25

WORD OF MOUTH SECRET CITY

Walking down Folgate Street to

number 18, I approach an early

Georgian townhouse with striking

red shutters, a black door and a heavy

knocker. As I walk inside, logs crackle in the

fireplace and a black kitten climbs onto the

windowsill. I wander up the creaking staircase

into the master bedroom and as I take in the

rumpled bed sheets and half-eaten boiled egg

with an unfinished cup of coffee, I have the

distinct feeling that I had intruded on

somebody’s breakfast.

Dennis Severs was a Californian artist who

moved to London in the 1970s. He bought 18

Folgate Street in 1979, a time when East

London had become a bohemian enclave,

and turned the house into what he described

as “a still life drama”. Historical accuracy was

not his goal, but instead recreating a sense of

time. “Inside that frame is where I live and

taking people in there is how I make my living,”

he would say.

The house, as Severs would explain, is the

setting for “an adventure of the imagination”.

Silence is a rule. As I quietly wander from room

to room, everything that I see, hear or smell

encourages me to believe that its 18th Century

residents are close by. Far from any museum

experience, the house feels alive and lived-in;

Severs himself stayed there for 20 years living

without modern conveniences.

Spitalfields is located at the heart of the

fashionable East End of London. Over

hundreds of years, the area has continually

re-invented itself as waves of migrants arrived

from different parts of the world. In the 17th

Century, Huguenots fled France and came to

live here. Among them was a family of silk-

weavers called Jervis. At 18 Folgate Street,

Severs created a fictional re-enactment for

this family in meticulous detail.

The ten rooms in the house take visitors

from 1724 to 1914, accompanied by different

generations of the Jervis family. Around Mrs

Jervis’ bedroom are her personal belongings

– elegantly handwritten notes, lead powder for

whitening her face and a dress marked at the

waist “take in here”.

In contrast to the earlier, more affluent 18th

Century rooms below, the attic feels cold and

impoverished. In Victorian times a change in

fashion meant that the silk trade was near

collapse. While Mr and Mrs Jervis’ bedroom

has a delicious scent of orange-cloves, the

attic stinks of rotting vegetables.

On my way downstairs I have to be careful

not to trip over the children’s toys, lying as if

they had been abandoned upon my approach.

I notice that some passers-by have stopped to

peer in through the window, delighted by the

magical interior they have chanced upon.

“Everyone’s reaction to the house is different,”

says Mick Pedroli, the house manager. “If

someone is not talkative afterwards, I know

that the experience has moved them.”WWW.DENNISSEVERSHOUSE.CO.UK

Time travel

WORDS IMAGE | KATHERINE JACK

DENNIS SEVERS’ HOUSE SHELTERS

AN ARTIST’S VISION AND A LIVING

TESTAMENT TO LONDON’S PAST