Avington (near Hungerford), Berkshire

Mr Pevsner had the right idea. He always went back to his bed and breakfast at the end of a hard day's fonting, and he wrote his notes up after supper. He did this because he knew he'd forget things if he didn't. I've been very slack of late and it's a shame because the brain really doesn't remember things for very long. And yet our fonting trips are such a special and important part of my existence. They keep me sane. They are the things I do in the gaps between the necessary evil of going to work. They are actually what I'd like to be doing. When the Youth go on about YOLO (they probably don't any more, it's probably passe) they're probably talking about chucking themselves off bridges with a bungee or backpacking through the Congo. But I'm not bothered about those things, I know what floats my boat. It's geeky but it makes me calm and happy - it gives me a buffer for all those annoying moments in my job. It is (as Jonathan Meades once said) "anoraking about" with a Pevsner.

 Avington's quite a trek, it's over the border into fairly uncharted territory (Berkshire.. this is the Wiltshire Wandering blog after all). I don't like doing too much research before we go somewhere, because I like to be surprised. Sometimes I sneak a look at the CSRBI to check how many millimetres the font is across (no no I don't, don't be so unpleasant). No, sometimes I do check the marvellous resource of the CSRBI to see what's Romanesque. Pevsner wasn't always as detailed as he might have been about our favourite type of sculpture - he had a lot of other things to get through so I don't blame him. But Avington is a Norman extravaganza.

There is something to be said for knowing where you're going though. I hadn't even got the right map. I mean I had got the right map somewhere (it was at home) but it wasn't one of the half dozen or so in the car. My other half used to joke that the maps in the car were worth more than my car. It's probably still true (I don't care). So B and I drove down a dead end road to Avington Manor, not realising that the church wouldn't be in sight. I'm fine when I have an OS map, it's like my all-areas pass at a festival - I can stride confidently knowing that I'm perfectly entitled to be on the public footpath. But without one, I get all peasanty and deferent and don't like marching up the extensive drive of manors in case someone appears with a shotgun. It's paranoia. Luckily B could use the modern technology of her phone to locate the church and we trotted on. I need to get with the 21st century but at some level I'm scared of getting totally addicted.

The church at Avington is in a totally dreamy location - an overgrown meadow near the banks of the river. There's no laid path and barely any gravestones. It's just sprouting in this wild quiet spot. We could hear a cuckoo calling. It could have been any era you liked really. It's a weirdly timeless spot.

The south doorway has perfectly solid and interesting Normanness. When you're eager to see what you expect inside it's easy to overlook the scrolly leaves, zigzags and column patterns you'd be delighted to see anywhere else. The doorway even has the tonguey, almost 'protobeaks' on the columns which we've seen at other Wiltshire spots with top-quality carving. So these features clearly indicated there were treats in store inside.

On entering you see the font - it's been hacked about a bit, but most of the figures are still clear. The font reminded of Chirton (with its saints and arches), but the figures are more complex here. It's more difficult to see what's going on and interpret it. There's hours and hours of drawing enjoyment in the font.

But it's so hard to concentrate when the chancel arch is so fantastic - pretty much in an unprecedented fashion for us, as the super-wide arch had 29 beakheads all across the chancel side, and tongue-poking animals all across the nave side, two characters to each block of stone. Whoever saw so many creatures? It was truly crazy. And to add to the craziness, there was even evidence that more beakheads had been on arches springing up into the centre of the chancel - they'd been cruelly cut off or taken away. There were more creatures than one could know what to do with. It was stupendous.

And there was even more Romanesque interest - two faces biting at the columns either side of the chancel arch, and in the corners behind the altar, a superb cow-face and cat-face. Weirdly, the CSRBI doesn't mention these at all, but they're superb and characterful. The Church Blurb suggested these were an ox for Saint Luke and a lion for Saint Mark. But who knows if that's true. They're great carvings regardless.

I found the amount all a bit overwhelming but drew a little. I need to spend less time fiddling on computers watching nonsense and spend more time creating satisfying art from these superb carvings. Pictures to follow.

Coln St Aldwyns, Gloucestershire

Oh how I love a nice dragonny headstop, and the church at Coln St Aldwyns (whilst being a bit Victorian and bland for the Romanesque connoisseur) has two excellent ones, which are considerately sheltered in the porch.

It's got a dog-style nose reminiscent of the top quality examples at Elkstone, Leonard Stanley, or our recent trip to Somerset's more distant Dinder. Its teeth are excellently large and bitey, and there's some good runkling along the nose and around the cheek. The ears are quite small and cute but it's got an intense expression in that eye. There was something strangely bumpy between the ears. I wondered if was a devilish horn, but I think there was only one of them... it was a little bit odd as the rest was so clearly carved.

There was another similar animal on the right-hand side of the door, which B drew. But as usual I was becoming a drained wimp with all the concentration of drawing the one above. This can be disappointing when the carvings are so excellent :)

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.

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.

Devizes, Wiltshire

Toothy creature on the corbel table. CC photo by Brian Robert Marshall.

I was looking forward to the wealth of Romanesque amazingness at St John's in the middle of Devizes. We've been here before but I hadn't indoctrinated B properly at that point, so as we walked up to the church she denied any recollection of the sculptural goodness inside. I was looking forward to showing her, and being able to draw something a bit more satisfying than the Fake Font at Bratton.

But, as I rattled every damn doorhandle into the building, it became obvious that we weren't going to get in.

It was a replay of our trip to Amesbury. And I just want to ask WHY??

It's harvest festival this weekend. And I know I'm an atheist. And I just want to admire the carvings and put a bit of cash in the collecting box. But what about religious people? Or even casually non-committal, come to church every now and again types? What if they want to come in for a quick pray? A bit of god-based solace? Just a sit down?!

Why are we being locked out of a church in the middle of a town on a busy Saturday lunchtime?! When little churches in the middle of nowhere can be unlocked for visitors, why can't a massive church like St John's?

It completely bemuses me and it annoyed me at the time. B thought it was annoying me completely out of proportion to what was necessary. But then she didn't know what she was missing. Well B what do you think of this? And there's more curious creatures on the corbels (hence my irritation at forgetting the binoculars). Some people have looked at them very closely, as detailed in this WANHS article. 

Don't worry, I'm over it now.

Netheravon, Wiltshire

The last couple of trips, B and I have arrived at the location most dripping with Romanesque goodness as the last of our stops. And this is not conducive to drawing owing to mental and physical exhaustion. So this time we decided we would go to the most promising place first(ish). This was a good idea, except it started to rain. I could have stayed here a lot lot longer.

It's immediately obvious that you're somewhere different - the tower of the church is very unusual looking (well, certainly for this neck of the woods). I must credit Duncan and Mandy's website again for the photo below.

Anglo-Saxonness abounds. I really loved the fantastic little doorways that opened into the north and south of the tower. I'm hoping B will provide me with photos of these. The stone was beautifully coloured, peachy and orange and sand. If it hadn't started raining I'd have cheerfully painted these doorways. Originally the tower had been central in the church, and you could see where other walls had adjoined it.

On the west end of the tower were large doors, and these were framed by deliciously carved capitals on tall plain columns. They were superb. I drew only one but there were four.

The Quadruped (with classic tail between legs pose) has unfortunately lost its face to weathering. But much of the rest of the carving was fresh and tactile. The colours were warm and very appealing. They weren't necessarily part of the stone though - B's suspicions were confirmed when I geekily got out my hand lens and we squinted at the wall - red lichen.

I suppose the columns may have been moved or carved when the tower was rejigged? How old are the carvings? The tail-through-leg may have started early I guess. There's lots of speculation (and considered deep thought I'm sure) about the church's structure on the Anglo-Saxon-Churches website.

Inside, walking through the tiny south doorway, the tower soared up, with a superb round arch and tall tall columns into the nave. This was really something special. I liked it here a lot.

from Duncan and Mandy's website

Great Durnford, Wiltshire

In terms of Whoops Per Minute, Great Durnford turned out to be approaching the top of the league table. It has not one, but two Norman doorways with patterned tympanums. And inside, a stupendous font. And then - look at those weird carvings near the door jamb! And then! a big chancel arch with two crazy winged creatures. And on top of that, some swirly painting. And some absurdly ancient pews. It was all a bit much. There was much squealing. I also squealed a bit at the end when I saw a huge spider in the porch. But B assured me it was dead (as she quickly hurried me away).

This is the amazing font. The amount of work that must have been put into it is huge. But Mr Pevsner lets us down. This is his description: "Circular, Norman; short, primitive interlaced arches; band of volutes over." Mr Pevsner, really?? Is that the best you could have done? You didn't want to mention the little faces created by the design of the mini columns? The sheer number of arches? The fantastic swirliness of the Danish pastryesque designs around the top (which even put me in mind of the swirliest font in the world, the one at Deerhurst.. yet to be visited). Oh Mr Pevsner how tired you must have been not to have been more enthusiastic.

Here's the font in its natural habitat. We removed the cover. It was the most inappropriate and foul thing imaginable. If you've got a strong stomach you can see it in this photo by Rex Harris.  It's absurd, it looks like a silly hat. Yeah it's probably Jacobean. But that doesn't make it tasteful.


By the south door were these slightly crazy sea-anemone-like carvings. They reminded me of something similar at Lullington in Somerset. Those are over the doorway (and at its foot), which you can probably see better in this photo by Phajus. But they're not quite the same. I like the way these are different sizes from each other and a bit randomly spaced. The unevenness is just so appealing, so human.

The design looks properly folded over / pinched in (think Danish pastry again). To create something so organic out of a solid bit of stone is surely quite a feat. I don't know why they're down only one side of the door. I like them a lot. All this talk of food made me wonder if, since there are seven, if they were the seven loaves in the 'feeding of the 5000' (correction - there were 5 for the 5000 and 7 for the 4000. Who knew). But then where are the fishes? There are no fishes. So it's not that. Who'd pass over the chance to carve some fish. But maybe it doesn't need to be anything. Maybe trying to find Explanations For Everything is highly overrated (more of this in my Leominster ramblings).

Meanwhile either side of the chancel arch, perching on the roll at the bottom of each capital, are two creatures. One is very dovelike, but the one on the left isn't so easy to classify. It's got big (feathery?) wings just like its partner, and likewise three little toes on each foot cling to the capital, but it's not a bird. It sports a big cheesey grin, a fat tummy, and sticking-out ears. It might be tempting to see something naughty and impish in it, to contrast with the good dove opposite. But it doesn't look very naughty. Its eyes are outlined in a very nice Norman way: John Vigar has a photo here. He calls it an owl. I'm not sure about that though, they're not renowned for their smiles.

There's plenty more to be drawn from the photos B kindly took at Durnford. So I will do that soon.

Milborne Port, Somerset

B and I have resumed our adventures, but owing to endless hold-ups with internet access at my house, it makes me wonder whether I'll be able to record everything before it disappears from my head. We often have conversations that run -

- 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.

Boyton, Wiltshire

After the knight at Castle Combe, so early on in our forays, no carved knight has really come up to scratch. They can't compete the amazing depiction of his chain mail. Who'd have thought the first example we saw would turn out to be so good. So the knight in Boyton church - despite being in really good condition - didn't impress us as much as it should.

But I was most taken with the animal at his feet. As usual you can find descriptions in books that clearly don't match with the evidence of your own eyes. For example this one which calls the animal a lion. It's not a lion - do lions have tails like that? They do not. Do they have ears like that? Little short legs? Splayed feet? Etc? Nope. It's an otter and even someone with the most passing interest in wildlife would have to agree. So if it is an otter I'd imagine that's quite unusual. And who wouldn't want to rest their feet on an otter for eternity, I ask you that.

Here's the font which is very plain, but I think you'll agree, pleasing enough in its proportions; I bet it's a Norman model. I'd happily go for a fatter base. But now I'm just being absurdly picky.

Compton Greenfield, South Gloucestershire

Compton Greenfield church is no distance from the M5 and the huge queues of traffic for the Catbrain Temple of Consumerism (Cribbs Causeway). But it feels a world away. It's my favourite sort of church spot really, up a long dead-end road, in amongst fields. The churchyard had a big rose garden and smelt lovely. The church wasn't open but the superb door is in the open porch so all was ok.

This is the slightly mind-boggling pattern around the door:

This was much more complicated than I'd expected. It seems pretty impressive for an out-of-the-way small church. I like the irregularity of the chevrons even though the repetitiveness is so fundamental.

I'd picked this place for my visit because I'd heard it had 'reptilian creatures' - in fact, it's got four, one each side of the door and two guarding the outside of the porch. It seems rather grand to have four of them.

This one's outside and seems a bit toothier than the pair in the porch. I wondered if they could be later copies but the outside columns have a scalloped Norman look to them so maybe the headstops are completely real. All four have these cute little curly horns - I don't think I've seen that touch anywhere else before. They're reminiscent of some beakheads we've seen, I can just imagine them biting the arch at somewhere like Chirton.

Above is the design on the capital on the right of the door. It's got the decorative holes that I'm sure we've seen elsewhere. And even a bit of intertwining which is reminiscent of Saxon knotwork. And of course the nice fingery fans (which must have an official name if only I knew it). The design on the other capital almost has a face derived from these. But I think that might be my imagination.

And this is my rendering of the inside right-hand creature with his big ears and starey eyes.

I found an old photo of the doorway in Memorials of Old Gloucestershire (1911) - the article is by Mr Keyser, writer of a book about carved Norman tympana (I'm sure B will be pleased, and I personally feel like his devotee. How strange this Norman carving obsession is, but how nice it is to find someone else who felt the same, albeit 100 years ago). I think the article will give me plenty of further Leads.

Looking at the map, I guess this church is on the route between Bristol and where people might have crossed the Severn to get to and from Wales. Though I'm not sure why that would have made it more likely to have fancy carvings. Maybe that's irrelevent. Who knows.

Images © Rhiannon 2015

Knook, Wiltshire (II)

Image copyright Rhiannon 2015

Bishopstone (Swindon), Wiltshire

I knew we'd seen more dragons on doors than I've posted, so I looked back through my photos and found some at St Mary's church at Bishopstone. It was the same day as the stupendous Hinton Parva font and the wealth of carving at Ramsbury. Any other day you'd be pleased as Punch to find this doorway. But B and I were exhausted by this point, beyond the help of crisps and buns. What a daft hobby.

There are chevrons at two different angles, with a carved decorated border for them, and also an arch of good fat blobs. The tops of those neat skinny columns are rather nice too although they're worn. Here's the left hand dragon:

It's an interestingly exaggerated style, with the flaring snout. And what's going on with that bulbous head? Or is it four-eyed? Or are those high up ears? I wish I'd looked closer while we were there. The teeth are as fearsome as ever though.

Above the door there's a fairly inscrutable face. I seem to remember there were some Norman faces inside the church too, but I've no photos.

The font (which you can see on Mark Goodge's British Listed Buildings site) is also supposed to be Norman - it looks a bit neat for me but the proportions are pleasing. So many interesting things to see, and yet I didn't really See them. Proof that one should go home before getting into such a state! It's an exhausting business, hilarious really.


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Hankerton, Wiltshire

Drawn image copyright Rhiannon 2015

Spring seems to have arrived at last, and so feeling Springy it felt time to get out around the county again. Although B and I rarely saw a soul on our travels last year, everywhere was very busy. A friendly churchgoer chatted to me as we walked along the path to the porch where the dragon doorstops are. He did kindly invite me in for the church's coffee morning. But I didn't feel it would be polite to join the people chatting inside when they were there for a different reason. It did feel rather rude not to, when I was gratuitously enjoying their dragons. But I wanted to spend time drawing not chatting. Such is the dilemma of the heathen artist.

He pointed out to me that similar dragons can be seen at Malmesbury. And in fact B and I have seen them elsewhere too, like Leonard Stanley and Elkstone. And I have to say it, the ones there are actually better. The pair at Hankerton seemed a little bit half-hearted in comparison. Maybe they're weatherworn - maybe that porch hasn't always been there, maybe the carvings have lost some depth. Even so, I'm not sure they're as detailed as the LS / Elkstone ones, nor as exuberant.

The drawing above is of the right hand dragon, and the photo below of the left hand. The lines are simple and the (short) ears and eyes are not decorated. But the teeth are done quite deeply and carefully. They could probably take your finger off should the dragon came to life.

For those that like gargoyles there were lots around the tower, and they looked large and excellent. But far too modern for me :) I was intrigued by the thing below though, which was in the churchyard. Has it got the look of a font base or a stoup? Surely too huge for a column base. And is it resting on the lid of a table tomb? I don't know. It was curious though.

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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

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.