I like to think I was ‘fashionably late’ for my appointment at the Dennis Severs house. Michael, apron-wearing curator (for want of a more appropriate word – which it certainly needs) seemed to regard it as a sensible move, pointedly informing me that I would have the best of the house by touring alone. It’s an art thing.
Since acquiring the house in Folgate Street in the 1970s, Dennis Severs did the exact opposite of all those who surrounded him; scorning modern amenities, he took the house backwards to the time of its construction. Along the way, he invented a family of Huguenot weavers to share the property with him and created a unique piece of living art that he shared with visitors. Michael invited me to wander through the house in silence, exploring the late-18th-century home that the fictitious Jervises shared with their creator.
If you have ever stood before a painting and asked yourself what was happening just off the canvas or what series of events led to what you see (or, indeed, what followed), then this house will intrigue you. The stated desire is to create the sense of sharing the house with the Jervis family, inconsiderately interrupting their mealtime and causing them to flee to another room, where they whisper darkly about the intruder. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but if you suffer from any form of mild paranoia, this experience won’t help.
The rooms are loaded with worn and loved ephemera of 18th- and 19th-century living. This is not a well preserved heritage museum and, while common decency stops me touching the crockery that crams the kitchen dresser or sifting for clues through the papers on the table, the point is that you could. History put in reach - and up your nose, through the profligate use of pomanders, open fires, and damp. There are also clues that tie the house back to the 20th century: knowing incidentals, such as a Royal Wedding mug (Charles and Di – doesn’t look like it has been washed since), a baseball jacket, and cap. Despite the Gothic atmosphere created by candlelight and Michael’s manner, the house is not without humour. There is a need to indulge in a little belief suspension; as in Peter Pan, if you want the fairies (and the Jervises) to exist, they will.
As I explored, I found lots of its. Whether any of them were the it I was supposed to get, I don’t know. I verged on the over-analytical at one stage, favouring some sort of Dickensian social commentary. I tried staring intensively at the paintings, but this just gave me a headache (that might have been the pomanders). But then I decided that, like with any artistic experience, it's your it that really matters, and if it coincides with the artist’s intended it, then, well, happy coincidence.
Dennis Severs House
Article by Jeannette Winterson