Triang house: Inspecting the furniture

When I bought the Triang, I hadn't even looked properly at what came with it. The imaginary former owner Lily didn't have much choice of furniture. I suspect that what I found inside was exactly what Lily had to play with, and it was an array of styles and manufacturers.

This is a Kleeware set. I don't like it because of its shiny plastic look.

 

I once repainted a plastic sofa, and thinking back I hope it wasn't a valuable vintage piece (it is in storage so I cannot check). These are undeniably valuable vintage pieces, but I don't think I will ever use them in any project. They are also slightly larger than the rest, so as you see, if I put them in the room, there is almost no space for anything else. I have a lovely Barton three-piece which will fit in nicely.

Most of the other furniture is Barton. I am not tremendously fond of Barton or early Lundby, because they are crude and clumsy, made of far too thick wood, and the finish is not nice. But they are period-correct for 1950s so I will keep them and add details that will make them look prettier. I need to remind myself that both the house and the furniture were once playthings, not collectibles.

Some of the furniture was broken, and I repaired it carefully.

 

The sideboard was easy to mend, although it is still a bit lopsided. I will not repair it further. The dollhouse family probably got their possessions second-hand in the years just after the war. Or it simply got worn out, and the family cannot afford a new one. (The family, I imagine, is the father, a war veteran who makes a living at a toy factory, former ammunition factory; the mother who drove ambulance during the war and is now a homemaker, and two children, a boy and a girl. Oh no, bother, there is no space in the house for children's bedroom).

I don't know yet where the sideboard will be. If I decide to have a dining room, that would be the obvious place. I can make a mirror or a period-correct painting to hang above and put various ornaments on it. See how cleverly I have covered the damaged floor!

The table and chairs are the way the are - valuable cultural artifacts. I have many suitable plastic plates and cups, as well as food. The tall-case clock has no face, but it's easy to glue on. I have upcycled many wooden clocks; perhaps I shouldn't have, but they are not very rare.

There was one drawer missing in the dressing table.

Once again, I haven't got all my supplies so I couldn't make a nice drawer, but at least there is no gaping hole. I will make a better one in due time. Guardians of cultural value probably say I shouldn't. But I am not gluing it in so it's easy to remove.

The dressing table is accompanied by a wardrobe, which has no defects at all. I will make hangers to put on the rack and maybe some shoe boxes and hat boxes. The rug hides the damaged floor, but it is wrong scale, so I will make a better one. I will also make a little bench or stool to put in front of the dressing table. Or maybe I have one somewhere.

The bed had no bedding - I suppose it was lost sometime in the past fifty years.

I made the mattress from a sponge cloth and sheets from fabrics I had at hand. I also made three pillows.

The bed will be in the alcove, only partially visible unless you look closely inside.

The mysterious object by the bed is an electric heater. I had never seen one like this, neither in real life nor in a dollhouse, but a friend who grew up in the UK in the '50s recognised it immediately and said that they were enormous hazard.

I will put some period-correct pictures and photos on the wall, make a bedside lamp, and there is space by the window, for instance, for a sewing table and a chair. They won't be visible at all. In that corner, I will also put an electric tea light. It will create a fantastic effect through the window.

The drawing room, minus two of the three plastic monsters, has a fireplace, a book shelf and a radiogram.

The fireplace had been broken and mended, and at the moment I haven't got supplies to mend it properly, with a filler to cover the cracks.

What Lily's adults didn't bother about and Lily probably didn't notice is that a fireplace needs a back, as a minimum. Ideally, a fireplace needs a chimney breast, and I have seen one in older Triang models, but I won't make one for this room. However, you definitely cannot see the wallpaper through the fireplace, so the first thing I did was glue a piece of black card to the back. I will add some glitter to make the fire more realistic. The fireplace is too small to insert a flickering tealight, as I did in my Victorian house. But I will make a fireguard.

The book shelf is straightforward, although it's tempting to glue on a variety of spines - that would certainly be sacrilege. But I had some books from a different project that are just the right scale. The book shelf neatly conceals the damaged floor.

 

The cuckoo clock is modern, but I think it fits, at least for the time being. The rug is from another project and wrong scale, but the cats are right scale - in my large dollhouse, I pretended they were kittens.

Now, I didn't even know what a radiogram was, but my friend assured me that her family had one exactly like this in the '50s. It was broken, and so far I only added a turntable with a vinyl disc. It is supposed to have a lid, and I will make one in due time.

 

This brings me to the kitchen, which usually is the most interesting feature in a dollhouse. The appliances that came with the house were tin Brimtoy. This is a new brand for me - I have never seen them before.

Both are in poor condition. The sink bowl is missing, and both are bent and falling apart, held together with a fifty-year-old tape. They are part of a set, and other pieces are available on ebay, but I am not sure I am keeping these. I have a lovely Kleeware kitchen set with table and chairs, sink, hob, washing machine and zillions of small stuff so they will all fit in very well. I have another Barton fridge - I bought this one recently at a car boot sale for 30p. It is full of food.

Two details to draw your attention to. I have made huge progress cleaning the floor. When I took the picture it was still wet so hopefully when it dries you almost won't see the marks. I will then use the technique I have read about: chalk pastels - to smooth it over. I am still not sure that a kitchen would have parquet floors, but at least I have more or less restored it to the original state.

The second element is the stair carpet. It is only attached with white tack, and if I decide to keep it I will use glue stick that is easy to remove. The pattern is from the web, and I resized it, replicated, printed out and glued onto a long strip of paper. It's a bit too glossy coming from a laser printer, but I think it looks good. It is not sacrilege because I have seen Triang interiors with stair carpets. If I keep it, I will add carpet rods.

What about the bathroom, you might ask. I will have to choose between a bathroom and a dining room. I could have the dining room table and chairs in the drawing room. Poor maid will have to carry food upstairs. And the room will be crammed. Maybe they were in the 1950s.

I have a lovely Barton bathroom set, much better than this. The toilet seat is missing, and there is no matching sink.

I am still not sure that a bathroom should have wallpaper and parquet floor. I have just seen a picture of Triang 64 on the web with white floor tiles in the bathroom. I need to do more research.

There were also two small plastic bathtubs. Perhaps Lily had twin baby dolls.

I have not shown the garage at all. Here it is.

The brick floor is water-damaged. I have brick paper that I could use to replace, but in a garage it doesn't really bother me. It's spilled oil. The walls are bare. Well, maybe that's appropriate. I don't have a car for this garage and don't want to buy one. So the garage will be used as a shed. These are just some things I happen to have around.They are not right scale.

Anyway, a lot to do and not much I can do now because I need my other furniture to decide exactly which rooms will be used it what way (although except for the bathroom/dining room I think it's pretty clear). Not least, I need to decide what to do with floors and wallpaper, which is a big decision, so I think I will put this project aside for a while and focus on something else. But I will be back soon, I promise!

Triang house: let's step inside!

There was some furniture that came with the Triang, and in my first picture, I simply put it upright so it didn't look like an aftermath of an earthquake.

I recognise some of the furniture, most of which is Barton - not my favourite; I find it rather crude, but then it reflects the time when it was manufactured, and if it is true, as the antique dealer claimed, that the house has only had one owner, that's what this little girl in the '50s - I'd like to imagine her name was Lily - would be getting for Christmas and her birthdays. There are a couple of other brands, and I will return to furniture in due time. Some is in need of repair.

But first, let's inspect the walls and floors.

When I first opened it and before looking carefully, I was disappointed: how unimaginative, same floors and wallpaper in every room. Then of course I noticed that it wasn't the same wallpaper, even though similar, but floors were indeed the same.

Shall we start in the bottom left room - this is where the front door leads (how very English: no entrance hall). The floor, which is a nice herringbone parquet, has been damaged by a young barbarian who scribbled on it with a purple crayon.

 

This will be very hard to clean. I have tried very, VERY carefully with nail polish remover, and it does get slightly better and will probably take me weeks. (On the other hand, as I always say, I am not in a hurry).

I have several other options. I can cover it with a rug. I can try to mend it by scanning the pattern, printing it out and very, very carefully patching the damaged parts. Or even copy and paste and make one whole new sheet (I have found several amazing people on the web who do this). I can also replace it. Logically, and from what I have seen on the web, this room should be a kitchen. Would a 1950s kitchen have wooden parquet floor? I doubt it. It would have lino. Or tiles. Either will be easy to reproduce.

The wallpaper is totally damaged. I can put some furniture against the wall to conceal the damage. I can probably get a sheet of replicated wallpaper from a site I have discovered. But again, would a kitchen have wallpaper rather than paint? I need to do more research and also consult people who remember the 1950s. The right-hand wall, with a door, has no wallpaper. I can see why - it's a h-ll of a job to cut and hang wallpaper on a wall with a door and a staircase. But it doesn't look neat. And there is wallpaper on the other side of the wall, although admittedly there is no staircase there.

Let us climb the stairs - very typical British stairs, steep and narrow. Painted in the same pale yellow as the exterior walls. How plausible is it? If the railing is solid at least it would have a wooden top rail. And maybe a carpet? Or actually proper wooden steps... oh no, that's sacrilege. Ruining a cultural artifact.

The top left room's floor is damaged, but here I can definitely conceal it by a piece of furniture and/or a rug.

The wallpaper is torn, water-damaged and faded in some places, but again, I can put some furniture in front of it. Logically, this will be a living room. The right-hand wall has no wallpaper. Just as in web pictures. Why? Were manufacturers lazy? Such a minor detail makes a huge difference. So in this case I will probably try to scan the wallpaper and make a sheet. This will be a challenge. It took me five attempts just to take a decent picture. I wonder how people scan inside a dollhouse. Maybe they take it apart first, but I am not doing it.

The two rooms on the right had a 1:1 scale carpet.

Now, if anything is barbarian in miniature-making, this is the worst, and I have seen it before. It doesn't look natural, and the doors don't open! So these hideous things went straight to the garbage bin. They didn't even conceal the damaged floors.

In the bottom right room, the wallpaper is damaged to the left of the door, and the floor is torn and water-damaged.

Logically, and in the houses I have seen on the web, this should be a bathroom. Why on earth would a bathroom have parquet floors? Not to mention wallpaper. And it's far too large for a bathroom. A '50s family would not have a huge bathroom like this. I am considering not having a bathroom at all, instead using this room as a dining room - naturally, off the kitchen. But it will depend on how I arrange the other rooms. If I decide to keep the parquet I may try to mend it by scanning the pattern. I may try to patch the wallpaper in the same way. It feels unnecessary to buy an A3 sheet of wallpaper for three square centimeters of wall.

Top right room is an interesting one because it has an alcove which is largely invisible. If I put a light in there, it will create a fantastic effect through the window.

The floor - the same parquet I am by now really fed up with -  is torn in several strategic places and also water-damaged. The wallpaper is whole and very pretty. This will be a bedroom, with the bed in the alcove.

The door between the two upstairs rooms had no knobs. The knobs in the door downstairs are lovely, rusty nails, and I am sure I will be able to find something suitable.

The insides of the fronts are bare, painted with the same paint as the exterior. I could so far not find any images showing the front insides, but I know that most people just leave them bare, which is a shame. There are also these lovely bay windows where interesting things can be done. Flowerpots, ornaments, a bird cage, a few cats.

So here we are. Some serious decisions to make, and after that, a lot of exciting work.

But before that, I will also have an inspection of the current furniture, so come back soon.

By the way, I did find the site that had the spare hook. You can see that the hook is sold. That's because I bought it.

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.