Julie's House

A postcard of Julie's House at Wrabness in Essex

It's 19th July, and here I am checking out an extraordinary building in the northernmost part of Essex, on rising ground above the River Stour, with a wide view of the estuary as a whole. It's A House For Essex, otherwise known as Julie's House.

If you're wondering how I managed to take that photo, the explanation is simple. Approaching Julie's House down a lane, I met a party of walkers coming up the other way. Here they are:

We chatted a bit, as you do, and one of the men - the one on the far left - offered to take my picture with LXV, with the house in the background. I think he made a good job of it.

Once we had parted company, I spent a bit of time walking around the house, to view it from different angles, and to get some close-ups of the exterior, which was unusually decorated. At this point I should mention, if you didn't already know, that the house was designed by the artist Grayson Perry in collaboration with Charles Holland of FAT Architecture, and completed in 2015. You can book a stay there. You can arrange that, and see some amazing pictures of the house - particularly of course its interior - at  

https://www.living-architecture.co.uk/the-houses/a-house-for-essex/overview/. Indeed, that website includes other houses in a similar vein that you can stay at, all over the country. Julie's House was not being let to anyone when I saw it, and in fact it looked as if there had been no recent bookings - doubtless a consequence of the general high cost of living right now. It has a garden, and is shielded from passers-by on the lane by bushes, so one could have some privacy if in residence. But as with any famous or picturesque building you can stay in, there would be constant gawping (or photography) from curious members of the public, which most would find intrusive, and positively irritating after a day or two. So not for everybody.

Getting back to Grayson Perry. Alice, a friend of mine, says she met him once and was fascinated. Alice is artistic - a poet, actually, as is Grayson Perry - and no doubt sensed a kindred spirit. I have never had any such contact, occasional glimpses of the man on TV being all I can claim. Back in 2014, when in Liverpool for the day, I noticed that he had an exhibition on at the Walker Art Gallery:

His art didn't have a strong appeal, and I couldn't have taken any pictures of the exhibition, so I passed this up. Subsequently, as I said, I caught him on TV now and then; and sometimes came across works of his in galleries, such as this pottery in Brighton Museum and Art Gallery:

Although working and experimenting in a variety of media, Grayson Perry has particularly embraced pottery. He's won important awards, and become a household name. He was recently honoured. It's now Sir Grayson Perry. But he's anything but a conventional establishment figure. He admired Jeremy Corbyn. (Hmm. I don't know whether I would find much in common with him, if ever we met, though I'd give it a go)

I remain undecided about his art. So far as I understand it, Grayson Perry sets out to be both celebratory and unsettling at the same time, though never crude. So an attractive piece might have something in its design that is revealed only with closer inspection, perhaps something of horror. A subtle seduction of the senses, with a jolt if you are prepared to see it. Above all, I think GP (let's call him that henceforth) aims to be all-inclusive with his art, intending to alienate nobody, and wanting to improve the world through art. I'm all for that.

He is well-known for his alter-ego Claire. I haven't heard Claire speak, and can't say whether Claire is the true person he yearns to be, or just the cross-dressing side of his personality. But it does seem clear that GP likes women, and is very in tune with them, and in a different existence would have been perfectly happy to be born female. For an artist, of course, which sex one is doesn't matter: it simply tips the bias, or point of view, slightly towards one side rather than the other. A different colouration, say. That said, I get the feeling - looking closely at Julie's House - that he regrets not having the experience of carrying a child and giving birth. But then perhaps that's something that many men wrestle with, either because their feminine side is strong yet thwarted, or because they resent women having this very special capability that they haven't got.

 

On to Julie herself. There is a back story, related in a poem GP wrote, The Ballad of Julie Cope. She is not an actual person, but Every Essex Woman. Her story stands for the typical life experience of a working-class-but-upwardly-mobile woman born in Essex. GP was himself born and raised in Essex, and although he has bad memories of his childhood there, he is nevertheless proud of Essex, and the poem resonates with love and understanding for that often-ridiculed county. I won't give away the poem's ending, but it explains why Julie's House was conceived and built. The excellent Community Shop at Wrabness, the local village, sells a booklet that contains the poem, has notes on the artworks inside it, and explains its spatial design. It also suggests that the reader approaches the house in a spirit of pilgrimage.  

Well, I was merely curious. Having said my goodbyes to those people I met there, I took my time over walking around the perimeter of the property, so far as the fences let me. It was a cloudy morning, and the bushes rather got in the way, but I secured some shots worth keeping.

There was something of a Norwegian church about it. The sharply sloping stepped roofs suggested it. A long building, with plenty of space inside, although it was hard to see exactly how it might be divided up from the outside. The intricate external wall decoration and rooftop embellishments next caught my eye.

Apparently the wheel of life turning at a snail's pace, a pregnant woman, an egg, and (perhaps) a diamond. Hmm. Best not to take any of those at face value!

Dark green panels full of pregnant women, about to give birth it seems, collectively reminding me of Ancient Egyptian scarab beetles, although electronic Space Invaders come to mind too. Above and underneath, triangular panels containing such things as hearts, nappy pins, audio tape cassettes, the Essex coat of arms, and a stylised 'J'. 

Aha. Another entrance, the rear one, facing the river, with an iron grille to repel attacking daleks, if the stairs aren't enough to stop them. (They glide around on wheels, and can't get up stairs) 

Rather Sci-Fi if you ask me. Dr Who-ish definitely. And I guessed that the hidden interior was Tardis-like.

And that was all you could see. The garden looked rough, almost wild - but then perhaps it was supposed to be like that. A strange and ethereal building rising up from a farmer's field, as if planted there years ago, but now grown to its full height.

I wished that the sun had been out, and the sky blue, but you have to take what you get on the day. One last shot, to show that I was there - necessary in case the one that the man took earlier didn't turn out well. (Thankfully both did)