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sifon
glass, mercury, wood
This Decorative Pediment-Style Wall Barometer, dating to around 1960, represents a clear example of the post-war “democratisation” of craft production and the rise of mass-market historicism. Its narrow vertical case, complete with a “capital” and “plinth,” is an unmistakable quotation of 19th-century English pediment barometers. The composition is crowned by a triangular pediment with a central cartouche and two finial knobs.
The case is built from a laminated core of softwood, veneered with a thin layer of oak stained in a dark tone. All mouldings—from the top element down to the base—imitate carved wood but are in fact made of a composite material based on lime carbonation, wood flour, and adhesives: the so-called wood composite or Compo moulding. These mouldings were produced by simple pressing in forms and, once stained and varnished, convincingly mimic carved timber. Fine incised cuts were applied to the surface to imitate a natural wood grain.
The register plates are made of ordinary glass backed with white paint, imitating opal glass. The barometric scale in inches of mercury is stencilled in black over the surface. An interesting feature is that instead of the usual weather words, the maker used FitzRoy’s terms for weather forecasting, thus imitating a Storm Barometer or Sea-Coast Barometer.
The barometric system is a simplified siphon-type glass tube with a small bottle on the lower bend of the siphon, built into the case in a way that creates the outward illusion of a classical Torricellian mercury tube with a boxwood cistern.
In other words, the entire instrument is a continuous play of “as-if”: it looks like the 1870s, but it is constructed with the honest technologies of the 1960s. Its style and materials strongly suggest Germany or the Netherlands/Belgium as the place of manufacture.
Despite the inexpensive materials, the whole object is assembled neatly, without conspicuous amateurish irregularities. The maker did not simply glue on decorative fragments, but maintained the overall composition characteristic of a pediment barometer. The barometer itself is functional, though the extremely narrow barometric tube incorporates virtually all possible error sources typical of mercury barometers.
The instrument reflects the post-war “democratisation of science”: the idea that “a Victorian-style barometer” could now be owned not only by the bourgeoisie but by any living-room owner. It is a textbook example of mid-20th-century mass historicism—a desire to decorate the home with pseudo-antique objects compensating for the disappearance of genuine pre-war artefacts. As such, it is a social artefact that illustrates the evolution of European taste in the mid-1900s.
The barometer also embodies my sceptical view toward such objects and my recurring theme of the loss of materiality and individuality:
Although the barometer does not attempt to deceive as a museum-grade fake of the 1870s—and instead remains a decorative replica that immediately reveals its real age to anyone who looks closely—objects of this kind are often presented on the market as original 19th-century barometers. Unfortunately, an untrained buyer may not recognise the imitation, and a seller—whether through ignorance or intent—may fail to disclose it.
Even though the barometer has no intrinsic collector’s value, it is of significant interest as part of the history of materials, the social history of the barometer, the world of disappearing craft practices, and the era of post-war “craft surrogates.” Like any historical atmospheric instrument, it carries its own story and context.
