Hue benefits: remembering Bernat Klein’s colourful life

“Your suit is such a wonderful colour”, he exclaimed.  “You bought it to set off your eyes, of course”.  Thirty seconds into meeting Bernat Klein, he had taken me by surprise.  My grey-green jacket and trousers were of quite an unusual shade, but it was their discounted price, rather than the precise hue that had tempted me, I am ashamed to say.

Perhaps it was a line that he used on every gauche young scribbler who called by for a chat – but somehow, I doubt it.  Klein, who died on 17 April 2014, was dedicated to the idea that the imaginative use of colour could energise society.  He devoted his life to the study and deployment of every possible tone, with which he did much to making the world a more attractive place.

My visit was occasioned more by an interest in his house – at that time, the fashion for ‘mid-century modern’ design was in its infancy.  It was designed not by him, but by Peter Wormersley.  In truth, however, the interior’s deployment of texture and shade was clearly a collaboration between architect and client.  I republish what I wrote back then as a modest personal tribute to a man whose kindness I remember to this day, and whose enthusiam for design has stayed with me over nearly twenty years.

Sadly, I left it to others to discover that Klein had also worked as a spy.

Bernat Klein’s home has stood the test of time despite owing much to the design of post-war public buildings.

Tim Dawson reports on a rarity in the hill country. (Sunday Times, 18 August, 1996).

`The house still thrills me as much as ever. It has a great feeling of space and freedom and its proportions are right whichever way you look at it. It is both restful and stimulating.” Bernat Klein is talking about the house he had built for his family 40 years ago; High Sunderland, near Galashiels. Now retired after a long, internationally renowned career as a textile designer, his enthusiasm belies his 73 years. It is obvious that his home still animates him.

“I still remember how excited I felt as I watched as the first frames were put up and I first got an idea of how it would look,” he says. “And it gives me as much pleasure today – if I were having a new house built, it would essentially be the same.” The house sits on a high shoulder of hill country on the Sunderland estate. Although Selkirk is only a few miles away, it seems to stand in a deserted valley. You would expect such an exuberantly modern house to appear in stark contrast to such wild surroundings but it seems quite natural and right.

The one-storey building is a rare example of a house in the contemporary style, the tempered form of international modernism that was voguish in Britain after the second world war. So few houses were built in this style that it could be mistaken for a health centre or primary school, buildings more often associated with this kind of design. The land on which the house stands was part of a forest.

Those trees were cleared during the war, but Klein planted more than 1,000 around his new home. Now mature, they create a dense foliage that shelters the house from the wind.

At the centre of the house is the kitchen, an innovation, as in previous eras cooking provision in a house of this size would have been designed with servants in mind. It leads to a dining area, separated from the main living area by a screen of tall plants.

The centre of the living area is three steps below the rest of the room, but the library to the back, studio in one corner and study in another are all open plan, with ceiling-to-floor windows the length of the south wall. In the western wing of the house, on one side of the living area, is the master bedroom. The children’s bedrooms and playroom are at the eastern wing, beyond the kitchen.

The south-facing walls of the living area are built from a series of huge valium cheap online windows. And because of the ha-ha at the end of Klein’s garden, he has an uninterrupted view across Selkirk and to the hills beyond. The changing flora and fauna are a huge influence on Klein’s painting. “Looking at the colours and textures outside and painting them is as much a part of daily life for me as eating and breathing. I love to be able to sit here and watch things grow. In the early summer we always have hundreds of tulips outside and I have to paint them each year.”

Klein came to Britain in 1945 from Senta, then in Yugoslavia. By 1956 he was running a woollen mill in Galashiels and he and his wife Margaret decided they needed a bigger house for their growing family. “I was very interested in modern design and had been fascinated by a house that I had seen near Halifax in Yorkshire,” says Klein.

“The architect, Peter Womersley, had designed it for his brother. I contacted Peter and asked if he would build a house for me.” Klein specified the size of house that he wanted, bought the site and left Womersley to get on with the job. “A professional is entitled to do things his own way,” says Klein. “I like to be left alone when a client has asked me to do a job, and I wanted Peter to do what he wanted.” Womersley was even entrusted with the interior design, although Klein has since made changes. “I have a better idea of colour than most architects,” he says.

“They work better in black and white but at the time the house was built, I had not really thought about interior design.” The living room is a real period piece. The ceiling and much of the fittings are in polished natural wood, with open shelves and desk space around the sunken area. Two simple, metal-framed, white settees of Womersley’s design sit in the living room beside a glass coffee table.

Although the design is unmistakably of the mid-1950s, it retains a surprisingly fresh, modern feel. Advances in building materials made houses like High Sunderland possible in the 1950s. Among the few things that Klein would change, however, are those whose technological shortcomings time has exposed. “Flat roofs always have problems in a rainy climate,” he admits.

“Today I would opt for a sloped roof, albeit a disguised one. And I would still go for underfloor heating but not a system as expensive as the one we have.” He would also double-glaze the huge picture windows, a technique unheard of in Britain 40 years ago.

Klein’s enthusiasm for Womersley’s work did not stop with High Sunderland. By 1972 his firm of textile designers was expanding.

Among his most prestigious contracts was one from the Department of the Environment to design carpets, curtains and colour schemes for all government offices. Klein decided to build a new studio for his firm of textile designers near his old studio, in a building just below High Sunderland.

The studio, which has won several architectural awards, is as striking as the house. Its two floors are supported by a central core so that the top floor appears to float among the trees.  Klein sold the building when he retired, but it is still used as a studio.

Klein despairs of the lack of interest in good design in this country. “I look at all the new houses built between here and Edinburgh and it makes me sick, they are all so dull and lifeless,” he says. “It is the same with clothing. British people are mean with their money and are unwilling to spend it on goods that are well-designed and of good quality.”

It is not a matter of being rich, believes Klein, but spending your money well. “The cost of my house was a great strain for many years,” he says. “But, unintentionally, it has made me more money than anything else I have ever done, because it has gained so much in value.” For the pleasure it has given him, it seems to have been good value, whatever its resale price.