Showing posts with label Somerset. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Somerset. Show all posts
Sunday, 12 March 2017
Kilmersdon, Somerset
The lych-gate at Kilmersdon was the perfect place for a picnic. It's disappointing in a way, but we now feel we must appear sufficiently middle-aged looking that we don't attract disapproving looks from passing locals. So not looking like a youf does have its advantages. B had expertly prepared the picnic and it included boiled eggs (so I felt like Columbo) and highly carameliferous wafers. Plus tea in a flask. You'd never get that level of care from me. But the hot drink was greatly appreciated.
We soon found out that the door was resolutely bolted. This is always immensely disappointing and bemusing, particularly in a country village where the risk of people stealing damp hymn books and charity leaflets would seem to be particularly low, but the likelihood of ramblers wanting to pop in and leave a quid or two would seem to be particularly high. However. I suspected that there would be lots of interesting things outside.
Pevsner just says "Much Norman evidence" but doesn't particularly mention that there are carved corbels on the south side of the church, and surely they're Norman. I think we know a Norman corbel when we see it these days. They always have a nice simple style and might include animals or people Doing Things.
There were some great big medieval gargoyles on the north side of the church, really quite excellent. I tried to draw one but the angle made it difficult (I say this but B seemed to manage perfectly well). There's much to see and appreciate here.
We soon found out that the door was resolutely bolted. This is always immensely disappointing and bemusing, particularly in a country village where the risk of people stealing damp hymn books and charity leaflets would seem to be particularly low, but the likelihood of ramblers wanting to pop in and leave a quid or two would seem to be particularly high. However. I suspected that there would be lots of interesting things outside.
Pevsner just says "Much Norman evidence" but doesn't particularly mention that there are carved corbels on the south side of the church, and surely they're Norman. I think we know a Norman corbel when we see it these days. They always have a nice simple style and might include animals or people Doing Things.
There were some great big medieval gargoyles on the north side of the church, really quite excellent. I tried to draw one but the angle made it difficult (I say this but B seemed to manage perfectly well). There's much to see and appreciate here.
Saturday, 20 February 2016
North Wootton, Somerset
We had to salvage this trip, find something properly Norman and do some drawing. So we drove in hope to North Wootton. Success at last.
It may be that I'm starting to lose the plot but this font had to get a little pat. It's exactly the type of thing we both like - chunky, wonky, with a bit of strong and honest decoration. In fact I think it's one of the wonkiest we've seen (you can see a photo on Robyn Golden-Hann's website - which slightly annoyingly shows an interesting font at Pilton that we missed). I love the way the old-style rope design changes into a series of up and down chevrons. You can see the place where the lock was (another feature I like to see to believe in a font's ancientness - not that you need that in this case. I wonder why they removed them, you never see one...)
Maybe it didn't use to be quite so wonky - there's also some weird patch towards the base that makes it look like it was reset a bit crooked. Also the photo makes it look much more elongated - I guess the angle I drew it at made it a bit foreshortened. Oh well. It was good to find after such a peculiar day and I felt refreshed from the opportunity to feel relaxed and draw.
I regret that I can't find anything else exciting to say about North Wootton. I'm sure it's a jolly nice place.
Incidentally, we removed the familiar style of hideous cover before drawing (just as I see Ms G-H did, despite her religious nature). I read on this page the eccentric idea that the "18th-century cover [was] probably adapted from the pedestal of a tea table". I think that was probably supposed to be humour but later repeated as fact. The cover was Clunky. Hey, preacher! leave those fonts alone! No really. Lay off the tasteless woodwork. I don't care if it's antique.
It may be that I'm starting to lose the plot but this font had to get a little pat. It's exactly the type of thing we both like - chunky, wonky, with a bit of strong and honest decoration. In fact I think it's one of the wonkiest we've seen (you can see a photo on Robyn Golden-Hann's website - which slightly annoyingly shows an interesting font at Pilton that we missed). I love the way the old-style rope design changes into a series of up and down chevrons. You can see the place where the lock was (another feature I like to see to believe in a font's ancientness - not that you need that in this case. I wonder why they removed them, you never see one...)
Maybe it didn't use to be quite so wonky - there's also some weird patch towards the base that makes it look like it was reset a bit crooked. Also the photo makes it look much more elongated - I guess the angle I drew it at made it a bit foreshortened. Oh well. It was good to find after such a peculiar day and I felt refreshed from the opportunity to feel relaxed and draw.
I regret that I can't find anything else exciting to say about North Wootton. I'm sure it's a jolly nice place.
Incidentally, we removed the familiar style of hideous cover before drawing (just as I see Ms G-H did, despite her religious nature). I read on this page the eccentric idea that the "18th-century cover [was] probably adapted from the pedestal of a tea table". I think that was probably supposed to be humour but later repeated as fact. The cover was Clunky. Hey, preacher! leave those fonts alone! No really. Lay off the tasteless woodwork. I don't care if it's antique.
Pilton, Somerset
After much to-ing and fro-ing along muddy country lanes, and past empty fields signposted for the Glastonbury Festival, we dipped down into a steep valley and up again to park outside the church at Pilton. It's a big church. It's got a big Norman doorway. The chevrons arching over it weren't evenly sized - there were a couple of small ones squashed in. The whole thing was so neat and unweathered that it looked strange to see the squashed-in ones. It made me wonder about the idea of deliberately not doing things perfectly, that they were consciously doing that rather than not caring. There was something about the neatness that said they were deliberately making 'mistakes' against their better aesthetic judgement. I don't usually get that feeling. I usually feel the bits of disorder are a joyful thing maybe reflecting the disorder of the world. I could be misinterpreting this. Who knows.
I didn't take a photo. I couldn't take a photo, my camera said it had too low a battery and refused to cooperate. We put this down to the pervasive Somerset weirdness but it was probably my lack of organisation and inability to use the camera. There's a photo here, it's the only one I can see on the internet and it's not very clear.
I suppose I'd mainly come here to take photos of the lovely glass in St John's. There were some obviously really ancient bits saved in the windows at the sides of the chancel. A hilarious one can be seen here. The only one I managed to take was this, showing two of the evangelists:
The glass was nice at Pilton, there were some camels in the main window over the altar. But not that much Normanness.
On the Weirdometer, I now discover that Pilton holds its own. It was (supposedly) the place where Joseph of Arimathea sailed to when the Somerset Levels were all watery - with Jesus of course. I actually thought Joseph of Arimathea was supposed to have got off at Wearyall Hill and planted his staff (which broke into leaf)... but doubtless he paddled about a bit, why not.
I didn't take a photo. I couldn't take a photo, my camera said it had too low a battery and refused to cooperate. We put this down to the pervasive Somerset weirdness but it was probably my lack of organisation and inability to use the camera. There's a photo here, it's the only one I can see on the internet and it's not very clear.
I suppose I'd mainly come here to take photos of the lovely glass in St John's. There were some obviously really ancient bits saved in the windows at the sides of the chancel. A hilarious one can be seen here. The only one I managed to take was this, showing two of the evangelists:
The glass was nice at Pilton, there were some camels in the main window over the altar. But not that much Normanness.
On the Weirdometer, I now discover that Pilton holds its own. It was (supposedly) the place where Joseph of Arimathea sailed to when the Somerset Levels were all watery - with Jesus of course. I actually thought Joseph of Arimathea was supposed to have got off at Wearyall Hill and planted his staff (which broke into leaf)... but doubtless he paddled about a bit, why not.
East Pennard, Somerset
B and I are tired of being stuck indoors and feel we must resume our trips regardless of the weather. But this weekend's trip was beset by weirdness. We had to conclude that Somerset is worse for it than Wiltshire. First stop was to be the church at Lamyat. It's a stupidly tiny village but we couldn't find the church. I convinced myself it couldn't be where it turned out to be, and drove up an absurdly steep hill instead. Lamyat is at the foot of some very strange topography, the sort of hills that make you think 'they're a bit odd looking'. These weird hills are landmarks for miles around.
As we drove up it we knew we were going the wrong way. The hedges were starting to move in on both sides and the road disappearing under mud. At the top was a 90 degree bend, most curious. We felt a bit freaked out. We turned round and drove back down.
If we'd continued straight up the hill, it turns out we'd have got to the top of Lamyat (Lamyatt) Beacon, the site of a Romano-British temple, built about 300 CE and used for a few hundred years. Some little bronze figurines and limestone carvings of gods were found there. There were also burials of cast red deer antlers near to human burials... very curious. There was also a clay statuette of a ram with tightly culed wool, which was felt to be even older (the finds are described in an article in Britannia v17, 1986).
Anyway, none of that explains our inability to find a church, or repeatedly get lost in Bruton, or how we stopped to buy a local map in Castle Cary (the bookshop curiously had none) before finding two local maps in the car.
Finally we made it to East Pennard, where Mr P. had promised a "remarkable" late 12C font with human-headed birds. Sounded fantastic. Having struggled for a while trying to get in the wrong door, we finally made it in. To be disappointed.
I can see that this might be Norman, I mean look at the empty arcade at the top of it. And the foliage tail. But surely it's seriously seriously late. Look at that face - it looks like tinkerbell. It's got a finely modelled face, nothing like the sort of faces we were expecting. The whole thing was too elaborate, too asymmetrical, too thin. Not enough genuine passion in it. The arcade is so flat and even, it's boring. The faces round the bottom (the 'toes') look like gargoyles. You don't get Romanesque gargoyles, you get amazing and amusing corbels.
I don't want to talk about this any more. I was looking forward to something chunky and good and drawable. But it was uninspiring. You may call this opinion controversial but I'm sticking to it.
As we drove up it we knew we were going the wrong way. The hedges were starting to move in on both sides and the road disappearing under mud. At the top was a 90 degree bend, most curious. We felt a bit freaked out. We turned round and drove back down.
If we'd continued straight up the hill, it turns out we'd have got to the top of Lamyat (Lamyatt) Beacon, the site of a Romano-British temple, built about 300 CE and used for a few hundred years. Some little bronze figurines and limestone carvings of gods were found there. There were also burials of cast red deer antlers near to human burials... very curious. There was also a clay statuette of a ram with tightly culed wool, which was felt to be even older (the finds are described in an article in Britannia v17, 1986).
Anyway, none of that explains our inability to find a church, or repeatedly get lost in Bruton, or how we stopped to buy a local map in Castle Cary (the bookshop curiously had none) before finding two local maps in the car.
Finally we made it to East Pennard, where Mr P. had promised a "remarkable" late 12C font with human-headed birds. Sounded fantastic. Having struggled for a while trying to get in the wrong door, we finally made it in. To be disappointed.
I can see that this might be Norman, I mean look at the empty arcade at the top of it. And the foliage tail. But surely it's seriously seriously late. Look at that face - it looks like tinkerbell. It's got a finely modelled face, nothing like the sort of faces we were expecting. The whole thing was too elaborate, too asymmetrical, too thin. Not enough genuine passion in it. The arcade is so flat and even, it's boring. The faces round the bottom (the 'toes') look like gargoyles. You don't get Romanesque gargoyles, you get amazing and amusing corbels.
I don't want to talk about this any more. I was looking forward to something chunky and good and drawable. But it was uninspiring. You may call this opinion controversial but I'm sticking to it.
Saturday, 17 October 2015
Leigh upon Mendip, Somerset
Recently I've been aware I've been admiring the Organic Forms of our lovely Norman fonts. You may think it mad but I've been known to give them a little pat, because they're so solid and rounded.
But this one... well the official description is that it's scalloped. But let's face it, it has definite bum-like qualities. This is not a bad thing. And surely this couldn't have been lost on the sculptors.
"What would you like for your font then?"
"Well I don't know really, what can you do?"
"I've been doing a very nice line in Scallops recently. You could go for lots of scallops, or maybe just the simple version and have just a few."
"Oh yes let's go for the few then."
"Ooh yes I've got just the thing in mind. (Heh heh)."
"??"
"Nothing, nothing. I'll send you the invoice in due course."
When we first came in I thought the design was straightforwardly square with two scallops per side. But at the corners, when you ducked down and looked carefully underneath, you saw it's got a kind of concentric chevron thing going on. And that added a special touch I thought.
The rim was a bit bashed - the usual result of presumably removing the lock which was once added to it. The cover, in depressingly predictable fashion, was fairly vile.
But it's nice that the base is round, contrasting with the square bowl. It was definitely another pleasing font.
Holcombe Old Church, Somerset
Holcombe Old Church is in the sort of place we like, i.e. it's at the end of a long and winding narrow lane following a sudden handbrake turn off the main road. It's signposted too, making a useful and pleasant change.
Mr P. mentions the Norman carvings of the doorway, but I'd also read of the church in Rosemary Cramp's book on Anglo Saxon carving in South West England ( you can read the relevant section here at the moment). That's because a part of the stone that makes up the right hand capital (which you see below) is inscribed with letters. You can be pretty sure it's reused rather than contemporary with the capital, because the writing is upside down for one thing.
The lettering has a definite Style to it. Cramp says "The letters are boldly but unevenly incised, and some letters are finished with serifs or the expansion and deepening of terminals." By which you may infer that it shows an individual's hand, but they've gone to a bit of trouble to make it look fancy.
I was going to draw it but I was getting tired and the light wasn't very good for picking out the details. I took a crayon rubbing of a bit instead. Yes yes I thought about the frowns I might get for this (you'd certainly get frowns if it were prehistoric rock art). But I've done it now and here is the little bit I did:
There's much conjecture about what the whole thing says (or said) - it's probably in Latin but a lot of letters are missing. And it's suggested 'PROT' could be at the beginning of the inscription because it's apparently preceded by a little cross. Or at least, it's the first line that survived (now the lowest since it's upside down). Cramp has the lettering transcribed as follows:
[+P]ROT[R] ---
--- AT [...]
EIE [L.]A[V]--
C:PET[R]A[.]--
It's sad that I'm not organised enough to be able to vouch for any more than the PROT. But I'd like to defend myself by saying that I like the element of surprise and also that I don't want my mind to be influenced by prior knowledge. With lettering, you might decipher it in a certain way because you are expecting it to say something particular. And with carvings more generally, you might be inclined to See what you're told to see, and even miss things that you haven't been told about.
More concise information can also be found Lapidge's 'Anglo Saxon England v21'.
But lettering is never really as exciting to draw as a lovely spiral column with fancy Romanesque capital. And those spirals are a treat in their unevenness. I like the way the blocks aren't evenly sized and the stripes don't match up properly, and they even change direction. Is that because someone moved them and put them back together weirdly? Wouldn't that have been somewhat lazy? I like to think they how they were intended. But who knows.
Another strange thing to note about the columns is the curious beaky toe on each one. I think we've seen similar things before (maybe Marden?) - but maybe not just single ones like that.
Mr P. mentions the Norman carvings of the doorway, but I'd also read of the church in Rosemary Cramp's book on Anglo Saxon carving in South West England ( you can read the relevant section here at the moment). That's because a part of the stone that makes up the right hand capital (which you see below) is inscribed with letters. You can be pretty sure it's reused rather than contemporary with the capital, because the writing is upside down for one thing.
The lettering has a definite Style to it. Cramp says "The letters are boldly but unevenly incised, and some letters are finished with serifs or the expansion and deepening of terminals." By which you may infer that it shows an individual's hand, but they've gone to a bit of trouble to make it look fancy.
I was going to draw it but I was getting tired and the light wasn't very good for picking out the details. I took a crayon rubbing of a bit instead. Yes yes I thought about the frowns I might get for this (you'd certainly get frowns if it were prehistoric rock art). But I've done it now and here is the little bit I did:
There's much conjecture about what the whole thing says (or said) - it's probably in Latin but a lot of letters are missing. And it's suggested 'PROT' could be at the beginning of the inscription because it's apparently preceded by a little cross. Or at least, it's the first line that survived (now the lowest since it's upside down). Cramp has the lettering transcribed as follows:
[+P]ROT[R] ---
--- AT [...]
EIE [L.]A[V]--
C:PET[R]A[.]--
It's sad that I'm not organised enough to be able to vouch for any more than the PROT. But I'd like to defend myself by saying that I like the element of surprise and also that I don't want my mind to be influenced by prior knowledge. With lettering, you might decipher it in a certain way because you are expecting it to say something particular. And with carvings more generally, you might be inclined to See what you're told to see, and even miss things that you haven't been told about.
More concise information can also be found Lapidge's 'Anglo Saxon England v21'.
But lettering is never really as exciting to draw as a lovely spiral column with fancy Romanesque capital. And those spirals are a treat in their unevenness. I like the way the blocks aren't evenly sized and the stripes don't match up properly, and they even change direction. Is that because someone moved them and put them back together weirdly? Wouldn't that have been somewhat lazy? I like to think they how they were intended. But who knows.
Another strange thing to note about the columns is the curious beaky toe on each one. I think we've seen similar things before (maybe Marden?) - but maybe not just single ones like that.
Chesterblade, Somerset
Chesterblade is very little and the roads are narrow. But as I tried to abandon the car in an inappropriate spot, a very nice woman offered me the use of her driveway. This was very kind. I might have given her a funny impression with my pleading 'oh I just want to see the church'. But it was the truth, albeit not inspired by religious sentiment.
Here's the font. It was plain but pleasing, like a giant beaker, or a clay pot that had been made on a wheel. And of course, slightly wonky. It was sitting skewhiff on its unevenly shaped base. And it had a nice simple cover, none of that fancy tasteless business.
I read the blurb in the church leaflet about it and it was very strange. The back cover featured an alleged drawing of the font, and it had a band of twisted rope design around it about two-thirds of the way down. The leaflet explained how an Artist in the 1840s had drawn it so, but later the design had been removed. Youwhat? There was not a trace on the font to suggest any such vandalism had taken place, it was smooth and lovely. It seemed to make no sense at all. That someone would go to such trouble to remove a totally inoffensive design, and then go to extreme lengths to make it look perfectly smooth - yet (and here's my clincher) - do a completely botched job on the place where the lock used to be at the top. Not to mention to then sit it wonkily on a funny shaped base? So. Frankly, I don't believe a word of it. It certainly gives the impression of being in its original form.
It's true to say that B and I not infrequently get confused about names and what was where and when. We try to label our drawings as soon as we've done them, whilst still in the church. Even then, we're sometimes asking ourselves 'hang on, where are we again?'. And that's with maps and Pevsner and the internet and everything. It doesn't seem unbelievable to me that the 1840s artist had a big sheaf of drawings and got confused about which came from where, and mislabelled one of them.
That's my opinion anyway.
Outside in the porch were two super capitals, the chubby face above (with ears and beaded eyebrows) and the lovely to draw twiddly design below.
There were also two creatures at the headstops of the arch. But I thought they were very cramped as they were very small, unusually small in our experience of such things. You can see pictures on the CRSBI website. I wasn't taken with them. They don't look Romanesque to me, but I shouldn't argue with the CRSBI should I.
Also on that page you can see photos of some carvings we totally missed. We're usually quite thorough and have a stroll round the outside of the buildings. But we must be getting slack to miss not one but two carvings with faces and animals. B will be saddened to hear that one of them was a Lamb of God (you can tell by the characteristically bent front leg, which usually supports a cross). They haven't quite got that bold touch that I like. But I'd still like to have noticed them! Maybe another time (pending parking opportunities). There's a photo of the other carved stone here.
Here's the font. It was plain but pleasing, like a giant beaker, or a clay pot that had been made on a wheel. And of course, slightly wonky. It was sitting skewhiff on its unevenly shaped base. And it had a nice simple cover, none of that fancy tasteless business.
I read the blurb in the church leaflet about it and it was very strange. The back cover featured an alleged drawing of the font, and it had a band of twisted rope design around it about two-thirds of the way down. The leaflet explained how an Artist in the 1840s had drawn it so, but later the design had been removed. Youwhat? There was not a trace on the font to suggest any such vandalism had taken place, it was smooth and lovely. It seemed to make no sense at all. That someone would go to such trouble to remove a totally inoffensive design, and then go to extreme lengths to make it look perfectly smooth - yet (and here's my clincher) - do a completely botched job on the place where the lock used to be at the top. Not to mention to then sit it wonkily on a funny shaped base? So. Frankly, I don't believe a word of it. It certainly gives the impression of being in its original form.
It's true to say that B and I not infrequently get confused about names and what was where and when. We try to label our drawings as soon as we've done them, whilst still in the church. Even then, we're sometimes asking ourselves 'hang on, where are we again?'. And that's with maps and Pevsner and the internet and everything. It doesn't seem unbelievable to me that the 1840s artist had a big sheaf of drawings and got confused about which came from where, and mislabelled one of them.
That's my opinion anyway.
Outside in the porch were two super capitals, the chubby face above (with ears and beaded eyebrows) and the lovely to draw twiddly design below.
There were also two creatures at the headstops of the arch. But I thought they were very cramped as they were very small, unusually small in our experience of such things. You can see pictures on the CRSBI website. I wasn't taken with them. They don't look Romanesque to me, but I shouldn't argue with the CRSBI should I.
Also on that page you can see photos of some carvings we totally missed. We're usually quite thorough and have a stroll round the outside of the buildings. But we must be getting slack to miss not one but two carvings with faces and animals. B will be saddened to hear that one of them was a Lamb of God (you can tell by the characteristically bent front leg, which usually supports a cross). They haven't quite got that bold touch that I like. But I'd still like to have noticed them! Maybe another time (pending parking opportunities). There's a photo of the other carved stone here.
Doulting, Somerset
There's not much at the church in Doulting that speaks of great age, other than the two capitals on the north door. And they were very nice albeit simple. Unmatching, of course (and just how I like it). The left one now reminds me of something I saw Mary Berry and her sidekick make on the tv the other day (a passionfruit and lime charlotte russe). The right hand side design has an organic foliate feel. Perhaps it echoes something of the amazing liverworts we were to see imminently.
Because coming out of the hillside below the church is St Aldhelm's Well, a holy spring. It's only a short walk, along a be-treed path and between stone walls down a steep lane.
 |
| CC image by Kerryn |
People were filling big water containers and carting them away in their cars, presumably to Benefit from its springyness and sanctity. So I figured the water couldn't be that full of nasties. B and I both took a mouthful. It certainly had its own taste, but it was hard to say of what.
Dinder, Somerset
It seems that dragons are well known in Dinder. There's a local legend about the Worminster Dragon or Worminster Worm.
This issue of Dragonlore gives some details from an account in the Wells Journal. "During the 1200s, Dulcote, Dinder and North Wootton were troubled by a dragon living at Worminster Sleight, who breathed fire, scorching fields, trees and sheep. The people called on the Bishop of Bath and Wells, Bishop Jocelyn, for help, and he rode out alone to find the beast. The details of his confrontation vary depending on who tells the story. Some say he killed the dragon with a lance, others maintain he struck it down with his bare hands. In either case the dragon ended up dead - but the story doesn't end there. It seems that before it breathed its last it bestowed a curse and if the villagers ever forgot about the monster it would be able to return to life, and its chance for reincarnation would come every 50 years."
So every 50 years the villagers have to do something Dragony, and the last time was in Dinder in 2001, when a giant model dragon was paraded around and then set on fire.
But I've seen no connection made (on the internet at least) between the carved creature above and the dragon. The lovely carved creature is actually two animal heads, joined by a short length of zigzag / balled arch-iness, and it sits high up in the chancel in Dinder's church. The friendly woman who was cleaning the church went we arrived, pointed out that the stained glass window below it featured St Michael, the patron saint of the church, as if to highlight the importance of both.
B and I were not convinced of their dragonyness (much to the surprise of the aforementioned woman) - largely due to their very doglike noses. The noses were really very well observed. Whereas you'd imagine dragons would have lovely flaring nostrils. Admittedly, dogs do not have a row of little pellets down the middle of their heads. And the ears of these creatures are remarkably long. Yes they do indeed look like some of the other dragon heads we've seen elsewhere. It seemed clear to us that originally the two would have been headstops on a door or chancel arch - at least, that's where we've seen such things before, and they must have been saved and reused. And they're very nice, so why wouldn't you.
Here's a mosaic of the Other dragon created by Kate Rattray - it's near the bishop's palace in Wells.
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| CC image by Frankly PM |
Bishop Jocelyn (or Jocelin) was indeed around in the 12th century. So that's kind of interesting that that's the same period as our lovely Romanesque carvings.
The only picture I can find on the internet of the carvings are on this rather eccentric website which tries to connect it with ley lines. Well if that's what floats your boat, we all have our niche interests don't we.
The only picture I can find on the internet of the carvings are on this rather eccentric website which tries to connect it with ley lines. Well if that's what floats your boat, we all have our niche interests don't we.
Monday, 28 September 2015
Lullington, Somerset
We've not been to Lullington for ages, but I was flicking through a book this evening and a photo I'd taken there fell out. So I thought it would be a good stress-reducing plan to draw from it. Our last trip out didn't include as much drawing as it might.
So here are three of the amazing beakheads that surround the elaborate doorway (illustrated here).
The carver must have really enjoyed making the creatures' mouths curl round the roll in front of them - they've often made much of their wrinkled upper lips!
You can't beat a good beakhead but it's the way the carvers usually surrounded an entire arch with them, making each one different, that makes them worth travelling a long way to see.
It seems that Wiltshire's not very replete with them. Only Chirton springs to mind right now. Otherwise, the ones we've seen have mostly been in Gloucestershire.
Saturday, 15 August 2015
Blackford, Somerset
At St Michael's in Blackford, these two deliciously spirally columns frame the doorway. One has spiral chevrons, the other is twirled by a single line. Naturally they're both carved a bit wonkily, which makes them all the nicer. And naturally they're of Norman date, so among the oldest parts of the church.
You can see a photo of the doorway on the CRSBI website. The columns both 'disappear into the floor' without a foot; and the CRSBI call them 'en delit' which apparently means they're not carved from the same block as stands behind them. But whatever, I think they're very slim and elegant and the spirals are lovely. I like the way the Norman carvers were perfectly happy to have a different design on either side of the doorway. I don't think you'd get that kind of asymmetry in any other era. They clearly match and are of the same ilk, but they're different. It's good.
Here's a little sketch of the font, which is superbly squat and short - tub shaped with only a little bit of moulding around the top to decorate it. It's rather symmetrical and very pleasing in its simplicity.
You can see a photo of the doorway on the CRSBI website. The columns both 'disappear into the floor' without a foot; and the CRSBI call them 'en delit' which apparently means they're not carved from the same block as stands behind them. But whatever, I think they're very slim and elegant and the spirals are lovely. I like the way the Norman carvers were perfectly happy to have a different design on either side of the doorway. I don't think you'd get that kind of asymmetry in any other era. They clearly match and are of the same ilk, but they're different. It's good.
Here's a little sketch of the font, which is superbly squat and short - tub shaped with only a little bit of moulding around the top to decorate it. It's rather symmetrical and very pleasing in its simplicity.
Maperton, Somerset
Maperton felt like it was a long way down winding roads in the Somerset countryside. The church is next to a massive and grand manor house, and you have to stride up a dank little lane at the side of it. The church itself is pretty Victorian and a bit sterile, but it's got a couple of things that more than make up for that.
The first is in the porch - it's a carved Anglo-Saxon stone. The design is pretty freeform though not entirely unsymmetrical. It had some of that 'line-down-the-centre' going on that truly smacks of Saxon-ness. Its weird shape maybe suggests it was an arm of a cross. But who knows. It's not like it's the shape it seems in the drawing - the shape is set into a rectangular bit of stone. You can see a photo on 'Somerset Heritage' which shows what I mean. Also, I liked to imagine there was a Bitey Creature in the bottom right corner. But I think that may have been overimagination caused by a faintly eye-like dint.
And here is something we weren't expecting, which was just superb and one of those lovely and strange extras which make our visits especially rewarding. It was billed in the church blurb as "a minute face" and it was set into the interior of the tower. It was full of character and had an ancient and curious air. You can see a photo on the CRSBI website. Naturally I don't want to denigrate their Serious Objectivity but their description misses the numinosity of the carving. I liked the Minute Face a lot.
The CRSBI also have a picture of the font at Maperton, which they have down as romanesque, but I'm not hugely excited by it. Octagonal and plain doesn't shout Norman era at me, though the base looks pretty convincing. Hark at me eh.
The first is in the porch - it's a carved Anglo-Saxon stone. The design is pretty freeform though not entirely unsymmetrical. It had some of that 'line-down-the-centre' going on that truly smacks of Saxon-ness. Its weird shape maybe suggests it was an arm of a cross. But who knows. It's not like it's the shape it seems in the drawing - the shape is set into a rectangular bit of stone. You can see a photo on 'Somerset Heritage' which shows what I mean. Also, I liked to imagine there was a Bitey Creature in the bottom right corner. But I think that may have been overimagination caused by a faintly eye-like dint.
And here is something we weren't expecting, which was just superb and one of those lovely and strange extras which make our visits especially rewarding. It was billed in the church blurb as "a minute face" and it was set into the interior of the tower. It was full of character and had an ancient and curious air. You can see a photo on the CRSBI website. Naturally I don't want to denigrate their Serious Objectivity but their description misses the numinosity of the carving. I liked the Minute Face a lot.
The CRSBI also have a picture of the font at Maperton, which they have down as romanesque, but I'm not hugely excited by it. Octagonal and plain doesn't shout Norman era at me, though the base looks pretty convincing. Hark at me eh.
Milborne Port, Somerset
- Ooh look at that, that's rather like the column at.. now where was it.. you know, that church with the doorway, was it somewhere near X??
- You mean the one with the trees?
- No no no, but yes it did have trees, but the one where we walked up that path. Did it begin with D??
These lovely "affronted animals" (meaning facing each other, rather than being offended) were on the tympanum at St John's church in Milborne Port. They're pretty cute (you can see the original on this link). The surrounding design reminded me very much of the one around Samson and the lion at Highworth.
The church is big and has remnants of Anglo-Saxon-ness - a massive central tower with much fiddly leaf-inspired carvings on the capitals. Unfortunately they were very high up and we couldn't see them properly. They weren't the bold simple style you might expect. We needed a ladder really.
There was also a Norman font, but it seemed to have been hacked about mercilessly. It had arches on the sides but they looked strange - I thought it must originally have been a square font made octagonal by the cutting off of the corners. The base was offensive to the eye. I'm getting far too fussy these days but that's what happens when you expose yourself to all the best examples.
Thursday, 21 August 2014
Rowberrow, Somerset
We tried to visit the carving at Rowberrow but the church was locked and with no contact details.
This photo comes from a 1909 book about St Aldhelm, by the Rev. G F Browne.
The shape of the head is very reminiscent of the Saxon carving at Frome. The interlacing is very complex! and a free-form style design that concentrates on wrapping the creature in its own tail (such as some of those at Ramsbury) rather than the strict logic of say Teffont Magna.
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