St Peter's, Hall Green
Hidden away behind the suburban facades of Hall Green lies a little known gem, St Peter's is one of the most outstanding modern churches in the Midlands and can be found by venturing down a quiet lane that leads between the houses off one of Hall Green's busier roads. Its presence is announced over the rooftops by the slender concrete tower with a striking lattice window and a circular cap at its summit.
The church was opened in 1964 to replace a more modest predecessor and makes a striking architectural statement. Approaching it from the lane reveals an intriguingly formed building with an octagonal nave at its heart, similarly finished in precast concrete and capped by a pleasingly green copper roof. Below is a brick ambulatory that surrounds the nave and from which a substantial chapel and the main sanctuary also erupt, both marked by large expanses of dalle de verre glazing, as are the twelve windows in the upper part of the nave itself. These were what I'd really come to see, but the unusual architecture itself is a reward for meandering this way.
Entry is via the doorway at the base of the tall and slender west tower, and initially there is a sense of subdued light until one becomes accustomed to the level and can then fully appreciate the dazzling richness of the glass. All around the octagonal nave is a series of strikingly non-figurative windows inspired by Middle Eastern prayer-mats, each design different and evoking other times and places in their symbolism of the act of prayer itself, but doing so in a modern idiom. At the east end our eyes are drawn to the largest window in the church situated behind the altar, which is again a work of dalle de verre glass mosaic, but is a figurative composition depicting Christ's call to St Peter. The austerity of the architecture sets the windows off very well.
The windows are rare works (outside his native Alsace) by the artist Tristan Ruhlmann and their style is unlike any dalle de verre glass I've seen elsewhere. Ruhlmann used his own technical wizardry to expand the graphic quality of this otherwise limited medium for pictorial subject matter (dalle de verre windows normally consist of roughly hewn chunks of glass set in concrete, which limits their narrative capacity). In order to work in a more illustrative style, Ruhlmann incorporates pieces of flat glass as well, only using then set on their edges to create lines of coloured light with which he 'draws' *(some are heat distorted to create curves). This is likely a unique use of the medium in England, and deserves to be better known as a highly complex and imaginitive response to the material which remain without imitators.
On the south side is the lady chapel which culminates in another large Ruhlmann window, this time depicting the Nativity across three lights. The chapel is otherwise flooded with light from its remaining clear glazed windows, and is a pleasant place to sit and contemplate Ruhlmann's work.
The church isn't normally open outside of services but is well worth seeing if one can make arrangements to visit. I am hugely hugely indebted to the church's vicar, Reverend Martin Stephenson who kindly agreed to open the church for me after I'd phoned the parish office and spent some time showing me his archive of photos of Ruhlmann's work in France (all of which was previously unknown to me and quite a revelation!). He clearly understands what a special church he has and what a unique individual Tristan Ruhlmann was and I am very grateful for the time he gave me to explore the church and share his passion for its glass.
It was a visit I'll never forget and a church I could easily lose myself in for a lot longer (the acoustics are 'interesting' in there too, quite an echo to every word and movement, I wonder what it is like to sing in there?). Frustratingly my camera was having 'issues' that day, but at least I have a reasonable set of images to show for my visit.
St Peter's, Hall Green
Hidden away behind the suburban facades of Hall Green lies a little known gem, St Peter's is one of the most outstanding modern churches in the Midlands and can be found by venturing down a quiet lane that leads between the houses off one of Hall Green's busier roads. Its presence is announced over the rooftops by the slender concrete tower with a striking lattice window and a circular cap at its summit.
The church was opened in 1964 to replace a more modest predecessor and makes a striking architectural statement. Approaching it from the lane reveals an intriguingly formed building with an octagonal nave at its heart, similarly finished in precast concrete and capped by a pleasingly green copper roof. Below is a brick ambulatory that surrounds the nave and from which a substantial chapel and the main sanctuary also erupt, both marked by large expanses of dalle de verre glazing, as are the twelve windows in the upper part of the nave itself. These were what I'd really come to see, but the unusual architecture itself is a reward for meandering this way.
Entry is via the doorway at the base of the tall and slender west tower, and initially there is a sense of subdued light until one becomes accustomed to the level and can then fully appreciate the dazzling richness of the glass. All around the octagonal nave is a series of strikingly non-figurative windows inspired by Middle Eastern prayer-mats, each design different and evoking other times and places in their symbolism of the act of prayer itself, but doing so in a modern idiom. At the east end our eyes are drawn to the largest window in the church situated behind the altar, which is again a work of dalle de verre glass mosaic, but is a figurative composition depicting Christ's call to St Peter. The austerity of the architecture sets the windows off very well.
The windows are rare works (outside his native Alsace) by the artist Tristan Ruhlmann and their style is unlike any dalle de verre glass I've seen elsewhere. Ruhlmann used his own technical wizardry to expand the graphic quality of this otherwise limited medium for pictorial subject matter (dalle de verre windows normally consist of roughly hewn chunks of glass set in concrete, which limits their narrative capacity). In order to work in a more illustrative style, Ruhlmann incorporates pieces of flat glass as well, only using then set on their edges to create lines of coloured light with which he 'draws' *(some are heat distorted to create curves). This is likely a unique use of the medium in England, and deserves to be better known as a highly complex and imaginitive response to the material which remain without imitators.
On the south side is the lady chapel which culminates in another large Ruhlmann window, this time depicting the Nativity across three lights. The chapel is otherwise flooded with light from its remaining clear glazed windows, and is a pleasant place to sit and contemplate Ruhlmann's work.
The church isn't normally open outside of services but is well worth seeing if one can make arrangements to visit. I am hugely hugely indebted to the church's vicar, Reverend Martin Stephenson who kindly agreed to open the church for me after I'd phoned the parish office and spent some time showing me his archive of photos of Ruhlmann's work in France (all of which was previously unknown to me and quite a revelation!). He clearly understands what a special church he has and what a unique individual Tristan Ruhlmann was and I am very grateful for the time he gave me to explore the church and share his passion for its glass.
It was a visit I'll never forget and a church I could easily lose myself in for a lot longer (the acoustics are 'interesting' in there too, quite an echo to every word and movement, I wonder what it is like to sing in there?). Frustratingly my camera was having 'issues' that day, but at least I have a reasonable set of images to show for my visit.