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1) Frances Binnington in her studio, alongside her verre églomisé panel
depicting fish; 2) detail from a panel depicting flora and fauna |
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Frances Binnington is represented
by the Bradford Campbell Gallery, San Francisco: (415) 677-0870.
For information, contact the artist at (415) 566-0862 or on the
Web: www.gilding.net.
Zahid Sardar is the architecture and design
editor of the Chronicle Magazine and the
author of "San Francisco Modern,"
Chronicle Books.
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 Verre
églomisé, gold-leafed reverse glass paintings
on vessels that date back to Roman times, may be one of art history’s
footnotes, but not for London-born Frances Binnington. These days,
in her upper Haight Street studio, this self-taught gilder and restorer
works gold leaf onto glass tabletops, wall panels and screens as passionately
as any medieval guildsman in Europe.
"I
am possessed by it," she says. Her latest effort, six 6-by-2-foot
panels inspired by Chinoiserie, Art Deco and even Abstract Expressionism,
will be exhibited at the Decorex home furnishings show in New York
this April.
Of
Viennese descent, Binnington is well aware of the historical precedents
frequently echoed in her designs. "The best pieces came from
late 15th century through early 18th century European workshops," she
says. Particularly splendid examples were made in Roman Augsburg
(now modern-day Germany), the very seat of verre églomisé’s popularity
during medieval times.
The
labor-intensive nature of the craft has caused verre églomisé to
go in and out of fashion over the centuries. In the West, it was
last in vogue during the 1930s, a showy compliment to Art Deco interiors.
While
Binnington improvises her designs to suit contemporary taste, her
techniques remain traditional, similar to those described by Cennino
d’Andrea Cennini in his Craftsman’s Handbook from the
1400s.
The
delicate craft (which gets its moniker from an 18th century French
art dealer, Jean-Baptiste Glomy, who favored mirrored frames) called
from painstakingly etching designs on gold or silver leaf over glass
and then adding layers of opaque colors to create varied three-dimensional
effects. The background colors always came last. The finished "Glomy-ised" designs,
turned over to be viewed from the unpainted side, gleamed like mirrors.
Their appeal lay in the iridescent reflections on the leafed glass.
Because
the designs were rendered in reverse, particular care had to be taken
with lettering, because such mistakes were difficult if not impossible
to correct: for the verre églomisé craftsman
it meant thrashing a one-of-a-kind piece of art.
Binnington’s
fascination began 20 years ago, with a few pieces that came for restoration
to her London atelier where she worked before moving to the Bay Area
10 years ago. The glass panels she examined and learned from were
inlaid into antique furniture or used as tabernacle panels.
"I learned by looking and doing," says Binnington, who had
studied graphic design and painting, but not gilding and painting glass.
In fact there were few, if any, formal venues for studying the craft
after the 19th century, when mass-produced, somewhat kitschy versions
that used paper images sandwiched between glass proliferated.
"Color
lithography made it easy to fake such work," says Binnington,
and artists abandoned the original techniques, which saw their first
glimmer as far back as the third century B.C. Of the huge quantities
that were produced over the centuries in Europe, the Middle East,
China, India and Africa, little remains intact. "But enough
survives to tantalize us,"
says Binnington.
Among
the earliest examples is the Canosa bowl from pre-Christian Italy,
displayed in the British Museum. Surviving goblets from Bohemia,
panels from Romania, Italy and Spain continue to attract Binnington.
Gothic examples, especially from Saint Chapelle church in Paris,
are the best architectural embellishments Binnington has seen. But
the Queen Anne-style panels she first restored were the most inspiring.
Queen Anne’s England during the 1700s was definitely one of
the most prolific periods for engravers and guilders.
With
her foray into the world of verre églomisé,
Binnington progressed from being a mere gilder of wooden objects
and antiques, and became an accomplished convert to the craft. She
was soon working for the likes of the Al Fayeds of London, the Sultan
of Brunei, designer Bunny Williams in New York and in San Francisco,
for interior designers such as Paul Wiseman and Ann Getty. For Getty,
she completed a suite of Chinese wall panels that are best viewed
by candlelight. The light gets reflected by the gold and silver leaf
and ricochets, making her dining room magical," says Binnington.
"People
don’t always realize what they’re looking at," confessed
Binnington, adding "I am trying to make people understand this
very special craft." Occasionally, she conducts classes at UC
Berkeley Extension in San Francisco or tutors students privately.
Recently she has been named editor of the quarterly newsletter of
the Society of Gilders, which may prove to be a valuable podium for
spreading her gospel. One sample by Binnington will be included in
the Corning Museum of Glass review of contemporary glass, adding
heft to her mission.
"I
like to say verre églomisé is like
wallpaper." Mundane as that sounds, that is how Binnington treats
it, fashioning glass panels to fit specific walls and then gluing
them on. But that’s where the comparison ends. The rich colors
and gold are not only enhanced but protected by the glass. Unlike
wall paintings or paper prints behind glass, these images glow uniquely
with the colors bonded directly to the glass. "You had to get
rid of all the air…the color is bonded but not fired onto the
glass, giving it a different dimension," she says.
"But
you have to know your technique because when you build too many layers,
they can flake off," she warns. The sign writer’s paint
she prefers has less oil in the mix and dries well. Sometimes Binnington
will also use special glazes and shellac to isolate each coat. A
final coat of marine varnish protects the paint before it is glued
to walls or furniture. Trim molding further secures her glass panels,
which can be as thin as an inch.
Binnington
has worked on 5-by-5-foot panels (destined for John Lennon’s
home in Palm Beach) but not much bigger because there’s a built-in
limitation.
"It goes by what I can lift!" she says. The panels that will
be shown at Decorex are among the tallest she has done. "For small
panels I use recycled window glass as much as I can, because it has
ripples and it is rolled rather than floated," says Binnington.
New glass is "dead flat" and lacks the rippling surface of
rolled glass, but it has uses when larger panels are required.
Regardless
of the size, a single panel can take several weeks to complete, because
each layer of paint has to dry thoroughly. That time alone might
account for the price tag: about $2,800 for her new unframed panels,
depending on the complexity of the design.
In
one panel Binnington is particularly fond of, she uses god leaf bits
floated through a sieve onto wetted glass to create a speckly underwater
effect. The result is reminiscent of Japanese silk paintings speckled
with gold "plankton": gold- and silver-leaf fish shimmer
and disappear over the darkened background.
"That is the beauty of painting on glass," says Binnington. "They
offer a unique sensation. You see things from one angle you can’t
see from another."
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