I mentioned in my previous post that our Akron almost-mansion was built in 1925 by Akron entrepreneur and wallpaper baron W.D. Turner. And while we appreciate that Mr. Turner was willing to put his money where his house is, the wallpaper selections he made those 100-odd years ago will likely not be accompanying the home into its next century.
Reader, will it surprise you to learn that opinions on this wallpaper are mixed? That its presence stirs both passion and debate? Would it shock you to know that some involved in this project insist this wallpaper must be preserved? It's true!
A hole cut in the wall shows off our brand new PEX plumbing supply lines as well as 2.25 square feet of wallpaper that won't have to be removed. Win. Win.
So, we continue to remove wallpaper. It's slow going, messy, and not particularly glamorous. Favoring the "kitchen sink" approach, we're tossing everything at the removal process. That includes steam, scoring, fabric softener, more steam, sharp objects, still more steam, and good old elbow grease. With a bit of perseverance, we've got two rooms done and maybe three to go.
I know I said this work wasn't glamorous, but I do like how the window, the diagonal light, and the rising steam give this picture the ambiance of a Vermeer painting.
Two places we still have to address as we work through wallpaper are the stairway and the upstairs hallway. It is in these areas that one can find what must have been among the most extravagant and expensive selections in Mr. Turner's catalog. Call it his pièce de résistance. Call it the last word in pre-Depression era wallcovering opulence. Call it whatever you like, but know that by any name it remains a relief wallpaper so unapologetic in it Rococo patterns and themes and so committed to that favored motif of early 20th-century status signaling, that it bears consideration here.
A wall in a stairway is pictured. It shows holes cut in the plaster and lathe so that new plumbing lines could be installed. It also shows very fancy relief wallpaper in florid, Rococo patterns.
This group posits that part of the charm of any decrepit, 100 year-old almost mansion is exactly this kind of tragic, yellowing relic of lost wealth. They contend that its presence provides a crucial moral gravitas to the house. It's nothing less than a floor to ceiling memento mori, serving as an expansive reminder of time, hubris, and the folly of imagining that prestige can be conferred simply by adopting the arguably vapid style of 18th-century French aristocracy.
Detail of a section of relief wallpaper featuring florid Rococo patterns along with four naked figures playing music and dancing around a tree.
Others feel differently, insisting, "That creepy-ass wallpaper has to go..."
But I digress...
This ambitious removal project should not suggest there will be no wallpaper in the house. We all agree that some wallpaper would rightly honor Turner's legacy and perhaps appease any potentially restless spirits.
To that point, an interesting feature of this 1925 house is the first floor half-bath/powder room that was clearly remodeled in the 1950s. The biggest clue here being the pink wall tile that features seahorse accents as well as stylized atomic starburst patterns. My wife has decided to embrace this room's existing palette and it's aquatic sensibilities and has identified a wallpaper that incorporates both. W.D. Turner would surely approve!
A section of a bathroom wall is pictured featuring pink tile below a coral reef and shellfish themed wallpaper sample.
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I've been closing these posts with some outdoor shots since the property this house is on remains one of the biggest factors behind our purchase. It's not the biggest reason though. The biggest reason was to be closer to our families. So, I'll sign off today with a picture that features the great outdoors and members of our great family who stopped by last weekend to help with some yard clean-up!
Thanks Fam! We can't wait to spend even more time with you!
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