CONTEXT 177 : SEPTEMBER 2023 37 WORKING WITH GLASS ceilings and exterior uses such as shop, cafe and garage fronts’. However, other sources are wonderfully rich, such as photographic collections, including the Scottish Mitchell Library collection. Newspaper items about new Vitrolite shops also bear witness. Records of the (Irish) Department of Industry and Commerce tracked the levying of duties on imports from the UK into Ireland during the ‘economic war’ of the 1930s. Manufacturers such as the UK’s Chance’s and European manufacturers from Czechoslovakia, Belgium and France also corresponded about Vitrolite. During extensive fieldwork in Ireland recording Vitrolite shopfronts, I identified three main locations for them: the big cities, Dublin and Cork; the main streets of regional towns, at a point in the 1930s–60s when perhaps a new factory or hospital sparked a wave of development; and also invariably in clusters. It was often the ‘big shop’ or department store in a town that led the way, others followed suit and outlived their bigger rival. Jewellers, tobacconists, ice-cream parlours, pharmacies, shoe shops, butchers and bakers all gained Vitrolite. The most common type that survived was the draper’s: family-run, resistant to changes or chain take-overs. This is not dissimilar to the UK, with chains like Austin Reed and Saxone’s being among the early adopters. The construction details changed over time. Initially only mastic was used to stick the panels to the substrate. McGrath and Frost refer to early failures in Vitrolite cladding in Europe. Later framing systems using clips or metals strips were more durable. The system used meant different aesthetics. The type that survives the most in Ireland uses Staybrite, Birmabrite, polished chrome or bronze framing: this is fixed to a timber frame attached to the building. Vitrolite could be further supported by structural panels behind, such as asbestos-cement. The sequence of erecting the metalwork was critical, keeping the screws hidden. Joints between panels were pointed. Critical elements of the aesthetic included the ventilation grilles in a variety of art-deco motifs, transom panes in translucent glass, often fluted, and distinctive signage. Other features common to contemporary shops included sun blinds, window enclosures and recessed porches. The stallrisers were of marble, terrazzo and tiles, as well as Vitrolite. The conservation of Vitrolite is not complicated in principle. As a material it is no longer produced, so every effort should be made to retain it and extend its existence. Ignorance is the biggest cause of loss. Unfortunately, regeneration schemes focusing on high streets do not appreciate mid-twentieth-century shopfronts and often eliminate them, even where there is enough surviving to restore from, and a more ‘traditional-looking’ shopfront is installed. Physical damage occurs as cracks – from impact, and from thermal stresses in the glass against the frame. Cracks should be filled in; a rule-of-thumb is that if a panel has six or more cracks it should be removed, cut down and redeployed. In larger facades, such as theatres or cinemas, or in interiors, a redistribution of panels can work, with new material inserted as plinths, or bands, to augment the original material. A range of substitute materials exists, from painted render to acrylic or metal panels – all of these fade and stain if used externally. Interiors have more options. Even glass substitutes, such as panels with enamelled or painted backs, break down very quickly, often within a year of repair. The best substitute is armourclad, which is best used for small areas such as stallrisers, as it does not have the distorted reflectivity of Vitrolite, which is noticeable. It lasts well, however. Shopkeepers I met often had their own small stash of spare panels with which to effect repairs. Panels are traded online through the usual sites and the Vitrolite Man in the USA. The large-scale ‘restoration’ done on the Daily Express building, Fleet Street, London, wastefully got rid of all its Vitrolite. Contact with shopkeepers whose families commissioned the original front was invaluable. One in Rialto, Dublin, had the original perspective drawings and the accounts for their new Vitrolite shopfront of 1952. The Vitrolite itself was only five per cent of the total cost, with the stainless-steel framing and the plateglass windows each costing twice as much. The largest cost was for the sunblinds, an element often overlooked today. Beyond the fascination with the fabric and archaeology of local history, it was intriguing to tease apart the desire to be modern that is represented by the use of Vitrolite on the Irish high street, and even more so the ability to achieve modernity. The application of this new structural glass testified to moments of prosperity, and an aesthetic sensibility that all the orthodox narratives of Irish history and identity ignore and even deny. Sian Bradley brought a similar lens to bear on the Italian ice cream parlours and cafes that were set up in the Welsh valleys, all using the same Vitrolite aesthetic to dress their new shops. Thus the study of a single material can shed light on a place’s economic and social history, and underlines the importance of retaining that material to continue the understanding of our complicated past. Katriona Byrne, a conservation officer by profession, is course director of the MA and postgrad programmes in conservation of the historic environment at Birmingham City University.
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