Triang house: further exterior details

First of all, apologies to those of you, my dear readers, who left comments on my previous post. For some reason, I haven't been able to reply, and you must think I am terribly rude. If I manage to figure our what's wrong, I will reply properly. Meanwhile, thank you for your support. This is the first time I am dealing with a valuable vintage item, and I want to be careful and respectful, but still restore as much as possible. There seem to be strong feelings against doing anything at all to vintage objects, but so far I haven't done anything irreversible.

There are still several exterior details in need of attention. One of the supports on a bay window is missing.

Beams around the newly installed window are missing, and in the same picture you can see that one of the garage door knobs is missing.

One problem is that most of my supplies are in storage, including a vast collection of old rusty nails. I don't think I have a nail exactly matching the existing one, but I may have two suitable nails. However, this will have to wait.

The front step is missing. Interestingly enough, I have found pictures on the web with and without the step. But you see clearly that something had been glued there. Also the little window left of the front door is broken.

I discovered a mysterious hole in the recess above the front door. You can clearly see traces of a washer.

I was puzzled, because you cannot see any such detail in frontal images, until I found a picture taken from this angle, and it was a hook. There is a hook inside the house to fasten the left-hand front. This hook would fasten the right-hand front. Now I understand why the right-hand front won't stay properly closed. I swear that I have recently seen a picture of a Triang hook for sale on the web and happily told myself that I didn't need it. Now I do, and I cannot find it. However, I have a hook like this in my stored-away supplies, so some time in the future I will put it in.

I am sure I will continue discovering small faults and finding ways to mend them. This even before I venture inside.

I started with the support (I am sure there is a more appropriate word for this architectural feature). Again, I don't have adequate materials at hand, so it may be a temporary solution. It is also next to impossible to match the colour. I had to repaint several times before it was somewhat similar. Luckily, it's not a hugely conspicuous feature. There must be a colour-matching software, but I have not achieved that level of sophistication yet. Maybe when I am renovating my fifteenth Triang I can try it. I have also read some advice on renovations, and one suggestion was using pastel chalk. I have my chalks in storage, like so many other stuff, and it feels unnecessary to buy more. But I might.

Next, I made a front step, which was easy. This time I didn't even try to match colour. I don't like the colour of the large step anyway, so may repaint both or make flagstones. From the images on the web, it's impossible to say what the "original" is. I will have to do more research. In some pictures I have so far found, the little window is to the right of the door, and in others, on the left, like mine. How come?

I then started to make the beams around the right-hand window, in the same technique I made the missing timbre-frame gable beams, but when I looked to check how exactly the beams were mitred, I discovered that they weren't. The whole surround was cut from a single piece of card!

Now, this both made things simpler and more complicated. To begin with, I cut a paper template, just like I did with the window.

Next, I cut a frame from card - as usual, recycling an old notebook. It was not as hard and time-consuming as cutting out the twelve lights in the window.

I then painted the frame, trying to match the colour as close as possible, which is close to impossible - no pun intended. However, this frame will not connect to any other detail of the same colour so unless you know, you won't notice. I put the frame under a pile of heavy books to dry flat.

As I removed the remnants of the original frame, I was not surprised to find that is was attached to the wall with nails, because the other frames were made in the same way. Beautiful, old rusty nails.

You can also see in this picture the original colour of the wall which suggests a) that the frame has been damaged for a long time, and b) that the whole house is dirty as compared to the original. Next question: shall I try to clean it carefully? Maybe not. These cleaner bits will be covered by the frame anyway.

I wonder whether there are courses for dollhouse conservation. There must be. Maybe I should go and speak to someone at the Museum of Childhood in London. So far I have found tons of good advice on the web. 

Anyway, here is the result:

 

What I should be able to do when I have my proper tools (you must be tired of me saying this!) is bend back the upper part of the green window surround. I believe it was damaged when the window was broken. But for the moment it will have to stay as it is.

Here is the outcome of exterior work so far. There is not much more I can do right now. Unless you know what I have done, you may not notice any difference, but I am extremely proud of my work.

Triang house: Window repair

As I said before, there are plenty of spares for Triang on ebay, and if authenticity were my priority it would be easy to find what I need. When I worked on Helen Hall, I had to buy spare windows and dormers because there was no way I could make them. I bought windows for my retro house because at that time, seven years ago, I had no confidence at all; today I would perhaps make tolerable window frames from card. So while I still have the option of buying an authentic Triang window, I first want to try and make one myself. I knew it would never be an exact copy because I don't have adequate materials, tools or skills. But at the moment, I just could not stand that gaping hole, as if a bomb had hit it.

 

This window is in the non-opening part of the house, which makes it quite difficult to maneuver, but on the other hand it does not really matter what it looks like inside. The frame is whole, with the tabs to hold the window as well as hinges. One day I may try to make hinged windows, but for now I will make a non-opening window. One advantage of this construction is that it is relatively easy to install and remove the window.

I started by making a paper template to see whether it would work at all.

 

I thought it would.

I then cut a frame from card. Being a recycler, I used the back of a conference notebook.

 

This is the time when a digital cutter might prove helpful. On the other hand it would deprive me of the satisfaction of precision and concentration that such work demands. You cannot think about student essays with a scalpel in your hand! I haven't timed it, but it took me about an hour.

I then painted it first metallic and then off-white acrylic that I immediately wiped off, just to take away the too metally effect of the first coat.

 

Then I glazed the window, and again, as I am a recycler, I don't use expensive acetate from craft shops, but a transparent binder cover that I save from student theses.

 

Last of all, I added curtains. There may be a way of getting original Triang fabric, but I am not there yet. I will use the same fabric for bedding and pretend it is totally intentional. Another option is of course finding a pattern online and printing it  out, either on paper or on plain fabric, but I will save it for later. A house doesn't have to have exactly the same curtains in every room!

 

Here is the result that I am really, really pleased with.






Go ahead and tell me that I am a barbarian ruining a cultural artifact.

There are several more exterior details that need attention. The timber-frame beams around the new window are missing - you can see remnants. I have added a far too shiny pushpin to the garage door. The original is a very plain, ordinary rusty nail, but right now I don't know where to get one like it. I may have to replace both. One support below the bay window is missing. It will be easy. I hope. I will need to match colour.

I am having fun, and I love this house dearly. Cannot wait to get inside! Come back soon.

Collection and renovation

I am not a collector. I have some valuable antique pieces that I paid a fortune for, but I use them in various projects alongside things that I have made or upcycled. Sometimes just one antique object in a room creates the whole atmosphere.

I am glad that I am not a collector, because I know myself well, and if I start collecting seriously, I will get stuck and spend all my money and have no peace of mind until I have collected whatever I am collecting. For instance, I have collected all House of Miniatures kits (except one that is very rare and therefore ridiculously expensive when it turns up on ebay; I have only seen it twice). I now have many duplicates, but I am no longer maniacal about having them all. Besides, if I were a collector, I would keep them in unopened sealed boxes. Instead, I build them and use them in my projects.

With my recent purchase, I am venturing into the dangerous path of collecting. A piece such as a Triang dollhouse is valuable - both in monetary sense and as a cultural artifact - because it is old and shabby and authentic.With many of my previous projects, I gave no thought to possible cultural value of my pieces because there wasn't any. I upcycled my Tudor house, adding both exterior and interior details, replacing a plain wooden fireplace with an intricate inglenook, and more. With my retro house, I saved it from ruins and felt free to do whatever I wanted with it. With Helen Hall, I turned a plastic horror into a lovely house that the former owner wanted back. And of course I have built Womble Hall from scratch, and although I aspire to be period-correct, I am not damaging anything old.

It will be different with Triang. It's tempting to paint it, replace worn-out wallpaper and flooring. But it would be profoundly wrong. I fell for it because it was old and authentic, and it would be a sacrilege to subject it to a makeover. But what about a gentle restoration? They do restore paintings and other objects in museums. They are going to rebuild Notre-Dame! So if my ambition is to restore the house to its original shape (rather than renovate it in a 21st-century style) then I believe it's justifiable. For instance, there are beams missing on the timber-framed gables. I only noticed it when I brought the house home and inspected it (might have been a negotiating point with the shop owner).

 

Now, a collector would probably say: the missing beams add to the authenticity and value of the item. But I am not a collector, and I want my house to look if not new, but well taken care of. It's easy to make timber-frame beams, although it took me some time to match the colour. One day when I am gone and my children get rid of the house, a collector would say: What kind of idiot replaced these beams! But until then, I will look at my house and feel happy.



There are more details to repair and replace, so come back soon.

The true story of a Triang house

 If you have followed my blog you know that I recently had to downsize from a large house to a small rented flat. All my dollhouses and most of my supplies are in storage until I find a new place to live. Until then, a new dollhouse is the last thing I need. And yet this is exactly what I have just purchased.

I was on a walking holiday in Penzance, Cornwall, and in the first afternoon my friend and I were strolling around in pouring rain, looking into antique shops. In one of them, I asked casually: "You don't seem to have any dollhouse stuff..." They said: "No, no stuff, but we have a dollhouse, with stuff". And then I saw it. And fell in love.

I cannot say that I have always wanted a Triang, but they are among my favourites in the Museum of Childhood, because they are both modern and traditional. Some time ago, knowing that I would be leaving the UK soon, I thought that I should consider buying dollhouse stuff that would be hard to get elsewhere. There is of course ebay and other online outlets, but shipping becomes prohibitive. Anyway, it was just a thought, and it wasn't specifically about Triang. Or maybe it was. But I don't think I would have bought a Triang on ebay, although there are plenty. It's different when you have the object of your desire right in front of you.

However, we had two days of walking, and nine hours of return train journey with two changes, so buying a dollhouse to transport from Penzance to Cambridge didn't seem a good idea at all. Yet all the time while I was climbing up and down Cornwall coast path, the Triang was calling to me. I knew it would haunt me until the end of my days. I had no idea what the shop would want for it, and it was total madness, just forget it.

That evening, I went to ebay on my phone and looked what Triangs were sold for. If my friend agreed to go back to that shop, I would inquire about the price, and if it was within reason, I would maybe, mind I said maybe, tentatively consider buying it. During our walk the next day, I said to my friend: "You know, I really want that dollhouse", to which she said, helpfully: "Then I think you should get it". She is not a dollhouse person, but she recognises a passion when she sees it. With two hours before our train home, we went to the shop, and I asked the price, and, satisfied, I asked whether they would be able to pack it so that I could take it on the train. (Yes, I did ask about delivery, but it would probably cost twice the price of the house).

I am sure this kind person will remember me forever. My friend and I went to local Tesco and brought back several cardboard boxes. They weren't large enough, but we cut them and fixed them together with tape, and more tape, and much, much more tape. It wasn't heavy, but bulky. The outdoor equipment store might have luggage wheels, but apparently such a thing isn't in demand any longer, because everyone has wheelie bags. I also thought about a large canvass bag or something, and then the antique dealer said they knew a shop nearby that sold everything, and called and inquired, and yes, they had superlarge laundry bags for two pounds, and we measured the now packed dollhouse, and my friend was an angel and ran to that shop, because our train was leaving soon, and we still had our luggage to collect from our hotel. Luckily, Penzance is not a very large town.

(As a side comment, I have seen people carrying these plastic chequered laundry bags and always tell myself that I would rather die than be seen carrying one). 

We got on the train, and the huge laundry bag fit into the luggage shelf, and then we ran across Paddington station to the underground, and from underground to King's Cross to catch the last train to Cambridge, me carrying this enormous bag and thinking what an utterly crazy thing I had just done, and why didn't my friend stop me. Because if she had said, as she should have, "Don't be silly, you cannot take this dollhouse on the train", I would have agreed. Moreover, I have no space for it in my flat. Although of course I will find space.

Isn't it a beauty?

I did some quick research online, so I now know that it is Triang #62, manufactured in the 1950s. If I had grown up in the UK I would probably have owned one like it. According to the antique dealer, it had only had one owner who will now be my age, if not dead (likely, and her children got rid of it together with other old rubbish from mum's attic). 

It needs some repairs: one window missing, another broken; gable beams missing, and many other small things I discovered on closer inspection. In the coming weeks, or more likely months I will be learning about Triang and about restoring old dollhouses in a gentle way that preserves the original as much as possible. Some furniture came with it, but not all to my liking. I have some perfect objects in storage when I one day can take it back. 

So watch this space - I will report from thoughtful and responsible restoration work and share my new knowledge about this exciting piece. A whole new world is opening in front of me. 

Milk canister

I have made milk containers and canisters before, mostly using hotel-size shampoo bottles or eye-drop dispensers, like this one:

 

This time I wanted to do it a bit differently. I still used a plastic eye-drop bottle - I have endless supplies of these.

 

Don't throw away the cap - they make perfect lamp shades. But cut off the nozzle.

 

Acrylic paint doesn't work on plastic so I used enamel. It's messy, it smells and takes ages to dry. I use florist foam to let painted items dry on a stick.

 

For handles, I used heavy staples that come with wine crates. Or shall I say, used to come, as wine merchants don't give away or sell their wine crates any more. But I have a stash of these staples; they come handy for various things. It is easy to make holes in a plastic bottle.

 

Since my canister will be permanently sealed, I didn't bother cutting the staples to measure, they are simply inside the bottle.

For lid I used one of the many metal caps I once got from a miniaturist friend - I think they are for making fabric-covered buttons.

This was a quick project, apart from drying time.