels, I demur. 

11 comments:

  1. Well, I must say, that is the most beautiful po I've ever seen.

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    1. donna baker, thank you. It is quite splendid – just goes to show how much talent and time used to be lavished on quite utilitarian objects.

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  2. I agree with you about the requirements for a modern day bathroom, but the one that seems to get overlooked, (in my recent experience) is that of good lighting, and good lighting above the mirror in front of which I am going to shave, (not having the need to apply make-up, but I imagine that too applies to those who require it). This is especially so now that I need glasses to perform any task within my immediate range. I think there is some mad requirement by law in UK to have a reduced wattage in bathrooms, (something to do with fire and safety), but that be damned in favour of scrape and safety. Here I have dazzling halogens in exactly the right place, so that I do not emerge scarred and bloodied.

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    1. columnist, thank you. I began about lighting but for some reason (I know not what, now) I took it out. My eyes have gone the other way from needing reading glasses to rarely doing so, but needing distance glasses for driving. As to lighting in the bathroom – as they say around here, "light that sucker up". Good, clear and strong lighting in a bathroom is necessary. The other place, of course, is the kitchen and I have just had all the damned expensive dimmers taken out - who needs romantic lighting when slicing meat, be it a steak or one's cheek, is the the task at hand?

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  3. At first I didn't really believe my mom's polite stories about chamberpots. But we always had one and it always come out when someone was sick in bed. As I think about it now, it was a strong link to how she grew up, a practical convenience compared with the alternative.

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    1. Terry, thank you. Chamberpots definitely were a practical convenience in past times especially if the privy was at the end of the yard and it was twenty below freezing.

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  4. The po is absolutely gorgeous, but it is hard to get past what it IS. Somehow I feel it can go in the bathroom for some sort of purpose, but yes--removing it from the coffee table was a wise choice.

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    1. Juliane at Modern Mural, thank you.

      It is hard to get past what it is and, therefore, cannot be utilized for any other purpose other than what it was intended to be used for.

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  5. This reminds me of a story that I once heard many years ago. A French Marquis returned to the family chateau many years after all the revolutionary unpleasantness subsided, to reclaim it. Upon his arrival, he found that most of its contents were gone, and an old peasant living in one of the rooms. When the inhabitant realized who had returned, he insisted on making him a celebratory meal, the centerpiece of which was a stew served in a lovely chamber pot, or po, that had escaped the sacking of the chauteau's contents. The Marquis and his entourage were charmed. Reggie

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  6. Many night stands have a opening in them, and many people fill them with books, but they are really meant to hold a chmberpot. It would look great there. Ted Tarrant

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