A turn-of-the-century Parisian patisserie inspired by the 1958 musical ‘Gigi’. Writer’s collection.
Craftsman-style furniture and upholstery. Photo courtesy of Lars Mikkelsen.
The word “miniature” evolved from the world of books, but it has been embraced by the world of art. Prior to the printing press, when manuscripts were printed by hand by scribes using black ink. Occasionally they used red pigments, especially for titles, large initial letters, and decorative drawings. The Latin name for this red coloring was minium, and the corresponding verb meaning to color with minium was miniare.
Seventeenth-century baby cabinet commissioned by Petronella Oortman, now part of a permanent collection in Amsterdam.
The association of decorative drawings with miniare was so strong that its meaning was later broadened until it meant “to decorate a manuscript.” Miniatura was used to refer to the art of adding illuminations or illustrations to a manuscript. Since the illustrations were small by comparison with most other paintings, miniatura came to refer not only to a manuscript’s illustrations, but to any small portrait or painting. Eventually it meant anything very small. In English the word translated to miniature.
A wizard’s spell table with handmade books by Denver artist Ericka VanHorn.
The word miniature became common around 1630 with the popularity of “cabinet houses” or “baby cabinets,” built not for children but for adults. A miniature house and its contents were not a thing to play with, but an exhibit of wealth. Looking much like a china cabinet today, the front of the house opened to reveal an owner’s expensive miniature collection.
Germany’s Nuremberg kitchens date back to the 1500s. Built as single rooms within a box, known today as a roombox, fully equipped Nuremberg kitchens were meant to teach young girls the art of proper housekeeping and cooking. Most often associated with the festivities of Christmas than with the practicalities of everyday life, Nuremberg kitchens were intended to generate wonder, make kitchens seem magical, and thereby inspire girls to anticipate and desire their future roles as homemakers.
Nineteenth-century Nuremberg kitchen.
Karen Fitzhenry safety stand rocking horse.
Early European dollhouses were unique and one-of-a-kind buildings constructed by individual craftsmen, but with the advent of the Industrial Revolution factories began producing them in growing numbers. Germany produced the most prized dollhouses and miniatures up until World War I, with England a close second. By the end of the nineteenth century, American dollhouses were being manufactured for a growing population of young girls.
Austrian miniaturist Hubert Lengdorfer’s version of San Francisco’s historic Westerfeld House is made entirely of paper.
WWII brought an end to Germany’s domination of the toy industry. Dollhouses were soon being mass-produced in American and Japanese factories that stamped them out of sheet metal and filled them with colorful plastic furniture. Almost every little girl would at some time find one tucked under the Christmas tree. As the modern world recovered from war, adult miniature collectors would fuel the desire for better quality and increasingly realistic miniatures. Since then, the demand for miniature artisans has never been greater.
To distinguish between what’s miniature and what’s merely small, a true miniature must be a reduced version of something that was originally full size. Therefore, a dollhouse fits the definition; a Mini Cooper does not. When Alice dropped down the rabbit hole and drank from a bottle labeled “DRINK ME,” thus becoming a mere ten inches tall, she would certainly be considered miniature. A bonsai tree is a dwarf replica of its full-size cousin, but a microchip (regardless how small), is simply micro.
Interior of Jennifer Williams’ shabby chic She Shed.
Annemarie Kwikkel’s porcelain doll, Leila.
It’s not just about size but of scale. The baby cabinets of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and the toy dollhouses of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries rarely had uniform scales, including their contents. Today, there are a broad range of scales, ranging from backyard playhouses to children’s toys. Mattel’s Barbie houses for example are 1:6 scale, or one inch is equivalent to six inches in full size. For adult miniature collectors, size matters.
The most common standard for dollhouses and dollhouse miniatures is 1:12 scale, where one inch equals one foot. In recent years, as our real homes have become space-challenged, 1:24 or half scale and 1:48 or quarter inch have become increasingly popular. There are even dollhouses for dollhouses built to 1:144 scale!
Reproduction in miniature of a Van Merken Cabinet with inlaid wood and marquetry by French artist Pierre Mourey.
Regardless of size, the miniature world embraces control. In reality, we live in a scary world often filled with gloom and doom. Controlling what goes on in a tiny, scaled-down world restores our sense of balance and order. Miniaturists become the masters of a universe — creators with dominion over tiny realms. For many, the desire to collect and play with tiny things becomes an obsession, and we soon wonder if there has ever been a more desirable place to reside.
The love for tiny things that typically begins in childhood is often jettisoned by the time we become adults. For those of us who keep a foot firmly planted in the threshold of childhood may be considered peculiar, and perhaps it’s that peculiarity that captivates us and attracts us to others of our kind. At dozens of miniature trade shows and fairs held each year by a host of miniature organizations and enthusiasts, artists and dealers from around the world gather to display and sell their wares and collectors swarm to buy.
Old Nags Head room box scene in writer’s collection.
‘Epiphany’ luxury bath by Jo Bevilacqua of Spencer’s Nook.
These shows often host how-to seminars and workshops where artists willingly share their techniques and trade tips. Attendees learn a variety of skills: stuccoing, carpentry, wood-turning, sewing, hat making, cabinet making, doll making, cake decorating, food making, and a host of other skills. In recent years, social media has embraced the hobby and enthusiasts share images online and use forums, blogs, and videos to share information and learn new skills.
Dollhouses and miniatures are constructed out of a variety of materials: wood, resin, plastic, clay, paper, fabrics, and metal. There are entire industries dedicated to supplying milled wood, pre-hung doors and windows, flooring, wallpaper, lighting, and hardware in remarkable detail. In recent years, advanced technology such as 3D printers have enabled producers to capture fine features that once took artists weeks to achieve by hand. Micro-tools in the form of lathes, drill presses, and belt sanders allow artists to handle the most delicate of materials and detailing.
Rococo harpsichord with hand-painted scenes by Natasha Beshenkov.
Figaro’s Cottage by Cinderella Moments.
Portrait doll artists have become increasingly adept at recreating real people or pets in small scale. Furniture makers have produced items so convincing that they are mistaken for full size when posted on auction sites. Artists have received frantic calls or emails from buyers when just a tiny package arrives by post rather than the full-size piece they had imagined.
From soaring castles, French chateaus, Georgian townhouses, gingerbread Victorians, country farmhouses, Craftsmen bungalows, and log cabins,
Hogwarts Castle by Rik Pierce towers more than seven feet tall and is made entirely of paper clay.
there are architectural styles and furnishings in miniature for every taste. The fantasy worlds created by books, television and cinema have all been recreated in miniature. Harry Potter, Charmed, Beatrix Potter, Lewis Carroll, Wind in the Willows, Downton Abbey, Camelot, Phantom of the Opera, Lord of the Rings, and Pirates of the Caribbean have been miniaturized by hundreds of adoring fans and artists.
For many miniaturists, their vignettes may simply represent a trip back in time, to the homes they shared with family or fond memories of special places they had visited. As I sheepishly present my miniature collection to my non-mini friends, I await the inevitable question — “But what do you do with them?” It’s a question I have no good answer for, other than they provide spaces for emotion, freedom, artistic expression, and imagination. Like Alice, I can drop down the rabbit hole and escape into a world of my own creation.
Titanic’s grand staircase by Hubert Lengdorfer.