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PAGEANT 23 (WESTERLY)
Sailboat Specifications
Hull Type: Twin Keel
Rigging Type: Masthead Sloop
LOA: 23.00 ft / 7.01 m
LWL: 19.00 ft / 5.79 m
Beam: 8.00 ft / 2.44 m
S.A. (reported): 236.00 ft2 / 21.93 m2
Draft (max): 2.83 ft / 0.86 m
Displacement: 4,300 lb / 1,950 kg
Ballast: 2,094 lb / 950 kg
S.A./Disp.: 14.32
Bal./Disp.: 48.70
Disp./Len.: 279.87
Construction: GRP
First Built: 1970
Last Built: 1979
# Built: 551
Designer: Laurent Giles
Builder: Westerly Yacht Construction Ltd (UK)
Builder: Westerly Marine, Hampshire
The Pageant is one of the smaller of the Westerly range designed by Laurent Giles and produced in volume in the 1970s. She offers an excellent small cruiser, with remarkable room below for her length, and has the typical Westerly virtues of strength and solidity.
The Pageant was designed for Westerly by Laurent Giles in 1969, as a replacement for the earlier Nomad. Production ran from 1970 to 1979, the yacht shown in the photographs here being one of the last of the 550 or so built. A very few (reportedly just six) fin-keel versions were also produced in 1976, these being called Westerly Kendals. As with all other Westerly Marine yachts the Pageant was very strongly built to Lloyds specifications, which meant that the building processes were rigorously monitored and all materials had to be approved by Lloyds in order that a hull certificate could be issued.
Auxiliary Power/Tanks (orig. equip.)
Make: Volvo Penta
Model: MD1B
Type: Diesel
HP: 10
Fuel: 10 gals / 38 L
Sailboat Calculations
S.A./Disp.: 14.32
Bal./Disp.: 48.70
Disp./Len.: 279.87
Comfort Ratio: 20.61
Capsize Screening Formula: 1.97
Accommodations
Water: 15 gals / 57 L
Headroom1.75m
Cabins 2
Berths 5/6
One of the real pleasures of Flickr is finding out so much more about the areas you thought you knew.
I have been to Wymondham a few times, delivered beer to a hotel (more of that another time) and a friend used to run the Railway Inn near the station, but I hadn't really explored the town.
But having seen a friend's shots, I really thought I should go back and look at it anew. And then there was this building, the Abbey Church with two towers, ruins and all the associated history.
Whatever you think of the works inside, it is as a complete building, something to leave me, at least, in awe at the beauty. Of course, it might not please everyone, but it does me.
Many thanks to Sarah and Richard for taking me here.
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This massive church and its famous twin towers will be familiar to anyone who has ever been within five miles of Wymondham, pronounced Win-d'm; its presence always there above the roof tops, and still there on the horizon when the rooftops can no longer be seen. Closer to, it is like a mighty city on a hill. It is often referred to as Wymondham Abbey, which isn't entirely correct; but there was an Abbey here, and you can see a scattering of remains in the fields between the church and the river, gradually reduced over the centuries as the stone and rubble were taken away for use elsewhere.
We came to Wymondham on a day that was breathtakingly cold; although the temperature was hovering around freezing, there was a biting east wind that made it feel colder still. Hence, the clarity of the light in the photographs above. The top photograph, taken from the south on the far bank of the river, is worth a second glance, because it provides a number of clues as to how this extraordinary and magnificent building came to be the way it is today.
In the beginning, there was a Benedictine Priory, an offshoot of the Abbey of St Albans. It was founded here because, after the Conquest, William I granted the lands of Wymondham to the Duc d'Albini, and the Duke's brother was Abbot of St Albans. Part of the project consisted of building a massive Priory church, much bigger than the one you see today. In style, it was like the Abbey church of Bury St Edmund, or Ely Cathedral. It was a cruciform church about 70 metres long, and had twin west towers - you can see something similar today at Kings Lynn St Margaret. As at St Margaret, there was a third tower above the central crossing, the chancel extending a long way eastwards, and transepts that were as tall as the nave roof. It was completed during the 12th century.
You can see a surviving trace of the south-west tower in the photograph above. The base of its northern wall rises above the roofline at the western end of the clerestory, just beside the current west tower. The central crossing tower, however, was built to the east of the current east tower, the chancel extending eastwards beyond it.
D'Albini intended the church to serve the parish as well as the Priory, but this was not managed without recourse to the advice of Pope Innocent IV, who granted the people use of the nave and the north aisle, the Priory retaining the south aisle, transepts and chancel.
However, when the central crossing tower became unsafe in the late 14th century and had to be taken down, the Priory rebuilt it to the west of the crossing, actually within the nave. This is the east tower that you see today, now a shell. In turn, the parish extended the church further west, demolishing the two west towers and replacing them with the massive structure you see today. It really is huge; although it is not as tall as the church tower at Cromer, its solidity lends it a vastness not sensed there.
When the new east tower was built, the western face of it cut off the nave from the chancel, creating two separate spaces. When the west tower was built, it blocked off the former west window between the old towers. Because of this, Wymondham is the only medieval parish church in Norfolk, and one of the few in England, that has no window at either end.
Wymondham Priory became an Abbey in 1448, and seems to have lived its final century peaceably enough before being closed and asset-stripped by Henry VIII in the 1530s. The church then became solely the charge of the parish; the eastern parts, apart from the tower, were demolished.
Still without parapet or panelling, the west tower was never finished; but it features in the turbulent history of mid 16th century England because William Kett, one of the leaders of Kett's Rebellion, was hung from the top of it by Edward VI's thought police, a reminder of just how closely church and state became allied during the Reformation. It did give me pause for thought - hanging your enemy from a church tower seems such an obvious thing to do when you want to make a point. I wonder just how many more times it happened to less notable victims over the centuries, on church towers up and down the land?
You enter today through the great north porch, which is similar to that nearby at Hethersett, even to the extent of having an almost identical series of bosses. They depict rosary scenes in the life of Christ and the Blessed Virgin.
As I said, we came here on a spectacularly cold day, but I was delighted to discover that the interior of the church was heated, even on a Saturday. The church attracts a considerable number of visitors, as you might expect; but I still thought this was a nice gesture.
Wymondham church is above all else an architectural wonder; but in many ways this is a simple building, easy to explore and satisfying to visit. It has the feel of a small Anglican cathedral in that there is a pleasing mix of ancient Norman architecture and modern Anglican triumphalism; as in a cathedral, there are open spaces, and the old pews have been replaced with modern chairs, which almost always seems to work well. The glorious arcading, triforium and clerestory create a sense of great height; this, coupled with the lack of east or west windows, can make you feel rather boxed in, but I found I quite liked that; it made the place seem more intimate, despite its size.
The modern, triumphant feel to the place is largely owing to the vast reredos by Ninian Comper. This is generally considered to be his finest single work, and forms the parish war memorial. It was built and gilded during the 1920s and 1930s, and you have to say it is magnificent. It consists of three tiers of saints, with a glorious Christ in Majesty topping the tiers under the great tester. It was never completed; the space where the retable should be is now hidden by curtains.
The rood and beam, a bay to the west, is also Comper's work, and it is hard to conceive that work of this kind and to this scale will ever again be installed in an English church. The low sun, slanting through the south windows of the clerestory, picked out the gilding, and clever lighting from underneath helped to put Comper's vision of Heaven into practice. The row of candlesticks on the altar leaves you in no doubt in which wing of the Church of England Wymondham finds itself.
Comper's glory shouldn't distract you from the early 16th century facade above the sedilia. It is terracotta, and probably from the same workshop as the Bedingfield tombs at Oxborough. Here you see what might have happened to English church architecture if theReformation hadn't intervened. Looking west from the sanctuary, the original west window is clearly discernible, now home to the organ.
If Comper's work is a little rich for you, you may prefer the north aisle, which is wide enough to be a church in itself. Cleared of clutter, a few rows of chairs face a gorgeous early 20th century triptych depicting Mary and John at the foot of the cross. The Madonna and child towards the west is also Comper's, but the 1930s towering font cover on the typical East Anglian 15th century font is not; it is by Cecil Upcher. The south aisle is truncated, the eastern bays now curtained off; but here are the few medieval survivals in glass. From slightly later, but the other side of the Reformation divide, is an Elizabethan text on the arcade. It probably marks the point to which the pulpit was moved by the Anglicans in the 16th century.
St Mary and St Thomas of Canterbury is a church that it is easy to admire, and it certainly impressed me. Perhaps, it is not so easy a building to love. Inevitably, there is something rather urban in its grandeur, and even the warmth of the heating couldn't take the edge off the remoteness and anonymity you inevitably find in such a space.
However, the friendliness of the people on duty helped to make up for this. The area beneath the west tower has been converted into a shop, and the nice lady working there was very chatty and helpful. I have to say that I think it would concentrate my mind a bit, knowing that mighty weight was above me. The shop itself is good of its kind, selling books and religious items rather than just souvenirs, and more icons and rosaries than you would normally expect to find in an establishment of the Church of England.
The lady said that she was a Methodist really, and found the services rather formal, but she'd started coming to the Abbey because her daughter went there. "You ought to come, Mum, we're just like real Catholics!", she giggled, as she recalled her daughter's words. As a 'real Catholic' myself, I couldn't help thinking that we would have stripped out Comper's reredos long ago, and Masses would be accompanied by guitars and percussion, possibly with a modicum of clapping and the help of an overhead projector screen; but I kept my counsel.
Simon Knott, January 2006
Bauhaus Museum Weimar, Germany
German architect Heike Hanada designed a minimalist concrete museum to celebrate the Bauhaus in Weimar, where the design school was founded 100 years ago. The building is dedicated to the design school creates a physical cultural presence for the Bauhaus in the German city where it was based between 1919 and 1925. Located near the Nazi-era Gauforum square and the Neue Museum Weimar, the Bauhaus Museum is a simple five-storey concrete box broken only with its entrance and a couple of windows. The enclosing shell of light-grey concrete lends the cube stability and dynamic solidity. Equally spaced horizontal grooves run around the facades of the museum, with the words "bauhaus museum" repeated in a band near the top of the building. Hanada designed the museum to be a public building for the city and has attempted to clearly connect it to the neighbouring park. With elements such as plinths, fasciae, portals, stairways and a terrace to the park, the architecture incorporates classical themes that underscore its public character.
The museum contains 2,000 m2 of exhibition space, which will be used to display around 1,000 items from the Weimar Bauhaus collection. A shop and entrance hall is located on the ground floor, with a cafe and toilets below, and three floors dedicated to telling the story of the Bauhaus above. Each of the galleries overlooks double-height spaces and are accessed from a long ceremonial staircase that stretches the height of the building. The visitors ascend a succession of interchanging open spaces and staircases until they finally arrive at the top floor where they are presented with an unobstructed view of the park. The cascading staircases are encased by ceiling-high walls and function as free-standing, enclosed bodies in the interior space. The collection is arranged to inform visitors about the history of the design school, with the gallery on the first floor dedicated to its origins in Weimar and the Bauhaus manifesto that Walter Gropius wrote in 1919. The second floor has exhibits that show how these ideas were implemented, with galleries dedicated to each of the Bauhaus directors – Gropius, Hannes Meyer and Mies van der Rohe – at the top of the building.
The museum in Weimar has opened to coincide with the centenary of the Bauhaus, which was established in the city in 1919. The school was forced to relocate from Weimar to Dessau in 1925, where Gropius designed a new school building for the institution. Following a short time based in Berlin the school closed for good in 1933. Although only open for just over a decade, the Bauhaus is the most influential art and design school in history. The ideas and people associated with the school had an incredible impact on design and architecture, and to mark its centenary we created a series exploring its key works and figures.
The attractive town of Tewkesbury has been dominated by its superb abbey church since the beginning of the 12th century, and we can be forever grateful to its townspeople for purchasing the monastic church in 1540 for £453 for use as their parish church, saving it from the fate that befell countless similar great churches across the land during the turmoil of the Dissolution. It reminds us both how lucky we are to still marvel at it today, yet also how great a loss to our heritage the period wrought when many more such buildings were so utterly plundered as to have gone without trace (the fate of the monastic buildings here and even the lady chapel of the church whose footings are laid out in the grass at the east end).
Tewkesbury Abbey is thus rightly celebrated as one of our greatest non-cathedral churches, and remarkably much of the original Norman church remains substantially intact, most apparently in the great central tower, a fine example of Romanesque architecture adorned with rows of blind-arcading. The west front is dominated by a massive Norman-arched recess (enclosing the somewhat later west window) and the nave and transepts remain largely as originally built, though this is less clear externally owing to the changes made to the windows, nearly all of which were enlarged in the 14th century in the Decorated Gothic style. This century also saw the complete rebuilding of the eastern limb of the church, of a form less common in England with radiating chapels surrounding the eastern apse of the choir (the central lady chapel sadly missing since 1540).
The interior reveals far more of the Romanesque structure with mighty columns supporting the round Norman arches of the nave arcades giving the building a great sense of solidity. The space is further enlivened by the changes made during the 14th century by the stunning vault over the nave (adorned with a rewarding series of figurative bosses) which sits surprisingly well with the Norman work below. Beyond the apsidal choir beckons, and both this and the space below the tower are enriched with stunningly complex vaulted ceilings (replete with further bosses and gilded metal stars), all ablaze with colour and gilding.
There is much to enjoy in glass here, most remarkably a complete set of 14th century glazing in the clerestorey of the choir, seven windows filled with saints and prophets (and most memorably two groups of knights in the westernmost windows on each side). A few of the figures have fared less well over the centuries but on the whole this is a wonderfully rare and well preserved scheme. There is much glass from the 19th century too, with an extensive scheme in the nave of good quality work by Hardman's, and more recently a pair of rich windows by Tom Denny were added in one of the polygonal chapels around the east end.
Some of the most memorable features are the monuments with many medieval tombs of note, primarily the effigies and chantry chapels of members of the Despenser family around the choir (two of the chantries being miniature architectural gems in their own right with exquisite fan-vaulting). In one of the apsidal chapels is the unusual cenotaph to Abbot Wakeman with his grisly cadaver effigy, a late medieval reminder of earthly mortality.
Tewkesbury Abbey is not to be missed and is every bit as rewarding as many of our cathedrals (superior in fact to all but the best). It is normally kept open and welcoming to visitors on a daily basis. I have also had the privilege of working on this great building several times over the years (as part of the team at the studio I once worked for), and have left my mark in glass in a few discreet places.
Louwman Museum
Den Haag, Netherlands.
[NL] Een comfortabele stadsauto, maar de imperiaal op het dak van deze Nagant Type D verraadt dat dit ook een reiswagen is, een auto voor langere afstanden. De chauffeur doet zijn werk deels in de open lucht; de familie – let op het wapen op de portieren – koestert zich in een met brokaat afgezet interieur. Communiceren met de chauffeur gaat via een spreekbuis. Zoals bij veel auto’s uit die tijd is de linker zijlantaarn voorzien van een groene band om de linkerzijde aan te duiden. In de scheepvaart zit het groen overigens aan stuurboord, dus rechts.
Deze uit 1909 stammende Nagant Type D, de eerste auto van het merk die cardanaandrijving had, is eigendom geweest van de familie Regout, oprichters en eigenaars van de Sphinx-fabrieken in Maastricht. Het plaatje van de Maastrichtse dealer is nog op de auto aanwezig. De carrosserie is gemaakt in Aken. Deze Nagant Type D is nooit gerestaureerd en staat nog in de originele lak.
De in het Belgische Luik vervaardigde Nagant staat bekend als een zeer solide en betrouwbare auto.
Nagant is oorspronkelijk een wapen- en machinefabriek. Eind 19e eeuw wordt begonnen met het maken van auto’s, in eerste instantie licentiebouw van het Franse merk Gobron-Brillié. Vanaf 1904 maakt Nagant eigen modellen, auto’s met een degelijk en conservatief karakter. Eind jaren twintig wordt Nagant overgenomen door het Belgische Impéria-Excelsior.
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[EN] A comfortable town car, but this Nagant’s roof rack gives it away as suitable for long-distance travel. The driver worked partially in the open while the family (note the coat of arms on the doors) sheltered in a brocade-trimmed interior. Communication with the driver was made possible via a speaking tube. As with most cars of its time, the Nagant’s left side lantern has a green stripe to denote that side. In shipping however, the green marker denotes ‘starboard’, in other words, the right side. This 1909 Nagant was the first car of this make to be equipped with a driveshaft, and has never been restored.
It was owned by the Regout family, founders of the Sphinx porcelain factories in Maastricht. The plate of the Maastricht dealer is still fixed to the car. The bodywork was produced in Aachen and still bears its original paint.
The Nagant, which was manufactured in the Belgian city of Liège, was known for its solidity and reliability. Nagant was originally an arms and machine tools factory, but at the end of the 19th century it began producing cars under licence, starting with the French marque Gobron-Brillié. After 1904, Nagant began designing its own models, cars of a similarly reliable and conservative nature.
At the end of the 1920s Nagant was taken over by the Belgian Impéria-Excelsior company.
Source: www.louwmanmuseum.nl
Nestled within San Francisco's iconic Nob Hill neighborhood, the Masonic Temple stands as a beacon of history and architecture. This striking building, known for its unique blend of modern and classical design elements, has been an integral part of the city's landscape since its completion in 1958. The structure's facade, crafted from pristine white marble, is adorned with intricate bas-reliefs depicting Masonic symbols and figures, paying homage to the rich heritage of the Freemasons.
The building's architectural significance is further enhanced by its modernist influences, with clean lines and minimalist detailing that reflect the mid-20th-century design ethos. The temple's upper portion features a series of stylized figures that seem to march in unison, symbolizing unity and fraternity, core values of the Masonic brotherhood. Below, large glass panels invite natural light into the building, creating a harmonious blend of transparency and solidity.
The Masonic Temple is not only an architectural marvel but also a cultural hub. The building houses the Nob Hill Masonic Center, a popular venue for concerts, lectures, and community events. The center's auditorium, known for its excellent acoustics and seating capacity of over 3,000, has hosted countless performances, from classical concerts to modern rock shows.
This building's location in Nob Hill places it in one of San Francisco's most prestigious neighborhoods, known for its historic mansions, luxury hotels, and stunning views of the city. Whether you're a history enthusiast, an architecture aficionado, or simply exploring San Francisco, the Masonic Temple is a must-visit landmark that encapsulates the spirit and history of the city.
Caltha palustris (Kingcup, Marsh Marigold) is a herbaceous perennial plant of the buttercup family, native to marshes, fens, ditches and wet woodland in temperate regions of the Northern Hemisphere.
In the UK, Caltha palustris is known by a variety of common names, varying by geographical region. These include Marsh Marigold and Kingcup (the two most frequently used common names), Mayflower, May Blobs, Mollyblobs, Pollyblobs, Horse Blob, Water Blobs, Water Bubbles, Gollins and the Publican. The common name of marigold refers to its use in churches in medieval times at Easter time as a tribute to the Virgin Mary, as in Mary gold. In North America Caltha palustris is sometimes known as cowslip.
The specific name palustris, Latin for "of the marsh", indicates its common habitat.
(From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)
"Marsh-marigolds are in decline as agricultural land continues to be drained, but they are still the most three-dimensional of plants, their fleshy leaves and shiny petals impervious to wind and snow, and standing in sharp relief against the tousled brown of frostbitten grasses. Most of the plant's surviving local names - water-blobs, molly-blobs, water-bubbles - reflect this solidity, especially the splendid, rotund 'the publican' from Lancashire."
Richard Mabey, Flora Britannica
"Winking Marybuds begin
To open their golden eyes..."
William Shakespeare
Bonhams
Les Grandes Marques du Monde à Paris
The Grand Palais Éphémère
Place Joffre
Parijs - Paris
Frankrijk - France
February 2023
Estimated : € 200.000 - 240.000
Sold for $ 207.000
Described by former Aston Martin Chairman Victor Gauntlett as "a stylish thoroughbred, beautifully built, luxurious, fast and immensely safe," the V8 was built in several variants, one of the more exclusive being the Volante Convertible. Introduced in response to customer demand for such a car, the Volante first appeared in June 1978. Arguably the ultimate in soft-top luxury, the newcomer boasted a lined, power-operated top which, when erected, endowed the walnut embellished interior with all the solidity and refinement associated with the saloon version. Although its open-car aerodynamics meant that top speed suffered with the top down, the Volante's 150mph maximum nevertheless ranked it among the world's fastest convertibles.
The V8 Volante received the same periodic upgrades and refinements as the saloon version, adopting BBS wheels in 1983 and switching to Weber-Marelli fuel injection – and a flatter bonnet – in 1986. V8 Volante and Vantage Volante chassis numbers ran from '15001' to '15849', a total of 849 cars. The last V8 Volantes were built in 1989.
According to copies of Aston Martin's factory build records, this elegant V8 Volante was hand built at Aston Martin's Newport Pagnell plant during the spring of 1989, and was among the last 80 cars produced in the final year of production. The car received the final inspections in March 1989 and was then shipped from the UK to the USA. The car was of left-hand-drive configuration and was equipped with the desirable ZF five-speed manual transmission. The Volante was finished in British Racing Green with a fawn leather interior, beige carpeting and a fawn Everflex convertible top, just as it appears today. It is believed that this car was among just 13 V8 Volantes produced for the United States market in 1989, not all of which would have had the desirable ZF manual ZF transmission.
The new V8 Volante was delivered to its first owner, a Mr A M Pilaro of Southampton, NY through the Greenwich, Connecticut-based Aston Martin agency, Miller Motors. The car is believed to have remained with this first owner until 2016, being kept in excellent original condition. The CARFAX report issued for the Volante has recorded the mileage since new, and many New York State inspections are logged on the report.
The current vendor purchased the Aston at Bonhams' Amelia Island sale in March 2017. At that time we said the following: "Today this highly original Aston Martin shows less than 17,500 miles on the odometer, a figure that is indeed believed to be original. A major service was recently performed by Aston Martin of Long Island, NY. A solid and very well cared for car; close inspection of the Aston Martin V8 Volante reveals mostly original finishes throughout. The luxurious cabin presents beautifully, with the original interior and wood finishes intact. The dash pad and steering wheel are neatly colour-coded in green, matching the car's exterior. A set of custom luggage can be found in the trunk, also trimmed in green. The exterior looks magnificent, with sparkling chrome and brightwork, and the original BBS alloy wheels in place."
Our vendor paid the shipping costs back to Europe and paid the necessary EU duties. The owner then spent some £38,000 with respected marque specialist Chris Shenton on various works including the installation of the aesthetically more appealing EU-specification chromed bumpers (bills on file).
As a desirably equipped example built in the final year of the V8 Volante production run, this immaculate Aston Martin features all the refinements accumulated during the V8's evolution and must be considered among the best examples currently available. A set of AML fitted luggage is included in the sale.
One of the real pleasures of Flickr is finding out so much more about the areas you thought you knew.
I have been to Wymondham a few times, delivered beer to a hotel (more of that another time) and a friend used to run the Railway Inn near the station, but I hadn't really explored the town.
But having seen a friend's shots, I really thought I should go back and look at it anew. And then there was this building, the Abbey Church with two towers, ruins and all the associated history.
Whatever you think of the works inside, it is as a complete building, something to leave me, at least, in awe at the beauty. Of course, it might not please everyone, but it does me.
Many thanks to Sarah and Richard for taking me here.
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This massive church and its famous twin towers will be familiar to anyone who has ever been within five miles of Wymondham, pronounced Win-d'm; its presence always there above the roof tops, and still there on the horizon when the rooftops can no longer be seen. Closer to, it is like a mighty city on a hill. It is often referred to as Wymondham Abbey, which isn't entirely correct; but there was an Abbey here, and you can see a scattering of remains in the fields between the church and the river, gradually reduced over the centuries as the stone and rubble were taken away for use elsewhere.
We came to Wymondham on a day that was breathtakingly cold; although the temperature was hovering around freezing, there was a biting east wind that made it feel colder still. Hence, the clarity of the light in the photographs above. The top photograph, taken from the south on the far bank of the river, is worth a second glance, because it provides a number of clues as to how this extraordinary and magnificent building came to be the way it is today.
In the beginning, there was a Benedictine Priory, an offshoot of the Abbey of St Albans. It was founded here because, after the Conquest, William I granted the lands of Wymondham to the Duc d'Albini, and the Duke's brother was Abbot of St Albans. Part of the project consisted of building a massive Priory church, much bigger than the one you see today. In style, it was like the Abbey church of Bury St Edmund, or Ely Cathedral. It was a cruciform church about 70 metres long, and had twin west towers - you can see something similar today at Kings Lynn St Margaret. As at St Margaret, there was a third tower above the central crossing, the chancel extending a long way eastwards, and transepts that were as tall as the nave roof. It was completed during the 12th century.
You can see a surviving trace of the south-west tower in the photograph above. The base of its northern wall rises above the roofline at the western end of the clerestory, just beside the current west tower. The central crossing tower, however, was built to the east of the current east tower, the chancel extending eastwards beyond it.
D'Albini intended the church to serve the parish as well as the Priory, but this was not managed without recourse to the advice of Pope Innocent IV, who granted the people use of the nave and the north aisle, the Priory retaining the south aisle, transepts and chancel.
However, when the central crossing tower became unsafe in the late 14th century and had to be taken down, the Priory rebuilt it to the west of the crossing, actually within the nave. This is the east tower that you see today, now a shell. In turn, the parish extended the church further west, demolishing the two west towers and replacing them with the massive structure you see today. It really is huge; although it is not as tall as the church tower at Cromer, its solidity lends it a vastness not sensed there.
When the new east tower was built, the western face of it cut off the nave from the chancel, creating two separate spaces. When the west tower was built, it blocked off the former west window between the old towers. Because of this, Wymondham is the only medieval parish church in Norfolk, and one of the few in England, that has no window at either end.
Wymondham Priory became an Abbey in 1448, and seems to have lived its final century peaceably enough before being closed and asset-stripped by Henry VIII in the 1530s. The church then became solely the charge of the parish; the eastern parts, apart from the tower, were demolished.
Still without parapet or panelling, the west tower was never finished; but it features in the turbulent history of mid 16th century England because William Kett, one of the leaders of Kett's Rebellion, was hung from the top of it by Edward VI's thought police, a reminder of just how closely church and state became allied during the Reformation. It did give me pause for thought - hanging your enemy from a church tower seems such an obvious thing to do when you want to make a point. I wonder just how many more times it happened to less notable victims over the centuries, on church towers up and down the land?
You enter today through the great north porch, which is similar to that nearby at Hethersett, even to the extent of having an almost identical series of bosses. They depict rosary scenes in the life of Christ and the Blessed Virgin.
As I said, we came here on a spectacularly cold day, but I was delighted to discover that the interior of the church was heated, even on a Saturday. The church attracts a considerable number of visitors, as you might expect; but I still thought this was a nice gesture.
Wymondham church is above all else an architectural wonder; but in many ways this is a simple building, easy to explore and satisfying to visit. It has the feel of a small Anglican cathedral in that there is a pleasing mix of ancient Norman architecture and modern Anglican triumphalism; as in a cathedral, there are open spaces, and the old pews have been replaced with modern chairs, which almost always seems to work well. The glorious arcading, triforium and clerestory create a sense of great height; this, coupled with the lack of east or west windows, can make you feel rather boxed in, but I found I quite liked that; it made the place seem more intimate, despite its size.
The modern, triumphant feel to the place is largely owing to the vast reredos by Ninian Comper. This is generally considered to be his finest single work, and forms the parish war memorial. It was built and gilded during the 1920s and 1930s, and you have to say it is magnificent. It consists of three tiers of saints, with a glorious Christ in Majesty topping the tiers under the great tester. It was never completed; the space where the retable should be is now hidden by curtains.
The rood and beam, a bay to the west, is also Comper's work, and it is hard to conceive that work of this kind and to this scale will ever again be installed in an English church. The low sun, slanting through the south windows of the clerestory, picked out the gilding, and clever lighting from underneath helped to put Comper's vision of Heaven into practice. The row of candlesticks on the altar leaves you in no doubt in which wing of the Church of England Wymondham finds itself.
Comper's glory shouldn't distract you from the early 16th century facade above the sedilia. It is terracotta, and probably from the same workshop as the Bedingfield tombs at Oxborough. Here you see what might have happened to English church architecture if theReformation hadn't intervened. Looking west from the sanctuary, the original west window is clearly discernible, now home to the organ.
If Comper's work is a little rich for you, you may prefer the north aisle, which is wide enough to be a church in itself. Cleared of clutter, a few rows of chairs face a gorgeous early 20th century triptych depicting Mary and John at the foot of the cross. The Madonna and child towards the west is also Comper's, but the 1930s towering font cover on the typical East Anglian 15th century font is not; it is by Cecil Upcher. The south aisle is truncated, the eastern bays now curtained off; but here are the few medieval survivals in glass. From slightly later, but the other side of the Reformation divide, is an Elizabethan text on the arcade. It probably marks the point to which the pulpit was moved by the Anglicans in the 16th century.
St Mary and St Thomas of Canterbury is a church that it is easy to admire, and it certainly impressed me. Perhaps, it is not so easy a building to love. Inevitably, there is something rather urban in its grandeur, and even the warmth of the heating couldn't take the edge off the remoteness and anonymity you inevitably find in such a space.
However, the friendliness of the people on duty helped to make up for this. The area beneath the west tower has been converted into a shop, and the nice lady working there was very chatty and helpful. I have to say that I think it would concentrate my mind a bit, knowing that mighty weight was above me. The shop itself is good of its kind, selling books and religious items rather than just souvenirs, and more icons and rosaries than you would normally expect to find in an establishment of the Church of England.
The lady said that she was a Methodist really, and found the services rather formal, but she'd started coming to the Abbey because her daughter went there. "You ought to come, Mum, we're just like real Catholics!", she giggled, as she recalled her daughter's words. As a 'real Catholic' myself, I couldn't help thinking that we would have stripped out Comper's reredos long ago, and Masses would be accompanied by guitars and percussion, possibly with a modicum of clapping and the help of an overhead projector screen; but I kept my counsel.
Simon Knott, January 2006
Poem.
Like a military parade of trees,
Commercial Spruce, in bottle-green uniform,
stand to attention on the lower slopes, mile upon mile.
Golden Larch, like Red-Hot Pokers,
frame plantations in spectacular contrast,
acting as expendable fire-breaks in order to sustain the bulk of the forest.
Delicate fronds of the Silver Birch droop and waiver in the breeze.
Lower branches speckled by what seems countless golden doubloons “sparkle” with an iridescent glow.
Millions of leaves metamorphose into their Autumnal apparel.
The deeper, richer bronze of the bracken adds to this awesome, multi-coloured tapestry, but Broom and Gorse hang on to their now, flowerless, green foliage.
Blacks and greys of leafless bushes and the scaffolding of straight, deeply grooved pine-tree-trunks, gives an architectural solidity to the scene.
The richness of colour and texture is momentous, mesmeric and moving.
It is a joy to behold.
THE STATUE WAS COMMISSIONED AS A TRIBUTE TO THE BRAVERY OF THOSE WHO WORKED IN THE GREAT LAXEY MINES HAS BEEN UNVEILED IN THE ISLE OF MAN.
THE ONE-TONNE STONE STRUCTURE, WHICH HAS BEEN ERECTED ON A PLINTH IN THE HEART OF LAXEY, WAS MADE IN BALI BY SCULPTOR ONGKY WIJANA.
CO-ORDINATOR IVOR HANKINSON SAID THE STATUE IS DEDICATED TO THE MINERS WHO WORKED IN VERY DIFFICULT CONDITIONS.
THE GREAT LAXEY MINE EMPLOYED MORE THAN 600 MINERS BETWEEN 1825 AND 1929.
AT ITS PEAK, IT PRODUCED A FIFTH OF ZINC EXTRACTED IN THE UK.
MR HANKINSON ADDED: "THEY WERE AN EXTREMELY HARDY MEN, VERY TOUGH INDEED AND THE SCULPTOR HAS MANAGED TO CONVEY THAT IN HIS WORK VERY EFFECTIVELY.
"WE HAVE ALSO HAD A PLAQUE MADE IN MEMORY OF THOSE WHO LOST THEIR LIVES DOWN THE MINES".
ABOUT 30 MEN WERE KILLED IN MINING ACCIDENTS BETWEEN THE YEARS OF 1831 AND 1912.
SOME DROWNED, SOME WERE CRUSHED IN ROCK FALLS AND OTHERS DIED IN DYNAMITE EXPLOSIONS.
"THE WORKING CONDITIONS WERE INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT," SAID MR HANKINSON.
"SOME OF THE MEN HAD TO WALK MILES TO GET TO WORK IN THE FIRST PLACE. ONCE THERE, THEY HAD A TWO-HOUR JOURNEY ON LADDERS DOWN INTO THE MINES - SOME OF THE SHAFTS WERE A THIRD OF A MILE DEEP."
SCULPTOR ONKY WIJANA SAID HE WANTED TO CAPTURE THE STRENGTH AND DETERMINATION OF THE LAXEY MINERS
THE STATUE, CARVED FROM A FIVE-TONE BLOCK OF CARLOW BLUE LIMESTONE, TOOK MR WIJANA 10 MONTHS TO COMPLETE IN HIS STUDIO IN BANJAR SILAKARANG, INDONESIA.
"THESE GUYS WERE TOUGH BUT OFTEN LOOKED WEATHER-BEATEN, SUNKEN-CHEEKED AND WORN OUT," SAID MR WIJANA.
"HOWEVER, THEY ALSO HAD A SOLIDITY TO THEM AND ALWAYS A DETERMINATION IN THEIR EYES THAT I WANTED TO CAPTURE."
ONCE ERECTED ON ITS PLINTH, THE STONE MINER STATUE STANDS 13FT (4M) HIGH.
Date: April 29, 2017
Author: lewislafontaine
One needs death to be able to harvest the fruit. Without death, life would be meaningless, since the long-lasting rises again and denies its own meaning. To be, and to enjoy your being, you need death, and limitation enables you to fulfill your being. ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 275.
Your heights are your own mountain, which belongs to you and you alone. There you are individual and live your very own life. If you live your own life, you do not live the common life, which is always continuing and never-ending, the life of history and the inalienable and ever-present burdens and products of the human race. There you live the endlessness of being, but not the becoming. Becoming belongs to the heights and is full of torment. ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 267.
At your low point you are no longer distinct from your fellow beings. You are not ashamed and do not regret it, since insofar as you live the life of your fellow beings and descend to their lowliness you also climb into the holy stream of common life, where you are no longer an individual on a high mountain, but a fish among fish, a frog among frogs. ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 266.
Because I also want my being other, I must become a Christ. I am made into Christ, I must suffer it. Thus the redeeming blood flows. Through the self-sacrifice my pleasure is changed and goes above into its higher principle. Love is sighted, but pleasure is blind. Both principles are one in the symbol of the flame. The principles strip themselves of human form. ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 254.
If a God ceases being the way the zenith, he must fall secretly. The God becomes sick if he oversteps the height of the zenith. That is why the spirit of the depths took me when the spirit of this time had led me to the summit. ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 241.
From this we learn how the spirit of the depths considers the soul he sees her as a living and self-existing being, and with this he contradicts the spirit of this time for whom the soul is a thing dependent on man… ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 232.
Therefore the spirit of the depths forced me to speak to my soul, to call upon her as a living and self-existing being. ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 232.
The beginning of all things is love, but the being of things is life. ~Carl Jung; The Red Book; Page 327.
My I, you are a barbarian. I want to live with you; therefore I will carry you through an utterly medieval Hell, until you are capable of making living with you bearable. You should be the vessel and womb of life, therefore I shall purify you. The touchstone is being alone with oneself. This is the way. ~Carl Jung, The Red Book, Page 330.
I hold together what Christ has kept apart in himself and through his example in others, since the more the one half of my being strives toward the good, the more the other half journeys to Hell. ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 315.
If you have still not learned this from the old holy books, then go there, drink the blood and eat the flesh of him who was mocked and tormented for the sake of our sins, so that you totally become his nature, deny his being-apart-from-you; you should be he himself not Christians but Christ, otherwise you will be of no use to the coming God. ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 234.
I hold together what Christ has kept apart in himself and through his example in others, since the more the one half of my being strives toward the good, the more the other half journeys to Hell. ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 315.
The one eye of the Godhead is blind, the one ear of the Godhead is deaf, the order of its being is crossed by chaos. So be patient with the crippledness of the world and do not overvalue its consummate beauty. ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 231.
Everything that becomes too old becomes evil, the same is true of your highest. Learn from the suffering of the crucified God that one can also betray and crucify a God, namely the God of the old year. If a God ceases being the way of life, he must fall secretly. ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 241.
The devil is the sum of the darkness of human nature. He who lives in the light strives toward being the image of God; he who lives in the dark strives toward being the image of the devil. ~Carl Jung, Liber Novus, Page 322.
In the light of the possibilities revealed by intuition, man’s earthliness is certainly a lamentable imperfection; but this very imperfection is part of his innate being, of his reality. ~Carl Jung, CW 12, Page 114.
In that “spiritualism” and “materialism” are statements on Being, they represent metaphysical judgments. ~Carl Jung, Atom and Archetype, Pages 97-101
… it would be an arbitrary limitation of the concept of God to assume that He is only good and so deprive evil of real being. If God is only good, everything is good…. ~Carl Jung, Letters II, 519
Thus the psyche is endowed with the dignity of a cosmic principle, which philosophically and in fact gives it a position coequal with the principle of physical being. ~Carl Jung, The Undiscovered Self, Page 33.
Without consciousness there would, practically speaking, be no world, for the world exists as such only in so far as it is consciously reflected and consciously expressed by a psyche. Consciousness is a precondition of being. ~Carl Jung, The Undiscovered Self, Page 33
I know only that I was born and exist, and it seems to me that I have been carried along. I exist on the foundation of something I do not know. In spite of all uncertainties, I feel a solidity underlying all existence and a continuity in my mode of being. ~Carl Jung; Memories Dreams and Reflections; Page 358.
Common is the view that spirit and psyche are essentially the same and can be separated only arbitrarily. Wundt takes spirit as “the inner being, regardless of any connection with an outer being. ~ Carl Jung, CW 9i, para. 386
I do not know for what reason the universe has come into being, and shall never know. Therefore I must drop this question as a scientific or intellectual problem. But if an idea about it is offered to me – in dreams or in mythic traditions – I ought to take note of it. I even ought to build up a conception on the basis of such hints, even though it will forever remain a hypothesis that I know cannot be proved. ~Carl Jung; Memories Dreams and Reflections; Pages 301-302.
Nature, the psyche, and life appear to me like divinity unfolded – and what more could I wish for? To me the supreme meaning of Being can consist only in the fact that it is, not that it is not or is no longer. ~Carl Jung; Memories Dreams and Reflections, Page 276.
We know that Tom Thumbs, dactyls, and Cabiri… are personifications of creative forces… Thus the creative dwarfs toil away in secret; the phallus also working in darkness, begets a living being” ~Carl Jung, CW5, para. 180
When they [the mystics] descend into the depths of their own being they find ‘in their heart’ the image of the sun, they find their own life-force which they call the ‘sun’ for a legitimate and, I would say, a physical reason because our source of energy and life actually is sun. Our physiological life, regarded as an energy process, is entirely solar ~Carl Jung, CW 5, Para. 176.
The God-image thrown up by a spontaneous act of creation is a living figure, a being that exists in its own right and there-fore confronts its ostensible creator autonomously… As proof of this it may be mentioned that the relation between the creator and the created is a dialectical. ~Carl Jung; CW 8, para. 95-96.
Our age has shifted all emphasis to the here and now, and thus brought about a daemonization of man and his world. The phenomenon of dictators and all the misery they have wrought springs from the fact that man has been robbed of transcendence by the shortsightedness of the super-intellectuals. Like them, he has fallen a victim to unconsciousness. But man’s task is the exact opposite: to become conscious of the contents that press upward from the unconscious. Neither should he persist in his unconsciousness, nor remain identical with the unconscious elements of his being, thus evading his destiny, which is to create more and more consciousness. As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being. It may even be assumed that just as the unconscious affects us, so the increase in our consciousness affects the unconscious. ~Carl Jung, Memories, Dreams and Reflections, Page 326.
The God-image thrown up by a spontaneous act of creation is a living figure, a being that exists in its own right and there-fore confronts its ostensible creator autonomously… As proof of this it may be mentioned that the relation between the creator and the created is a dialectical. ~Carl Jung; CW 8, para. 95-96.
The world comes into being when man discovers it. But he only discovers it when he sacrifices his containment in the primal mother, the original state of unconsciousness. ~Carl Jung, CW 5, Page 652.
We can find clear proof of this fact in the history of science itself. The so-called “mystical” experience of the French philosopher Descartes involved a . . . sudden revelation in which he saw in a flash the “order of all sciences”. The British author Robert Louis Stevenson had spent years looking for a story that would fit his “strong sense of man’s double being,” when the plot of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was suddenly revealed to him in a dream. ~Carl Jung; Man and His symbols; ~Carl Jung; Man and His symbols; Page 25.
…a symbol of the unity of personality, a symbol of the self, where the war of opposites finds peace. In this way the primordial being becomes the distant goal of man’s self-development. ~Carl Jung; CW 9i; Para293.
Spirit and matter may well be forms of one and the same transcendental being. ~Carl Jung; CW 9i; ¶ 392.
Our unconscious, on the other hand, hides living water, spirit that has become nature, and that is why it is disturbed. Heaven has become for us the cosmic space of the physicists, and the divine empyrean a fair memory of things that once were. But ‘the heart glows,’ and a secret unrest gnaws at the roots of our being. Dealing with the Unconscious has become a question of life for us. ~Carl Jung, CW, 9i, Para 50.
[The trickster] is a forerunner of the savior . . . . He is both subhuman and superhuman, a bestial and divine being, whose chief and most alarming characteristic is his unconsciousness. ~Carl Jung, CW 9i, para 472.
The attainment of wholenesss requires one to stake one’s whole being. Nothing less will do; there can be no easier conditions, no substitutes, no compromises. ~Carl Jung, CW 11, Page 556.
This living being appears outwardly as the material body, but inwardly as a series of images of the vital activities taking place within it. ~Carl Jung, CW 8, Para 619.
Our concern with the unconscious has become a vital question, a question of spiritual being or non-being. ~Carl Jung, CW 9, §§ 43–52.
For there is no coming into being and dying but in time. ~Carl Jung, Children’s Dream Seminar, Page 101.
The four always expresses the coming into being of what is essentially human, the emergence of human consciousness. ~Carl Jung, Children’s Dreams Seminar, Page 367.
We can distinguish no form of being that is not psychic in the first place. All other realities are derived from and indirectly revealed by it, actually with the artificial aid named science. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. 1, Pages 59-63.
Only after I had written about pages in folio, it began to dawn on me that Christ-not the man but the divine being-was my secret goal. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. 1, Pages 479-481.
A child, too, enters into this sublimity, and there detaches himself from this world and his manifold individuations more quickly than the aged. So easily does he become what you also are that he apparently vanishes. Sooner or later all the dead become what we also are. But in this reality we know little or nothing about that mode of being, and what shall we still know of this earth after death? ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. 1, Page 343.
This perfect being is a conception of an optimum of life, and it is symbolically represented as the all-round being. ~Carl Jung, ETH, Lecture 10, Page 81.
The goal which the alchemist sets himself, however, is not a direct redemption of the human being, nor is it a propitiation of the Deity nor a defence against evil. ~Carl Jung, ETH, Page 143.
It [Alchemy] is the idea of producing a perfect and complete being, a being which has a redeeming effect and which has many names: panacea, medicina catholica, the philosophers’ stone and innumerable other synonyms. ~Carl Jung, ETH, Page 143.
Without doubt, also, the realization of the opposite hidden in the unconscious, i.e. the ‘reversal’, signifies reunion with the unconscious laws of being, and the purpose of this reunion is the attainment of conscious life or, expressed in Chinese terms, the bringing about of the Tao. ~Carl Jung, Secret of the Golden Flower, Pages 95-96.
One source is the unconscious, which spontaneously produces such fantasies; the other source is life, which, if lived with complete devotion, brings an intuition of the self, the individual being. ~Carl Jung, Secret of the Golden Flower, Page 99.
And this being has body, soul and spirit, and is, therefore, the principle of life itself, as well as the principle of individuation. Its nature is spiritual, it cannot be seen, and it contains an invisible image. ~Carl Jung, ETH, Page 221.
Man as a spiritual being is made human by essence (hsing). The individual man possesses it. but it extends far beyond the limits of the individual. ~The Secret of the Golden Flower, Page 11.
Man is the mirror which God holds up before him, or the sense organ with which he apprehends his being.” ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 111-112.
These various formulations indicate the same being that we find in the Gnosis as the ethereal man, light and diaphanous, identical with gold, diamond, carbuncle, the Grail, and, in Indian philosophy, with the Purusha or personified as Christ or Buddha. ~Carl Jung, ETH, Page 118.
Yoga does not lead to the ego but to the knowledge that the ego is only a phenomenon, it is the face, skin or symptom of an incomprehensible being. ~Carl Jung, ETH Lectures, Page 136.
Kant himself emphasises that God, the Highest Being, is in no way affected by what we know about him. So the Yogin analyses what he knows about Buddha and takes the last word in the Mantra: “Aham” for this purpose. ~Carl Jung, ETH Lecture 13Jan1939, Page 55.
We must know how the human psyche came into being for in the unconscious the old ways are always trodden again. ~Carl Jung, ETH Lecture 3Mar1939, Page 98.
Nirvana, for instance is a positive non-being, this is something which you cannot say anything about. ~Carl Jung, ETH Lecture III, 17May 1935, Pages 210.
The unconscious is a living being with its use, object, and goal, and is eternally looking for a way to reach that goal – a way which is not our personal one, but the human way, mankind’s way. ~ Carl Jung, Lecture VI 2June1934, Page 113.
The history of energetics is largely intuitive, it starts primitively as intuitions of archetypes, first they were beings, now they are mathematical formulas. ~Carl Jung, Lecture III, 4May1934, Page 100.
Anthropos: Original or primordial man, an archetypal image of wholeness in alchemy, religion and Gnostic philosophy. There is in the unconscious an already existing wholeness, the “homo totus” of the Western and the Chên-yên (true man) of Chinese alchemy, the round primordial being who represents the greater man within, the Anthropos, who is akin to God. ~Carl Jung, CW 14, par. 152.
The individual is all-important as he is the carrier of life, and his development and fulfillment are of paramount significance. It is vital for each living being to become its own entelechia and to grow into that which it was from the very beginning. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. 1, Page 19
Just as man, as a social being, cannot in the long run exist without a tie to the community, so the individual will never find the real justification for his existence and his own spiritual and moral autonomy anywhere except in an extramundane principle capable of relativizing the overpowering influence of external factors. ~Carl Jung, CW 10, Page 258.
I cannot define for you what God is. I can only say that my work has proved empirically that the pattern of God exists in every man and that this pattern has at its disposal the greatest of all his energies for transformation and transfiguration of his natural being. Carl Jung, “Jung” Van der Post, Page 216.
“The Christian symbol is a living being that carries the seeds of further development in itself.” “its foundations remain the same eternally,” “Christianity must be interpreted anew in each aeon,” otherwise “it suffocates in traditionalism.” ~Carl Jung, Wounded Healer of the Soul, Page 149.
Consciousness is obviously the supreme quality: the destiny of the world is to achieve entry into human consciousness. Man is the being God has sought not only to show him the world, but because the Creator needs man to illuminate his creation. ~Carl Jung, Jung-Ostrowski, Page 9.
As intelligent beings, however, we are dependent on human society; the unconscious is no substitute for reality. ~Carl Jung, Jung-Ostrowski, Page 60.
The psyche is nothing different from the living being. It is the psychical aspect of the living being. It is even the psychical aspect of matter. It is a quality. ~Carl Jung, Evans Conversations, Page 27.
If God had foreseen his world, it would be a mere senseless machine and Man’s existence a useless freak. My intellect can envisage the latter possibility, but the whole of my being says ‘No’ to it. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, 14Sept1960.
Only a mythical being has a range greater than man’s. How then can man form any definite opinions about himself? ~Carl Jung, MDR, Page 4.
Nobody has ever been entirely liberated from the opposites, because no living being could possibly attain to such a state, as nobody escapes pain and pleasure as long as he functions physiologically. He may have occasional ecstatic experiences when he gets the intuition of a complete liberation, f.i. in reaching the state of sat-chit-ananda. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Page 303.
I may say that I know what is infinite and eternal; I may even assert that I have experienced it; but that one could actually know it is impossible because man is neither an infinite nor an eternal being. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 375-379.
But becoming Man, he becomes at the same time a definite being, which is this and not that. Thus the very first thing Christ must do is to sever himself from his shadow and call it the devil (sorry, but the Gnostics of Irenaeus already knew it!). ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 133-138
But theologians suffer from the fact that when they say “God,” then that God is. But when I say “God,” I know I have expressed my image of such a being and I am honestly not quite sure whether he is just like my image or not, even if I believe in God’s existence. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 151-154.
I know these moments of liberation come flashing out of the process, but I shun them because I always feel at such a moment that I have thrown off the burden of being human and that it will fall back on me with redoubled weight. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 235-238.
I hold the contrary view that there are certain experiences (of the most varied kinds) which we characterize by the attribute “divine” without being able to offer the slightest proof that they are caused by a Being with any definite qualities. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 254-256.
A complete life, unconditionally lived, is the work of the Holy Spirit. It leads us into all dangers and defeats, and into the light of knowledge, which is to say, into maximal consciousness. This is the aim of the incarnation as well as the Creation, which wants each being to attain its perfection. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 267-268.
Purusha as creator sacrifices himself in order to bring the world into being: God dissolves in his own creation. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 304-306.
What am I without this individual consciousness of mine? Even what I have called the “self” functions only by virtue of an ego which hears the voice of that greater being. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Page 381.
To the former [Mathematician], number is a means of counting; to the latter [Psychology], it is a discovered entity capable of making individual statements if it is given a chance. In other words: in the former case number is a servant, in the latter case an autonomous being. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 404-405
This can be expressed in other words by saying that there is a relativity of the psychic and physical categories-a relativity of being and of the seemingly axiomatic existence of time and space. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Page 445-449
After thinking all this over I have come to the conclusion that being “made in the likeness” applies not only to man but also to the Creator: he resembles man or is his likeness, which is to say that he is just as unconscious as man or even more unconscious, since according to the myth of the incarnatio he actually felt obliged to become man and offer himself to man as a sacrifice. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 493-496
Words have become much too cheap. Being is more difficult and is therefore fondly replaced by verbalizing. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 502-503
Yet I should consider it an intellectual immorality to indulge in the belief that my view of a God is the universal, metaphysical Being of the confessions or “philosophies.” ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 525-526
We are not convinced that our thoughts are original beings that walk about in our brains, and we invent the idea that they are powerless without our gracious creative act; we invent this in order not to be too much influenced by our thoughts. ~Carl Jung, 1925 Seminar, Page 82
After all, an animal is not just a thing with fur on it; it is a complete being. ~Carl Jung, 1925 Seminar, Page 115
It is as though in men the animal likeness stopped at the spinal cord while in women it extends into the lower strata of the brain, or that man keeps the animal kingdom in him below the diaphragm, while in women it extends throughout her being. ~Carl Jung, 1925 Seminar, Page 124
Writing is a difficult question, since it is not only a blessing but also a bad temptation because it tickles the devil of self-importance. If you want to write something, you have to be quite sure that the whole of your being wants this kind of expression. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 612-613
His craving for alcohol was the equivalent on a low level of the spiritual thirst of our being for wholeness, expressed in medieval language: the union with God. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Pages 623-624
The patient is permeated by what you are—by your real being—and pays little attention to what you say. ~Carl Jung, C.G. Jung Speaking: Interviews and Encounters, Pages 359-364
The self would be the preceding stage, a being that is more than man and that definitely manifests; that is the thinker of our thoughts, the doer of our deeds, the maker of our lives, yet it is still within the reach of human experience. ~Carl Jung, Zarathustra Seminar, Pages 977-978
It [Self] is a restricted universality or a universal restrictedness, a paradox; so it is a relatively universal being and therefore doesn’t deserve to be called “God.” ~Carl Jung, Zarathustra Seminar, Pages 977-978
So if you speak of individuation at all, it necessarily means the individuation of beings who are in the flesh, in the living body. ~Carl Jung, Zarathustra Seminar, Page 202
Children also contain a future personality within themselves, the being that they will be in the following years. ~Carl Jung, Children’s Dreams Seminar, Page 50.
But such a thing [Individuation] is only possible if the individual in every moment of existence fulfills his complete being, lives the primitive pattern, fulfills all the expectations that he was originally born with. ~Carl Jung, Visions Seminar, Pages 760-761
Only man as an individual being lives; the state is just a system, a mere machine for sorting and tabulating the masses. ~Carl Jung, CW 14, Para 194
As the individual is not just a single, separate being, but by his very existence presupposes a collective relationship, it follows that the process of individuation must lead to more intense and broader collective relationships and not to isolation. ~Carl Jung, CW 6, Para 758
Consciousness is a precondition of being. ~Carl Jung, CW 10, Para 528
Since the psychological condition of any unconscious content is one of potential reality, characterized by the polar opposites of “being” and “non-being,” it follows that the union of opposites must play a decisive role in the alchemical process. ~Carl Jung, CW 12, Para 557
But if you want to go your individual way, it is the way you make for yourself, which is never prescribed, which you do not know in advance, and which simply comes into being of itself when you put one foot in front of the other. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. I, Pages 132-133
Mary is the bud which contains the becoming being that is undergoing transformation. ~Carl Jung, ETH Lecture 3rd March 1939.
This potential man was not the biological man but the philosophical man, a peculiar being, which is also sometimes called anima. ~Carl Jung, ETH Lecture 24 Feb 1939
Man is the mirror which God holds up to himself, or the sense organ with which he apprehends his being. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. II, Page 112
But if you want to go your individual way, it is the way you make for yourself, which is never prescribed, which you do not know in advance, and which simply comes into being of itself when you put one foot in front of the other. ~Carl Jung, Letters Vol. I, Pages 132-133
carljungdepthpsychologysite.blog/2017/04/29/carl-jung-on-...
THE STATUE WAS COMMISSIONED AS A TRIBUTE TO THE BRAVERY OF THOSE WHO WORKED IN THE GREAT LAXEY MINES HAS BEEN UNVEILED IN THE ISLE OF MAN.
THE ONE-TONNE STONE STRUCTURE, WHICH HAS BEEN ERECTED ON A PLINTH IN THE HEART OF LAXEY, WAS MADE IN BALI BY SCULPTOR ONGKY WIJANA.
CO-ORDINATOR IVOR HANKINSON SAID THE STATUE IS DEDICATED TO THE MINERS WHO WORKED IN VERY DIFFICULT CONDITIONS.
THE GREAT LAXEY MINE EMPLOYED MORE THAN 600 MINERS BETWEEN 1825 AND 1929.
AT ITS PEAK, IT PRODUCED A FIFTH OF ZINC EXTRACTED IN THE UK.
MR HANKINSON ADDED: "THEY WERE AN EXTREMELY HARDY MEN, VERY TOUGH INDEED AND THE SCULPTOR HAS MANAGED TO CONVEY THAT IN HIS WORK VERY EFFECTIVELY.
"WE HAVE ALSO HAD A PLAQUE MADE IN MEMORY OF THOSE WHO LOST THEIR LIVES DOWN THE MINES".
ABOUT 30 MEN WERE KILLED IN MINING ACCIDENTS BETWEEN THE YEARS OF 1831 AND 1912.
SOME DROWNED, SOME WERE CRUSHED IN ROCK FALLS AND OTHERS DIED IN DYNAMITE EXPLOSIONS.
"THE WORKING CONDITIONS WERE INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT," SAID MR HANKINSON.
"SOME OF THE MEN HAD TO WALK MILES TO GET TO WORK IN THE FIRST PLACE. ONCE THERE, THEY HAD A TWO-HOUR JOURNEY ON LADDERS DOWN INTO THE MINES - SOME OF THE SHAFTS WERE A THIRD OF A MILE DEEP."
SCULPTOR ONKY WIJANA SAID HE WANTED TO CAPTURE THE STRENGTH AND DETERMINATION OF THE LAXEY MINERS
THE STATUE, CARVED FROM A FIVE-TONE BLOCK OF CARLOW BLUE LIMESTONE, TOOK MR WIJANA 10 MONTHS TO COMPLETE IN HIS STUDIO IN BANJAR SILAKARANG, INDONESIA.
"THESE GUYS WERE TOUGH BUT OFTEN LOOKED WEATHER-BEATEN, SUNKEN-CHEEKED AND WORN OUT," SAID MR WIJANA.
"HOWEVER, THEY ALSO HAD A SOLIDITY TO THEM AND ALWAYS A DETERMINATION IN THEIR EYES THAT I WANTED TO CAPTURE."
ONCE ERECTED ON ITS PLINTH, THE STONE MINER STATUE STANDS 13FT (4M) HIGH.
Bauhaus Museum Weimar, Germany
German architect Heike Hanada designed a minimalist concrete museum to celebrate the Bauhaus in Weimar, where the design school was founded 100 years ago. The building is dedicated to the design school creates a physical cultural presence for the Bauhaus in the German city where it was based between 1919 and 1925. Located near the Nazi-era Gauforum square and the Neue Museum Weimar, the Bauhaus Museum is a simple five-storey concrete box broken only with its entrance and a couple of windows. The enclosing shell of light-grey concrete lends the cube stability and dynamic solidity. Equally spaced horizontal grooves run around the facades of the museum, with the words "bauhaus museum" repeated in a band near the top of the building. Hanada designed the museum to be a public building for the city and has attempted to clearly connect it to the neighbouring park. With elements such as plinths, fasciae, portals, stairways and a terrace to the park, the architecture incorporates classical themes that underscore its public character.
The museum contains 2,000 m2 of exhibition space, which will be used to display around 1,000 items from the Weimar Bauhaus collection. A shop and entrance hall is located on the ground floor, with a cafe and toilets below, and three floors dedicated to telling the story of the Bauhaus above. Each of the galleries overlooks double-height spaces and are accessed from a long ceremonial staircase that stretches the height of the building. The visitors ascend a succession of interchanging open spaces and staircases until they finally arrive at the top floor where they are presented with an unobstructed view of the park. The cascading staircases are encased by ceiling-high walls and function as free-standing, enclosed bodies in the interior space. The collection is arranged to inform visitors about the history of the design school, with the gallery on the first floor dedicated to its origins in Weimar and the Bauhaus manifesto that Walter Gropius wrote in 1919. The second floor has exhibits that show how these ideas were implemented, with galleries dedicated to each of the Bauhaus directors – Gropius, Hannes Meyer and Mies van der Rohe – at the top of the building.
The museum in Weimar has opened to coincide with the centenary of the Bauhaus, which was established in the city in 1919. The school was forced to relocate from Weimar to Dessau in 1925, where Gropius designed a new school building for the institution. Following a short time based in Berlin the school closed for good in 1933. Although only open for just over a decade, the Bauhaus is the most influential art and design school in history. The ideas and people associated with the school had an incredible impact on design and architecture, and to mark its centenary we created a series exploring its key works and figures.
Bauhaus Museum Weimar, Germany
German architect Heike Hanada designed a minimalist concrete museum to celebrate the Bauhaus in Weimar, where the design school was founded 100 years ago. The building is dedicated to the design school creates a physical cultural presence for the Bauhaus in the German city where it was based between 1919 and 1925. Located near the Nazi-era Gauforum square and the Neue Museum Weimar, the Bauhaus Museum is a simple five-storey concrete box broken only with its entrance and a couple of windows. The enclosing shell of light-grey concrete lends the cube stability and dynamic solidity. Equally spaced horizontal grooves run around the facades of the museum, with the words "bauhaus museum" repeated in a band near the top of the building. Hanada designed the museum to be a public building for the city and has attempted to clearly connect it to the neighbouring park. With elements such as plinths, fasciae, portals, stairways and a terrace to the park, the architecture incorporates classical themes that underscore its public character.
The museum contains 2,000 m2 of exhibition space, which will be used to display around 1,000 items from the Weimar Bauhaus collection. A shop and entrance hall is located on the ground floor, with a cafe and toilets below, and three floors dedicated to telling the story of the Bauhaus above. Each of the galleries overlooks double-height spaces and are accessed from a long ceremonial staircase that stretches the height of the building. The visitors ascend a succession of interchanging open spaces and staircases until they finally arrive at the top floor where they are presented with an unobstructed view of the park. The cascading staircases are encased by ceiling-high walls and function as free-standing, enclosed bodies in the interior space. The collection is arranged to inform visitors about the history of the design school, with the gallery on the first floor dedicated to its origins in Weimar and the Bauhaus manifesto that Walter Gropius wrote in 1919. The second floor has exhibits that show how these ideas were implemented, with galleries dedicated to each of the Bauhaus directors – Gropius, Hannes Meyer and Mies van der Rohe – at the top of the building.
The museum in Weimar has opened to coincide with the centenary of the Bauhaus, which was established in the city in 1919. The school was forced to relocate from Weimar to Dessau in 1925, where Gropius designed a new school building for the institution. Following a short time based in Berlin the school closed for good in 1933. Although only open for just over a decade, the Bauhaus is the most influential art and design school in history. The ideas and people associated with the school had an incredible impact on design and architecture, and to mark its centenary we created a series exploring its key works and figures.
/ Hans Holbein d. J. / Hans Holbein the Younger, Augsburg ca. 1497 - London 1543
König Heinrich VIII. - King Henry VIII (ca. 1537)
Museum Thyssen-Bornemisza
During the 16th century portraiture was the leading genre in England and almost the only one to which artists could devote themselves following the events of the early 1530s, the consequences of which were to drastically reduce their pictorial repertoire. Acknowledged as the supreme head of the Church, in 1534 Henry VIII was invested by Parliament as the maximum religious authority. This was followed by the suppression of the monasteries and the sale of their land and possessions to nobles and members of the middle classes. As a result of these circumstances Holbein, who had returned to England for the second time in 1532 following some difficult years in Basel, was obliged to look for new clients as those who had supported him during his first period in England were dead or had fallen from favour.
The present portrait, previously in a private English collection, has been dated in the 1530s. It depicts Henry in an almost frontal pose similar to one used by Holbein in various other portraits. The head, with its distant gaze, has an almost architectural solidity and strength as Pope-Hennessy noted. It has been related to a fresco painted for a private room in Whitehall Palace. The fresco was destroyed in 1698 but is known from a copy by Remigius Leemput now in the National Portrait Gallery in London. In that image the king is depicted full-length but with the same head as in the present panel, turned towards the front with the body slightly to one side. In the copy of the fresco Henry is richly dressed in similar clothes to those seen here, including the hat and the splendid pendant jewel but also wearing a fine necklace. In Leemput’s copy, which depicts the Tudor dynasty, the king is accompanied by Henry VII, Elizabeth of York and Jane Seymour.
Extract from
The present portrait, previously in a private English collection, has been dated in the 1530s. It depicts Henry in an almost frontal pose similar to one used by Holbein in various other portraits. The head, with its distant gaze, has an almost architectural solidity and strength as Pope-Hennessy noted. It has been related to a fresco painted for a private room in Whitehall Palace. The fresco was destroyed in 1698 but is known from a copy by Remigius Leemput now in the National Portrait Gallery in London. In that image the king is depicted full-length but with the same head as in the present panel, turned towards the front with the body slightly to one side. In the copy of the fresco Henry is richly dressed in similar clothes to those seen here, including the hat and the splendid pendant jewel but also wearing a fine necklace. In Leemput’s copy, which depicts the Tudor dynasty, the king is accompanied by Henry VII, Elizabeth of York and Jane Seymour.
Extract from
www.museothyssen.org/en/collection/artists/holbein-hans-j...
Bauhaus Museum Weimar, Germany
German architect Heike Hanada designed a minimalist concrete museum to celebrate the Bauhaus in Weimar, where the design school was founded 100 years ago. The building is dedicated to the design school creates a physical cultural presence for the Bauhaus in the German city where it was based between 1919 and 1925. Located near the Nazi-era Gauforum square and the Neue Museum Weimar, the Bauhaus Museum is a simple five-storey concrete box broken only with its entrance and a couple of windows. The enclosing shell of light-grey concrete lends the cube stability and dynamic solidity. Equally spaced horizontal grooves run around the facades of the museum, with the words "bauhaus museum" repeated in a band near the top of the building. Hanada designed the museum to be a public building for the city and has attempted to clearly connect it to the neighbouring park. With elements such as plinths, fasciae, portals, stairways and a terrace to the park, the architecture incorporates classical themes that underscore its public character.
The museum contains 2,000 m2 of exhibition space, which will be used to display around 1,000 items from the Weimar Bauhaus collection. A shop and entrance hall is located on the ground floor, with a cafe and toilets below, and three floors dedicated to telling the story of the Bauhaus above. Each of the galleries overlooks double-height spaces and are accessed from a long ceremonial staircase that stretches the height of the building. The visitors ascend a succession of interchanging open spaces and staircases until they finally arrive at the top floor where they are presented with an unobstructed view of the park. The cascading staircases are encased by ceiling-high walls and function as free-standing, enclosed bodies in the interior space. The collection is arranged to inform visitors about the history of the design school, with the gallery on the first floor dedicated to its origins in Weimar and the Bauhaus manifesto that Walter Gropius wrote in 1919. The second floor has exhibits that show how these ideas were implemented, with galleries dedicated to each of the Bauhaus directors – Gropius, Hannes Meyer and Mies van der Rohe – at the top of the building.
The museum in Weimar has opened to coincide with the centenary of the Bauhaus, which was established in the city in 1919. The school was forced to relocate from Weimar to Dessau in 1925, where Gropius designed a new school building for the institution. Following a short time based in Berlin the school closed for good in 1933. Although only open for just over a decade, the Bauhaus is the most influential art and design school in history. The ideas and people associated with the school had an incredible impact on design and architecture, and to mark its centenary we created a series exploring its key works and figures.
Bauhaus Museum Weimar, Germany
German architect Heike Hanada designed a minimalist concrete museum to celebrate the Bauhaus in Weimar, where the design school was founded 100 years ago. The building is dedicated to the design school creates a physical cultural presence for the Bauhaus in the German city where it was based between 1919 and 1925. Located near the Nazi-era Gauforum square and the Neue Museum Weimar, the Bauhaus Museum is a simple five-storey concrete box broken only with its entrance and a couple of windows. The enclosing shell of light-grey concrete lends the cube stability and dynamic solidity. Equally spaced horizontal grooves run around the facades of the museum, with the words "bauhaus museum" repeated in a band near the top of the building. Hanada designed the museum to be a public building for the city and has attempted to clearly connect it to the neighbouring park. With elements such as plinths, fasciae, portals, stairways and a terrace to the park, the architecture incorporates classical themes that underscore its public character.
The museum contains 2,000 m2 of exhibition space, which will be used to display around 1,000 items from the Weimar Bauhaus collection. A shop and entrance hall is located on the ground floor, with a cafe and toilets below, and three floors dedicated to telling the story of the Bauhaus above. Each of the galleries overlooks double-height spaces and are accessed from a long ceremonial staircase that stretches the height of the building. The visitors ascend a succession of interchanging open spaces and staircases until they finally arrive at the top floor where they are presented with an unobstructed view of the park. The cascading staircases are encased by ceiling-high walls and function as free-standing, enclosed bodies in the interior space. The collection is arranged to inform visitors about the history of the design school, with the gallery on the first floor dedicated to its origins in Weimar and the Bauhaus manifesto that Walter Gropius wrote in 1919. The second floor has exhibits that show how these ideas were implemented, with galleries dedicated to each of the Bauhaus directors – Gropius, Hannes Meyer and Mies van der Rohe – at the top of the building.
The museum in Weimar has opened to coincide with the centenary of the Bauhaus, which was established in the city in 1919. The school was forced to relocate from Weimar to Dessau in 1925, where Gropius designed a new school building for the institution. Following a short time based in Berlin the school closed for good in 1933. Although only open for just over a decade, the Bauhaus is the most influential art and design school in history. The ideas and people associated with the school had an incredible impact on design and architecture, and to mark its centenary we created a series exploring its key works and figures.
The sanctuary of Hippolytus at Troizena, directly connected with the mythical love of Phaedra for Hippolytus, lies in an idyllic environment about 170 kilometers away from Athens and in a short distance from Epidaurus. In spite of its significance, it remains unknown to the broad public. The enclosure and buildings of the sanctuary were erected outside the walls of ancient Troizena in the late fourth or early third century BC around an earlier nucleus of worship, which is located in the area of the small shrine of the Geometric period. Although the existence and function of an Asclepieion in the sanctuary is ascertained by relevant inscriptions, it seems that the celebrated Asclepieion of Epidaurus outshone it, therefore it remained rather obscure. The earthquake caused by the eruption of the Methana volcano in the mid-third century BC obviously contributed to the decline of the Troizena Asclepieion: its buildings suffered serious damages and remained in ruins until the Roman age, when they were restored. After the prevalence of Christianity the ancient building material was removed from the original structures and was used for the erection of Christian churches such as Episkopi. It should be noted that the removal and reuse of ancient building material has been continued until the recent decades. Some of the ancient monuments face today certain solidity and static problems due to the inherited weakness of the building material (limestone) and the reactive thrusts of the ground. The archaeological site remains undefined by enclosure, it lacks informational plates in front of the buildings and does not provide the necessary facilities for the few, for the time being, visitors.
For more than 600 years from the early 13th Century, one of the functions of the Tower of London was to accommodate the Royal Menagerie of exotic animals which, by 1828, included over 280 individuals of at least 60 species. This substantial collection had dedicated premises based at the Lion Tower, just outside the western entrance to the main fortress, from the 14th Century until the royal animals were transferred to London Zoo between 1831 and 1835.
As part of a 2011 exhibition to commemorate the Menagerie, Historic Royal Palaces commissioned Kendra Haste to produce thirteen (life-sized?) sculptures in painted galvanized wire over steel armatures, depicting representative animals from the collection. This one, 85×110×50 cm (actually the dimensions of a similar piece; Haste has produced several baboons), possibly commemorates a baboon recorded to have killed a sailor transporting it to the Tower in the 18th Century, by hurling a 9lb cannon shot at him.
It's a wonderful choice of material, the multiple layers of chicken wire conveying a muscular solidity beneath realistically shaggy fur impossible to achieve in 'conventional' cast/carved statuary.
Though the exhibition itself is over, I understand the fine wire sculptures are to remain indefinitely, or until 2021 according to one source.
The Tower of London is a complex of 21 individual towers punctuating concentric walls, with William I's original keep, the White Tower, at its heart. The baboon stands outside the Martin Tower, which served as the Jewel Tower for 200 years from 1669; the Keeper of the Regalia and his family lived above the Jewels themselves, housed on the ground floor.
One of the real pleasures of Flickr is finding out so much more about the areas you thought you knew.
I have been to Wymondham a few times, delivered beer to a hotel (more of that another time) and a friend used to run the Railway Inn near the station, but I hadn't really explored the town.
But having seen a friend's shots, I really thought I should go back and look at it anew. And then there was this building, the Abbey Church with two towers, ruins and all the associated history.
Whatever you think of the works inside, it is as a complete building, something to leave me, at least, in awe at the beauty. Of course, it might not please everyone, but it does me.
Many thanks to Sarah and Richard for taking me here.
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This massive church and its famous twin towers will be familiar to anyone who has ever been within five miles of Wymondham, pronounced Win-d'm; its presence always there above the roof tops, and still there on the horizon when the rooftops can no longer be seen. Closer to, it is like a mighty city on a hill. It is often referred to as Wymondham Abbey, which isn't entirely correct; but there was an Abbey here, and you can see a scattering of remains in the fields between the church and the river, gradually reduced over the centuries as the stone and rubble were taken away for use elsewhere.
We came to Wymondham on a day that was breathtakingly cold; although the temperature was hovering around freezing, there was a biting east wind that made it feel colder still. Hence, the clarity of the light in the photographs above. The top photograph, taken from the south on the far bank of the river, is worth a second glance, because it provides a number of clues as to how this extraordinary and magnificent building came to be the way it is today.
In the beginning, there was a Benedictine Priory, an offshoot of the Abbey of St Albans. It was founded here because, after the Conquest, William I granted the lands of Wymondham to the Duc d'Albini, and the Duke's brother was Abbot of St Albans. Part of the project consisted of building a massive Priory church, much bigger than the one you see today. In style, it was like the Abbey church of Bury St Edmund, or Ely Cathedral. It was a cruciform church about 70 metres long, and had twin west towers - you can see something similar today at Kings Lynn St Margaret. As at St Margaret, there was a third tower above the central crossing, the chancel extending a long way eastwards, and transepts that were as tall as the nave roof. It was completed during the 12th century.
You can see a surviving trace of the south-west tower in the photograph above. The base of its northern wall rises above the roofline at the western end of the clerestory, just beside the current west tower. The central crossing tower, however, was built to the east of the current east tower, the chancel extending eastwards beyond it.
D'Albini intended the church to serve the parish as well as the Priory, but this was not managed without recourse to the advice of Pope Innocent IV, who granted the people use of the nave and the north aisle, the Priory retaining the south aisle, transepts and chancel.
However, when the central crossing tower became unsafe in the late 14th century and had to be taken down, the Priory rebuilt it to the west of the crossing, actually within the nave. This is the east tower that you see today, now a shell. In turn, the parish extended the church further west, demolishing the two west towers and replacing them with the massive structure you see today. It really is huge; although it is not as tall as the church tower at Cromer, its solidity lends it a vastness not sensed there.
When the new east tower was built, the western face of it cut off the nave from the chancel, creating two separate spaces. When the west tower was built, it blocked off the former west window between the old towers. Because of this, Wymondham is the only medieval parish church in Norfolk, and one of the few in England, that has no window at either end.
Wymondham Priory became an Abbey in 1448, and seems to have lived its final century peaceably enough before being closed and asset-stripped by Henry VIII in the 1530s. The church then became solely the charge of the parish; the eastern parts, apart from the tower, were demolished.
Still without parapet or panelling, the west tower was never finished; but it features in the turbulent history of mid 16th century England because William Kett, one of the leaders of Kett's Rebellion, was hung from the top of it by Edward VI's thought police, a reminder of just how closely church and state became allied during the Reformation. It did give me pause for thought - hanging your enemy from a church tower seems such an obvious thing to do when you want to make a point. I wonder just how many more times it happened to less notable victims over the centuries, on church towers up and down the land?
You enter today through the great north porch, which is similar to that nearby at Hethersett, even to the extent of having an almost identical series of bosses. They depict rosary scenes in the life of Christ and the Blessed Virgin.
As I said, we came here on a spectacularly cold day, but I was delighted to discover that the interior of the church was heated, even on a Saturday. The church attracts a considerable number of visitors, as you might expect; but I still thought this was a nice gesture.
Wymondham church is above all else an architectural wonder; but in many ways this is a simple building, easy to explore and satisfying to visit. It has the feel of a small Anglican cathedral in that there is a pleasing mix of ancient Norman architecture and modern Anglican triumphalism; as in a cathedral, there are open spaces, and the old pews have been replaced with modern chairs, which almost always seems to work well. The glorious arcading, triforium and clerestory create a sense of great height; this, coupled with the lack of east or west windows, can make you feel rather boxed in, but I found I quite liked that; it made the place seem more intimate, despite its size.
The modern, triumphant feel to the place is largely owing to the vast reredos by Ninian Comper. This is generally considered to be his finest single work, and forms the parish war memorial. It was built and gilded during the 1920s and 1930s, and you have to say it is magnificent. It consists of three tiers of saints, with a glorious Christ in Majesty topping the tiers under the great tester. It was never completed; the space where the retable should be is now hidden by curtains.
The rood and beam, a bay to the west, is also Comper's work, and it is hard to conceive that work of this kind and to this scale will ever again be installed in an English church. The low sun, slanting through the south windows of the clerestory, picked out the gilding, and clever lighting from underneath helped to put Comper's vision of Heaven into practice. The row of candlesticks on the altar leaves you in no doubt in which wing of the Church of England Wymondham finds itself.
Comper's glory shouldn't distract you from the early 16th century facade above the sedilia. It is terracotta, and probably from the same workshop as the Bedingfield tombs at Oxborough. Here you see what might have happened to English church architecture if theReformation hadn't intervened. Looking west from the sanctuary, the original west window is clearly discernible, now home to the organ.
If Comper's work is a little rich for you, you may prefer the north aisle, which is wide enough to be a church in itself. Cleared of clutter, a few rows of chairs face a gorgeous early 20th century triptych depicting Mary and John at the foot of the cross. The Madonna and child towards the west is also Comper's, but the 1930s towering font cover on the typical East Anglian 15th century font is not; it is by Cecil Upcher. The south aisle is truncated, the eastern bays now curtained off; but here are the few medieval survivals in glass. From slightly later, but the other side of the Reformation divide, is an Elizabethan text on the arcade. It probably marks the point to which the pulpit was moved by the Anglicans in the 16th century.
St Mary and St Thomas of Canterbury is a church that it is easy to admire, and it certainly impressed me. Perhaps, it is not so easy a building to love. Inevitably, there is something rather urban in its grandeur, and even the warmth of the heating couldn't take the edge off the remoteness and anonymity you inevitably find in such a space.
However, the friendliness of the people on duty helped to make up for this. The area beneath the west tower has been converted into a shop, and the nice lady working there was very chatty and helpful. I have to say that I think it would concentrate my mind a bit, knowing that mighty weight was above me. The shop itself is good of its kind, selling books and religious items rather than just souvenirs, and more icons and rosaries than you would normally expect to find in an establishment of the Church of England.
The lady said that she was a Methodist really, and found the services rather formal, but she'd started coming to the Abbey because her daughter went there. "You ought to come, Mum, we're just like real Catholics!", she giggled, as she recalled her daughter's words. As a 'real Catholic' myself, I couldn't help thinking that we would have stripped out Comper's reredos long ago, and Masses would be accompanied by guitars and percussion, possibly with a modicum of clapping and the help of an overhead projector screen; but I kept my counsel.
Simon Knott, January 2006
Bauhaus Museum Weimar, Germany
German architect Heike Hanada designed a minimalist concrete museum to celebrate the Bauhaus in Weimar, where the design school was founded 100 years ago. The building is dedicated to the design school creates a physical cultural presence for the Bauhaus in the German city where it was based between 1919 and 1925. Located near the Nazi-era Gauforum square and the Neue Museum Weimar, the Bauhaus Museum is a simple five-storey concrete box broken only with its entrance and a couple of windows. The enclosing shell of light-grey concrete lends the cube stability and dynamic solidity. Equally spaced horizontal grooves run around the facades of the museum, with the words "bauhaus museum" repeated in a band near the top of the building. Hanada designed the museum to be a public building for the city and has attempted to clearly connect it to the neighbouring park. With elements such as plinths, fasciae, portals, stairways and a terrace to the park, the architecture incorporates classical themes that underscore its public character.
The museum contains 2,000 m2 of exhibition space, which will be used to display around 1,000 items from the Weimar Bauhaus collection. A shop and entrance hall is located on the ground floor, with a cafe and toilets below, and three floors dedicated to telling the story of the Bauhaus above. Each of the galleries overlooks double-height spaces and are accessed from a long ceremonial staircase that stretches the height of the building. The visitors ascend a succession of interchanging open spaces and staircases until they finally arrive at the top floor where they are presented with an unobstructed view of the park. The cascading staircases are encased by ceiling-high walls and function as free-standing, enclosed bodies in the interior space. The collection is arranged to inform visitors about the history of the design school, with the gallery on the first floor dedicated to its origins in Weimar and the Bauhaus manifesto that Walter Gropius wrote in 1919. The second floor has exhibits that show how these ideas were implemented, with galleries dedicated to each of the Bauhaus directors – Gropius, Hannes Meyer and Mies van der Rohe – at the top of the building.
The museum in Weimar has opened to coincide with the centenary of the Bauhaus, which was established in the city in 1919. The school was forced to relocate from Weimar to Dessau in 1925, where Gropius designed a new school building for the institution. Following a short time based in Berlin the school closed for good in 1933. Although only open for just over a decade, the Bauhaus is the most influential art and design school in history. The ideas and people associated with the school had an incredible impact on design and architecture, and to mark its centenary we created a series exploring its key works and figures.
The attractive town of Tewkesbury has been dominated by its superb abbey church since the beginning of the 12th century, and we can be forever grateful to its townspeople for purchasing the monastic church in 1540 for £453 for use as their parish church, saving it from the fate that befell countless similar great churches across the land during the turmoil of the Dissolution. It reminds us both how lucky we are to still marvel at it today, yet also how great a loss to our heritage the period wrought when many more such buildings were so utterly plundered as to have gone without trace (the fate of the monastic buildings here and even the lady chapel of the church whose footings are laid out in the grass at the east end).
Tewkesbury Abbey is thus rightly celebrated as one of our greatest non-cathedral churches, and remarkably much of the original Norman church remains substantially intact, most apparently in the great central tower, a fine example of Romanesque architecture adorned with rows of blind-arcading. The west front is dominated by a massive Norman-arched recess (enclosing the somewhat later west window) and the nave and transepts remain largely as originally built, though this is less clear externally owing to the changes made to the windows, nearly all of which were enlarged in the 14th century in the Decorated Gothic style. This century also saw the complete rebuilding of the eastern limb of the church, of a form less common in England with radiating chapels surrounding the eastern apse of the choir (the central lady chapel sadly missing since 1540).
The interior reveals far more of the Romanesque structure with mighty columns supporting the round Norman arches of the nave arcades giving the building a great sense of solidity. The space is further enlivened by the changes made during the 14th century by the stunning vault over the nave (adorned with a rewarding series of figurative bosses) which sits surprisingly well with the Norman work below. Beyond the apsidal choir beckons, and both this and the space below the tower are enriched with stunningly complex vaulted ceilings (replete with further bosses and gilded metal stars), all ablaze with colour and gilding.
There is much to enjoy in glass here, most remarkably a complete set of 14th century glazing in the clerestorey of the choir, seven windows filled with saints and prophets (and most memorably two groups of knights in the westernmost windows on each side). A few of the figures have fared less well over the centuries but on the whole this is a wonderfully rare and well preserved scheme. There is much glass from the 19th century too, with an extensive scheme in the nave of good quality work by Hardman's, and more recently a pair of rich windows by Tom Denny were added in one of the polygonal chapels around the east end.
Some of the most memorable features are the monuments with many medieval tombs of note, primarily the effigies and chantry chapels of members of the Despenser family around the choir (two of the chantries being miniature architectural gems in their own right with exquisite fan-vaulting). In one of the apsidal chapels is the unusual cenotaph to Abbot Wakeman with his grisly cadaver effigy, a late medieval reminder of earthly mortality.
Tewkesbury Abbey is not to be missed and is every bit as rewarding as many of our cathedrals (superior in fact to all but the best). It is normally kept open and welcoming to visitors on a daily basis. I have also had the privilege of working on this great building several times over the years (as part of the team at the studio I once worked for), and have left my mark in glass in a few discreet places.
Scene from the Life of Christ, roof boss in the 14th century vault of the nave.
The attractive town of Tewkesbury has been dominated by its superb abbey church since the beginning of the 12th century, and we can be forever grateful to its townspeople for purchasing the monastic church in 1540 for £453 for use as their parish church, saving it from the fate that befell countless similar great churches across the land during the turmoil of the Dissolution. It reminds us both how lucky we are to still marvel at it today, yet also how great a loss to our heritage the period wrought when many more such buildings were so utterly plundered as to have gone without trace (the fate of the monastic buildings here and even the lady chapel of the church whose footings are laid out in the grass at the east end).
Tewkesbury Abbey is thus rightly celebrated as one of our greatest non-cathedral churches, and remarkably much of the original Norman church remains substantially intact, most apparently in the great central tower, a fine example of Romanesque architecture adorned with rows of blind-arcading. The west front is dominated by a massive Norman-arched recess (enclosing the somewhat later west window) and the nave and transepts remain largely as originally built, though this is less clear externally owing to the changes made to the windows, nearly all of which were enlarged in the 14th century in the Decorated Gothic style. This century also saw the complete rebuilding of the eastern limb of the church, of a form less common in England with radiating chapels surrounding the eastern apse of the choir (the central lady chapel sadly missing since 1540).
The interior reveals far more of the Romanesque structure with mighty columns supporting the round Norman arches of the nave arcades giving the building a great sense of solidity. The space is further enlivened by the changes made during the 14th century by the stunning vault over the nave (adorned with a rewarding series of figurative bosses) which sits surprisingly well with the Norman work below. Beyond the apsidal choir beckons, and both this and the space below the tower are enriched with stunningly complex vaulted ceilings (replete with further bosses and gilded metal stars), all ablaze with colour and gilding.
There is much to enjoy in glass here, most remarkably a complete set of 14th century glazing in the clerestorey of the choir, seven windows filled with saints and prophets (and most memorably two groups of knights in the westernmost windows on each side). A few of the figures have fared less well over the centuries but on the whole this is a wonderfully rare and well preserved scheme. There is much glass from the 19th century too, with an extensive scheme in the nave of good quality work by Hardman's, and more recently a pair of rich windows by Tom Denny were added in one of the polygonal chapels around the east end.
Some of the most memorable features are the monuments with many medieval tombs of note, primarily the effigies and chantry chapels of members of the Despenser family around the choir (two of the chantries being miniature architectural gems in their own right with exquisite fan-vaulting). In one of the apsidal chapels is the unusual cenotaph to Abbot Wakeman with his grisly cadaver effigy, a late medieval reminder of earthly mortality.
Tewkesbury Abbey is not to be missed and is every bit as rewarding as many of our cathedrals (superior in fact to all but the best). It is normally kept open and welcoming to visitors on a daily basis. I have also had the privilege of working on this great building several times over the years (as part of the team at the studio I once worked for), and have left my mark in glass in a few discreet places.
En 1817, durante el periodo de independencia de Chile de la Monarquía española, el Ejército de Los Andes, liderado por el militar José de San Martín y contando con la colaboración del militar chileno Bernardo O’Higgins, declara en Mendoza a la Virgen del Carmen como patrona y protectora de la liberación de América. Asimismo, el 11 de febrero, anterior a la batalla de Chacabuco, O’Higgins la nombró como patrona y generalísima de las Armas de Chile.
El 14 de marzo de 1818, en una misa realizada en la Catedral de Santiago, en la cual asistieron los militares Bernardo O’Higgins y José de San Martín, acompañados del clérigo, monseñor José Ignacio Cienfuegos. En esta, se ratifica el juramento realizado en Mendoza, mencionando también la construcción del templo en honor a la Virgen del Carmen.
La victoria ocurrió durante la Batalla de Maipú, hito histórico que aseguró la independencia de Chile2. El 7 de mayo de 1818, Bernardo O'Higgins, en su cargo de Director Supremo de la Nación, decreta la construcción del templo, dejando a cargo a Juan Agustín Alcalde y a Agustín de Eyzaguirre5para su ejecución. Sin embargo, no es hasta 1821 que O'Higgins ordena a enajenar los terrenos en el cuál se contemplaba destinar parte de estos en la construcción de la parroquia.
Es así como el 15 de noviembre de 1818, comienza la construcción de la iglesia que cumpliría el voto a la Virgen del Carmen. La primera piedra se colocó durante una ceremonia a la que asistió Bernardo O’Higgins, acompañado del militar José de San Martín.
Desde 1818, el avance de la construcción de la capilla se postergaba cada vez más. A esto se le sumó la abdicación de Bernardo O’Higgins en su mandato como Director Supremo en el año 1823,32 lo cual terminó por paralizar las obras y convirtió el espacio destinado a la iglesia, en pesebreras para el ganado.
No fue hasta el gobierno de Domingo Santa María, en 1885 que se destinaron esfuerzos para la culminación de la obra que ya llevaba más de 66 años inconclusa. Es así como en 1895 pudo ser inaugurada y bendecida durante el mandato del presidente Jorge Montt.
En 1942, durante el Congreso Mariano que ocurrió en Santiago, se decretó la construcción de un nuevo templo que reemplazaría a la Capilla de la Victoria de Maipú. Ya en 1948, el Arzobispo José María Caro, ordenó la iniciación de la nueva obra que más adelante se convertiría en el actual Templo Votivo de Maipú.
La capilla se trataba de una construcción de arquitectura de estilo románico y neoclásico; contemplaba también un campanario y una torre de reloj. En el exterior de la iglesia se conserva una estatua que representa al Cristo peregrino, acompañada de una placa con los versos del poeta Felix Lope de Vega.
El terremoto de 1906, provocó daños críticos en la estructura de la capilla, a eso se sumó un posterior temblor en el año 1927 que provocó un derrumbe parcial en el campanario, teniendo que ser reemplazado por uno de madera. Se mantuvo su estructura hasta 1974, año en la que fue demolida, conservando sus muros laterales por su importancia histórica en el proceso de independencia de Chile. En la actualidad, los muros pueden ser observados frente al Templo Votivo de Maipú, sin acceso al interior de ella debido a la poca solidez de su construcción.
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In 1817, during the period of independence of Chile from the Spanish Monarchy, the Army of the Andes, led by the soldier José de San Martín and with the collaboration of the Chilean soldier Bernardo O'Higgins, declared the Virgen del Carmen in Mendoza as patroness and protector of the liberation of America. Likewise, on February 11, before the battle of Chacabuco, O'Higgins named her as patron saint and generalissima of the Arms of Chile.
On March 14, 1818, at a mass held in the Cathedral of Santiago, attended by the soldiers Bernardo O'Higgins and José de San Martín, accompanied by the clergyman, Monsignor José Ignacio Cienfuegos. In this, the oath made in Mendoza is ratified, also mentioning the construction of the temple in honor of the Virgen del Carmen.
The victory occurred during the Battle of Maipú, a historical milestone that ensured the independence of Chile2. On May 7, 1818, Bernardo O'Higgins, in his position as Supreme Director of the Nation, decreed the construction of the temple, leaving Juan Agustín Alcalde and Agustín de Eyzaguirre5 in charge of its execution. However, it was not until 1821 that O'Higgins ordered the alienation of the land, in which it was contemplated to allocate part of it to the construction of the parish.
This is how on November 15, 1818, the construction of the church that would fulfill the vow to the Virgen del Carmen began. The first stone was laid during a ceremony attended by Bernardo O'Higgins, accompanied by military officer José de San Martín.
From 1818, the progress of the construction of the chapel was postponed more and more. To this was added the abdication of Bernardo O'Higgins in his mandate as Supreme Director in the year 1823,32 which ended up paralyzing the works and converted the space destined for the church into mangers for cattle.
It was not until the government of Domingo Santa María, in 1885, that efforts were made to complete the work that had already been unfinished for more than 66 years. This is how in 1895 it could be inaugurated and blessed during the mandate of President Jorge Montt.
In 1942, during the Marian Congress that took place in Santiago, the construction of a new temple was decreed to replace the Maipú Victory Chapel. Already in 1948, Archbishop José María Caro ordered the initiation of the new work that would later become the current Maipú Votive Temple.
The chapel was a construction of Romanesque and neoclassical style architecture; It also contemplated a bell tower and a clock tower. Outside the church there is a statue that represents the pilgrim Christ, accompanied by a plaque with the verses of the poet Felix Lope de Vega.
The 1906 earthquake caused critical damage to the structure of the chapel, to which was added a subsequent tremor in 1927 that caused a partial collapse of the bell tower, having to be replaced by a wooden one. Its structure was maintained until 1974, the year in which it was demolished, preserving its side walls due to its historical importance in the Chilean independence process. Currently, the walls can be seen in front of the Votive Temple of Maipú, without access to the inside of it due to the lack of solidity of its construction.
A variety of looks here, but to my eye these are six of the most handsomely styled 35mm SLRs (eye of the beholder and all that).
Coincidentally, they also happen to be milestones, or near-milestones: Exakta was the first successful 35mm SLR, the Contax was the first with an eye level pentaprism, Nikon F was the first SLR to displace the rangefinder as the professional's choice, the Pentax Spotmatic almost the first with a TTL light meter, the Auto Sensorex among the first with auto exposure, and the OM-1 triggered the compact revolution of the 1970s.
Visually, the Exakta stands alone, like the work of an 18th century silversmith. They were all handsome, but this VXIIa with its embossed and polished script is the finest of them all.
The layout of the 1949 Contax S established the pattern for the entire industry for decades to come, and its long, low proportions were more pleasing than most of those that followed. Nicest of all of the series was the last, the Contax (Pentacon) F, with larger wind and rewind knobs and the larger diameter auto-aperture lens (yet another milestone).
The Nikon F's crisp lines give the impression of having been machined from billet. It stands out above even the Nikon rangefinders for its visual solidity.
The Pentax Spotmatic's main virtue is its cleanness and simplicity in an era when the general trend involved tacking on random details and decorations. TTL metering provided a light meter without a visible external light cell, and the details were cleaner and more integrated than they had been in the earlier meterless Pentax models.
The Miranda's virtue is also in its simplicity and symmetry. Writers at the time lamented the absence of the large front decorative panel that had graced the original Sensorex (an artifact from the large light cell of the earlier Automex), but I found the purposeless decoration garish. The Auto Sensorex and Sensorex II, by contrast, were very clean and uncluttered designs - one of the best integrated implementations of a removable prism of the era.
And finally my overall favorite, the Olympus OM-1. The smaller size of the camera body makes the lens appear more prominent for what would seem to be nearly perfect proportions, and the quality of finish and detailing are among the finest anywhere. This, and the Exakta, are cameras that might be worn purely as jewelry without any photographic purpose.
Chassis n° V8COL/15191
Les Grandes Marques du Monde au Grand Palais
Bonhams
Parijs - Paris
Frankrijk - France
February 2019
Estimated : € 225.000 - 265.000
Aston Martin had always intended the DBS to house its new V8 engine, but production difficulties meant that the car first appeared with the DB6's 4.0-liter six. Bigger and more luxuriously appointed than the DB6, the heavyweight DBS disappointed some by virtue of its slightly reduced performance, but there were no complaints when the V8 finally arrived in 1969. With an estimated 315 bhp available from its 5.340 cc four-cam engine, the DBS V8 could reach 100 mph in under 14 seconds, running on to a top speed of 160 mph, a staggering performance in those days and one which fully justified the claim that it was the fastest production car in the world. After Aston Martin's acquisition by Company Developments in 1972, production resumed with the Series 2, now known as the Aston Martin V8 and distinguishable by a restyled front end recalling the looks of earlier Astons. The most successful Aston Martin ever, the V8 survived the changes of ownership and financial upheavals of the 1970s, enjoying a record-breaking production run lasting from 1969 to 1988, with 2.919 cars sold.
Described by former Aston Martin Chairman Victor Gauntlett as 'a stylish thoroughbred, beautifully built, luxurious, fast and immensely safe', the V8 was built in several variants, one of the more exclusive being the Volante convertible. Introduced in response to customer demand for such a car, the Volante first appeared in June 1978. Arguably the ultimate in soft-top luxury, the newcomer boasted a lined, power-operated top which, when erected, endowed the walnut embellished interior with all the solidity and refinement associated with the saloon version. The 5,340cc DOHC V8 Engine with 4 Dual-Throat Weber Carburetors produced 300bhp at 6,000rpm. Although its open-car aerodynamics meant that top speed suffered with the top down, the Volante's 240km/h maximum nevertheless ranked it among the world's fastest convertibles. V8 Volante and Vantage Volante chassis numbers ran from '15001' to '15849', a total of only 849 cars.
According to copies of Aston Martin's factory build records, this V8 Volante was shipped from the UK on 23rd May 1980 to Aston Martin Sales Inc of New Rochelle, New York. Left-hand drive and equipped with the five-speed manual transmission and a Vantage front air dam, it was finished in Jubilee Silver with black leather interior, black carpeting, and a black Everflex convertible top, as it is today.
Sold in July 1981 to its first owner, the Aston was transported to California where it would remain until it was sold to the second owner six years later with only 14,000 miles recorded. For the following three decades, this superb V8 Volante was driven sparingly and is today presented with only 43.106 miles showing on the odometer. The immediately preceding owner purchased the car from Doc Severinsen, former bandleader on 'The Tonight Show', and before Mr Severinsen's ownership it resided in Palm Springs.
The current vendor, specifically looking for this rare (Volante, early series with carburation, left-hand drive, ZF 5-speed manual gearbox) version purchased the Aston in the USA in August 2016, since when it has been re-commissioned and converted to EU specification with correct bumpers, etc. In addition, the engine has been checked over, a new convertible hood installed, and the interior detailed. Close to € 30.000 has been spent and the car now looks wonderful with a nicely patinated interior.
Offered here with its owner's manual, parts book, workshop manual, copy of factory built sheet,
tools, invoices and car cover, this V8 Volante must be one of the best preserved examples currently available. As a well-cared for California car, it has a wonderful patina and originality that is difficult to replicate. The car's maintenance and service records are exceptionally comprehensive, running to several hundred invoices.
Left-hand drive and equipped with the desirable and rare ZF five-speed transmission from new, this beautiful V8 Volante is definitely 'the one to have'.
*Erith is a locality on the northern Adelaide Plains: close to Avon in Mid North South Australia.
Named after its counterpart in Kent, England, by Robert F Ware who arrived in South Australia in 1838: and conducted the Erith post office from January 1877 and a greengrocery. [Manning’s Place Names of South Australia]
Former Erith Bible Christian Chapel of 1875, later Methodist, was also used as a school.
In 1935 a new school room was built attached to the chapel building.
The Minister of Education, Mr Jeffries, opened the new class room. He congratulated the Erith people on their initiative in building the new room. The Chief Inspector of Education, Mr Hosking said the new room was a better one than would have been provided by the department, and its solidity of construction should ensure usefulness for many years.
[Chronicle 2-5-1935]
The Education Department was unable to build a school at Erith because the space was private property owned by the Erith Methodist Church Trust.
£50 for Erith School Equipment
Nearly £11 has been raised by the Erith School Committee in their drive for £25 for the provision of a 16mm strip film projector and a new set of encyclopaedias. This amount when subsidised £ for £ by the Education Department will reach the £50 required.
Last Thursday’s euchre held in Masters’ barn to help the fund was won by Joyce Klingner and J O’Halloran.
[Ref: The Producer, Balaklava 18-8-1949]
Erith school closed in 1952.
The former chapel and school room is now in private ownership.
91 x 80 cm.
Carlo Carrà was one of the most influential Italian painters of the first half of the 20th century. He is best known for his still lifes in the style of Metaphysical painting. He studied painting briefly at the Brera Academy in Milan, but he was largely self-taught. In 1909 he met the poet Filippo Marinetti and the artist Umberto Boccioni, who converted him to Futurism, an aesthetic movement that exalted patriotism, modern technology, dynamism, and speed. Carrà’s most famous painting, The Funeral of the Anarchist Galli (1911), embodies Futurist ideals with its portrayal of dynamic action, power, and violence.
With the advent of World War I, the classic phase of Futurism ended. Although Carrà’s work from this period, such as the collage Patriotic Celebration, Free Word Painting (1914), was based on Futurist concepts, he soon began to paint in a style of greatly simplified realism. Lot’s Daughters (1915), for example, represents an attempt to recapture the solidity of form and the stillness of the 13th-century painter Giotto. Carrà’s new style was crystallized in 1917 when he met the painter Giorgio de Chirico, who taught him to paint everyday objects imbued with a sense of eeriness. Carrà and de Chirico called their style pittura metafisica (“Metaphysical painting”), and their works of this period have a superficial similarity.
In 1918 Carrà broke with de Chirico and Metaphysical painting. Throughout the 1920s and ’30s, he painted melancholy figurative works based on the monumental realism of the 15th-century Italian painter Masaccio. Through such moody but well-constructed works as Morning by the Sea (1928), and through his many years of teaching at the Milan Academy, he greatly influenced the course of Italian art between the World Wars.
One of the real pleasures of Flickr is finding out so much more about the areas you thought you knew.
I have been to Wymondham a few times, delivered beer to a hotel (more of that another time) and a friend used to run the Railway Inn near the station, but I hadn't really explored the town.
But having seen a friend's shots, I really thought I should go back and look at it anew. And then there was this building, the Abbey Church with two towers, ruins and all the associated history.
Whatever you think of the works inside, it is as a complete building, something to leave me, at least, in awe at the beauty. Of course, it might not please everyone, but it does me.
Many thanks to Sarah and Richard for taking me here.
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This massive church and its famous twin towers will be familiar to anyone who has ever been within five miles of Wymondham, pronounced Win-d'm; its presence always there above the roof tops, and still there on the horizon when the rooftops can no longer be seen. Closer to, it is like a mighty city on a hill. It is often referred to as Wymondham Abbey, which isn't entirely correct; but there was an Abbey here, and you can see a scattering of remains in the fields between the church and the river, gradually reduced over the centuries as the stone and rubble were taken away for use elsewhere.
We came to Wymondham on a day that was breathtakingly cold; although the temperature was hovering around freezing, there was a biting east wind that made it feel colder still. Hence, the clarity of the light in the photographs above. The top photograph, taken from the south on the far bank of the river, is worth a second glance, because it provides a number of clues as to how this extraordinary and magnificent building came to be the way it is today.
In the beginning, there was a Benedictine Priory, an offshoot of the Abbey of St Albans. It was founded here because, after the Conquest, William I granted the lands of Wymondham to the Duc d'Albini, and the Duke's brother was Abbot of St Albans. Part of the project consisted of building a massive Priory church, much bigger than the one you see today. In style, it was like the Abbey church of Bury St Edmund, or Ely Cathedral. It was a cruciform church about 70 metres long, and had twin west towers - you can see something similar today at Kings Lynn St Margaret. As at St Margaret, there was a third tower above the central crossing, the chancel extending a long way eastwards, and transepts that were as tall as the nave roof. It was completed during the 12th century.
You can see a surviving trace of the south-west tower in the photograph above. The base of its northern wall rises above the roofline at the western end of the clerestory, just beside the current west tower. The central crossing tower, however, was built to the east of the current east tower, the chancel extending eastwards beyond it.
D'Albini intended the church to serve the parish as well as the Priory, but this was not managed without recourse to the advice of Pope Innocent IV, who granted the people use of the nave and the north aisle, the Priory retaining the south aisle, transepts and chancel.
However, when the central crossing tower became unsafe in the late 14th century and had to be taken down, the Priory rebuilt it to the west of the crossing, actually within the nave. This is the east tower that you see today, now a shell. In turn, the parish extended the church further west, demolishing the two west towers and replacing them with the massive structure you see today. It really is huge; although it is not as tall as the church tower at Cromer, its solidity lends it a vastness not sensed there.
When the new east tower was built, the western face of it cut off the nave from the chancel, creating two separate spaces. When the west tower was built, it blocked off the former west window between the old towers. Because of this, Wymondham is the only medieval parish church in Norfolk, and one of the few in England, that has no window at either end.
Wymondham Priory became an Abbey in 1448, and seems to have lived its final century peaceably enough before being closed and asset-stripped by Henry VIII in the 1530s. The church then became solely the charge of the parish; the eastern parts, apart from the tower, were demolished.
Still without parapet or panelling, the west tower was never finished; but it features in the turbulent history of mid 16th century England because William Kett, one of the leaders of Kett's Rebellion, was hung from the top of it by Edward VI's thought police, a reminder of just how closely church and state became allied during the Reformation. It did give me pause for thought - hanging your enemy from a church tower seems such an obvious thing to do when you want to make a point. I wonder just how many more times it happened to less notable victims over the centuries, on church towers up and down the land?
You enter today through the great north porch, which is similar to that nearby at Hethersett, even to the extent of having an almost identical series of bosses. They depict rosary scenes in the life of Christ and the Blessed Virgin.
As I said, we came here on a spectacularly cold day, but I was delighted to discover that the interior of the church was heated, even on a Saturday. The church attracts a considerable number of visitors, as you might expect; but I still thought this was a nice gesture.
Wymondham church is above all else an architectural wonder; but in many ways this is a simple building, easy to explore and satisfying to visit. It has the feel of a small Anglican cathedral in that there is a pleasing mix of ancient Norman architecture and modern Anglican triumphalism; as in a cathedral, there are open spaces, and the old pews have been replaced with modern chairs, which almost always seems to work well. The glorious arcading, triforium and clerestory create a sense of great height; this, coupled with the lack of east or west windows, can make you feel rather boxed in, but I found I quite liked that; it made the place seem more intimate, despite its size.
The modern, triumphant feel to the place is largely owing to the vast reredos by Ninian Comper. This is generally considered to be his finest single work, and forms the parish war memorial. It was built and gilded during the 1920s and 1930s, and you have to say it is magnificent. It consists of three tiers of saints, with a glorious Christ in Majesty topping the tiers under the great tester. It was never completed; the space where the retable should be is now hidden by curtains.
The rood and beam, a bay to the west, is also Comper's work, and it is hard to conceive that work of this kind and to this scale will ever again be installed in an English church. The low sun, slanting through the south windows of the clerestory, picked out the gilding, and clever lighting from underneath helped to put Comper's vision of Heaven into practice. The row of candlesticks on the altar leaves you in no doubt in which wing of the Church of England Wymondham finds itself.
Comper's glory shouldn't distract you from the early 16th century facade above the sedilia. It is terracotta, and probably from the same workshop as the Bedingfield tombs at Oxborough. Here you see what might have happened to English church architecture if theReformation hadn't intervened. Looking west from the sanctuary, the original west window is clearly discernible, now home to the organ.
If Comper's work is a little rich for you, you may prefer the north aisle, which is wide enough to be a church in itself. Cleared of clutter, a few rows of chairs face a gorgeous early 20th century triptych depicting Mary and John at the foot of the cross. The Madonna and child towards the west is also Comper's, but the 1930s towering font cover on the typical East Anglian 15th century font is not; it is by Cecil Upcher. The south aisle is truncated, the eastern bays now curtained off; but here are the few medieval survivals in glass. From slightly later, but the other side of the Reformation divide, is an Elizabethan text on the arcade. It probably marks the point to which the pulpit was moved by the Anglicans in the 16th century.
St Mary and St Thomas of Canterbury is a church that it is easy to admire, and it certainly impressed me. Perhaps, it is not so easy a building to love. Inevitably, there is something rather urban in its grandeur, and even the warmth of the heating couldn't take the edge off the remoteness and anonymity you inevitably find in such a space.
However, the friendliness of the people on duty helped to make up for this. The area beneath the west tower has been converted into a shop, and the nice lady working there was very chatty and helpful. I have to say that I think it would concentrate my mind a bit, knowing that mighty weight was above me. The shop itself is good of its kind, selling books and religious items rather than just souvenirs, and more icons and rosaries than you would normally expect to find in an establishment of the Church of England.
The lady said that she was a Methodist really, and found the services rather formal, but she'd started coming to the Abbey because her daughter went there. "You ought to come, Mum, we're just like real Catholics!", she giggled, as she recalled her daughter's words. As a 'real Catholic' myself, I couldn't help thinking that we would have stripped out Comper's reredos long ago, and Masses would be accompanied by guitars and percussion, possibly with a modicum of clapping and the help of an overhead projector screen; but I kept my counsel.
Simon Knott, January 2006
One of the real pleasures of Flickr is finding out so much more about the areas you thought you knew.
I have been to Wymondham a few times, delivered beer to a hotel (more of that another time) and a friend used to run the Railway Inn near the station, but I hadn't really explored the town.
But having seen a friend's shots, I really thought I should go back and look at it anew. And then there was this building, the Abbey Church with two towers, ruins and all the associated history.
Whatever you think of the works inside, it is as a complete building, something to leave me, at least, in awe at the beauty. Of course, it might not please everyone, but it does me.
Many thanks to Sarah and Richard for taking me here.
--------------------------------------------
This massive church and its famous twin towers will be familiar to anyone who has ever been within five miles of Wymondham, pronounced Win-d'm; its presence always there above the roof tops, and still there on the horizon when the rooftops can no longer be seen. Closer to, it is like a mighty city on a hill. It is often referred to as Wymondham Abbey, which isn't entirely correct; but there was an Abbey here, and you can see a scattering of remains in the fields between the church and the river, gradually reduced over the centuries as the stone and rubble were taken away for use elsewhere.
We came to Wymondham on a day that was breathtakingly cold; although the temperature was hovering around freezing, there was a biting east wind that made it feel colder still. Hence, the clarity of the light in the photographs above. The top photograph, taken from the south on the far bank of the river, is worth a second glance, because it provides a number of clues as to how this extraordinary and magnificent building came to be the way it is today.
In the beginning, there was a Benedictine Priory, an offshoot of the Abbey of St Albans. It was founded here because, after the Conquest, William I granted the lands of Wymondham to the Duc d'Albini, and the Duke's brother was Abbot of St Albans. Part of the project consisted of building a massive Priory church, much bigger than the one you see today. In style, it was like the Abbey church of Bury St Edmund, or Ely Cathedral. It was a cruciform church about 70 metres long, and had twin west towers - you can see something similar today at Kings Lynn St Margaret. As at St Margaret, there was a third tower above the central crossing, the chancel extending a long way eastwards, and transepts that were as tall as the nave roof. It was completed during the 12th century.
You can see a surviving trace of the south-west tower in the photograph above. The base of its northern wall rises above the roofline at the western end of the clerestory, just beside the current west tower. The central crossing tower, however, was built to the east of the current east tower, the chancel extending eastwards beyond it.
D'Albini intended the church to serve the parish as well as the Priory, but this was not managed without recourse to the advice of Pope Innocent IV, who granted the people use of the nave and the north aisle, the Priory retaining the south aisle, transepts and chancel.
However, when the central crossing tower became unsafe in the late 14th century and had to be taken down, the Priory rebuilt it to the west of the crossing, actually within the nave. This is the east tower that you see today, now a shell. In turn, the parish extended the church further west, demolishing the two west towers and replacing them with the massive structure you see today. It really is huge; although it is not as tall as the church tower at Cromer, its solidity lends it a vastness not sensed there.
When the new east tower was built, the western face of it cut off the nave from the chancel, creating two separate spaces. When the west tower was built, it blocked off the former west window between the old towers. Because of this, Wymondham is the only medieval parish church in Norfolk, and one of the few in England, that has no window at either end.
Wymondham Priory became an Abbey in 1448, and seems to have lived its final century peaceably enough before being closed and asset-stripped by Henry VIII in the 1530s. The church then became solely the charge of the parish; the eastern parts, apart from the tower, were demolished.
Still without parapet or panelling, the west tower was never finished; but it features in the turbulent history of mid 16th century England because William Kett, one of the leaders of Kett's Rebellion, was hung from the top of it by Edward VI's thought police, a reminder of just how closely church and state became allied during the Reformation. It did give me pause for thought - hanging your enemy from a church tower seems such an obvious thing to do when you want to make a point. I wonder just how many more times it happened to less notable victims over the centuries, on church towers up and down the land?
You enter today through the great north porch, which is similar to that nearby at Hethersett, even to the extent of having an almost identical series of bosses. They depict rosary scenes in the life of Christ and the Blessed Virgin.
As I said, we came here on a spectacularly cold day, but I was delighted to discover that the interior of the church was heated, even on a Saturday. The church attracts a considerable number of visitors, as you might expect; but I still thought this was a nice gesture.
Wymondham church is above all else an architectural wonder; but in many ways this is a simple building, easy to explore and satisfying to visit. It has the feel of a small Anglican cathedral in that there is a pleasing mix of ancient Norman architecture and modern Anglican triumphalism; as in a cathedral, there are open spaces, and the old pews have been replaced with modern chairs, which almost always seems to work well. The glorious arcading, triforium and clerestory create a sense of great height; this, coupled with the lack of east or west windows, can make you feel rather boxed in, but I found I quite liked that; it made the place seem more intimate, despite its size.
The modern, triumphant feel to the place is largely owing to the vast reredos by Ninian Comper. This is generally considered to be his finest single work, and forms the parish war memorial. It was built and gilded during the 1920s and 1930s, and you have to say it is magnificent. It consists of three tiers of saints, with a glorious Christ in Majesty topping the tiers under the great tester. It was never completed; the space where the retable should be is now hidden by curtains.
The rood and beam, a bay to the west, is also Comper's work, and it is hard to conceive that work of this kind and to this scale will ever again be installed in an English church. The low sun, slanting through the south windows of the clerestory, picked out the gilding, and clever lighting from underneath helped to put Comper's vision of Heaven into practice. The row of candlesticks on the altar leaves you in no doubt in which wing of the Church of England Wymondham finds itself.
Comper's glory shouldn't distract you from the early 16th century facade above the sedilia. It is terracotta, and probably from the same workshop as the Bedingfield tombs at Oxborough. Here you see what might have happened to English church architecture if theReformation hadn't intervened. Looking west from the sanctuary, the original west window is clearly discernible, now home to the organ.
If Comper's work is a little rich for you, you may prefer the north aisle, which is wide enough to be a church in itself. Cleared of clutter, a few rows of chairs face a gorgeous early 20th century triptych depicting Mary and John at the foot of the cross. The Madonna and child towards the west is also Comper's, but the 1930s towering font cover on the typical East Anglian 15th century font is not; it is by Cecil Upcher. The south aisle is truncated, the eastern bays now curtained off; but here are the few medieval survivals in glass. From slightly later, but the other side of the Reformation divide, is an Elizabethan text on the arcade. It probably marks the point to which the pulpit was moved by the Anglicans in the 16th century.
St Mary and St Thomas of Canterbury is a church that it is easy to admire, and it certainly impressed me. Perhaps, it is not so easy a building to love. Inevitably, there is something rather urban in its grandeur, and even the warmth of the heating couldn't take the edge off the remoteness and anonymity you inevitably find in such a space.
However, the friendliness of the people on duty helped to make up for this. The area beneath the west tower has been converted into a shop, and the nice lady working there was very chatty and helpful. I have to say that I think it would concentrate my mind a bit, knowing that mighty weight was above me. The shop itself is good of its kind, selling books and religious items rather than just souvenirs, and more icons and rosaries than you would normally expect to find in an establishment of the Church of England.
The lady said that she was a Methodist really, and found the services rather formal, but she'd started coming to the Abbey because her daughter went there. "You ought to come, Mum, we're just like real Catholics!", she giggled, as she recalled her daughter's words. As a 'real Catholic' myself, I couldn't help thinking that we would have stripped out Comper's reredos long ago, and Masses would be accompanied by guitars and percussion, possibly with a modicum of clapping and the help of an overhead projector screen; but I kept my counsel.
Simon Knott, January 2006
En 1817, durante el periodo de independencia de Chile de la Monarquía española, el Ejército de Los Andes, liderado por el militar José de San Martín y contando con la colaboración del militar chileno Bernardo O’Higgins, declara en Mendoza a la Virgen del Carmen como patrona y protectora de la liberación de América. Asimismo, el 11 de febrero, anterior a la batalla de Chacabuco, O’Higgins la nombró como patrona y generalísima de las Armas de Chile.
El 14 de marzo de 1818, en una misa realizada en la Catedral de Santiago, en la cual asistieron los militares Bernardo O’Higgins y José de San Martín, acompañados del clérigo, monseñor José Ignacio Cienfuegos. En esta, se ratifica el juramento realizado en Mendoza, mencionando también la construcción del templo en honor a la Virgen del Carmen.
La victoria ocurrió durante la Batalla de Maipú, hito histórico que aseguró la independencia de Chile2. El 7 de mayo de 1818, Bernardo O'Higgins, en su cargo de Director Supremo de la Nación, decreta la construcción del templo, dejando a cargo a Juan Agustín Alcalde y a Agustín de Eyzaguirre5para su ejecución. Sin embargo, no es hasta 1821 que O'Higgins ordena a enajenar los terrenos en el cuál se contemplaba destinar parte de estos en la construcción de la parroquia.
Es así como el 15 de noviembre de 1818, comienza la construcción de la iglesia que cumpliría el voto a la Virgen del Carmen. La primera piedra se colocó durante una ceremonia a la que asistió Bernardo O’Higgins, acompañado del militar José de San Martín.
Desde 1818, el avance de la construcción de la capilla se postergaba cada vez más. A esto se le sumó la abdicación de Bernardo O’Higgins en su mandato como Director Supremo en el año 1823,32 lo cual terminó por paralizar las obras y convirtió el espacio destinado a la iglesia, en pesebreras para el ganado.
No fue hasta el gobierno de Domingo Santa María, en 1885 que se destinaron esfuerzos para la culminación de la obra que ya llevaba más de 66 años inconclusa. Es así como en 1895 pudo ser inaugurada y bendecida durante el mandato del presidente Jorge Montt.
En 1942, durante el Congreso Mariano que ocurrió en Santiago, se decretó la construcción de un nuevo templo que reemplazaría a la Capilla de la Victoria de Maipú. Ya en 1948, el Arzobispo José María Caro, ordenó la iniciación de la nueva obra que más adelante se convertiría en el actual Templo Votivo de Maipú.
La capilla se trataba de una construcción de arquitectura de estilo románico y neoclásico; contemplaba también un campanario y una torre de reloj. En el exterior de la iglesia se conserva una estatua que representa al Cristo peregrino, acompañada de una placa con los versos del poeta Felix Lope de Vega.
El terremoto de 1906, provocó daños críticos en la estructura de la capilla, a eso se sumó un posterior temblor en el año 1927 que provocó un derrumbe parcial en el campanario, teniendo que ser reemplazado por uno de madera. Se mantuvo su estructura hasta 1974, año en la que fue demolida, conservando sus muros laterales por su importancia histórica en el proceso de independencia de Chile. En la actualidad, los muros pueden ser observados frente al Templo Votivo de Maipú, sin acceso al interior de ella debido a la poca solidez de su construcción.
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In 1817, during the period of independence of Chile from the Spanish Monarchy, the Army of the Andes, led by the soldier José de San Martín and with the collaboration of the Chilean soldier Bernardo O'Higgins, declared the Virgen del Carmen in Mendoza as patroness and protector of the liberation of America. Likewise, on February 11, before the battle of Chacabuco, O'Higgins named her as patron saint and generalissima of the Arms of Chile.
On March 14, 1818, at a mass held in the Cathedral of Santiago, attended by the soldiers Bernardo O'Higgins and José de San Martín, accompanied by the clergyman, Monsignor José Ignacio Cienfuegos. In this, the oath made in Mendoza is ratified, also mentioning the construction of the temple in honor of the Virgen del Carmen.
The victory occurred during the Battle of Maipú, a historical milestone that ensured the independence of Chile2. On May 7, 1818, Bernardo O'Higgins, in his position as Supreme Director of the Nation, decreed the construction of the temple, leaving Juan Agustín Alcalde and Agustín de Eyzaguirre5 in charge of its execution. However, it was not until 1821 that O'Higgins ordered the alienation of the land, in which it was contemplated to allocate part of it to the construction of the parish.
This is how on November 15, 1818, the construction of the church that would fulfill the vow to the Virgen del Carmen began. The first stone was laid during a ceremony attended by Bernardo O'Higgins, accompanied by military officer José de San Martín.
From 1818, the progress of the construction of the chapel was postponed more and more. To this was added the abdication of Bernardo O'Higgins in his mandate as Supreme Director in the year 1823,32 which ended up paralyzing the works and converted the space destined for the church into mangers for cattle.
It was not until the government of Domingo Santa María, in 1885, that efforts were made to complete the work that had already been unfinished for more than 66 years. This is how in 1895 it could be inaugurated and blessed during the mandate of President Jorge Montt.
In 1942, during the Marian Congress that took place in Santiago, the construction of a new temple was decreed to replace the Maipú Victory Chapel. Already in 1948, Archbishop José María Caro ordered the initiation of the new work that would later become the current Maipú Votive Temple.
The chapel was a construction of Romanesque and neoclassical style architecture; It also contemplated a bell tower and a clock tower. Outside the church there is a statue that represents the pilgrim Christ, accompanied by a plaque with the verses of the poet Felix Lope de Vega.
The 1906 earthquake caused critical damage to the structure of the chapel, to which was added a subsequent tremor in 1927 that caused a partial collapse of the bell tower, having to be replaced by a wooden one. Its structure was maintained until 1974, the year in which it was demolished, preserving its side walls due to its historical importance in the Chilean independence process. Currently, the walls can be seen in front of the Votive Temple of Maipú, without access to the inside of it due to the lack of solidity of its construction.
The interior of Wroclaw Cathedral was less eleborate than some I saw in Poland but it had a lovely solidity to it more in keeping with Romanesque architecture.
Click here to see my other Poland shots : www.flickr.com/photos/darrellg/albums/72157671110605611
From Wikipedia : "The Cathedral of St. John the Baptist in Wrocław, (Polish: Archikatedra św. Jana Chrzciciela, German: Breslauer Dom, Kathedrale St. Johannes des Täufers), is the seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Wrocław and a landmark of the city of Wrocław in Poland. The cathedral, located in the Ostrów Tumski district, is a Gothic church with Neo-Gothic additions. The current standing cathedral is the fourth church to have been built on the site.
A first church at the location of the present cathedral was built under Přemyslid rule in the mid 10th century, a fieldstone building with one nave about 25 m (82 ft) in length, including a distinctive transept and an apse. After the Polish conquest of Silesia and the founding of the Wrocław diocese under the Piast duke Bolesław I Chrobry about 1000, this Bohemian church was replaced by a larger basilical structure with three naves, a crypt, and towers on its eastern side. The first cathedral was however soon destroyed, probably by the invading troops of Duke Bretislaus of Bohemia around 1039. A larger, Romanesque-style church was soon built in its place in the times of Duke Casimir I, and expanded similar to Płock Cathedral on the behest of Bishop Walter of Malonne in 1158.
After the end of the Mongol invasion, the church was again largely rebuilt in the present-day Brick Gothic style. It was the first building of the city to be made of brick when construction of the new choir and ambulatory started in 1244. The nave with sacristy and the basements of the prominent western steeples were added under Bishop Nanker until 1341.
On June 19, 1540, a fire destroyed the roof, which was restored 16 years later in Renaissance style. Another fire on June 9, 1759, burnt the towers, roof, sacristy, and quire. The damage was slowly repaired during the following 150 years. In the 19th century, Karl Lüdecke rebuilt the interior and western side in neogothic style. Further work was done at the beginning of the 20th century by Hugo Hartung, especially on the towers ruined during the 1759 fire.
The cathedral was almost entirely destroyed (about 70% of the construction) during the Siege of Breslau and heavy bombing by the Red Army in the last days of World War II. Parts of the interior fittings were saved and are now on display at the National Museum in Warsaw. The initial reconstruction of the church lasted until 1951, when it was reconsecrated by Archbishop Stefan Wyszyński. In the following years, additional aspects were rebuilt and renovated. The original, conical shape of the towers was restored only in 1991."
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© D.Godliman
Built in 1931 and is the world’s oldest surviving helicopter.
She is allocated the British Aircraft Preservation Council identity BAPC 10 and was originally restored by Westland apprentices in 1961. She was later displayed at Old Warden before moving to the Torbay Aircraft Museum. She arrived at ‘W-s-M’ in 1979 and was donated to the collection in 1996.
The Helicopter Museum
Weston-super-Mare, North Somerset, UK
2nd October 2020
The following information is from The Helicopter Museum website:-
“Today the world's oldest surviving helicopter, the Hafner R II design dates back to 1928, when Raoul Hafner put onto paper his ideas for a helicopter at the Technische Hochschule in Vienna.
In conjunction with his business partner Bruno Nagler, and financed to the tune of £10,000 by Major Coates (a Scottish cotton millionaire) construction of the prototype R I got underway in 1929. This helicopter had a 3-bladed low solidity rotor of 30ft diameter and was powered by a 30 hp ABC Scorpion engine. The rotor torque was balanced by two large vanes situated aft of the cockpit in the slip-stream of the rotor. The rotor was rigid (wire-braced), and for control purposes the rotor blades had only one degree of freedom of movement which was in pitch. A large diameter bearing (swash plate) provided collective and cyclic pitch control. It proved difficult to master the large gyroscopic movements in the rotor and only short hops were achieved.
In 1931 a second improved helicopter was built, using a 40 hp Salmson engine, but otherwise similar to its predecessor with rotor blades shaped from laminated ash sections. This was the R II. Initial tests in Vienna proved little more successful than those with the R I, and in 1932 the team with the R II moved to the UK and Heston Airport in Middlesex. This bought Raoul Hafner in contact with Cierva and his successful 'Autogyro', and as a result the R II rotorhead was modified and new rotor blades, with flapping freedom, designed and fitted. This improved the control in roll and pitch materially but the R II was still too under-powered to do more than just hover inches off the ground. Nevertheless, in a technical sense, it did 'fly'!
Hafner turned his attention temporarily to autogyros and his RIII Autogyro successfully flew at Heston in 1935. It incorporated pitch and cyclic control independently varying the pitch of each blade rather than tilting the hub as in the Cierva. During WW2 he developed the Hafner Rotachute, a rotary parachute to be towed behind an aircraft, for landing agents in enemy territory. This was followed by a rotor-equipped jeep. Neither project progressed past testing. In 1944 he joined the Bristol Aeroplane Company to set up a new helicopter division, the first product of which was the Bristol Sycamore. This was followed by the Hafner family of tandem-rotor designs which culminated in the Belvedere. By this time the Bristol Helicopter Division had moved from Filton to Weston-super-Mare; in 1960 it was taken over by Westland and Hafner became their Technical Director (Research) until his eventual retirement in the early 1970s. He died in a yachting accident in the Bristol Channel on 14 November 1980.
Meanwhile the R II was rediscovered at Weston-super-Mare in a crate in 1961 and was refurbished by Westland apprentices to appear in a local carnival. During this process the original rotor blades were found to be infested by woodworm. One was salvaged for display at the Hafner family home but the other two were thrown onto a local scrap dump. Subsequently they were rescued and put into storage, and one has now been restored for display inside the museum. Following its appearance in the carnival the R II returned to temporary storage but was then loaned to the Shuttleworth Trust at Old Warden Beds, who, finding themselves short of space, sub-loaned the aircraft to the Torbay Aircraft Museum. Here it remained until 1978 when it was spotted by an ex-Westland apprentice Peter Oerham who suggested to The Helicopter Museum that the R II should return to Weston-super-Mare, where it could be displayed alongside the Sycamore and Belvedere.
Following discussions with Mr. Hafner and the two museums involved this was agreed in October 1978, but it was not until 20th May 1979 that the R II was finally re-united with its original rotor-blades here in the Helicopter Museum.”
La iglesia de San Sebastián de los Caballeros se encuentra en torno al primer recinto amurallado de Toro. Es una zona céntrica próxima a la Plaza Mayor, a la cual se puede llegar a través del Arco del Postigo.
Fue parroquia al menos desde principios del S. XII hasta 1896. Su primera fábrica seria de ladrillo, de estilo románico-mudéjar, aunque a principios del S.XVI fue reconstruida por el trasmerano Juan Martínez de Revilla a expensas del famoso teólogo toresano Fray Diego de Deza, profesor de Salamanca, preceptor del príncipe don Juan, hijo de los RR.CC., Inquisidor General, Arzobispo de Sevilla y protector de Colón. Esta construcción gótica tardía destaca por la solidez, continencia ornamental y el predominio del macizo sobre el vano. La tribuna data de 1570 y su hermoso alfarje es obra de carpinteros locales. La torre fue acabada en 1573 por el cantero Antonio de Villafaña. Ya en época barroca sufrió un proceso de barroquización bastante mediocre que, sumado al abandono posterior en el S.XX, casi significa la ruina del conjunto.
En la década de 1970 el Estado decide restaurarla para albergar las pinturas murales procedentes del monasterio de Sta. Clara. Aparte de estas pinturas, su patrimonio quedó reducido al arte mueble. Se conserva el retablo mayor in situ.
El museo está formado por una única sala, que coincide con la nave de la iglesia. Ésta consta de capilla mayor, precedida de arco de triunfo agudo y sobre pilares y coro alto. También tiene una sencilla torre adosada al muro norte y la sacristía pospuesta a la cabecera. A los pies se levanta una hermosa tribuna con antepecho de balaustres torneados en arenisca sobre arco escarzado que arranca de pilares. El templo tiene tres puertas a norte sur y oeste pero la entrada al museo se realiza a través de la sacristía en la cara este.
La iglesia-museo de San Sebastián de los Caballeros expone las pinturas murales procedentes del monasterio de Santa Clara.
Las pinturas corresponden a la primera fase del gótico lineal o franco-gótico, que todavía no conoce la perspectiva. Aproximadamente, se realizaron en la tercera década del S.XIV. La composición es sólo de dos dimensiones y las trazas lineales, así como la caligrafía grácil y espontánea funcionan como esqueleto sustentante de los colores, formados con muchos matices y abundantes sombreados. Los frecuentes arrepentimientos hablan de la rapidez con la que se debió efectuar la obra. Se trata de una manifestación de la fe sencilla del pueblo cristiano medieval que aceptaba sin crítica la historia de los santos. Se inspiran en la leyenda áurea. De su autoría se habló del nombre de Teresa Diez, ya que este nombre aparece escrito en las pinturas, pero ésta debía ser la donante como indican los escudos heráldicos de la familia que también aparecen. Descartada entonces Teresa Diez, es posible que sean obra de Domingo Pérez, el pintor que se representa como criado de Sancho IV en la firma de la policromía de la Portada de la Majestad de la Colegiata de Toro. Nos consta de este autor que también efectuó unos murales en la catedral de Zamora.
torosacro.com/historia/san-sebastian-de-los-caballeros/
The church of San Sebastián de los Caballeros is located around the first walled enclosure of Toro. It is a central area near the Plaza Mayor, which can be reached through the Arch of the Postigo.
It was parished at least from the early 12th century until 1896. Its first factory would be brick, Romanesque-Mudejar style, although at the beginning of the H.XVI century it was rebuilt by the transmerano Juan Martínez de Revilla at the expense of the famous Toresian theologian Fray Diego de Deza, professor of Salamanca, preceptor of Prince Don Juan, son of the RR. CC., Inquisidor General, Archbishop of Seville and protector of Columbus. This late Gothic construction stands out for its solidity, ornamental continence and the predominance of the massif over the vain. The grandstand dates back to 1570 and its beautiful pottery is the work of local carpenters. The tower was finished in 1573 by the goalkeeper Antonio de Villafaña. Already in baroque times it suffered a rather mediocre baroque process that, together with the subsequent abandonment in the twentieth century, almost means the ruin of the whole.
In the 1970s the State decided to restore it to house the mural paintings from the monastery of St. Clare. Apart from these paintings, his heritage was reduced to the art of furniture. The main altarpiece is preserved in situ.
The museum consists of a single room, which coincides with the nave of the church. This consists of main chapel, preceded by a sharp triumphal arch and on pillars and a high choir. It also has a simple tower attached to the north wall and the sacristy postponed to the headboard. At the feet stands a beautiful grandstand with a balustle of balusters turned in sandstone on a frosted arch that starts from pillars. The temple has three gates to the north south and west but the entrance to the museum is made through the sacristy on the east side.
The church-museum of San Sebastian de los Caballeros exhibits the mural paintings from the monastery of Santa Clara.
The paintings correspond to the first phase of linear gothic or Franco-Gothic, which does not yet know the perspective. Approximately, they were held in the third decade of the S.XIV. The composition is only two dimensions and the linear traces, as well as the graceful and spontaneous calligraphy function as a skeleton supporting the colors, formed with many nuances and abundant shades. Frequent repentances tell of how quickly the work should be done. It is a manifestation of the simple faith of the medieval Christian people who accepted the history of the saints without criticism. They are inspired by the golden legend. From her authorship was mentioned the name of Teresa Diez, since this name is written in the paintings, but this was to be the donor as indicated by the heraldic shields of the family that also appear. Discarded then Teresa Diez, it is possible that they are the work of Domingo Pérez, the painter who is depicted as a servant of Sancho IV in the signature of the polychromia of the Cover of the Majesty of the Collegiate of Toro. We are aware of this author who also made some murals in the cathedral of Zamora
HDR
Bodiam Castle ist eine gut erhaltene Burgruine in East Sussex, England.
Perfektes Beispiel für eine spätmittelalterliche Wasserburg.
Das imposante Bauwerk gehört heutzutage dem National Trust.
Bodiam Castle
A battlemented castle rises as if from the pages of a fairy tale.
The setting could hardly be more spectacular. As the path from the car park crests a slight rise the moat suddenly comes intro view, ringing a fortress that looks at first glance as though the centuries have lift unsullied the work of the medieval castle architect in its most perfect from.
With its intact corner towers, battlemented gates and high ramparts pierced by arrow slits, Bodiam appears to be quite capable of giving a good account of itself if invaders approaching along the valley of the River Rother chose to attack it tomorrow. In fact, its 14th - century builder, Sir Edward Dalyngrigge, never had to face the feared French marauders, and lived secure in grand style behind his imposing walls.
Once across the moat, the apparent solidity of Bodiam castle proves to be an illusion. The interiorwas reduced to a shell during the Civil War, although the layout of Dalyngrigge´s great hall, chapel, kitchen and living quarters can still be traced. Spiral staircases climb to the battlements for a bird´s - eye view of the castle, its moat and the surrounding green countryside.
45 The Strand, Whakatane
This impressive two-storey masonry building was erected for Bank of New Zealand in 1917. It included manager's accommodation on the first floor.
Corner sites and classical styles were traditionally chosen for NZ banks. This building was a major landmark on the corner site, visible as it was from both the main wharf and also the centre of trade at the time it was built. It was designed to make an impression of solidity and reliability, as befitted a bank.
In 1939, it became part of what was officially called the New Commercial Hotel (the OLD Commercial Hotel was the original wooden one, that sat on the site where the art deco block was built).
The Bay of Plenty Regional Council bought both buildings in 2003 when it was seeking more office space. More recently, the corner hotel had been leased while the 1939 building (regarded as an earthquake and fire risk) had remained vacant.
In 2017, it was reported that the Council planned to sell the hotel. Before the sale however, the 1939 art deco portion of the site (which was earthquake-prone and derelict) would be demolished. Then the entire site, including the historic 1917 corner hotel, would be resurveyed and sold.
Whakatane District Council said selling the Commercial Hotel "offered a great opportunity for sympathetic development" of the pub, and it did not want to see the town lose a valuable piece of history. There was however no heritage value in the 1939 art deco section...
St Edmund, Southwold, Suffolk
I kept meaning to come back to Southwold - the church, I mean, for I found myself in the little town from time to time. I finally kept my promise to myself in the summer of 2017, tipping up on a beautiful sunny day only to find the church closed for extensive repairs. The days got shorter, and by the time the church reopened it was too late in the year for me to try again. In fact, it was not until late October 2018 that I made it back there, on another beautiful day.
Southwold is well-known to people who have never even been there I suppose, signifying one side of Suffolk to which Ipswich is perhaps the counter in the popular imagination. Some thirty years ago, the comedian Michael Palin made a film for television called East of Ipswich. It was a memoir of his childhood in the 1950s, and the basic comic premise behind the film was that in those days families would go on holiday to seaside resorts on the East Anglian coast. In the child Palin's case, it was Southwold.
The amusement came from the idea that people in those days would sit in deckchairs beside the grey north sea, or shelter from the drizzle in genteel teashops or the amusement arcade on the pier. In the Costa Brava package tour days of the 1980s, the quaintness of this image made it seem like something from a different world.
I remember Southwold in the 1980s. It was one of those agreeable little towns distant enough from anywhere bigger to maintain a life of its own. It still had its genteel tea shops, its dusty grocers, its quaint hotels and pubs all owned by Adnams, the old-fashioned and unfashionable local brewery. In the white heat of the Thatcherite cultural revolution, it seemed a place that would soon die on its feet quietly and peaceably.
And then, in the 1990s, the colour supplements discovered the East Anglian coast, and fell in love with it. The new fashions for antique-collecting, cooking with local produce and general country living, coupled with a snobbishness about how vulgar foreign package trips had become, conspired to make places like Southwold very sought after. Before Nigel Lawson's boom became a bust, the inflated house prices of London and the home counties gave people money to burn. And in their hoards, they came out of the big city to buy holiday homes in East Anglia.
Although they are often lumped together, the coasts of Norfolk and Suffolk are very different to each other (Cambridgeshire and North Essex are also culturally part of East Anglia, but the North Essex coast is too close to London to have ever stopped being cheap and cheerful, and Cambridgeshire has no coastline). Norfolk's beaches are wide and sandy, with dunes and cliffs and rock pools to explore. Towns like Cromer and Hunstanton seem to have stepped out of the pages of the Ladybird Book of the Seaside. Tiny villages along the Norfolk coast have secret little beaches of their own.
Suffolk's coast is wilder. Beaches are mainly pebbles rather than sand, and the marshes stretch inland, cutting the coast off from the rest of the county. Unlike Norfolk, Suffolk has no coast road, and so the settlements on the coast are isolated from each other, stuck at the ends of narrow lanes which snake away from the A12 and peter out in the heathland above the sea. There are fewer of them too. It is still quicker to get from Walberswick to Southwold by water than by land. Because they are isolated from each other, they take on individual personalities and characteristics. Because they are isolated from the land, they become bastions of polite civilisation.
Between Felixstowe in the south, which no outsiders like (and consequently is the favourite of many Suffolk people) and Lowestoft in the north, which is basically an industrial town-on-sea (but which still has the county's best beaches - shhh, don't tell a soul) are half a dozen small towns that vie with each other for trendiness. Southwold is the biggest, and today it is also the most expensive place to live in all East Anglia. Genteel tea shops survive, but are increasingly shouldered by shops that specialise in ski-wear and Barbour jackets, delicatessens that stock radicchio and seventeen different kinds of olive, jewellery shops and kitchen gadget shops and antique furniture shops where prices are exquisitely painful. Worst of all, the homely, shabby, smoke-filled Sole Bay Inn under the lighthouse has been converted by the now-trendy Adnams Brewery into a chrome and glass filled wine bar.
If you see someone in Norfolk driving a truck, they are probably wearing a baseball cap and carrying a shotgun. in Suffolk, they've more likely just bought a Victorian pine dresser from an antique shop, and they're taking it back to Islington. Does this matter? The fishing industry was dying anyway. The tourist industry was also dying. If places like Southwold, Aldeburgh and Orford become outposts of north London, at least they will still provide jobs for local people. But the local people won't be able to afford to live there, of course. They'll be bussed in from Reydon, Leiston and Melton to provide services for people in holiday cottages which are the former homes they grew up in, but can no longer afford to buy. Does this seriously annoy me? Not as much as it does them, I'll bet.
So, lets go to Southwold, turning off the A12 at the great ship of Blythburgh church, the wide marshes of the River Blyth spreading aimlessly beyond the road. We climb and fall over ancient dunes, and then the road opens out into the flat marshes, the town spreads out beyond. We enter through Reydon (now actually bigger than Southwold, with houses at half the price) and over the bridge into the town of Southwold itself.
Having been so critical, I need to say here that Southwold is beautiful. It is quite the loveliest small town in all East Anglia. None of the half-timbered houses here that you find in places like Long Melford and Lavenham. Here, the town was completely destroyed by fire in the 17th century, and so we have fine 18th and 19th century municipal buildings. One of the legacies of the fire was the creation of wide open spaces just off of the high street, called greens. The best one of all is Gun Hill Green, overlooking the bay where the last major naval battle in British waters was fought. The cannons still point out to sea. The houses here are stunning, gobsmacking, jaw-droppingly wonderful. If I could afford to buy one of them as a weekend retreat, then you bet your life I would, and to hell with the people who moaned about it.
At the western end of the High Street is St Bartholomew's Green, and beyond it sits what is, for my money, Suffolk's single most impressive building. This is the great church of St Edmund, a vast edifice built all in one go in the second half of the 15th century. Only Lavenham can compete with it for scale and presence. Unlike the massing at St Peter and St Paul at Lavenham, St Edmund is defined by a long unbroken clerestory and aisles beneath - where St Peter and St Paul looks full of tension, ready to spring, St Edmund is languid and floating, a ship at ease.
Southwold church was just one of several vast late medieval rebuildings in this area. Across the river at Walberswick and a few miles upriver at Blythburgh the same thing happened. Blythburgh still survives, but Walberswick was derelicted to make a smaller church, as were Covehithe and Kessingland. Dunwich All Saints was lost to the sea. But Southwold was the biggest. Everything about it breathes massive permanence, from the solidity of the tower to the turreted porch, from the wide windows to the jaunty sanctus bell fleche.
Along the top of the aisles, grimacing faces look down. All of them are different. The pedestals atop the clerestory were intended for statues as at Blythburgh, but were probably never filled before the Reformation intervened. At the west end, above the great west window, you can see the vast inscription SAncT EDMUND ORA P: NOBIS ('Saint Edmund, pray for us') as bold a record of the mindset of late medieval East Anglian Catholicism as you'll find.
As at Lavenham and Long Melford, the interior has been extensively restored, but not in as heavy or blunt a manner as at those two churches. St Edmund has, it must be said, benefited from the attentions of German bombers who put out all the dull Victorian glass with blast damage during World War II. Here, the interior is vast, light and airy, and much of the restoration is 20th century work, not 19th century.
Perhaps because of this, more medieval interior features have survived. Unlike Long Melford, Southwold does not have surviving medieval glass (Mr Dowsing saw to that in 1644), but it does have what is the finest screen in the county.
It stretches right the way across the church, and is effectively three separate screens. There is a rood screen across the chancel arch, and parclose screens across the north and south chancel aisles. All retain their original dado figures. There are 36 of them, more than anywhere else in Suffolk. They have been restored, particularly in the central range, but are fascinating because they retain a lot of original gesso work, where plaster of Paris is applied to wood and allowed to dry. It is then carved to produce intricate details.
The central screen shows the eleven remaining disciples and St Paul. They are, from left to right, Philip, Bartholomew, James the Less, Thomas, Andrew, Peter, Paul, John, James, Simon, Jude and Matthew.
The south chancel chapel is light and open. The bosses above are said to represent Mary Tudor and her second husband Charles, Duke of Brandon. The screen here is painted with twelve Old Testament prophets, and Mortlock suggests that they are by a different hand to the images on the other two screens. Here on the south screen, some of the figures have surviving naming inscriptions, and Mortlock surmises that the complete sequence, from left to right, is Baruch, Hosea, Nahum, Jeremiah, Elias, Moses, David, Isaiah, Amos, Jonah and Ezekiel. Further, he observes that the subject is a usual one for the English Midlands, but rare for East Anglia, and that perhaps this part of the screen came from elsewhere. The same may be true of the other two parts - it is hard to think that the central screen was deliberately made too wide for the two arcades.
The north aisle chapel is reserved as the blessed sacrament chapel. The screen is harder to explore, because the northern side is curtailed by a large chest, but it features angels. Unlike the screens at Hitcham and Blundeston, which show angels holding instruments of the passion, these are the nine orders of angels, with Gabriel at their head, and flanked by angels holding symbols of the Trinity and the Eucharist. Mortlock says that they are so similar to the ones at Barton Turf in Norfolk that they may be by the same hand, in which case the central screen is also by that person. They are, from left to right, the Holy Trinity, Gabriel, Archangels, Powers, Dominions, Cherubim, Seraphim, Thrones, Principalities, Virtues, Messengers, and finally the Eucharist. The Holy Trinity angel still has part of the original dedicatory inscription beneath his feet.
If part or all of this screen came from elsewhere, where did it come from? Possibly either Walberswick, Covehithe or Kessingland, the three downsized churches mentioned earlier. More excitingly, it might have come from one of the churches along this coast that was lost to the sea, perhaps neighbouring St Nicholas at Easton Bavents, or, just to the south, St Peter or St John the Baptist, the two Dunwich churches lost in the 16th and 17th centuries. We'll never know.
If you turn back at the screen and face westwards, your eyes are automatically drawn to the towering font cover, part of the extensive 1930s redecoration of the building. The clerestory is almost like a glass atrium intended to house it. Also the work of the period is the repainting and regilding of the 15th century pulpit (a lot of people blanch at this, but I think it is gorgeous) and the lectern. Beneath the font cover, the font is clearly one of the rare seven sacraments series, and part of the same group as Westhall, Blythburgh and Wenhaston. As at Blythburgh and Wenhaston, the panels are completely erased, probably in the 19th century, an act of barbarous vandalism. Given that Westhall is probably the best of all in the county, we must assume that three major medieval art treasures were wiped out. Astonishingly, vague shadows survive of the former reliefs; you can easily make out the Mass panel, facing east as at Westhall, the Penance panel and even what may be the Baptism of Christ.
Stepping through the screen, the reredos ahead is by Benedict Williamson and the glass above by Ninian Comper, familiar names in the Anglo-catholic pantheon, and evidence of an enthusiasm here that still survives in High Church form. There is a good engraved glass image of St Edmund to the north of the sanctuary, very much in the 1960s fashion, but curiously placed. On the wall of the chancel to the west of it, the high organ case is also painted and gilded enthusiastically.
As well as the screen, Southwold's other great medieval survival is the set of return stalls either side of the eastern face of the chancel screen. They have misericord seats, but the best feature are the handrests between the seats. On the south side, carvings include a man with a horn-shaped hat and sinners being drawn into the mouth of hell. On the north side are a man playing two pipes, a monkey preaching and a beaver biting its own genitals, a tale from the medieval bestiary, apparently.
What else is there to see? Well, the church is full of delights, and rewards further visits which always seem to turn up something previously unnoticed. St George rides full tilt at a dragon on an old chest at the west end of the north aisle. There is good 19th century glass in the porch and at the west end of the nave. A clock jack stands, axe and bell in hand, at the west end, a twin to the one upriver at Blythburgh. This one has a name, he's called Southwold Jack, and he is one of the symbols of the Adnams brewery.
As Mortlock notes, there are very few surviving memorials. This is partly because St Edmund was not in the patronage of a great landed family, but it may also suggest that they were largely removed at the time of the 19th century restoration, as at Brandon. One moving one is for the child of a vicar, and there are some interesting pre-Oxford Movement 19th century brasses in the south aisle.
High, high above all this, the roofs are models of Anglo-Catholic melodrama, the canopy of honour to the rood and the chancel ceilure in particular. But there is a warmth about it all that is missing from, say, Eye, which underwent a similar makeover. This church feels full of life, and not a museum piece at all. I remember attending evensong here late one winter Saturday afternoon, and it was magical. On another visit, I came on one of the first days of spring that was truly warm and bright, with not a cloud in the sky. As we drove into town, a cold fret off of the sea was condensing the steam of the brewery, sending it in swirls and skeins around the tower of St Edmund like low cloud. It was so atmospheric that I almost forgave them for what they have done to the Sole Bay Inn.
Bauhaus Museum Weimar, Germany
German architect Heike Hanada designed a minimalist concrete museum to celebrate the Bauhaus in Weimar, where the design school was founded 100 years ago. The building is dedicated to the design school creates a physical cultural presence for the Bauhaus in the German city where it was based between 1919 and 1925. Located near the Nazi-era Gauforum square and the Neue Museum Weimar, the Bauhaus Museum is a simple five-storey concrete box broken only with its entrance and a couple of windows. The enclosing shell of light-grey concrete lends the cube stability and dynamic solidity. Equally spaced horizontal grooves run around the facades of the museum, with the words "bauhaus museum" repeated in a band near the top of the building. Hanada designed the museum to be a public building for the city and has attempted to clearly connect it to the neighbouring park. With elements such as plinths, fasciae, portals, stairways and a terrace to the park, the architecture incorporates classical themes that underscore its public character.
The museum contains 2,000 m2 of exhibition space, which will be used to display around 1,000 items from the Weimar Bauhaus collection. A shop and entrance hall is located on the ground floor, with a cafe and toilets below, and three floors dedicated to telling the story of the Bauhaus above. Each of the galleries overlooks double-height spaces and are accessed from a long ceremonial staircase that stretches the height of the building. The visitors ascend a succession of interchanging open spaces and staircases until they finally arrive at the top floor where they are presented with an unobstructed view of the park. The cascading staircases are encased by ceiling-high walls and function as free-standing, enclosed bodies in the interior space. The collection is arranged to inform visitors about the history of the design school, with the gallery on the first floor dedicated to its origins in Weimar and the Bauhaus manifesto that Walter Gropius wrote in 1919. The second floor has exhibits that show how these ideas were implemented, with galleries dedicated to each of the Bauhaus directors – Gropius, Hannes Meyer and Mies van der Rohe – at the top of the building.
The museum in Weimar has opened to coincide with the centenary of the Bauhaus, which was established in the city in 1919. The school was forced to relocate from Weimar to Dessau in 1925, where Gropius designed a new school building for the institution. Following a short time based in Berlin the school closed for good in 1933. Although only open for just over a decade, the Bauhaus is the most influential art and design school in history. The ideas and people associated with the school had an incredible impact on design and architecture, and to mark its centenary we created a series exploring its key works and figures.
Chassis n° V8COL/15191
Les Grandes Marques du Monde au Grand Palais
Bonhams
Parijs - Paris
Frankrijk - France
February 2019
Estimated : € 225.000 - 265.000
Aston Martin had always intended the DBS to house its new V8 engine, but production difficulties meant that the car first appeared with the DB6's 4.0-liter six. Bigger and more luxuriously appointed than the DB6, the heavyweight DBS disappointed some by virtue of its slightly reduced performance, but there were no complaints when the V8 finally arrived in 1969. With an estimated 315 bhp available from its 5.340 cc four-cam engine, the DBS V8 could reach 100 mph in under 14 seconds, running on to a top speed of 160 mph, a staggering performance in those days and one which fully justified the claim that it was the fastest production car in the world. After Aston Martin's acquisition by Company Developments in 1972, production resumed with the Series 2, now known as the Aston Martin V8 and distinguishable by a restyled front end recalling the looks of earlier Astons. The most successful Aston Martin ever, the V8 survived the changes of ownership and financial upheavals of the 1970s, enjoying a record-breaking production run lasting from 1969 to 1988, with 2.919 cars sold.
Described by former Aston Martin Chairman Victor Gauntlett as 'a stylish thoroughbred, beautifully built, luxurious, fast and immensely safe', the V8 was built in several variants, one of the more exclusive being the Volante convertible. Introduced in response to customer demand for such a car, the Volante first appeared in June 1978. Arguably the ultimate in soft-top luxury, the newcomer boasted a lined, power-operated top which, when erected, endowed the walnut embellished interior with all the solidity and refinement associated with the saloon version. The 5,340cc DOHC V8 Engine with 4 Dual-Throat Weber Carburetors produced 300bhp at 6,000rpm. Although its open-car aerodynamics meant that top speed suffered with the top down, the Volante's 240km/h maximum nevertheless ranked it among the world's fastest convertibles. V8 Volante and Vantage Volante chassis numbers ran from '15001' to '15849', a total of only 849 cars.
According to copies of Aston Martin's factory build records, this V8 Volante was shipped from the UK on 23rd May 1980 to Aston Martin Sales Inc of New Rochelle, New York. Left-hand drive and equipped with the five-speed manual transmission and a Vantage front air dam, it was finished in Jubilee Silver with black leather interior, black carpeting, and a black Everflex convertible top, as it is today.
Sold in July 1981 to its first owner, the Aston was transported to California where it would remain until it was sold to the second owner six years later with only 14,000 miles recorded. For the following three decades, this superb V8 Volante was driven sparingly and is today presented with only 43.106 miles showing on the odometer. The immediately preceding owner purchased the car from Doc Severinsen, former bandleader on 'The Tonight Show', and before Mr Severinsen's ownership it resided in Palm Springs.
The current vendor, specifically looking for this rare (Volante, early series with carburation, left-hand drive, ZF 5-speed manual gearbox) version purchased the Aston in the USA in August 2016, since when it has been re-commissioned and converted to EU specification with correct bumpers, etc. In addition, the engine has been checked over, a new convertible hood installed, and the interior detailed. Close to € 30.000 has been spent and the car now looks wonderful with a nicely patinated interior.
Offered here with its owner's manual, parts book, workshop manual, copy of factory built sheet,
tools, invoices and car cover, this V8 Volante must be one of the best preserved examples currently available. As a well-cared for California car, it has a wonderful patina and originality that is difficult to replicate. The car's maintenance and service records are exceptionally comprehensive, running to several hundred invoices.
Left-hand drive and equipped with the desirable and rare ZF five-speed transmission from new, this beautiful V8 Volante is definitely 'the one to have'.
One of the real pleasures of Flickr is finding out so much more about the areas you thought you knew.
I have been to Wymondham a few times, delivered beer to a hotel (more of that another time) and a friend used to run the Railway Inn near the station, but I hadn't really explored the town.
But having seen a friend's shots, I really thought I should go back and look at it anew. And then there was this building, the Abbey Church with two towers, ruins and all the associated history.
Whatever you think of the works inside, it is as a complete building, something to leave me, at least, in awe at the beauty. Of course, it might not please everyone, but it does me.
Many thanks to Sarah and Richard for taking me here.
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This massive church and its famous twin towers will be familiar to anyone who has ever been within five miles of Wymondham, pronounced Win-d'm; its presence always there above the roof tops, and still there on the horizon when the rooftops can no longer be seen. Closer to, it is like a mighty city on a hill. It is often referred to as Wymondham Abbey, which isn't entirely correct; but there was an Abbey here, and you can see a scattering of remains in the fields between the church and the river, gradually reduced over the centuries as the stone and rubble were taken away for use elsewhere.
We came to Wymondham on a day that was breathtakingly cold; although the temperature was hovering around freezing, there was a biting east wind that made it feel colder still. Hence, the clarity of the light in the photographs above. The top photograph, taken from the south on the far bank of the river, is worth a second glance, because it provides a number of clues as to how this extraordinary and magnificent building came to be the way it is today.
In the beginning, there was a Benedictine Priory, an offshoot of the Abbey of St Albans. It was founded here because, after the Conquest, William I granted the lands of Wymondham to the Duc d'Albini, and the Duke's brother was Abbot of St Albans. Part of the project consisted of building a massive Priory church, much bigger than the one you see today. In style, it was like the Abbey church of Bury St Edmund, or Ely Cathedral. It was a cruciform church about 70 metres long, and had twin west towers - you can see something similar today at Kings Lynn St Margaret. As at St Margaret, there was a third tower above the central crossing, the chancel extending a long way eastwards, and transepts that were as tall as the nave roof. It was completed during the 12th century.
You can see a surviving trace of the south-west tower in the photograph above. The base of its northern wall rises above the roofline at the western end of the clerestory, just beside the current west tower. The central crossing tower, however, was built to the east of the current east tower, the chancel extending eastwards beyond it.
D'Albini intended the church to serve the parish as well as the Priory, but this was not managed without recourse to the advice of Pope Innocent IV, who granted the people use of the nave and the north aisle, the Priory retaining the south aisle, transepts and chancel.
However, when the central crossing tower became unsafe in the late 14th century and had to be taken down, the Priory rebuilt it to the west of the crossing, actually within the nave. This is the east tower that you see today, now a shell. In turn, the parish extended the church further west, demolishing the two west towers and replacing them with the massive structure you see today. It really is huge; although it is not as tall as the church tower at Cromer, its solidity lends it a vastness not sensed there.
When the new east tower was built, the western face of it cut off the nave from the chancel, creating two separate spaces. When the west tower was built, it blocked off the former west window between the old towers. Because of this, Wymondham is the only medieval parish church in Norfolk, and one of the few in England, that has no window at either end.
Wymondham Priory became an Abbey in 1448, and seems to have lived its final century peaceably enough before being closed and asset-stripped by Henry VIII in the 1530s. The church then became solely the charge of the parish; the eastern parts, apart from the tower, were demolished.
Still without parapet or panelling, the west tower was never finished; but it features in the turbulent history of mid 16th century England because William Kett, one of the leaders of Kett's Rebellion, was hung from the top of it by Edward VI's thought police, a reminder of just how closely church and state became allied during the Reformation. It did give me pause for thought - hanging your enemy from a church tower seems such an obvious thing to do when you want to make a point. I wonder just how many more times it happened to less notable victims over the centuries, on church towers up and down the land?
You enter today through the great north porch, which is similar to that nearby at Hethersett, even to the extent of having an almost identical series of bosses. They depict rosary scenes in the life of Christ and the Blessed Virgin.
As I said, we came here on a spectacularly cold day, but I was delighted to discover that the interior of the church was heated, even on a Saturday. The church attracts a considerable number of visitors, as you might expect; but I still thought this was a nice gesture.
Wymondham church is above all else an architectural wonder; but in many ways this is a simple building, easy to explore and satisfying to visit. It has the feel of a small Anglican cathedral in that there is a pleasing mix of ancient Norman architecture and modern Anglican triumphalism; as in a cathedral, there are open spaces, and the old pews have been replaced with modern chairs, which almost always seems to work well. The glorious arcading, triforium and clerestory create a sense of great height; this, coupled with the lack of east or west windows, can make you feel rather boxed in, but I found I quite liked that; it made the place seem more intimate, despite its size.
The modern, triumphant feel to the place is largely owing to the vast reredos by Ninian Comper. This is generally considered to be his finest single work, and forms the parish war memorial. It was built and gilded during the 1920s and 1930s, and you have to say it is magnificent. It consists of three tiers of saints, with a glorious Christ in Majesty topping the tiers under the great tester. It was never completed; the space where the retable should be is now hidden by curtains.
The rood and beam, a bay to the west, is also Comper's work, and it is hard to conceive that work of this kind and to this scale will ever again be installed in an English church. The low sun, slanting through the south windows of the clerestory, picked out the gilding, and clever lighting from underneath helped to put Comper's vision of Heaven into practice. The row of candlesticks on the altar leaves you in no doubt in which wing of the Church of England Wymondham finds itself.
Comper's glory shouldn't distract you from the early 16th century facade above the sedilia. It is terracotta, and probably from the same workshop as the Bedingfield tombs at Oxborough. Here you see what might have happened to English church architecture if theReformation hadn't intervened. Looking west from the sanctuary, the original west window is clearly discernible, now home to the organ.
If Comper's work is a little rich for you, you may prefer the north aisle, which is wide enough to be a church in itself. Cleared of clutter, a few rows of chairs face a gorgeous early 20th century triptych depicting Mary and John at the foot of the cross. The Madonna and child towards the west is also Comper's, but the 1930s towering font cover on the typical East Anglian 15th century font is not; it is by Cecil Upcher. The south aisle is truncated, the eastern bays now curtained off; but here are the few medieval survivals in glass. From slightly later, but the other side of the Reformation divide, is an Elizabethan text on the arcade. It probably marks the point to which the pulpit was moved by the Anglicans in the 16th century.
St Mary and St Thomas of Canterbury is a church that it is easy to admire, and it certainly impressed me. Perhaps, it is not so easy a building to love. Inevitably, there is something rather urban in its grandeur, and even the warmth of the heating couldn't take the edge off the remoteness and anonymity you inevitably find in such a space.
However, the friendliness of the people on duty helped to make up for this. The area beneath the west tower has been converted into a shop, and the nice lady working there was very chatty and helpful. I have to say that I think it would concentrate my mind a bit, knowing that mighty weight was above me. The shop itself is good of its kind, selling books and religious items rather than just souvenirs, and more icons and rosaries than you would normally expect to find in an establishment of the Church of England.
The lady said that she was a Methodist really, and found the services rather formal, but she'd started coming to the Abbey because her daughter went there. "You ought to come, Mum, we're just like real Catholics!", she giggled, as she recalled her daughter's words. As a 'real Catholic' myself, I couldn't help thinking that we would have stripped out Comper's reredos long ago, and Masses would be accompanied by guitars and percussion, possibly with a modicum of clapping and the help of an overhead projector screen; but I kept my counsel.
Simon Knott, January 2006
South chapel window by Geoffrey Webb, 1941.
The attractive town of Tewkesbury has been dominated by its superb abbey church since the beginning of the 12th century, and we can be forever grateful to its townspeople for purchasing the monastic church in 1540 for £453 for use as their parish church, saving it from the fate that befell countless similar great churches across the land during the turmoil of the Dissolution. It reminds us both how lucky we are to still marvel at it today, yet also how great a loss to our heritage the period wrought when many more such buildings were so utterly plundered as to have gone without trace (the fate of the monastic buildings here and even the lady chapel of the church whose footings are laid out in the grass at the east end).
Tewkesbury Abbey is thus rightly celebrated as one of our greatest non-cathedral churches, and remarkably much of the original Norman church remains substantially intact, most apparently in the great central tower, a fine example of Romanesque architecture adorned with rows of blind-arcading. The west front is dominated by a massive Norman-arched recess (enclosing the somewhat later west window) and the nave and transepts remain largely as originally built, though this is less clear externally owing to the changes made to the windows, nearly all of which were enlarged in the 14th century in the Decorated Gothic style. This century also saw the complete rebuilding of the eastern limb of the church, of a form less common in England with radiating chapels surrounding the eastern apse of the choir (the central lady chapel sadly missing since 1540).
The interior reveals far more of the Romanesque structure with mighty columns supporting the round Norman arches of the nave arcades giving the building a great sense of solidity. The space is further enlivened by the changes made during the 14th century by the stunning vault over the nave (adorned with a rewarding series of figurative bosses) which sits surprisingly well with the Norman work below. Beyond the apsidal choir beckons, and both this and the space below the tower are enriched with stunningly complex vaulted ceilings (replete with further bosses and gilded metal stars), all ablaze with colour and gilding.
There is much to enjoy in glass here, most remarkably a complete set of 14th century glazing in the clerestorey of the choir, seven windows filled with saints and prophets (and most memorably two groups of knights in the westernmost windows on each side). A few of the figures have fared less well over the centuries but on the whole this is a wonderfully rare and well preserved scheme. There is much glass from the 19th century too, with an extensive scheme in the nave of good quality work by Hardman's, and more recently a pair of rich windows by Tom Denny were added in one of the polygonal chapels around the east end.
Some of the most memorable features are the monuments with many medieval tombs of note, primarily the effigies and chantry chapels of members of the Despenser family around the choir (two of the chantries being miniature architectural gems in their own right with exquisite fan-vaulting). In one of the apsidal chapels is the unusual cenotaph to Abbot Wakeman with his grisly cadaver effigy, a late medieval reminder of earthly mortality.
Tewkesbury Abbey is not to be missed and is every bit as rewarding as many of our cathedrals (superior in fact to all but the best). It is normally kept open and welcoming to visitors on a daily basis. I have also had the privilege of working on this great building several times over the years (as part of the team at the studio I once worked for), and have left my mark in glass in a few discreet places.
The largest and most magnificent of the chantry chapels is that erected on the north side of the sanctuary in 1430 by Isabella le Despenser (d.1439) in honour of her first husband Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Worcester (d.1422). She then married a second Richard Beauchamp (later buuired in his famous chapel in Warwick) and thus became Countess of Warwick. The splendid fan-vaulted chantry is thus known either as the Warwick or Beauchamp chapel and is a gloriously ornate piece of Perpendicular architecture.
The attractive town of Tewkesbury has been dominated by its superb abbey church since the beginning of the 12th century, and we can be forever grateful to its townspeople for purchasing the monastic church in 1540 for £453 for use as their parish church, saving it from the fate that befell countless similar great churches across the land during the turmoil of the Dissolution. It reminds us both how lucky we are to still marvel at it today, yet also how great a loss to our heritage the period wrought when many more such buildings were so utterly plundered as to have gone without trace (the fate of the monastic buildings here and even the lady chapel of the church whose footings are laid out in the grass at the east end).
Tewkesbury Abbey is thus rightly celebrated as one of our greatest non-cathedral churches, and remarkably much of the original Norman church remains substantially intact, most apparently in the great central tower, a fine example of Romanesque architecture adorned with rows of blind-arcading. The west front is dominated by a massive Norman-arched recess (enclosing the somewhat later west window) and the nave and transepts remain largely as originally built, though this is less clear externally owing to the changes made to the windows, nearly all of which were enlarged in the 14th century in the Decorated Gothic style. This century also saw the complete rebuilding of the eastern limb of the church, of a form less common in England with radiating chapels surrounding the eastern apse of the choir (the central lady chapel sadly missing since 1540).
The interior reveals far more of the Romanesque structure with mighty columns supporting the round Norman arches of the nave arcades giving the building a great sense of solidity. The space is further enlivened by the changes made during the 14th century by the stunning vault over the nave (adorned with a rewarding series of figurative bosses) which sits surprisingly well with the Norman work below. Beyond the apsidal choir beckons, and both this and the space below the tower are enriched with stunningly complex vaulted ceilings (replete with further bosses and gilded metal stars), all ablaze with colour and gilding.
There is much to enjoy in glass here, most remarkably a complete set of 14th century glazing in the clerestorey of the choir, seven windows filled with saints and prophets (and most memorably two groups of knights in the westernmost windows on each side). A few of the figures have fared less well over the centuries but on the whole this is a wonderfully rare and well preserved scheme. There is much glass from the 19th century too, with an extensive scheme in the nave of good quality work by Hardman's, and more recently a pair of rich windows by Tom Denny were added in one of the polygonal chapels around the east end.
Some of the most memorable features are the monuments with many medieval tombs of note, primarily the effigies and chantry chapels of members of the Despenser family around the choir (two of the chantries being miniature architectural gems in their own right with exquisite fan-vaulting). In one of the apsidal chapels is the unusual cenotaph to Abbot Wakeman with his grisly cadaver effigy, a late medieval reminder of earthly mortality.
Tewkesbury Abbey is not to be missed and is every bit as rewarding as many of our cathedrals (superior in fact to all but the best). It is normally kept open and welcoming to visitors on a daily basis. I have also had the privilege of working on this great building several times over the years (as part of the team at the studio I once worked for), and have left my mark in glass in a few discreet places.
Oil on canvas; 116.5 x 73.3 cm.
Modigliani was born into a Jewish family of merchants. As a child he suffered from pleurisy and typhus, which prevented him from receiving a conventional education. In 1898 he began to study painting. After a brief stay in Florence in 1902, he continued his artistic studies in Venice, remaining there until the winter of 1906, when he left for Paris. His early admiration for Italian Renaissance painting—especially that of Siena—was to last throughout his life. In Paris Modigliani became interested in the Post-Impressionist paintings of Paul Cézanne. His initial important contacts were with the poets André Salmon and Max Jacob, with the artist Pablo Picasso, and—in 1907—with Paul Alexandre, a friend of many avant-garde artists and the first to become interested in Modigliani and to buy his works. In 1908 the artist exhibited five or six paintings at the Salon des Indépendants. In 1909 Modigliani met the Romanian sculptor Constantin Brancusi, on whose advice he seriously studied African sculpture. To prepare himself for creating his own sculpture, he intensified his graphic experiments. In his drawings Modigliani tried to give the function of limiting or enclosing volumes to his contours. In 1912 he exhibited at the Salon d’Automne eight stone heads whose elongated and simplified forms reflect the influence of African sculpture. Modigliani returned entirely to painting about 1915, but his experience as a sculptor had fundamental consequences for his painting style. The characteristics of Modigliani’s sculptured heads—long necks and noses, simplified features, and long oval faces—became typical of his paintings. He reduced and almost eliminated chiaroscuro (the use of gradations of light and shadow to achieve the illusion of three-dimensionality), and he achieved a sense of solidity with strong contours and the richness of juxtaposed colors.
The outbreak of World War I in 1914 increased the difficulties of Modigliani’s life. Alexandre and some of his other friends were at the front, his paintings did not sell, and his already delicate health was deteriorating because of his poverty, feverish work ethic, and abuse of alcohol and drugs. He was in the midst of a troubled affair with the South African poet Beatrice Hastings, with whom he lived for two years, from 1914 to 1916. He was assisted, however, by the art dealer Paul Guillaume and especially by the Polish poet Leopold Zborowski, who bought or helped him to sell a few paintings and drawings.
Modigliani was not a professional portraitist; for him the portrait was only an occasion to isolate a figure as a kind of sculptural relief through firm and expressive contour drawing. He painted his friends, usually personalities of the Parisian artistic and literary world (such as the artists Juan Gris and Jacques Lipchitz, the writer and artist Jean Cocteau, and the poet Max Jacob), but he also portrayed unknown people, including models, servants, and girls from the neighborhood. In 1917 he began painting a series of about 30 large female nudes that, with their warm, glowing colors and sensuous, rounded forms, are among his best works. In December of that year Berthe Weill organized a solo show for him in her gallery, but the police judged the nudes indecent and had them removed.
In 1917 Modigliani began a love affair with the young painter Jeanne Hébuterne, with whom he went to live on the Côte d’Azur. Their daughter, Jeanne, was born in November 1918. His painting became increasingly refined in line and delicate in colour. A more tranquil life and the climate of the Mediterranean, however, did not restore the artist’s undermined health. After returning to Paris in May 1919, he became ill in January 1920; 10 days later he died of tubercular meningitis. Little-known outside avant-garde Parisian circles, Modigliani had seldom participated in official exhibitions. Fame came after his death, with a solo exhibition at the Bernheim-Jeune Gallery in 1922 and later with a biography by André Salmon. For decades critical evaluations of Modigliani’s work were overshadowed by the dramatic story of his tragic life, but he is now acknowledged as one of the most significant and original artists of his time.
West window by Hardman's, 1886.
The attractive town of Tewkesbury has been dominated by its superb abbey church since the beginning of the 12th century, and we can be forever grateful to its townspeople for purchasing the monastic church in 1540 for £453 for use as their parish church, saving it from the fate that befell countless similar great churches across the land during the turmoil of the Dissolution. It reminds us both how lucky we are to still marvel at it today, yet also how great a loss to our heritage the period wrought when many more such buildings were so utterly plundered as to have gone without trace (the fate of the monastic buildings here and even the lady chapel of the church whose footings are laid out in the grass at the east end).
Tewkesbury Abbey is thus rightly celebrated as one of our greatest non-cathedral churches, and remarkably much of the original Norman church remains substantially intact, most apparently in the great central tower, a fine example of Romanesque architecture adorned with rows of blind-arcading. The west front is dominated by a massive Norman-arched recess (enclosing the somewhat later west window) and the nave and transepts remain largely as originally built, though this is less clear externally owing to the changes made to the windows, nearly all of which were enlarged in the 14th century in the Decorated Gothic style. This century also saw the complete rebuilding of the eastern limb of the church, of a form less common in England with radiating chapels surrounding the eastern apse of the choir (the central lady chapel sadly missing since 1540).
The interior reveals far more of the Romanesque structure with mighty columns supporting the round Norman arches of the nave arcades giving the building a great sense of solidity. The space is further enlivened by the changes made during the 14th century by the stunning vault over the nave (adorned with a rewarding series of figurative bosses) which sits surprisingly well with the Norman work below. Beyond the apsidal choir beckons, and both this and the space below the tower are enriched with stunningly complex vaulted ceilings (replete with further bosses and gilded metal stars), all ablaze with colour and gilding.
There is much to enjoy in glass here, most remarkably a complete set of 14th century glazing in the clerestorey of the choir, seven windows filled with saints and prophets (and most memorably two groups of knights in the westernmost windows on each side). A few of the figures have fared less well over the centuries but on the whole this is a wonderfully rare and well preserved scheme. There is much glass from the 19th century too, with an extensive scheme in the nave of good quality work by Hardman's, and more recently a pair of rich windows by Tom Denny were added in one of the polygonal chapels around the east end.
Some of the most memorable features are the monuments with many medieval tombs of note, primarily the effigies and chantry chapels of members of the Despenser family around the choir (two of the chantries being miniature architectural gems in their own right with exquisite fan-vaulting). In one of the apsidal chapels is the unusual cenotaph to Abbot Wakeman with his grisly cadaver effigy, a late medieval reminder of earthly mortality.
Tewkesbury Abbey is not to be missed and is every bit as rewarding as many of our cathedrals (superior in fact to all but the best). It is normally kept open and welcoming to visitors on a daily basis. I have also had the privilege of working on this great building several times over the years (as part of the team at the studio I once worked for), and have left my mark in glass in a few discreet places.
La iglesia de San Sebastián de los Caballeros se encuentra en torno al primer recinto amurallado de Toro. Es una zona céntrica próxima a la Plaza Mayor, a la cual se puede llegar a través del Arco del Postigo.
Fue parroquia al menos desde principios del S. XII hasta 1896. Su primera fábrica seria de ladrillo, de estilo románico-mudéjar, aunque a principios del S.XVI fue reconstruida por el trasmerano Juan Martínez de Revilla a expensas del famoso teólogo toresano Fray Diego de Deza, profesor de Salamanca, preceptor del príncipe don Juan, hijo de los RR.CC., Inquisidor General, Arzobispo de Sevilla y protector de Colón. Esta construcción gótica tardía destaca por la solidez, continencia ornamental y el predominio del macizo sobre el vano. La tribuna data de 1570 y su hermoso alfarje es obra de carpinteros locales. La torre fue acabada en 1573 por el cantero Antonio de Villafaña. Ya en época barroca sufrió un proceso de barroquización bastante mediocre que, sumado al abandono posterior en el S.XX, casi significa la ruina del conjunto.
En la década de 1970 el Estado decide restaurarla para albergar las pinturas murales procedentes del monasterio de Sta. Clara. Aparte de estas pinturas, su patrimonio quedó reducido al arte mueble. Se conserva el retablo mayor in situ.
El museo está formado por una única sala, que coincide con la nave de la iglesia. Ésta consta de capilla mayor, precedida de arco de triunfo agudo y sobre pilares y coro alto. También tiene una sencilla torre adosada al muro norte y la sacristía pospuesta a la cabecera. A los pies se levanta una hermosa tribuna con antepecho de balaustres torneados en arenisca sobre arco escarzado que arranca de pilares. El templo tiene tres puertas a norte sur y oeste pero la entrada al museo se realiza a través de la sacristía en la cara este.
La iglesia-museo de San Sebastián de los Caballeros expone las pinturas murales procedentes del monasterio de Santa Clara.
Las pinturas corresponden a la primera fase del gótico lineal o franco-gótico, que todavía no conoce la perspectiva. Aproximadamente, se realizaron en la tercera década del S.XIV. La composición es sólo de dos dimensiones y las trazas lineales, así como la caligrafía grácil y espontánea funcionan como esqueleto sustentante de los colores, formados con muchos matices y abundantes sombreados. Los frecuentes arrepentimientos hablan de la rapidez con la que se debió efectuar la obra. Se trata de una manifestación de la fe sencilla del pueblo cristiano medieval que aceptaba sin crítica la historia de los santos. Se inspiran en la leyenda áurea. De su autoría se habló del nombre de Teresa Diez, ya que este nombre aparece escrito en las pinturas, pero ésta debía ser la donante como indican los escudos heráldicos de la familia que también aparecen. Descartada entonces Teresa Diez, es posible que sean obra de Domingo Pérez, el pintor que se representa como criado de Sancho IV en la firma de la policromía de la Portada de la Majestad de la Colegiata de Toro. Nos consta de este autor que también efectuó unos murales en la catedral de Zamora.
torosacro.com/historia/san-sebastian-de-los-caballeros/
The church of San Sebastián de los Caballeros is located around the first walled enclosure of Toro. It is a central area near the Plaza Mayor, which can be reached through the Arch of the Postigo.
It was parished at least from the early 12th century until 1896. Its first factory would be brick, Romanesque-Mudejar style, although at the beginning of the H.XVI century it was rebuilt by the transmerano Juan Martínez de Revilla at the expense of the famous Toresian theologian Fray Diego de Deza, professor of Salamanca, preceptor of Prince Don Juan, son of the RR. CC., Inquisidor General, Archbishop of Seville and protector of Columbus. This late Gothic construction stands out for its solidity, ornamental continence and the predominance of the massif over the vain. The grandstand dates back to 1570 and its beautiful pottery is the work of local carpenters. The tower was finished in 1573 by the goalkeeper Antonio de Villafaña. Already in baroque times it suffered a rather mediocre baroque process that, together with the subsequent abandonment in the twentieth century, almost means the ruin of the whole.
In the 1970s the State decided to restore it to house the mural paintings from the monastery of St. Clare. Apart from these paintings, his heritage was reduced to the art of furniture. The main altarpiece is preserved in situ.
The museum consists of a single room, which coincides with the nave of the church. This consists of main chapel, preceded by a sharp triumphal arch and on pillars and a high choir. It also has a simple tower attached to the north wall and the sacristy postponed to the headboard. At the feet stands a beautiful grandstand with a balustle of balusters turned in sandstone on a frosted arch that starts from pillars. The temple has three gates to the north south and west but the entrance to the museum is made through the sacristy on the east side.
The church-museum of San Sebastian de los Caballeros exhibits the mural paintings from the monastery of Santa Clara.
The paintings correspond to the first phase of linear gothic or Franco-Gothic, which does not yet know the perspective. Approximately, they were held in the third decade of the S.XIV. The composition is only two dimensions and the linear traces, as well as the graceful and spontaneous calligraphy function as a skeleton supporting the colors, formed with many nuances and abundant shades. Frequent repentances tell of how quickly the work should be done. It is a manifestation of the simple faith of the medieval Christian people who accepted the history of the saints without criticism. They are inspired by the golden legend. From her authorship was mentioned the name of Teresa Diez, since this name is written in the paintings, but this was to be the donor as indicated by the heraldic shields of the family that also appear. Discarded then Teresa Diez, it is possible that they are the work of Domingo Pérez, the painter who is depicted as a servant of Sancho IV in the signature of the polychromia of the Cover of the Majesty of the Collegiate of Toro. We are aware of this author who also made some murals in the cathedral of Zamora
The monument of John Wakeman, last Abbot of Tewkesbury (d.1549). His cenotaph, erected in his lifetime, incorporates a cadaver effigy depicting him as a decaying corpse (with a few small creatures exploring or gnawing his limbs). His actual burial was at Gloucester.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Wakeman
The attractive town of Tewkesbury has been dominated by its superb abbey church since the beginning of the 12th century, and we can be forever grateful to its townspeople for purchasing the monastic church in 1540 for £453 for use as their parish church, saving it from the fate that befell countless similar great churches across the land during the turmoil of the Dissolution. It reminds us both how lucky we are to still marvel at it today, yet also how great a loss to our heritage the period wrought when many more such buildings were so utterly plundered as to have gone without trace (the fate of the monastic buildings here and even the lady chapel of the church whose footings are laid out in the grass at the east end).
Tewkesbury Abbey is thus rightly celebrated as one of our greatest non-cathedral churches, and remarkably much of the original Norman church remains substantially intact, most apparently in the great central tower, a fine example of Romanesque architecture adorned with rows of blind-arcading. The west front is dominated by a massive Norman-arched recess (enclosing the somewhat later west window) and the nave and transepts remain largely as originally built, though this is less clear externally owing to the changes made to the windows, nearly all of which were enlarged in the 14th century in the Decorated Gothic style. This century also saw the complete rebuilding of the eastern limb of the church, of a form less common in England with radiating chapels surrounding the eastern apse of the choir (the central lady chapel sadly missing since 1540).
The interior reveals far more of the Romanesque structure with mighty columns supporting the round Norman arches of the nave arcades giving the building a great sense of solidity. The space is further enlivened by the changes made during the 14th century by the stunning vault over the nave (adorned with a rewarding series of figurative bosses) which sits surprisingly well with the Norman work below. Beyond the apsidal choir beckons, and both this and the space below the tower are enriched with stunningly complex vaulted ceilings (replete with further bosses and gilded metal stars), all ablaze with colour and gilding.
There is much to enjoy in glass here, most remarkably a complete set of 14th century glazing in the clerestorey of the choir, seven windows filled with saints and prophets (and most memorably two groups of knights in the westernmost windows on each side). A few of the figures have fared less well over the centuries but on the whole this is a wonderfully rare and well preserved scheme. There is much glass from the 19th century too, with an extensive scheme in the nave of good quality work by Hardman's, and more recently a pair of rich windows by Tom Denny were added in one of the polygonal chapels around the east end.
Some of the most memorable features are the monuments with many medieval tombs of note, primarily the effigies and chantry chapels of members of the Despenser family around the choir (two of the chantries being miniature architectural gems in their own right with exquisite fan-vaulting). In one of the apsidal chapels is the unusual cenotaph to Abbot Wakeman with his grisly cadaver effigy, a late medieval reminder of earthly mortality.
Tewkesbury Abbey is not to be missed and is every bit as rewarding as many of our cathedrals (superior in fact to all but the best). It is normally kept open and welcoming to visitors on a daily basis. I have also had the privilege of working on this great building several times over the years (as part of the team at the studio I once worked for), and have left my mark in glass in a few discreet places.
Identify the Artist XVI
Week 3 Reclining Nude (1211 – 1215 ) 09/26 - 10/01/2021 ID 1211
Henri Matisse French, 1869 - 1954
Reclining Nude III , 1929
Bronze
Matisse pares the figure down to its essential lines, leaving details of the face, hands, and feet indistinct. Despite its scale, this small bronze sculpture possesses a monumentality in its solidity of form. The basic pose can be traced back to ancient sculptures of sleeping figures and was also popular in Renaissance art.
Gift of Fiske Warren and Edward Perry Warren by exchange, 1953. 53. 949
From the Placard: Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA
Henri Matisse - Wikipedia
Henri Matisse | MoMA
The sanctuary of Hippolytus at Troizena, directly connected with the mythical love of Phaedra for Hippolytus, lies in an idyllic environment about 170 kilometers away from Athens and in a short distance from Epidaurus. In spite of its significance, it remains unknown to the broad public. The enclosure and buildings of the sanctuary were erected outside the walls of ancient Troizena in the late fourth or early third century BC around an earlier nucleus of worship, which is located in the area of the small shrine of the Geometric period. Although the existence and function of an Asclepieion in the sanctuary is ascertained by relevant inscriptions, it seems that the celebrated Asclepieion of Epidaurus outshone it, therefore it remained rather obscure. The earthquake caused by the eruption of the Methana volcano in the mid-third century BC obviously contributed to the decline of the Troizena Asclepieion: its buildings suffered serious damages and remained in ruins until the Roman age, when they were restored. After the prevalence of Christianity the ancient building material was removed from the original structures and was used for the erection of Christian churches such as Episkopi. It should be noted that the removal and reuse of ancient building material has been continued until the recent decades. Some of the ancient monuments face today certain solidity and static problems due to the inherited weakness of the building material (limestone) and the reactive thrusts of the ground. The archaeological site remains undefined by enclosure, it lacks informational plates in front of the buildings and does not provide the necessary facilities for the few, for the time being, visitors.