Southrop, Gloucestershire

The main attraction at Southrop surely has to be its amazing Norman carved font, with its symbolic human figures, lettering, buildings and detailed patterns. Perhaps I was overwhelmed by it, but I gave it a go. You'll notice that for once I was sensible and focused in on the detail. Even so, it didn't take long to find out the detail was pretty detailed. It's got that characteristic that we both like to seek out... that is, patterns that are repetitive, but slightly dissimilar in each repetition. Even in the tiny extract above you can see differences on the right and left (it's not just my careless drawing).

But I wasn't a huge fan of the carvings of figures. Maybe I'm just not used to them, as they're unusual and B and I both like the Romanesque classic flora and fauna and geometric forms. But the thing I didn't really appreciate was the violence. The carvings are supposed to be the Virtues overcoming the Vices. But I'm not sure it's very virtuous to go stabbing or thrashing or trampling people. And I always say everyone needs a vice, I'm not against vices per se. So I found the carvings a bit unpleasant and so didn't feel that inspired to draw them.

So there I am in a church with one of the fanciest Romanesque fonts in the area, and I don't really like it. In fact I'm more drawn to the capitals in the porch. Of which this is one. And it's got zigzags, swirls (volutes), round bits going into square bits, and those boudoir trifle biscuits at the bottom. That's more like it.

There was a nice bit of beading on the chancel pillars as well, with saltire crosses and a wheaty band - really rather simple and kind of Anglo-Saxonesque.

The font at Southrop is quite uncharacteristic of the sculpture we've seen before. Maybe Norman times were indeed full of knights slashing at each other but that's not the image one gets from toothy dragons and swirling foliage. I wonder whether the creator of the Southrop font was working to a brief or whether it was a topic they felt strongly about and got Really Into. Nearby Stanton Fitzwarren (scene of a visit last year foiled by a locked door) has a very similar font, doubtless by the same hand.

I think B may have taken photos of each 'window' of the font. I feel as though I should go through each one and try to analyse what they show. But it seems a little too unpleasant for now.

We'd had an excellent bright autumnal day in the Cotswolds in the Van, and it seemed a fitting final odyssey for the year.

Orcheston, Wiltshire

With all the traffic trying to avoid the closed Shrewton to Tilshead road there was some chaos round here. But we eventually found St George's church. It's under the care of the Church Conservation Trust. It was raining quite hard now, and inside the church felt dingy and cold, so I probably wasn't as receptive to it as I might have been. Then we discovered that the very doorway we'd come to see (admittedly, probably quite a simple Norman doorway with straightforward scallopy columns) was locked away in a slightly undignified way with the lawnmower in the north porch. Oh well.

They seem to to have been everywhere, so I'm grateful to Duncan and Mandy and their website for this photo of the things that most caught my eye at Orcheston - this toothy carved creature (bat?) and his manically grinning portly pal.

All Cannings, Wiltshire

Like Bishops Cannings, All Cannings is village that lies in the gap between the Downs to the north and the Salisbury Plain to the south - the Pewsey Vale. The Kennet and Avon canal and the young River Avon weave about between them all.

The tower at the All Saints church is in the building's centre - a feature that B and I have come to associate with Ancientness and the oft-fulfilled promise of carvings and weirdness. We found not only a couple of superbly trumpety Norman capitals, but a couple of enigmatic faces.

 

I did enjoy sitting there drawing this magnificently chunky capital. The weird shapes on the right are not a product of my dodgy artistic skills but were genuinely like that. The church had a nice atmosphere, one of those places where time feels quite heavy and you can almost imagine the long hours and years and centuries the carvings have sat there, usually in silence, with the light of the sun moving around the walls.

 

B drew the other capital - even more chunky and less fiddly, but as with all these things it always becomes more difficult when you actually start observing and drawing. What you think it looks like isn't really what's there at all, and you have to fight that boring, lazy, impatient and ever critical bit of your brain that won't let the other bits get on and draw.

I enjoyed looking for the colours in the stone - purples, blues, browns, pinks, yellows. It often makes me think that I'd like to bring some acrylics with me and just paint rather than do the ink + wash thing. But can you imagine the mess I'd make. And I'm sure it'd take me even longer. I always try to relax and take as long as I need, give the sculptures the attention they deserve. But one can't help having the Itinerary somewhere in the back of one's mind. Only because there are always new and exciting things to be seen, and only limited time in which to see them.

You can see this face in the background of the photo above, on the wall near the organ. I don't know how old it is, but I liked it because it has simple bold lines like the Norman carving, and the diamondish eyes are also reminiscent of Norman sculptures we've seen. It has a very patient air.

We didn't notice the carving below until we were about to leave - Mr Pevsner didn't spot it and no wonder, because it's up high and round a corner (actually somewhere up above my carved capital). Sometimes we really get the impression he zoomed about and sometimes was thinking more about his tea. I mean I don't blame him or anything, I can't begin to imagine how he sustained his enthusiasm and energy levels for the massive undertaking. His books are an outrageous achievement. I can hardly think less of him because sometimes he skims over magnificent Norman fonts and misses the odd bit of peculiar sculpture. He must have been totally knackered half the time, judging by the way I feel at the end of the day, and that's after only a handful of locations.

So what can this carving be? It was hard to see as it was high up. Having seen the Minute Face at Maperton, I'm inclined to see a bit of similarity with this face. But what's going on with the attached body? I wonder if there's something wave-like and watery going on towards the bottom. The figure certainly has a hand in a sleeve. But the other 'hand' seems to be too large and carved without fingers? which made me wonder if it were something else. And the head doesn't have any hair... so then I thought 'baby... water... Moses in the bulrushes...' but on reflection I think that's probably quite silly.

I'm wondering if I should start taking a ladder round with us.

I found this anonymous document which I think is the same thing I read in the church. It says:

"A relic of an earlier structure exists in the form of a curious stone carving on the south face of the Southwest tower pier. It appears to be the figure of a man entwined by a serpent or snake. It would, therefore, have probably formed one of a pair of allegorical carvings of Adam and Eve. Its date and origins are, however, unknown."

I have to disagree though, because I don't think it appears to be the figure of a man entwined by a serpent at all, largely because we couldn't see any serpent. If you want to call that twirly bit a serpent, it's going to have to be a two-headed one, and one without eyes or a tongue or anything else serpenty. Plus as far as I know, Adam isn't usually depicted wearing sleeves, because in the garden of Eden, he didn't have to wear anything at all. So I'm monumentally unconvinced by the idea.

 
 Update: Stiffleaf has a better photo here. It could be a dragon. It's not a snake as they don't have ears. Maybe he's got a bag of something in his hand. Maybe it's not a him at all but all that stuff at the top is hair. So I'm none the wiser but it's interesting to see it more clearly.

Avebury, Wiltshire

If I thought the other two fonts today were complicated, they had nothing on the one at Avebury. This one has some order in its geometric arches at the bottom. But the rest is crowded organic foliage, animals and a human figure. There was too much to draw in situ so I took some photos, which I'll have to work further from at a later date.

Images © Rhiannon 2014

Winterbourne Monkton, Wiltshire

The font at Winterbourne Monkton has been on the fringes of my awareness for a long time because of its mysterious figure and proximity to the stone circle at Avebury. It was a lot bigger and chunkier than I was expecting. The carving is very detailed but forthright.

A friendly woman who was arranging things for the Sunday service told me the church had been a 'slipper church', meaning that pilgrims took their shoes off there and continued the rest of the way barefoot. I'm not sure where, she said Santiago de Compostela but I think that was probably a bit optimistic. You'd think maybe Glastonbury, as that's a bit nearer (and the 'Monkton' of Winterbourne Monkton does refer to it being owned by Glastonbury Abbey). All the same I hope the pilgrims took their shoes with them (ew). 

Here's the figure. Some people have wanted to imbue it with Sheela-na-gig style symbolism. But there's nothing to really say if it's even male or female.

The head is almost horned at the top, and it's certainly a funny shape. It's hollowed out and there's no trace of those big eyes you get on Norman sculpture. The arm on the left has got a few extra bends in it compared to mine. And that makes me think it could even be serpenty (with devillish connotations) or maybe foliage. Or maybe the carver just got a bit confused, but wanted it to link up with the big zigzaggy chevrons. Who knows. The hand on the right looks curled round at the wrist.

The legs and feet are more delicately done. I think you can even see toes on one. They both fit nicely into the dips formed by the top of the 'trumpets'. Around the rest of the font those dips house a little foliate design. And that's why I'd say whatever's between the legs is probably similar foliage, rather than being anything indicating the figure's gender.

As the churchgoer pointed out, you can see traces of a lot of paint on the font. And you can see that the carvings were rather hacked about when the paint was removed. It must have looked a bit crazy when it was brightly coloured. But I think I prefer the more minimalist look - the lovely geometric carving doesn't need any extra fuss for me. I wonder when the colour was put on though, was it original?

Here's a nicely contrasty picture of the trumpety motifs and the nailhead between them. And a triple chevron band. Mmmm.

One more thing about the location: I drove into the village over a bridge crossing a wide dry ditch. Dry at this time of the year anyway - I realised it must be the path of the eponymous stream, a tributary of the Kennet which only runs in the winter. There is an interesting blog with photos called Canoeing and Kayaking on the River Kennet.

Images © Rhiannon 2014