Charleston Farmhouse belonged to Vanessa Bell, sister of writer Virginia Woolf and prominent member of the famous, and somewhat infamous, Bloomsbury Group. The Bloomsbury Group has held the fascination of art and design fans for many years. The legacy of its artists and writers can still be seen in work produced today: built upon, developed, distilled.
But Charleston Farmhouse was also a building that sheltered a mixed of real people who had hopes, dreams, and, above all, an enviable work ethic. My interest in Charleston began when I was researching a story for Eaten Magazine and came across the story of Grace Higgins, who worked for the Bells for over 50 years, graduating from Nursemaid to Housekeeper.
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| Charleston, June 2018 ©Emily Burt |
Grace lived in Charleston House, inhabiting more than just the kitchen or ‘below stairs’ role. Her integral role to the group as a whole and their output as writers and artists is evident in the way they talk of her. Vanessa’s granddaughter stated the family ‘didn’t believe in God - but they did believe in Grace.’ Vanessa’s son created and installed a tiled plaque in memorial to Grace.
Through this process of researching Grace’s life, she transformed in my mind from a description of a 2D person into a rounded 3D person, with thoughts, feelings and foibles. The more I knew, the more I understood how important she was to the creation of the work of the Bloomsburies.
There’s something in that, I thought. The lives of the people that aren’t written about. They, too, have interesting stories to tell, but their stories are interesting in a personal context, in relation to them, rather than in relation to society as a whole.
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| The compost heap at Charleston, June 2018 ©Emily Burt |
And this brings me on to the story of another part of the Charleston cast. Grace’s son, John, was interviewed over a series of recordings and the tapes are held by the British Library. He tells the story of Mr Durrant, a one-armed gardener that was employed for a time at Charleston. The fact that he has one arm features heavily in John’s recollection to him as it makes for a remarkable tale.
Mr Durrant was an ingenious fellow. His ingenuity elicited a squeal and slight squirm from me in the silence of the British Library reading rooms where I listened to the tape. Mr Durrant, you see, was a man who accepted his situation and came prepared. He kept one thumbnail extremely long and used it as a knife with which he could cut up the ingredients for a sandwich. He would use it to slice the bread and the cheese. He could even paunch a rabbit with it.
Grace would have him sit in the kitchen and give him a cup of tea and a bun at the end of the day. I’m not sure if she threw the bun in the air and he speared it with his knife-nail, but it’s an amusing thought.
It’s through stories like this that we can bring the past to life.