PROCESSING THREE CHURCHES

 

There's a process: looking for places to visit and planning how to get there. Then the desperate balance between snapping away madly and drinking in the atmosphere of place and time. Afterwards, uploading pictures to a carefully structured set of folders in the cloud, then filtering through them on the mobile device and selecting small groups to combine before deleting the rest from my time line.

During the selection and collage- making a voice in my head rehearses thoughts I might want to express. Hopefully I remember the good ones later when I fire up Samsung Notes. Could be the same evening, or more often a day or two later that I post to LinkedIn. Might be some minor final edits then.

 

The process is what I enjoy. Trying to live my best life. Learning each day by actively working with images, models, words, buildings. It shapes who I am, gives me a deeper historical perspective but in a very practical way.

It's wonderful to share that with a diverse group of friends. To feel that I can also pass something on, here and there.

Three more Hampshire Churches shown here, visited by car on a ride back from Reading to Basingstoke with long-time friends. St Mary Stratfield Mortimer, Victorian Gothic on a heroic scale. I've seen the spire many times from the train but never close up before. St Saviour Mortimer West End. Also Victorian but more modest in its pretensions. Mattingley parish church. Late Medieval timber frame restored by Butterfield. Almost domestic in feel and a fitting conclusion to this small adventure.

 

The image set below shows details of Stratfield Mortimer, a Victorian parish church. The vestry is very odd, added by a second architect at the West end, which is unusual. The roof is flat, but with two flying buttresses at the sides that seem more decorative than structural.

The other striking detail is a dressed-stone cover flashing. This is laid at a steep angle and projects over the lead soakers that interleave with the tiles. The lead is gone of course, stolen and replaced by a less reusable material. We used to know it as flash-band.

 

Next set. The carved ornament at the springing point of the window arches is found in both sets of images. Foliage terminations to columns as they rise up and to hood mouldings as they curve down, at St Mary's. A version of Tuscan capitals and carved heads at St Saviour.

At roof level we have a bell-cote in marked contrast to the soaring spire. Also a cross with trefoil embellishments. More carved heads "supporting" the hood moulding over a lance window. Wonderful balance of shapes, colours and textures here.

 

Mattingley is completely different of course. Heavy timber framing, closely spaced... you almost wonder what the bricks are doing in there. They look very beautiful of course, and lower maintenance than wattle and daub.

The framing has the feel of driftwood, that old favourite of the still life painter. If it was a modernist building the fans would say that the herringbone pattern of the bricks expresses their non-structural nature. It may be so, but I suspect the builders were just "building well" within a tradition. None of the the self-conscious rationalising we like to indulge in.

But perhaps that's my particular bias peeping through.

 

TWO KINGSLEY CHURCHES

 

On Tuesday I targeted three churches by bus. Sadly I had to call time on my stamina after the first two. All the same it was a great little adventure to the village of Kingsley.

All Saints is the currently active church, a Victorian replacement for St Nicholas, just a couple of bus stops away. The old church has remnants of medieval work at the East and West ends but the main body is a strange brick concoction from the Georgian period. The doors were locked.

 

The new church was open and although they employ different materials both inside and out are admirable examples of high Victorian polychrome. Generally speaking it's in excellent condition, but I suspect the exterior was originally selectively limewashed, leaving just the bands of dark stone exposed in contrast with the sparkling white of the lime.

It's a theory.

 

 

The details below are from the two churches I visited this week, both in Kingsley, Hampshire.

The green tunnel approach is quite common for these small village churches set back a little way from the road. Get off the bus and head up this enchanting side road. Lots to see. I even came across a dead rabbit in the hedgerow.

Typical village pub, lychgate from Victorian times. Some splendid doorways that I would love to tackle in Revit. Who knows when? Wonky grave stones with moss and lichen. How picturesque is that?

 

I had to look up lychgate to check if it's two words or one. In the process I discovered it means corpse gate, a symbolic reference to the resurrection when people will rise from the graveyard around the church to face the day of judgment.

Whether you are a believer or not it's a powerful story. Taken as a metaphor, the day of judgment reminds me to take my life seriously, to reflect on the positive and negative aspects of my journey, and to aim upwards with the time I have left.

Do we have those powerful moving stories to guide us through the modern world as the builders of these ancient churches did? Maybe AI can think a couple up for us... 👀

 

As sometimes happens when travelling, I got my images mixed up. No biggie, but here is the rabbit mentioned in my last post, and the village pub, and the green tunnel.

There is also a lychgate, not wonky this time, but it has a roof and seats, which are often associated with the term. The image squares I shared yesterday featured a rather splendid understated war memorial, one of several superb trees in the church garden at Kingsley All Saints. Plus an interesting buttress: very regular in all its edges, but a bit wonky in the middle.

 

The second set of squares shown here features both interior and exterior details from All Saints, Kingsley. Of course I love the casual irregularity of so much medieval work, the sense of evolution over time. But there is also something rather thrilling about the high Victorian Gothic with its crisp detailing and polychromy. Perhaps it's easier to imagine a period closer in time to ours, to inhabit the soul of a Gothic Revival architect.

That was a great day. A tiring day, but manageable and another solid step forward in my work on Hampshire Churches. Another day in my acclimatisation to UK life. I'm so lucky to be able to do this transition in a gradual, phased way. The prodigal son returning after 45 years? Yes and no.

It's a process.

 

 

TOWERS AND GALOSHES

 

Four Limehouse views with the tower of St Anne's hovering proudly. Featuring railway arches, an old pump station, modern upmarket housing, Docklands Light Railway.

It's an area that has repeatedly reinvented itself. When St Anne's was first built there were still large stretches of open ground, often used by rope makers to stretch out and weave the various types of long rope needed in the age of sail.

I think this may be Hawksmoor's best church tower in terms of proportions and overall design. A good balance between invention and tradition. 300 years old and still gracing the skyline. If only it's function remained just as relevant.

 

This is the back alley I use to walk to the shops. Edwardian terraces I think. The point of the photo is the slate damp proof course. Superceded by bitumen felt and then by plastic.

Is that still the dominant material or has there been pushback on environmentalist grounds? I'm not quite up to date on that but I'm guessing that black plastic still rules the roost.

No agenda here. I just enjoy spotting these little details as I walk around.

 

Memory is about making connections in the brain. Making and reinforcing. It seems that connecting two unrelated ideas together makes things much easier to remember (mnemonics) Famously memory experts walk around a childhood house, placing a long list of things to remember on chairs or shelves.

I have had difficulty remembering the term Guilloche... (the classical running ornament shown here) I solved this by linking to the word "galoshes". Stupid but effective.

 

The thing about a "style" is that it has all these typical features with names. At first this might seem restrictive. Painting by numbers. Mere repetition. But anyone who has worked in a well-established style knows that there is virtually infinite room for variation and personal expression.

You can collect dozens of examples of guilloche from buildings around the world, all slightly different. This one happens to be Basingstoke, top of town. A freize running across brickwork in Flemish Bond. Rather lumpy, flush pointed and painted out in white, but still Flemish Bond.

What's with all the lead flashings? I wish I knew. Anyway that's the quirky detail that I noticed on my morning walk today.