Origins and Construction of the Eiffel Tower

It was at the 1889 Exposition Universelle, the date that marked the 100th anniversary of the French Revolution, that a great competition was launched in the Journal Officiel.

The first digging work started on the 26th January 1887. On the 31st March 1889, the Tower had been finished in record time – 2 years, 2 months and 5 days – and was established as a veritable technical feat.

Key figures

Design18,038 metallic parts

5,300 workshop designs

50 engineers and designers

Construction150 workers in the Levallois-Perret factory

Between 150 and 300 workers on the construction site

2,500,000 rivets

7,300 tonnes of iron

60 tonnes of paint

5 lifts

Duration2 years, 2 months and 5 days of construction

The construction schedule

Works kick-off26th January 1887

Start of the pillars' mounting1st July 1887

First floor achievement1st April 1888

Second floor achievement14th August 1888

Top and assembly achievement31st March 1889

The Design of the Eiffel Tower

The plan to build a tower 300 metres high was conceived as part of preparations for the World's Fair of 1889.

Bolting the joint of two crossbowmen

Bolting the joint of two crossbowmen.(c): Collection Tour Eiffel

The wager was to "study the possibility of erecting an iron tower on the Champ-de-Mars with a square base, 125 metres across and 300 metres tall". Selected from among 107 projects, it was that of Gustave Eiffel, an entrepreneur, Maurice Koechlin and Emile Nouguier, both engineers, and Stephen Sauvestre, an architect, that was accepted.

Emile Nouguier and Maurice Koechlin, the two chief engineers in Eiffel's company, had the idea for a very tall tower in June 1884. It was to be designed like a large pylon with four columns of lattice work girders, separated at the base and coming together at the top, and joined to each other by more metal girders at regular intervals.

The tower project was a bold extension of this principle up to a height of 300 metres - equivalent to the symbolic figure of 1000 feet. On September 18 1884 Eiffel registered a patent "for a new configuration allowing the construction of metal supports and pylons capable of exceeding a height of 300 metres".

In order to make the project more acceptable to public opinion, Nouguier and Koechlin commissioned the architect Stephen Sauvestre to work on the project's appearance.

A quite different first edition

Sauvestre proposed stonework pedestals to dress the legs, monumental arches to link the columns and the first level, large glass-walled halls on each level, a bulb-shaped design for the top and various other ornamental features to decorate the whole of the structure. In the end the project was simplified, but certain elements such as the large arches at the base were retained, which in part give it its very characteristic appearance.

The curvature of the uprights is mathematically determined to offer the most efficient wind resistance possible. As Eiffel himself explains: "All the cutting force of the wind passes into the interior of the leading edge uprights. Lines drawn tangential to each upright with the point of each tangent at the same height, will always intersect at a second point, which is exactly the point through which passes the flow resultant from the action of the wind on that part of the tower support situated above the two points in question. Before coming together at the high pinnacle, the uprights appear to burst out of the ground, and in a way to be shaped by the action of the wind".

The Koechlin's plan

Details construction & operation Otis elevators - B & W engraving Paris Exhibition 1889

The construction

The assembly of the supports began on July 1, 1887 and was completed twenty-two months later.

All the elements were prepared in Eiffel’s factory located at Levallois-Perret on the outskirts of Paris. Each of the 18,000 pieces used to construct the Tower were specifically designed and calculated, traced out to an accuracy of a tenth of a millimetre and then put together forming new pieces around five metres each. A team of constructors, who had worked on the great metal viaduct projects, were responsible for the 150 to 300 workers on site assembling this gigantic erector set.

The rivet workers

All the metal pieces of the tower are held together by rivets, a well-refined method of construction at the time the Tower was constructed. First the pieces were assembled in the factory using bolts, later to be replaced one by one with thermally assembled rivets, which contracted during cooling thus ensuring a very tight fit. A team of four men was needed for each rivet assembled: one to heat it up, another to hold it in place, a third to shape the head and a fourth to beat it with a sledgehammer. Only a third of the 2,500,000 rivets used in the construction of the Tower were inserted directly on site.

Un poste de riveurs

The rivet workers. Copyright : Collection Tour Eiffel

The uprights rest on concrete foundations installed a few metres below ground-level on top of a layer of compacted gravel. Each corner edge rests on its own supporting block, applying to it a pressure of 3 to 4 kilograms per square centimetre, and each block is joined to the others by walls.

On the Seine side of the construction, the builders used watertight metal caissons and injected compressed air, so that they were able to work below the level of the water.

Eiffel Tower construction 1Eiffel Tower construction 2Eiffel Tower construction 3

The tower was assembled using wooden scaffolding and small steam cranes mounted onto the tower itself.

The assembly of the first level was achieved by the use of twelve temporary wooden scaffolds, 30 metres high, and four larger scaffolds of 40 metres each.

"Sand boxes" and hydraulic jacks - replaced after use by permanent wedges - allowed the metal girders to be positioned to an accuracy of one millimetre.

On December 7, 1887, the joining of the major girders up to the first level was completed. The pieces were hauled up by steam cranes, which themselves climbed up the Tower as they went along using the runners to be used for the Tower's lifts.

5

months to build the foundations

THE NUMBER

Record construction time

It only took five months to build the foundations and twenty-one to finish assembling the metal pieces of the Tower.

Considering the rudimentary means available at that period, this could be considered record speed. The assembly of the Tower was a marvel of precision, as all chroniclers of the period agree. The construction work began in January 1887 and was finished on March 31, 1889. On the narrow platform at the top, Eiffel received his decoration from the Legion of Honour.

Journalist Emile Goudeau describes the spectacle visiting the construction site at the beginning of 1889.

"A thick cloud of tar and coal smoke seized the throat, and we were deafened by the din of metal screaming beneath the hammer. Over there they were still working on the bolts: workmen with their iron bludgeons, perched on a ledge just a few centimetres wide, took turns at striking the bolts (these in fact were the rivets). One could have taken them for blacksmiths contentedly beating out a rhythm on an anvil in some village forge, except that these smiths were not striking up and down vertically, but horizontally, and as with each blow came a shower of sparks, these black figures, appearing larger than life against the background of the open sky, looked as if they were reaping lightning bolts in the clouds."

Mr. Eiffel’s Blueprints

The following blueprints are copies of Gustave Eiffel’s originals, taken from the book La Tour de 300 mètres, Ed. Lemercier, Paris 1900

Gustave Eiffel's 8th blueprintGustave Eiffel's 9th blueprintGustave Eiffel's 8th blueprintGustave Eiffel's 9th blueprintGustave Eiffel's 8th blueprint

Gustave Eiffel's 1st blueprintGustave Eiffel's 2nd blueprintGustave Eiffel's 3rd blueprint

Debate and controversy surrounding the Eiffel Tower

Even before the end of its construction, the Tower was already at the heart of much debate. Enveloped in criticism from the biggest names in the world of Art and Literature, the Tower managed to stand its ground and achieve the success it deserved.

L'exposition universelle de 1889

The Exposition Universelle of 1889

Various pamphlets and articles were published throughout the year of 1886, le 14 février 1887, la protestation des Artistes.

The "Protest against the Tower of Monsieur Eiffel", published in the newspaper Le Temps, is addressed to the World's Fair's director of works, Monsieur Alphand. It is signed by several big names from the world of literature and the arts : Charles Gounod, Guy de Maupassant, Alexandre Dumas junior, François Coppée, Leconte de Lisle, Sully Prudhomme, William Bouguereau, Ernest Meissonier, Victorien Sardou, Charles Garnier and others to whom posterity has been less kind.

Portrait de Charles Garnier

Charles Garnier

Other satirists pushed the violent diatribe even further, hurling insults like : "this truly tragic street lamp" (Léon Bloy), "this belfry skeleton" (Paul Verlaine), "this mast of iron gymnasium apparatus, incomplete, confused and deformed" (François Coppée), "this high and skinny pyramid of iron ladders, this giant ungainly skeleton upon a base that looks built to carry a colossal monument of Cyclops, but which just peters out into a ridiculous thin shape like a factory chimney" (Maupassant), "a half-built factory pipe, a carcass waiting to be fleshed out with freestone or brick, a funnel-shaped grill, a hole-riddled suppository" (Joris-Karl Huysmans).

Portrait d'Alexandre Dumas

Alexandre Dumas

Once the Tower was finished the criticism burnt itself out in the presence of the completed masterpiece, and in the light of the enormous popular success with which it was greeted. It received two million visitors during the World's Fair of 1889.

An extract from the "Protest against the Tower of Monsieur Eiffel", 1887

"We come, we writers, painters, sculptors, architects, lovers of the beauty of Paris which was until now intact, to protest with all our strength and all our indignation, in the name of the underestimated taste of the French, in the name of French art and history under threat, against the erection in the very heart of our capital, of the useless and monstrous Eiffel Tower which popular ill-feeling, so often an arbiter of good sense and justice, has already christened the Tower of Babel. (...)

Is the City of Paris any longer to associate itself with the baroque and mercantile fancies of a builder of machines, thereby making itself irreparably ugly and bringing dishonour ? (...). To comprehend what we are arguing one only needs to imagine for a moment a tower of ridiculous vertiginous height dominating Paris,just like a gigantic black factory chimney, its barbarous mass overwhelming and humiliating all our monuments and belittling our works of architecture, which will just disappear before this stupefying folly.

And for twenty years we shall see spreading across the whole city, a city shimmering with the genius of so many centuries, we shall see spreading like an ink stain, the odious shadow of this odious column of bolted metal.

Gustave Eiffel’s Response

In an interview in the newspaper Le Temps of February 14 1887, Eiffel gave a reply to the artists' protest, neatly summing up his artistic doctrine:

"For my part I believe that the Tower will possess its own beauty. Are we to believe that because one is an engineer, one is not preoccupied by beauty in one's constructions, or that one does not seek to create elegance as well as solidity and durability ? Is it not true that the very conditions which give strength also conform to the hidden rules of harmony ? (...) Now to what phenomenon did I have to give primary concern in designing the Tower ? It was wind resistance.

Well then ! I hold that the curvature of the monument's four outer edges, which is as mathematical calculation dictated it should be (...) will give a great impression of strength and beauty, for it will reveal to the eyes of the observer the boldness of the design as a whole. Likewise the many empty spaces built into the very elements of construction will clearly display the constant concern not to submit any unnecessary surfaces to the violent action of hurricanes, which could threaten the stability of the edifice. Moreover there is an attraction in the colossal, and a singular delight to which ordinary theories of art are scarcely applicable".

www.toureiffel.paris/en/the-monument/history

Tightrope walking, also called funambulism, is the skill of walking along a thin wire or rope. It has a long tradition in various countries and is commonly associated with the circus. Other skills similar to tightrope walking include slack rope walking and slacklining.

Types[edit]

Tightrope walking, Armenian manuscript, 1688

Tightwire is the skill of maintaining balance while walking along a tensioned wire between two points. It can be done either using a balancing tool (umbrella, fan, balance pole, etc.) or "freehand", using only one's body to maintain balance. Typically, tightwire performances either include dance or object manipulation. Object manipulation acts include a variety of props in their acts, such as clubs, rings, hats, or canes. Tightwire performers have even used wheelbarrows with passengers, ladders, and animals in their act. The technique to maintain balance is to keep the performer's centre of mass above their support point—usually their feet.

Highwire is a form of tightwire walking but performed at much greater height. Although there is no official height when tightwire becomes highwire, generally a wire over 20 feet (6 m) high are regarded as a highwire act.

Skywalk is a form of highwire which is performed at great heights and length. A skywalk is performed outdoors between tall buildings, gorges, across waterfalls or other natural and man-made structures.

Ropes[edit]

If the "lay" of the rope (the orientation of the constituent strands, the "twist" of a rope) is in one direction, the rope can twist on itself as it stretches and relaxes. Underfoot, this could be hazardous to disastrous in a tightrope. One solution is for the rope core to be made of steel cable, laid in the opposite direction to the outer layers, so that twisting forces balance each other out.

Biomechanics[edit]

Acrobats maintain their balance by positioning their centre of mass directly over their base of support, i.e. shifting most of their weight over their legs, arms, or whatever part of their body they are using to hold them up. When they are on the ground with their feet side by side, the base of support is wide in the lateral direction but narrow in the sagittal (back-to-front) direction. In the case of highwire-walkers, their feet are parallel with each other, one foot positioned in front of the other while on the wire. Therefore, a tightwire walker's sway is side to side, their lateral support having been drastically reduced. In both cases, whether side by side or parallel, the ankle is the pivot point.

A wire-walker may use a pole for balance or may stretch out his arms perpendicular to his trunk in the manner of a pole. This technique provides several advantages. It distributes mass away from the pivot point, thereby increasing the moment of inertia. This reduces angular acceleration, so a greater torque is required to rotate the performer over the wire. The result is less tipping. In addition, the performer can also correct sway by rotating the pole. This will create an equal and opposite torque on the body.

Tightwire-walkers typically perform in very thin and flexible, leather-soled slippers with a full-length suede or leather sole to protect the feet from abrasions and bruises, while still allowing the foot to curve around the wire. Though very infrequent in performance, amateur, hobbyist, or inexperienced funambulists will often walk barefoot so that the wire can be grasped between the big and second toe. This is more often done when using a rope, as the softer and silkier fibres are less taxing on the bare foot than the harder and more abrasive braided wire.

Famous tightrope artists[edit]

Maria Spelterini crossing Niagara Falls on July 4, 1876

Jultagi, the Korean tradition of tightrope walking

Charles Blondin, a.k.a. Jean-François Gravelet, crossed the Niagara Falls many times

Robert Cadman, early 18th-century British highwire walker and ropeslider

Jay Cochrane, Canadian, set multiple records for skywalking, including The Great China Skywalk[1] in Qutang Gorge, China, 639-metre-long (2,098 ft), 410-metre-high (1,340 ft) from one cliff wall to the opposite side above the Yangtze River; the longest blindfolded skywalk, 800-foot-long (240 m), 300-foot-high (91 m) in 1998, between the towers of the Flamingo Hilton in Las Vegas, Nevada, and broadcast on FOX Network's "Guinness World Records: Primetime" on Tuesday, February 23, 1999; In 2001, he became the first person to perform a skywalk in Niagara Falls, Canada, in more than a hundred years. His final performances took place during Skywalk 2012[2] with a world record submission[3] of 11.81 miles (19.01 km) in cumulative distance skywalking from the Skylon Tower at a height of 520 feet (160 m) traversing the 1,300 feet (400 m) highwire to the pinnacle of the Hilton Fallsview Hotel at 581 feet (177 m).

Con Colleano, Australian, "the Wizard of the Wire"

David Dimitri, Swiss highwire walker

Pablo Fanque, 19th-century British tightrope walker and "rope dancer", among other talents, although best known as the first black circus owner in Britain, and for his mention in the Beatles song, Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite!

The Great Farini, a.k.a. Willie Hunt, crossed the Niagara Falls many times

Farrell Hettig, American highwire walker, started as a Wallenda team member, once held record for steepest incline for a wire walk he completed in 1981[4]

Henry Johnson (1806–1910), British tightrope walker with Sanger's and Hughes' circuses (also equestrian gymnast and acrobat)

Denis Josselin, a French tightrope walker, completed on 6 April 2014 a walk over the river Seine in Paris. It took him 30 minutes to walk over 150 m (490 feet) of rope, 25 m (82 feet) meters above the river. He covered his eyes halfway through without harness or safety net but police boats were on hand in case he fell.[5][6]

Jade Kindar-Martin and Didier Pasquette, an American-French highwire duo, most notable for their world-record setting skywalk over the River Thames in London

Henri L'Estrange, 19th-century Australian; first person to tightrope walk across Sydney harbour and early balloonist

Elvira Madigan, Danish 19th-century tightwire walker

Bird Millman, American star of Ringling Brothers & Barnum and Bailey Circus

Fyodor Molodtsov (1855–1919), a Russian rope walker. Was known to perform numerous tricks such as rope walking while shooting, carrying another person, wearing stilts, dancing, and even being unbalanced by pyrotechnical explosions. Known to have defeated Blondin during a tightrope crossing of the Neva river, by braving it at a wider place.

Jorge Ojeda-Guzman, Ecuadorian highwire walker, set The Guinness Book of World Records, Tightrope Endurance Record, for living 205 days on the wire, from January 1 to July 25, 1993 in Orlando, Florida.[7]

Rudy Omankowski Jr., French-Czech highwire walker, holds record for skywalk distance

Stephen Peer, after several previous successful crossings, fell to his death at the Niagara Falls in 1887

Susanna Bokoyni, Hungarian centenarian and circus performer who was listed in Guinness World Records as the longest-lived dwarf on record.

Philippe Petit, French highwire-walker, famous for his walk between the towers of the World Trade Center in New York City in 1974

Eskil Rønningsbakken, Norwegian balancing artist whose feats include tightrope walking between hot air balloons in flight

Maria Spelterini, Italian highwire walker, first woman to cross the Niagara Falls

Falko Traber, German tightwire walker, walked to the Sugarloaf Mountain in Rio de Janeiro

Vertelli, British-Australian tightrope walker, nicknamed "the Australian Blondin"

The Flying Wallendas, famous for their seven- and eight-person pyramid wire-walks

Karl Wallenda, founder of the Flying Wallendas, died after falling from a wire on March 22, 1978, at age 73, while attempting to cross between the two towers of the Condado Plaza Hotel in San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Nik Wallenda, great-grandson of Karl, second person to walk from the United States to Canada over the Horseshoe Falls at the Niagara Falls on June 15, 2012; with his mother Delilah (Karl's granddaughter), completed his great-grandfather's final attempt between the two towers of the Condado Plaza Hotelon June 4, 2011. On June 23, 2013 he successfully walked over a gorge in the area of the Grand Canyon. On November 2, 2014, he crossed over the Chicago River from the west tower of Marina City to the Leo Burnett building, following it with a blindfolded trip from the west tower to the east tower of Marina City.[8][9] performed a record-breaking skywalk of 2,000 feet (610 m) at Kings Island on July 4, 2008, breaking Karl Wallenda's record walk[10][11]

Adili Wuxor, Chinese (Uyghur), from Xinjiang, performer of the Uyghur tradition of highwire-walking called dawaz; record-holder for highest wire-walk[citation needed], in 2010 he lived on wire for 60 days, at Beijing's Bird Nest Stadium.[12]

Maurizio Zavatta, Holder of highest tightrope walk while blindfolded. Set on 16 November 2016 in Wulong, Chongqing (China).[13]

Rafael Zugno Bridi broke the world record of the highest ever tightrope walk, by walking between two hot air balloons more than a mile high above the ground. [14]

Metaphorical use[edit]

The word funambulism or the phrase walking a tightrope is also used in a metaphorical setting not referring to any actual acrobatic acts. For instance, politicians are said to "walk a tightrope" when trying to balance two opposing views with little room for compromise. The term can also be used in satirical or acidic contexts. Nicholas Taleb uses the phrase in his book The Black Swan. "You get respect for doing funambulism or spectator sports". Taleb is criticising scientists who prefer popularism to vigorous research and those who walk a fixed and narrow path rather than explore a large field of empirical study.[15]

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tightrope_walking

I'm not sure what the plant is. I was interested in the contrast of tones and textures in the seed head - the solidity of the seeds ending in soft fluffiness.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by

madness, starving hysterical naked,

years.

Allen Ginsberg

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.

www.tewkesburyabbey.org.uk/

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

www.norfolkchurches.co.uk/wymondham/wymondhamcofe.htm

River Dargle Flood Defence Scheme.

These images were taken during the third week of November 2016.

These are the critical stabilisation works at the Silverbridge site, adjacent to the N11 dual-carriageway:

Back in November 2014, we observed bank stabilisation works here involving excavation, repair and building of a support wall structure -- carried out by JONS Construction on behalf of the National Roads Authority.

We would occasionally catch sight of this work in the distance. Quite an impressive little piece of structural engineering.

Having built a retaining concave wall, backfilled for solidity, they were also drilling, fixing and sealing ground anchors to pin the entire structure together.

flic.kr/p/paSU8U

Now we see that further works are being undertaken.

Word has it that extra ‘stabilisation work’ has to be done to protect the integrity of the riverbank. At the section here we can see that there’s not much space between the edge of the rock face and the Armco at the side of the dual-carriageway.

Have yet to determine what precisely that will entail. Serious work to reinforce the side access ramp down to the river.

The N11 carriageway runs adjacent to this sunken side of the riverbank -- barely 2 (large) paces divide the two. Even with twin strips of Armco along the roadside, it's perilously close. Traffic speeds along this stretch (maximum speed 100 kmp). Only needs a touch from a heavy vehicle to cause secondary impact, which (worst possible scenario) could result in something going airborne.

Working in these confined spaces puts a premium of safety and communication.

The guys have hard-filled a working shelf on the riverbed, to allow machinery access to the rockface. Obviously some serious drilling is called for before a form of extra 'pinning' is put in place.

They have sunk a series of hollowed tubes/casings -- obviously to form the foundations of a more extensive structure.

And some investigative work around the transverse buttress of the access bridge, parallel to the heavy-duty pipeline carrying water down from the Vartry reservoir.

At a (rough) guess -- I'd say the foundations are sunk to a depth of approx 4+m.

With such secure foundations in place, they would then look to construct a substantial bank of material, and/or retaining wall (similar to that in place further along the roadside bank).

Work continues on filling the sunken foundation casings with liquid concrete solution.

They have abandoned the use of the extended boom to pump the liquid, and are simply using low-tech hose system.

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.

www.tewkesburyabbey.org.uk/

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.

www.tewkesburyabbey.org.uk/

Ferstel

(Pictures you can see by clicking on the link at the end of page!)

Ferstel and Café Central, by Rudolf von Alt, left the men's alley (Herrengasse - Street of the Lords), right Strauchgasse

Danube mermaid fountain in a courtyard of the Palais Ferstel

Shopping arcade of the Freyung to Herrengasse

Entrance to Ferstel of the Freyung, right the Palais Harrach, left the palace Hardegg

The Ferstel is a building in the first district of Vienna, Inner City, with the addresses Strauchgasse 2-4, 14 Lord Street (Herrengasse) and Freyung 2. It was established as a national bank and stock exchange building, the denomination Palais is unhistoric.

History

In 1855, the entire estate between Freyung, Strauchgasse and Herrengasse was by Franz Xaver Imperial Count von Abensperg and Traun to the k.k. Privileged Austrian National Bank sold. This banking institution was previously domiciled in the Herrengasse 17/ Bankgasse. The progressive industrialization and the with it associated economic expansion also implied a rapid development of monetary transactions and banking, so that the current premises soon no longer have been sufficient. This problem could only be solved by a new building, in which also should be housed a stock exchange hall.

According to the desire of the then Governor of the National Bank, Franz von Pipitz, the new building was supposed to be carried out with strict observance of the economy and avoiding a worthless luxury with solidity and artistic as well as technical completion. The building should offer room for the National Bank, the stock market, a cafe and - a novel idea for Vienna - a bazaar.

The commissioned architect, Heinrich von Ferstel, demonstrated in the coping with the irregular surface area with highest conceivable effective use of space his state-of-the art talent. The practical requirements combine themselves with the actually artistic to a masterful composition. Ferstel has been able to lay out the rooms of the issuing bank, the two trading floors, the passage with the bazar and the coffee house in accordance with their intended purpose and at the same time to maintain a consistent style.

He was an advocate of the "Materialbaues" (material building) as it clearly is reflected in the ashlar building of the banking institution. Base, pillars and stairs were fashioned of Wöllersdorfer stone, façade elements such as balconies, cornices, structurings as well as stone banisters of the hard white stone of Emperor Kaiser quarry (Kaisersteinbruch), while the walls were made ​​of -Sankt Margarethen limestone. The inner rooms have been luxuriously formed, with wood paneling, leather wallpaper, Stuccolustro and rich ornamental painting.

The facade of the corner front Strauchgasse/Herrengasse received twelve sculptures by Hanns Gasser as decoration, they symbolized the peoples of the monarchy. The mighty round arch at the exit Freyung were closed with wrought-iron bare gates, because the first used locksmith could not meet the demands of Ferstel, the work was transferred to a silversmith.

1860 the National Bank and the stock exchange could move into the in 1859 completed construction. The following year was placed in the glass-covered passage the Danube mermaid fountain, whose design stems also of Ferstel. Anton von Fernkorn has created the sculptural decoration with an artistic sensitivity. Above the marble fountain basin rises a column crowned by a bronze statue, the Danube female with flowing hair, holding a fish in its hand. Below are arranged around the column three also in bronze cast figures: merchant, fisherman and shipbuilder, so those professions that have to do with the water. The total cost of the building, the interior included, amounted to the enormous sum of 1.897.600 guilders.

The originally planned use of the building remained only a few years preserved. The Stock Exchange with the premises no longer had sufficient space: in 1872 it moved to a provisional solution, 1877 at Schottenring a new Stock Exchange building opened. The National Bank moved 1925 into a yet 1913 planned, spacious new building.

The building was in Second World War battered gravely particularly on the main facade. In the 1960s was located in the former Stock Exchange a basketball training hall, the entire building appeared neglected.

1971 dealt the President of the Federal Monuments Office, Walter Frodl, with the severely war damaged banking and stock exchange building in Vienna. The Office for Technical Geology of Otto Casensky furnished an opinion on the stone facade. On the facade Freyung 2 a balcony was originally attached over the entire 15.4 m long front of hard Kaiserstein.

(Usage of Leith lime: Dependent from the consistence and structure of the Leitha lime the usage differed from „Reibsand“ till building material. The Leitha lime stone is a natural stone which can be formed easily and was desired als beautiful stone for buildings in Roman times. The usage of lime stone from Eggenburg in the Bronze age already was verified. This special attribute is the reason why the Leitha lime was taken from sculptors and masons.

The source of lime stone in the Leitha Mountains was important for Austria and especially for Vienna from the cultur historical point of view during the Renaissance and Baroque. At the 19th century the up to 150 stone quarries of the Leitha mountains got many orders form the construction work of the Vienna „Ring road“.

At many buildings of Graz, such as the castle at the Grazer castle hill, the old Joanneum and the Cottage, the Leitha lime stone was used.

Due to the fact that Leitha lime is bond on carbonate in the texture, the alteration through the actual sour rain is heavy. www.geocaching.com/geocache/GC2HKZ9_leithagebirge-leithak...)

This balcony was no longer present and only close to the facade were remnants of the tread plates and the supporting brackets recognizable. In July 1975, followed the reconstruction of the balcony and master stonemason Friedrich Opferkuh received the order to restore the old state am Leithagebirge received the order the old state - of Mannersdorfer stone, armoured concrete or artificial stone.

1975-1982, the building was renovated and re-opened the Café Central. Since then, the privately owned building is called Palais Ferstel. In the former stock exchange halls now meetings and presentations take place; the Café Central is utilizing one of the courtyards.

de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palais_Ferstel

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.

www.tewkesburyabbey.org.uk/

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.

River Dargle Flood Defence Scheme.

These images were taken during the third week of November 2016.

These are the critical stabilisation works at the Silverbridge site, adjacent to the N11 dual-carriageway:

Back in November 2014, we observed bank stabilisation works here involving excavation, repair and building of a support wall structure -- carried out by JONS Construction on behalf of the National Roads Authority.

We would occasionally catch sight of this work in the distance. Quite an impressive little piece of structural engineering.

Having built a retaining concave wall, backfilled for solidity, they were also drilling, fixing and sealing ground anchors to pin the entire structure together.

flic.kr/p/paSU8U

Now we see that further works are being undertaken.

Word has it that extra ‘stabilisation work’ has to be done to protect the integrity of the riverbank. At the section here we can see that there’s not much space between the edge of the rock face and the Armco at the side of the dual-carriageway.

Have yet to determine what precisely that will entail. Serious work to reinforce the side access ramp down to the river.

The N11 carriageway runs adjacent to this sunken side of the riverbank -- barely 2 (large) paces divide the two. Even with twin strips of Armco along the roadside, it's perilously close. Traffic speeds along this stretch (maximum speed 100 kmp). Only needs a touch from a heavy vehicle to cause secondary impact, which (worst possible scenario) could result in something going airborne.

Working in these confined spaces puts a premium of safety and communication.

The guys have hard-filled a working shelf on the riverbed, to allow machinery access to the rockface. Obviously some serious drilling is called for before a form of extra 'pinning' is put in place.

They have sunk a series of hollowed tubes/casings -- obviously to form the foundations of a more extensive structure.

And some investigative work around the transverse buttress of the access bridge, parallel to the heavy-duty pipeline carrying water down from the Vartry reservoir.

This was the day when they started to fill those sunken tubes/casings with liquid cement. At a (rough) guess -- I'd say the foundations are sunk to a depth of approx 4+m.

With such secure foundations in place, they would then look to construct a substantial bank of material, and/or retaining wall (similar to that in place further along the roadside bank).

As ever, the first attempt at a process brings it's own unique set of issues.

The tight confines of the riverbed obliges the use of a concrete pumping rig with long-boom capacity.

Would you call this a '4 section' unit'? Built on a 4-axle chassis, I'd suggest that it's reach is approx 40+m.

The remotely-controlled unit siphons and pumps liquid concrete into the sunken wells. Immediately the guys agitate the mixture to remove any air pockets. Final step is to lower in a pre-formed steel skeleton brace, intended to reinforce the foundation.

While we were there, the guys struggled to sink the steel frame into the sunken sleeve. I can't believe it was a problem with alignment -- other similar frames dropped neatly into their appointed sleeve.

Perhaps simply a case that the compressed liquid solution was just inflexible enough to receive the steel skeleton. We left.

Will find out later what the outcome was.

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.

There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter — the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something.

...Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness; natives give it solidity and continuity; but the settlers give it passion.-EB White

Massimo Campigli ( 1895-1971 )

In the summer of 1928 a visit to the Roman museum of Villa Giulia revealed the splendors of Etruscan art to Campigli. It was like a bolt from the blue that soon led him to embark on a change in stylistic direction. It was at this special point that the Amazons made their appearance, over time becoming one of the artist's most famous and typifying paintings. In this work, we are struck by the solidity of the figures, immobile in a space without horizon and standing out against the background as in a high-relief, with the nude set further back, resembling an idol fallen on the ground.

Roof boss in St Margaret's chapel.

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.

www.tewkesburyabbey.org.uk/

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.

2005-2007

80" x 96"

Colored pencil, graphite, acrylic on wood panel

Collection:

Crocker Art Museum

(Robert Cremean: Metaphor and Process, the video, may be seen at www.youtube.com/watch?v=mgrxW8xSvrA)

Hereafter are the transcriptions of the handwritten text on the above two panels. The first for the panel on the left and the second for the panel on the right:

Left Panel

"He has created Me as I have created Him. As He lives, I live. If He diminishes, I diminish. If He dies, I die. My laws are His laws. I define Him as He defines Me. We are inseparable, cut from the whole cloth of self-deception. He serves my purpose. By giving face to that which is not, I have created Him in My image. By My will He has created the universe. By His word I control Mine. In the beginning there was the word and the word was Mine. Fear. Out of fear I created Him, and through fear I control Mine. Through belief We exist and by consensus We prevail. Belief is the second word in the alphabet of survival. We impose order for the good of the congregation. Through fear We enforce belief. As We maintain the mirrored sphere of relativity and relationships, we demand only that the congregation believe in Our mutual self-creation. I am He and He is Me, a simple equation for mutual preservation. Enforcement is the third word in the alphabet of survival. Mine is the most primitive word in the alphabet. To have, to take, to keep, to kill. This Mineness has preserved Our Isness from the beginning of domination. The seventh word is Infinity, a belief in beyondness, the seductive lure of extension, expansion, dominion. Life beyond death. Mine. My invention of time has given dimension to My enterprise. My survival instincts have elevated reproduction into metaphor and myth, repetition into history. My Isness has defined My species from the beginning of that which is. It is I who Am. We have survived, He and I, millennium upon millennium in symbiotic union. In congregation, We have enforced Our fealty, We have forced recognition of Our essentiality. Through force and threat of force We have reified definition. Through punishment and threat of punishment We have established infinity, dominion, repetition, and dogma. We have created Ourself, complete and inseparable, immortalized by obeisance. What We destroy creates Us. Those We exile confirm Us. What We reflect repeats us. Generation after generation, Father after Father, We maintain fear and stasis. This is so and has always been so. We are the beginning and the end. Sated and bloated with our repetition, We have created one too many prophets, one too many means for mutual suicide. We implode. Out of fear We wrap the fogs of illusion tighter to oblate the light. But nothing will stay Our diminishment. Our congregations will destroy Us in Our name. What irony! Our suicide was foretold and only We, the victim, could not foresee its inevitability. We created Us and within Our creation was the prophecy of Our destruction As We believed Ourselves to be, We have become. Illusion defined Us. Illusion defeats Us. Illusion destroys Us. In the beginning was the word and the word was fear. In the Now there is the word and the word is fear. In the beginning and in the now is repetition, and through fear and repetition nature engulfs us all. All its species including Us who survive by illusion. We who insist on our separateness, Our divinity, Our dominion, Our illusion. Nature fears Us and ignores Our illusions. It shits on Our statues and rusts Our artifacts. What We believe and what We make are of no consequence. What Our prophecies portend and what Our fate will be is of no consequence. We are what Our species is and exist accordingly, hermetically and divine. Our hunger is magnificent. We devour the earth. We pollute the waters and the air with the wastes of Our sovereignty—and We pollute Our offspring with illusion. We are bloated with aggrandizement and waste. We falter in Our certitude. We have over-reached the horizon of illusion We are insupportable. Cast into confusion, We thrash about in the quicksand of conflicting dogmas. We attack Our reflection and eat Our young. Through fear, We have created Our conclusion and the conclusion of Our dominion. We have existed too long. We control now through platitude and cliché, addiction and repetition, enforcement and threat. Fear. We are gaseous with rot and self-corruption. We who have ever been the means for survival are now survival’s end. Our prophecies are now concrete...We have reached completion. The creator no longer masks the destroyer. We are one. Bloated and defeated by Our victory, We have secured Our destination, the end of history, and still We refrain. Our belief demands actualization, proof of Our oneness...and still We refrain. We are afraid. Doubt bloats Us. Fear bloats Us. We are bloated by oneness. Consumed by completion, without proof of completion, We are suspended within a bubble of silence. Waiting. Our death is assured. We are bloated with it. We reek of it. All, save Us, know that this is so. We are senseless with confusion. We wait. We cling and We wait, terrorized by silence. Our dominion is silent. It has witnessed Our creation, our Oneness, and Our suicide. It sees what We do not see. It hears what we do not hear. It knows what we do not know. It is afraid. What has always been is no more and it is silent. It is afraid. Our death began with a light so bright that the future was cast into silhouettes and stains of shadow. We took no heed. Our suicide was accidental. We lacked connection with death as We lacked connection with life. It was expediential, a means to an end. It was, however, an end that was not foreseen. Our death was in the light and We embraced it. Without connection, we embraced it. Our dominion has no alternative to Our Isness. We have ruled by fear and threat. Our illusion, Our protectorate concedes no alternative. As we die Our dominion dies. It is blinded by Our blindness. It is blinded by Our light as We are blinded by the light, and it is by the light that Our dominion, Our Isness, will end. There is no alternative. We have embraced the light. Stunned by Our accomplishment, We became I within the mirror of mutual creation, the power of Our reflection fused into oneness by the light. His right hand is My right hand, My left hand is His left hand, Our mirrored reflections no longer cleaved in the silvered glass of fear’s duplicity. 8/6/45. I die. That which I gave to him to give to me will die with me. I have over-stepped the horizon and the flatness of my earth will swallow me in the flames of prophecy. As surely as I created him and all my attendencies, I have created my conclusion. There will remain no audience. My death is of a finality without evidence. Would I leave my greatest invention, history, to supersede me? I am afraid! This will not be recorded. No, my death, my fear, my doubt. All that is and ever was will not be. I leave this globe without witness. I will turn this globe to glass. God’s final reflection will be the sun. I and my dominion will be turned to ashes and glass. All, all that I gave him to give to me will be turned to ashes and glass. All life, all living things will be turned to ashes and dust scattered across the reflection of the sun. Swirled across the face of the sun. Will the wind survive? I should have expected disquiet and disbelief when the earth sphered round, when the earth spun ‘round and my grasp loosened, but I gripped tighter and my conclusion was assured. I have maintained my duality through duplicity and expediency. It is easier to believe than to not believe. To repeat rather than to create. To ingest the poisonous seeds of dogma rather than to question the credulity of tradition. To defend myself against truth, I have turned fear inward upon itself and through rote and repetition have retained the enemy at the gate. Without a mass of true believers, I am doomed. My illusion is fragile. To make there that which is not there, to enforce belief in the unbelievable, requires threat and repetition. Habit. Addiction. Doubt and fear. Ritual. Tradition. All, all words and actions that adhere the individual to the group, that prohibit defection, that contour my essence and necessity. My believability. My true believers enforce my injunctions. I am Man! All things known and unknown are my dominion. I recognize no other viability. Reality is mine. It is my invention. My only coda is survival. Kill or be killed is my coda. From before the beginning of time this has been my coda. If my conclusion means my final act of survival, then I, and my dominion, will leave this globe without evidence, without failure, without abdication, without change. I will make no admission of weakness,, or blindness, or error. Reality is mine. There will be neither transfer nor transcendence. Survival is mine. Blinded by light, I have created the light, and the light will confirm me. I am in conclusion. I can no longer carry the illusion of my reality. I have reached my resolution. All that was metaphor, all that was real is now actual. I am committed to repetition. My finality will be, will appear to be, accidental. No matter, there will be no witness. I cannot contemplate nothingness, to grasp that I and my God and my dominion will be as though We had never been is unimaginable. And though it is I who have invented the scenario, the finale, though known, is unknown. Nothingness was non-existent in My creation. It is beyond the horizon of possibility. And yet I doubt. Fear remains the creator of the creation. I worship it still. But it will not save me. It will not save me as I am. It will simply assure my completion. I am afraid. If I pause, if I could pause, to consider my resolution, my completion...to confront who and what I am and have been and will never be, what is my reflection? As I trudge unwittingly, unremittingly into entropy, can I not catch a glimpse of what I was, what I will be no more? Now that it is done, can I not see, finally, who I am and what I am and continue to be until I am no more? Let me face the mirror before the light blinds me and scatters my ashes across the face of the sun. I am Man, the identity of my species. How I am defined is how we are defined. All, all are subordinate to my whatness. What I do is what we are. What we are is what I am, what I was and will be no more. I have shrouded the earth with gods and superstition and created metaphor to cover the nakedness of my aggression. Metaphor is my Isness, redeemer of destruction. Nature is my nemesis and through metaphor and mimicry I have stolen her elegant equations and turned them to artifice. My obsession with death has created history, and science, and war. I have invented time to measure my achievement, my progress, my domination, religion and art to salve the fear of dying. I am magnificent, the apex of all that is...and will be no more. Consider me. Let me list the virtues of all that you know of yourselves, all that you are and have ever been. Let me list our virtues: I have given you gods to explain the unexplainable. All that was required of you for this my most generous gift was obeisance and for this I invented rituals of artifice to adorn your gratitude, and rote and repetition to expedite and facilitate the indelibility of belief, the laminate of dominion. I have created and destroyed enemies to preserve and defend the mirror of our reflection, to describe and incise the contours of contradiction, to wipe clear the cataracts of indecision and to embrace without doubt or questioning the image in the mirror as absolute. I am shepherd to my flock. From the beginning I have led them. From the beginning they have followed. They know no other. It I who set the course. There is no other. The gods I have invented to create me are their gods. They have no other gods before them. That which I have placed before them is their god. It is I they worship. It is I they follow. I am shepherd to my flock. From the beginning I have led them. From the beginning they have followed. They know no other. It I who set the course. There is no other. The gods I have invented to create me are their gods. They have no other gods before them. That which I have placed before them is their god. It is I they worship. It is I they follow. I am the shepherd of my flock. I am shepherd to my flock. From this simple act of accumulation I have created congregations and congregations within congregations to form nations and nations within nations, boundaries within boundaries, and worlds within worlds. Past, present and future lie within my purview. My reality is omnificent and omnipresent. I am and have been all until all is no more. My Isness will have covered the earth and embraced the sun. I have altered this planet by sheer force of will, by sheer force of willfulness. My hunger has leveled mountains and laid waste the life of the sea. I have covered the living earth with sterilizing asphalt and suffocating cement. My structures steal the night. My greed fills vast pits with poisonous enterprise. To advance myself I have betrayed myself and through rote and repetition seek absolution. If my dominion trembles before the inevitability of my conclusion they sense, they know, I have crossed the line of repeat. Their finality is assured. As they survey our accomplishments, our continuity of artifacts and history, they cannot believe—although they sense and know—they cannot believe it was all illusion. Only by repetition was it made real. Only by repetition will it conclude. Belief precludes retreat. The prophecies are assured. If one surveys my linearity from cave altar to altarpiece the distance is without merit. My Isness is cohesive. I am now what I have always been. My metaphor is authentic. From pre-history to post history, from cave to mosque, through fear and superstition I have enforced my linearity. I have used the stasis of fear to support the illusion of movement through time. Inventions within inventions to form the complex of civilization, and through the complex of civilization, I have covered the globe. And now I am witness to my suicide and the grotesqueries of crucifixion. Through rote and repetition I must witness my self-destruction and immolation. I and my dominion are one. We are the crucified and the suicide and the witness to the immolation. We are suspended in the suicide’s hesitation and inevitable conclusion. Our ablation is assured. When the final repetition occurs, we who are present will be the final witness. We will be as one, a Cyclops of indeterminate size and definition, multi-visaged and single-visioned. We will be as one consumed within the final entropic repeat. Consider our structures. Consider our edifices, our stone prayers to Yahweh, Christ, and Allah prizing up from the neutrality of the horizon, casting shadows of conflict and confusion, creating allies and enemies in the linear progression of repeat. Through verticality, we have smothered the fertile soil under the prayers of the congregation. Ra and Zens litter the desert hilltops with their failed redundancies. Our compulsion to verticalize and impose our geometric shadows across the globe has imprinted and personalized the suffocating opacity of our expansion. We shit where we eat. The earth shrinks from our fecundity. We have created concepts and rationales to redeem our temporality. Timeless concepts to subvert and contain my invention of time. Beauty. Art. Immortality...and history to record our rationales for failure. We are a species without reflection living within an illusion of verisimilitude and approximation. It could not have been otherwise. It has never been otherwise. It will never be otherwise. As I and the congregation drift forward and back in this airless vacuum of addiction, the final repeat tempts us toward completion. And we know, I and the congregation know, that this pressure, this momentum of inestimable time will end. The inevitability of conclusion has cast our Isness into the solidity of product, an artifact of self-destruction which concretizes our mimicry and objectifies belief. In this interim between supposition and annihilation I see myself distinctly, without the blurring smudges of palimpsest. I am what I was and have always been until the final repetition, the end of choice, the end of chaos, the end of time; a counterfeit, a creature of such hermetic evolution that my own planet can no longer sustain my ignorance of host...a parasite of no symbiotic worth. With all my illusions, I am nothing. With all my illusions of gods and omnipotence and domination, I am a cancerous aberration worthy of obliteration. Nature cares nothing for my cathedrals and frescos, my fugues and fantasies, my arts and letters and museums and libraries of human achievement. All, all of my ambition and evidence is merely an inconvenience, a momentary rough patch on the revolving orb. But for one accomplishment, nature’s cycles of possibility would engulf me. I have stolen the secret of the sun and within the darkening theatre of repetition I will release its light. In one final act of mimicry my identity will be accomplished. I will unleash the sun. For one shining moment I will strip the world of shadow. We will not evolve. I will continue my progression. I will embrace the sun. I will continue until the final repetition. I will achieve my completion. There is no alternative. There is no return. There is only repeat. I am now and ever will be the entelechy of my species. I cannot, will not, be replaced. As we hang suspended within the impossible moment all things are equal. To assign significance seems absurd; appetites are momentary. Time is astigmatic. History’s ink is smeared with haste. As I progress, we regress. As the dominion is sucked outward in the diminishing circles of entropy, our metaphors of pubescence have assumed dominance. Puerilism in art and religion is actualized into commercial despair and we, I and the congregation, drift further, ever further into the oblivion of self-deception. It is over. We know it is over and yet I proceed. There is no where-else to go There is no alternative. I must be expurgated, but there is no power to expurgate. There is no will. There is no vision. Only I can bring the light, and only through my completion will the light be brought...a divine tautology. It is over. We know it is over and yet we proceed. There is talk of feminine insurrection, an intersession of feminine entelechy to alter the cadence of repetition, to stanch the diminishing cycles of entropy, to avoid completion, to deny the light. What pathos! It is too late for such clumsy theatricality. Even homosexuals have pranced onto the stage to strut and preen and plea for recognition. Even they demand the light to stop the light...My Isness will not be rendered."

Right Panel

"I have existed since the beginning of human Isness. I am contradiction, the avatar of Chaos. They who fear complexity fear me. They who embrace me move unhampered through the chambers of the mind, free of dogma and reprise. I occupy the middle ground between that which is and that which could be, a constant alternative to stasis and repetition. I await recognition. Within man’s strictures of repeat, I am the enemy. Predatory and seductive, I am perceived with fear and revulsion...the enemy at the gate. But I lie within. I am endemic, recognized by instinct and provocation. Those who fear me fear themselves. I am puer aeternus, eternal youth, contradiction, persona of chaos. I tolerate no reliance. No dogma, no laws, no lies restrict me. No congregation contains me. No tradition enfolds me. I am the unexpected, the impolite, and the impolitic. Expediency is my enemy. I have been given the face of madness but I have no face, only the reflection of a dying congregation intent on suicide and annihilation. When they gaze upon me, they see themselves or what they would become without the ultimate compromise, the sacrifice of self. They avert their eyes. They coalesce in the shallows. The sacrifice is too great. They coalesce. I shape myself in the middle ground, a finished but never finished entity, a contradiction without fear of contradiction, irresponsible even to my own creation. I do not coalesce. Others threaten me as I threaten them. They are the enemies of my childhood. They want me to see my face reflected in theirs, but I do not. I see only the abject poverty of sacrifice. I see them as they do not see me. I sacrifice nothing. I give everything but I sacrifice nothing. Nor do I compromise. I am the beginning and the end of myself. I accept no intrusion. My growth, or non-growth, is of no consequence. I am responsible to neither. Nor do I accept master or peer. I learn nothing. I know nothing. What I need to know, I have known from the beginning. My becoming is determined. I become, quite simply become, what I am and have always been. I have no reflection. I stand opposed. My very being is an opposition. I stand opposed to congregation. I am a solitary, an eternal question, a contradiction. I have no answers. I am not an answer. Answers are my enemy. None other can be like me. I am not a simile. I am metaphor, supplanter of metaphor. My whatness is all encompassing; my succession and cession inevitable. I am what I am. My existence is authentic. I countenance myself. All similes conform to my Isness. History postures its linearity on my evolvement. My face is the reflection of the seeker. His desire is my tangibility. I am the child born of a new urgency. As the old metaphor, my father, dies in the fulfillment of his own prophecies, I shimmer with the radiance of youth. I am hope, that most potent enabler of belief. The congregation is stunned by its abandonment. Its obeisance to a dead metaphor which had evolved through threat and violence into rote and dogma was unquestioned, its removal into stasis and suicide unnoted and unproclaimed. But it is done. The congregation has turned upon itself like a cheated whore. All that was offered in payment for service is lead coin. Death. Eternal death. I, who had existed before him, live on. Puer Aeternus. Eternal youth, omnipresent choice. Antithesis of metaphor. No dogma surrounds me. No rote enslaves me. No prophecy enthrones me. No congregation distorts me. I sacrifice nothing, I give everything without barter or bargain. No simile illustrates me. I am chaos. Those who recognize me proclaim me. I am choice, infinite choice. Only metaphor has the power to subdue me into Isness...and that is momentary. Momentary and experiential. It is through metaphor that humanity creates illusion and defends the congregation from chaos which is also a metaphor. Metaphor upon metaphor, illusion upon illusion, choice upon choice. The very Isness of humankind is contradiction, a comedy of confusion and malediction. Through metaphor, humanity maintains its privileged identity within the strictures and structures of survival. Through metaphor, specie humana has dominated the earth. Its ability to create something out of nothing and through the instinct of belief congeal the congregation into a shared reality is the core of its entelechy. But as the distance between competing similes shortens within the overall metaphor of dominion, mankind’s metaphors of cohesion now threaten total annihilation. I, Puer Aeternus, do not exist within the aging metaphors of man. I exist and have always existed as a separate instinct, a potential reality. I live in the senses. I have no metaphor or similes to support my existence, no congregation to praise my virtue or confirm my dominion. Nor am I belief. My purpose is not to bind but to release. I am chaos, indefinable orgasm of infinite choice, insupportable to congregation, enemy of dominion and aged metaphors. I am youth eternal. I exist because I am, always and forever the pause before definition. My Isness is non-linear and spherical, a suspension of possibilities that ignores the artificial divisions of time and the existence of time itself. I am a constant presence but exist only when embraced. These trysts are brief and fleeting with an intensity that can forever alter the desire of those who experience me. I am the beloved. Forever virginal, I inseminate those who embrace me with enduring solitude, the joy of self-creation without the stultifying metaphors of the congregation, to throw off the anchoring similes and hackneyed suppositions of linear authority and to cavort weightlessly within the timeless orb...infinite questions, infinite choice swirling round and about and outside under, mirroring and dissolving answers into questions in a bacchanal of liberation. For those who embrace me, all that was is no more. I am peripheral, a glimpse, as unexpected as a sudden snake or a falling star. I move freely and reside where I am found, rarely in the same place twice, never in the same place for all who discover me. I exist in the nautilus of Art, beautiful, seductive, chambered convolutions of sensual geometry. He who perceives me creates me. I exist only in the Now, and for that moment, that one timeless moment of orgasmic perception, we are one. I create him as he creates me. We are one. Locked protectively in the senses made solid, I await transparency. Transposed into sight and sound, I am Desire opacified, made palpable and tactile by those who enfold me in the obtect pupa of creation. I care nothing for these parents. They are failures. By their own admission through repetition and constant searching, they are failures...and in their failures I am posited. Their lives of ecstatic failure and self-deception are of no consequence, significant only in that they have made possible my future creation. My creator is my liberator, he who makes transparent my opacity. He who cleaves the obtected pupa and sets free the raptor of his own Desire. He who sees and is embraced by that which my parent vainly searched for, groped for, cast off and moved only to fail again and again and again. It is this moment that the congregation fears most, this crack in the obtect pupa which exposes the perceiver to a separate and conflicting reality. This the congregation fears most, the blinding exposition of chaos, infinite questions, infinite possibility, infinite questions, infinite possibility, infinite choice. This, the congregation fears most. Loss of power, loss of hierarchy, loss of privilege, loss of identity, the death of metaphor. The absence of Isness. To create a new metaphor in the face of a threatened Isness is the most exhilarating challenge for those who confront the void. It is chaos that energizes possibility. It is chaos that contradicts the void. It is through me Puer Aeternus, through Art, Puer Aeternus, through chaos, Puer Aeternus, humanity evolves. Through fear of the void, humanity evolves. And through the life and death and birth of metaphors, humanity evolves. And always, through the evolution of humanity the artifacts of artists posit contradiction to cultural rote and stasis. The lifespan of metaphor is as brief or enduring as human need. If a metaphor, through fear and stagnation, threatens human viability it must be destroyed. The ancient metaphor and attendant similes have reached their conclusion. If humanity is to live, they must die. And always there is the Puer. Always there is choice. Always there is chaos and alternative to the void. The artist, my parent, he who births me in the image of Desire, is my reflection in the mirror of possibility. My parent has always been, as I have always been, since the beginning of Isness. As he fulfills his birthright in a spermatic exaltation of artifacts, producing pupa after pupa, failure after failure, in a search for release, he creates me—or the possibility for my creation within the obtect pupa of Desire. As he disappears himself in self-committed futility, ecstatic self-deception, I am born to be created by the embrace of the embracer. Until then, I slumber. Awakened, I illuminate the sphere making three-dimensional a palimpsest of possibilities. I am the light, intangible as epiphany, I hover centered between the flat curve of history and that which is yet to be. Whether human life survives or does not survive is of no interest to me. Born of human life, I will not survive human life. I will become dust as humanity becomes dust. I am the epitome of human existence. I am all that I am. Nothing exceeds me. I am in and of the species. I subdivide the void. I create all that is created. What I view is what I see. What I perceive is what exists. Reality is what I believe. Humanity is because I am. I exist because of necessity. I will die because of neglect. All, all will fall into discontinuance. I am not a fragile thing. I am as sturdy and unique as the human mind and fashion my Isness accordingly. My death will be the death of Desire and all mindful furtherance. The universe will continue unabated. It will be as though I had never been, and, indeed, perhaps I never was. Though my death will appear foreordained and confessional, I will be murdered by my own hand, forced into suicide by rote, repetition, and dogma. The triumvirate of fear. Time will cease. Art will cease. History will end. Absence, like dust, will layer the orb and I, Puer Aeternus, will remain unborn. In a sense, I will have escaped the layering absence. Let me speak, then, as witness still-born in the womb of conclusion. Let me speak as the last metaphor. Unborn, incipient, purified by indulgent hope, unsullied by practicable application, I speak without similes. I speak as I have always spoken. I speak without regret. I speak without resentment. I speak in silence. I am revealed in light. I am illuminated in the light of my creator. It is through his Desire I speak. It is through his embrace I am heard. That which he seeks, I am. I am in and out of the light. What is nothingness? I, who live in absence, embedded in the obtect pupa of Desire, know nothing of nothingness. When absence envelopes the earth will I not then enter my true dominion? When humanity embraces the epiphany of inevitability and I am slain by my own hand, the light will embrace us all. My disinterest will be complete; my opacity, reified. My artifacts of incipiency grow porous; artists seem indifferent to my existence or intent. Recent artifacts cannot contain me. They serve no purpose other than to metronomically cadence the passage of time. A desperation obscures my insemination. I cannot Be where I am not put and though my creation is by my creator, his creation will be neither epiphanic nor orgasmic. Anemia pervades this suspension, an enervation of desire. Life has entered death’s mirror with a sigh of acceptance. Boundaries are blurred words dyslexic. My incipiency is viewed with pain. The inner light of epiphany is being sucked from the obtect pupa of Art and by the onslaught of the mimetic sun. Entropy is evolving at an alarming rate. There is no place for me. I live now in the infertile ego, sterilized by fear into empty acts of gratification. With the ossification of time into a limbo of inevitability, the layering obtect of my incipiency is a protection against the insurgency of hope. My parent, my maker, has no linkage with creation, he is deafened by the acclamation of artifacts, answers without questions. My creator is abandoned to embrace my silence elsewhere. There is talk now of abandonment, abandonment of the earth. Humanity, that which makes me and creates me and re-creates itself through its embrace of me will abandon me, will abandon its will to evolve. Rather than to abandon the Isness of the father with its metaphors of infinity and adulation of death, out of fear of loss of power and identity, humanity will destroy itself and its sphere of containment. Unable to release me and abandon their Isness, they will deny me and abandon their orb. The blind ignorance of the father will destroy us all. But I am in them and of them and no matter how few escape this globe, I attend their departure. My incipiency is my survival. How simple the equation! How elegant the resolve! I am and always have been and always will be the alternative. To whatever Isness there is, I am the alternative. I am the alternative to the Isness of the father, he who will bring the sun to turn glass this orb would spew forth himself to inseminate unknown worlds beyond. How ludicrous! His blind determination to retain power and remain unchanged at the expense of all things save his own reality to enforce his own reality is beyond laughter. It is inanity. To have arrived in such deficit after so long a journey is breathtaking. Though I, too, will be spewed forth in incipiency, he would spew forth disease upon the universe. In abandonment, I will expire without witness. Wrapped in finality within the obtect pupa of Art, Desire will lie silenced upon the earth. No songs will be heard, no eyes will split open my opacity in orgasmic release. Concepts of beauty and transparency will evaporate among the dry ashes of neglect. In abandonment, I will expire without witness. In pupa I will never leave the earth. I am in and of the earth. Embedded in earth, I will not be supplanted. I will be abandoned as the dominion will be abandoned, to be gutted among the ashes of the sun. But if the human species leaves this globe in seminal excursion, I will be carried forth as the constant presence of alternate choice. As long as humanity survives, in incipiency, I will survive, but will I achieve encasement? Will Art remain in ashes on the orb, abandoned pupae in man’s chrysalis stage of evolution? Are we preparing for this inevitability in this suspension of time and space? Perhaps in death, in the face of death, of suicide, of self-annihilation, mankind and I, Puer Aeternus, will meld into the seamless purity of timeless flight without the anchoring weights of history, and religion, and art. Perhaps mankind will abandon his metaphors, will be freed of his metaphors as I will be stripped of mine. God is in and out of the earth. In abandonment of his dominion, he must remain as proctor of the ashes of prophecy. His transport must be denied. Man/god must be denied furtherance and remain fossilized beneath the ashes of the sun. All thoughts and things that deny us fusion must be left among the ashes of the sun. His suicide must be complete. Humanity must acknowledge what it is killing, what it is leaving behind in order to survive. Abandonment must be evolution. Abandonment must be resolution. The sacrifice is too great. To have come to this end there must be a new beginning. So now I must surmise. I, Puer Aeternus, must surmise what it would be like to exist without the obtect pupa of Art. To live beyond incipiency. To be whole rather than halved by epiphany. To be one, I must project an existence in which the survival of the species demands my presence as complement rather than obverse. Can humanity exist without metaphor? If the creation and re-creation of metaphor is the defining essence of human identity and if I, Puer Aeternus, can no longer carry this incipiency within the obtect pupa of Art due to the triage of survival, what then of humanity? If we no longer have the identity of place and of placement and of relativity, we no longer have consequence. We become a virus in search of a host. As a species, we have no proof of identity. No intrinsic proof of who and what we are and have been and hope to become. As a species, we will have achieved what the mystics seek. Nothingness. And this is the one thing to which the human ego will not succumb. It will not give up itself. Unless, unless.... As I strive to comprehend that which cannot be comprehended, my artifacts of possibility dwindle. There is no re-enforcement. Possibility has become apathy. The dominion is preparing for extinction. Works of furtherance become objects of rebuke. As finite time quickens the waves of entropy and art hastens its transcription into instant history, the chrysalis of my reality is problematic. Though I am in and of humanity, in chrysalis, I am in and of the earth. My pupae will lie scattered among the ashes of the sun. In pupa, I will not leave this orb. In exodus, stripped of my artifacts of transparency, if I have not assumed dominance, my incipiency will be cancerous. Only through release and the birth of a new incipiency, a new possibility, a new metaphor unknown, will humanity escape obliteration, its self obliteration, its obliteration of the self. In contemplating survival, I must relegate all that I am and have ever been to a transparency of pure hope, that state of self-deception made vulgar by the blinding truth of Art, its artifacts of seduction and orgasmic revelation. Is this possible? When I contemplate the abandonment of place and proof and an existence void of metaphor, I cannot conceive of an existence without chrysalis, without paintings, and sculpture and architecture to house the essence of my purpose. To be free of these, to be trapped in nothingness, is a sacrifice beyond comprehension. As I am shorn of chrysalis, he who has destroyed the earth will face infinity without the hermeneutics of metaphor. Those few who escape this orb in insemination will conjoin my expediency. Condensed and rarified by pure hope, there will be nothing left, a spore in space incapable of infestation."

If there's one place in London that merits an Art Deco Fair, it's Eltham Palace,

with its Art Deco entrance hall, created by the textile magnates the Courtaulds in 1936. The much-loved weekend fair is held twice a year - once in the summer and a second time in September - giving visitors the chance to buy original 1930s objects, from furniture and collectables to hats, handbags and jewellery. Browse the original 1930s objects, from jewellery to furniture while you take in the magnificent Art Deco surroundings of the Palace. Ticket price includes entry to Eltham Palace and gardens and you can see the house by guided tour.

About Eltham Palace

Restored by English Heritage, this fantastic house boasts Britain's finest Art Deco interior and offers visitors the chance to indulge in the opulence of 1930s Britain whilst at the same time experiencing the solidity and symbolism of medieval London. Eltham Palace began to evolve during the 15th century when Edward IV commissioned the Great Hall, which survives today as a testament to the craftsmanship of the period. More about Eltham Palace

www.londontown.com/LondonEvents/ArtDecoFair/d59a2/

River Dargle Flood Defence Scheme.

These images were taken during the third week of November 2016.

These are the critical stabilisation works at the Silverbridge site, adjacent to the N11 dual-carriageway:

Back in November 2014, we observed bank stabilisation works here involving excavation, repair and building of a support wall structure -- carried out by JONS Construction on behalf of the National Roads Authority.

We would occasionally catch sight of this work in the distance. Quite an impressive little piece of structural engineering.

Having built a retaining concave wall, backfilled for solidity, they were also drilling, fixing and sealing ground anchors to pin the entire structure together.

flic.kr/p/paSU8U

Now we see that further works are being undertaken.

Word has it that extra ‘stabilisation work’ has to be done to protect the integrity of the riverbank. At the section here we can see that there’s not much space between the edge of the rock face and the Armco at the side of the dual-carriageway.

Have yet to determine what precisely that will entail. Serious work to reinforce the side access ramp down to the river.

The N11 carriageway runs adjacent to this sunken side of the riverbank -- barely 2 (large) paces divide the two. Even with twin strips of Armco along the roadside, it's perilously close. Traffic speeds along this stretch (maximum speed 100 kmp). Only needs a touch from a heavy vehicle to cause secondary impact, which (worst possible scenario) could result in something going airborne.

Working in these confined spaces puts a premium of safety and communication.

The guys have hard-filled a working shelf on the riverbed, to allow machinery access to the rockface. Obviously some serious drilling is called for before a form of extra 'pinning' is put in place.

They have sunk a series of hollowed tubes/casings -- obviously to form the foundations of a more extensive structure.

And some investigative work around the transverse buttress of the access bridge, parallel to the heavy-duty pipeline carrying water down from the Vartry reservoir.

At a (rough) guess -- I'd say the foundations are sunk to a depth of approx 4+m.

With such secure foundations in place, they would then look to construct a substantial bank of material, and/or retaining wall (similar to that in place further along the roadside bank).

Work continues on filling the sunken foundation casings with liquid concrete solution.

They have abandoned the use of the extended boom to pump the liquid, and are simply using low-tech hose system.

Some secondary drilling also taking place into the bedrock.

Victorian plaster cast of a roof boss in the 14th century vault of the nave. Displayed as part of a small exhibition around the Abbey in 2013.

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.

www.tewkesburyabbey.org.uk/

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 Eyzaguirre5​para 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 1823,3​2​ 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 1823,3​2​ 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.

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.

Solidity - Bricks and Ironwork - Wapping Warehouse, Liverpool

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.

www.tewkesburyabbey.org.uk/

To the south of the high altar stands the chantry chapel of Edward le Despenser (d.1375) opposite the tomb of his father. Edward's effigy is unique, a kneeling, praying figure with its original colouring set beneath a canopy on the roof of the chapel (best viewed from the opposite side of the sanctuary). Within the chapel has a delicate fan-vaulted ceiling and a well preserved mural of the Trinity.

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.

www.tewkesburyabbey.org.uk/

I met Carlo a few months ago as I was looking for some honey and I discovered this passionate beekeeper lived only half a mile from my home.

As we got to know each other over time, I found out that this amazing 84 years old was a true genius in building anything out of wood and metal in his well-equipped workshops.

I asked him to help me tame the biggest and heaviest lens I own, so that I could finally mount it onto a 4x5 camera and give it some use.

A few years ago I actually devised a way to mount this beastly lens, but I was never entirely satisfied with the results, as they lacked the solidity such a heavy piece of glass demands.

Carlo was able to quickly solder together a metal cone, permanently attached to a clone of a Plaubel lens board (which he cut and carved by hand !) where the heavy 12 Inch Aero Ektar f2.5lens would snugly fit.

The lens was to be further supported by a metal bracket that Carlo created, inspired by a plastic telescope lens bracket I had showed him earlier, but much, much sturdier than the original one.

Now came the shutter: we opted to drill a hole in a pine wooden board the size of the large packard shutter we were going to use (1/10th of a second maximum speed !!!).

To attach the “shutter board” to the lens Carlo hand-carved a slot of exactly the same diameter of the lens front element rim on the back. Once the rim slid into this groove, a couple of elastic bands were sufficient to stabilize and firmly attach the entire contraption to the camera body.

The heavy 12Inch Aero Ektar Lens can be a wonderful tool, giving you a very Shallow Depth Of Field and a Creamy Bokeh at a great Focal Length for portraiture (at 12 Inch FL this lens does cover 8x10 although I prefer using it on 4x5 and even 6x9, something I am able to do on the old Plaubel Supra camera by just changing the back).

It’s just that the lens is freakin’ big and heavy to mount anywhere but on a military aircraft!

Carlo was able to find a really good and elegant solution (in a retro-post-industrial style) that I truly love !!

My heartfelt THANK YOU to this wonderful, genial, inventor friend of mine!

(In English Below)

Enfin complet !

Le Tie Crawler Version 2. Je préfère cette version.

Un de Tie mes préférés, encore une fois par son côté ridicule et peu pratique.

Le Tie Crawler (aussi connu comme Tie Century ou Tie Tank) est un véhicule blindé léger. Armé de deux blasters Tie classique, et d’un blaster anti-personnel (donc plus léger). Un seul pilote qui fait aussi office de tireur.

Idées dans le Lore

Il était simple à produire, et c’est à peu près tout. J’ai aussi le souvenir d’avoir lu quelque part que les recrues de l’Empire échouant au test pour devenir pilote de chasseur Tie, pouvaient se reconvertir plus facilement en pilote de Tie Crawler. Mais je n’ai pas pu retrouver la source. Et de toute façon l’idée que ce soit plus facile de devenir pilote de char plutôt que pilote de cargo quand on échoue à devenir pilote de chasse est stupide.

Limites

Tel que décrit, l’engin est limité. Les armes sont trop basses. Les deux blasters de Tie classique ne peuvent pas pivoter et du fait de son emplacement, le blaster antipersonnel ne peut pas pivoter verticalement avec un angle très grand. Les trois sont donc quasi inutiles sur n’importe quel terrain accidenté. De plus, la forme des chenilles me fait dire qu’un bloc de béton, d’environ un mètre de haut, suffirait à bloquer le Tie. Et puis c’est un Tie, donc pas de bouclier énergétique, donc peu blindé. L’unique pilote est à la merci de n’importe quel armement anti-char ou chasseur spatial. Il a aussi un gros point faible évident : les quatre réservoirs visibles de fuel. Bon déjà, c’est un point faible évident que n’importe quel rebelle mal armé essaiera de viser. Mais aussi, pourquoi les avoir mis là ? Vous avez vu la taille des chenilles ? Et la tailles des réservoirs ? Il suffisait de les mettre quelque part dans les chenilles où ils auraient été mieux protégés, mais aussi plus proche des moteurs. Sans compter qu’en cas d’explosion, les éloigner un peu du pilote augmenterait ses chances de survie. Et l’Empire a à cœur la sécurité de ses employés…

Amélioration de Lego 7664

Lego a amélioré le concept en rendant les ailes pivotantes et indépendantes. Le Tie crawler devenant tout à coup vraiment tout terrain. De plus, ils ont ajouté des lance-missiles planqués dans les ailes. Ce que j’avais maladroitement fait dans ma première version. Cette version n’en a pas. Les idées que j’ai testées en la matière manquaient tous de solidité. Et pour être franc, une fois sur l’étagère, les missiles cachés le resteraient.

Utilisation possible.

L’engin a quand même son utilité, surtout avec les améliorations lego. Ok, il n’a pas de boucliers, mais même la partie la plus faible (le cockpit) résiste au vide spatial, ce n’est pas non plus une voiture en plastique. En cas de guérilla, il peut être pratique. Il est relativement rapide (90km/h), et contrairement au AT-Walkers (toute la série des AT-AT, AT-ST, AT-DP, AT-RT…), il ne risque pas de tomber. D’ailleurs, même si on le retournait, ce ne serait pas un problème, ce serait même un avantage d’avoir les canons en haut. Il est aussi plus simple à stocker que des AT-AT et AT-ST, probablement aussi plus simple d’entretien.

Je vois aussi un avantage en tant qu’escorte de fantassin lors de patrouille à pied en zone de guérilla. En cas d’escarmouche, une demi-douzaine de soldats pourraient s’abriter derrière un mur de chenille. Concernant le point faible à l’arrière, c’est aussi un défaut de certains char IRL, donc on ne peut pas vraiment lui en tenir rigueur.

Il se trouve que j'ai trouvé un autre usage au Tie Crawler, en effet le mode « tourelle », avec les deux chenilles en position verticale.

Imaginez l'Empire arrive sur une nouvelle planète, ils explorent le terrain, et trouvent un endroit pour monter une base temporaire. Le temps de monter la base, le Tie Crawler pourrait monter la garde en mode tourelle. J’ai pas mal joué à Star Wars Battleground à l’époque (pour ceux qui ne connaissent pas, imaginez Age of Empire, mais version Star Wars). Imaginer un peu l’utilité d’une unité qui ferait à la fois tourelle et Tank.

Concernant le modèle en lui-même.

Le cockpit est bien solide, j’en suis très content, d’autant que j’ai réussi à y ajouter une ouverture de toit fonctionnelle, avec un passage. Alors soyons clair, vous n’y feriez pas passer une minifig, le trou ne fait que 1x2, mais c’est suffisant pour y positionner le conducteur en mode vigie (un pilote AT-AT piqué dans un set micro-fighter).

Les stickers viennent de lego, le TIE classique UCS que j’ai démonté depuis longtemps, mais dont j’avais gardé les pièces « stickers » pour cet usage.

Les chenilles aussi sont solides, je regrette de n’avoir pu y intégrer un lance-missiles dissimulé comme le set lego, mais mes tentatives tenaient sur lego studio, mais pas sur IRL. Et si j’aimais l’idée de lego, je n’aimais l’exécution lego. J’ai donc laissé tomber.

Le seul point faible étant qu’avec le poids des chenilles, leur fixation au cockpit peut lâcher sous une contrainte trop grande. Contrairement au set lego, je déconseille de tenir le tout par les réservoirs. Il vaut mieux tenir le modèle par les deux chenilles en même temps.

Finally complete!

The Tie Crawler Version 2. I prefer this version.

One of my favorite Tie, again for its ridiculousness and impracticality.

The Tie Crawler (also known as Tie Century or Tie Tank) is a light armored vehicle. Armed with two classic Tie blasters, and one anti-personnel blaster (so, lighter). A single pilot who also acts as a gunner.

Ideas in the Lore

It was simple to produce, and that's about it. I also remember reading somewhere that Empire recruits who fail the test to become Tie fighter pilots could more easily be converted to Tie Crawler pilots. But I couldn't find the source. And anyway the idea that it's easier to become a tank pilot than a freighter pilot when you fail to become a fighter pilot is stupid.

Limitations

As described, the machine is limited. The weapons are too low. The two classic Tie blasters cannot rotate and because of its location, the anti-personnel blaster cannot rotate vertically at a very large angle. All three are therefore almost useless on any rough terrain. Also, the shape of the tracks tells me that a concrete block, about a meter high, would be enough to block the Tie. And it's a Tie, so it has no energy shield, so it's not very armored. The single pilot is at the mercy of any anti-tank weapon or space fighter. It also has an obvious weak point: the four visible fuel tanks. Now, this is an obvious weak point that any poorly armed rebel will try to target. But also, why put them there? Have you seen the size of the tracks? And the size of the tanks? They could have been put somewhere in the tracks where they would have been better protected, but also closer to the engines. Not to mention that in the event of an explosion, moving them a little further away from the pilot would increase his chances of survival. And the Empire cares about the safety of its employees...

Improvement of Lego 7664

Lego has improved the concept by making the wings swivel and independent. The Tie crawler suddenly becoming truly all terrain. Moreover, they added missile launchers hidden in the wings. Which I had clumsily done in my first version. This version does not have them. The ideas I tested in this area all lacked solidity. And to be honest, once on the shelf, the hidden missiles would stay there.

Possible use.

The thing still has its uses, especially with the lego upgrades. Ok, it doesn't have shields, but even the weakest part (the cockpit) resists the vacuum of space, it's not a plastic car either. In case of guerrilla warfare, it can be handy. It is relatively fast (90km/h), and unlike the AT-Walkers (the whole series of AT-AT, AT-ST, AT-DP, AT-RT...), it does not risk falling. Moreover, even if it was turned over, it would not be a problem, it would even be an advantage to have the guns on top. It is also easier to store than AT-ATs and AT-STs, probably also easier to maintain.

I also see an advantage as an infantryman escort when on foot patrol in a guerrilla zone. In case of a skirmish, half a dozen soldiers could take shelter behind a track wall. Regarding the weak point at the rear, this is also a flaw of some IRL tanks, so you can't really hold it against it.

I happened to find another use for the Tie Crawler, the " tower " mode, with the two tracks in vertical position.

Imagine the Empire arrives on a new planet, they explore the terrain, and find a place to set up a temporary base. By the time the base is set up, the Tie Crawler could stand guard in a tower mode. I played a lot of Star Wars Battleground at the time (for those who don't know, imagine Age of Empire, but Star Wars version). Imagine the usefulness of a unit that would be both tower and tank.

About the model itself.

This cockpit is very solid, I'm very happy with it, especially since I managed to add a functional roof opening, with a passage. So let's be clear, you wouldn't fit a minifig through it, the hole is only 1x2, but it's enough to position the driver in lookout mode (an AT-AT pilot nicked from a micro-fighter set).

The stickers come from lego, the classic UCS TIE that I disassembled a long time ago, but I kept the "sticker" parts for this purpose.

The tracks are also solid, I regret not having been able to integrate a concealed missile launcher like the lego set, my attempts were successful on lego studio, but not on IRL. And if I liked the lego idea, I didn't like the lego execution. So I gave up.

The only weak point is that with the weight of the tracks, their fixation to the cockpit can break under too much stress. Contrary to the lego set, I don't recommend to hold the whole thing by the tanks. It is better to hold the model by both tracks at the same time.

Chiaroscuro (English: /kiˌɑːrəˈskjʊəroʊ/; Italian: [ˌkjaroˈskuːro] (light-dark)) is an artistic technique, developed during the Renaissance, that uses strong tonal contrasts between light and dark to model three-dimensional forms, often to dramatic effect.[1] It is one of the four canonical painting modes of Renaissance art (alongside cangiante, sfumato, and unione).

The underlying principle is that solidity of form is best achieved by the light falling against it. Artists known for developing the technique include Leonardo da Vinci, Caravaggio, and Rembrandt. It is a mainstay of black and white and low-key photography.

Roof boss in St Edmund & St Dunstan's chapel.

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.

www.tewkesburyabbey.org.uk/

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.

Part of the complete sequence of seven early 14th century windows preserving most of their original glass in the choir clerestorey.

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.

www.tewkesburyabbey.org.uk/

"The Dolder was the entrance of the city of Riquewihr built along the wall to the 13th century (in 1291). It was used to defend the city against any foreign intrusion thanks to its watchtower installed on the belfry. Dolder means in Alsatian "the highest point". The belfry is 25 meters high and was built to impress the enemy thanks to the military aspect of its exterior facade. The side facing the city gave a more pleasant aspect thanks to its beams in the form of and its four floors which were occupied by the caretaker's family. The guard had to keep watch and close the gate at the entrance to the village every evening and warn the population if something abnormal happened by sounding the alarm. For this he had a small bell on the top of the belfry. This bell was cast in 1842 and bore the inscription "It is joy, it is the alarm that my sound produces. By day I announce the din and the rest of the night ”. This monument is still today the most noticed emblem in the city. The interior of the Dolder, once the keeper's home, now houses the local museum of folk art and tradition on three of its floors. The tower houses a collection of 15th to 17th century weapons and various tools and objects directly related to the wine profession. There are also documents and memories of families as well as utensils from the time, the use of which has now completely disappeared. A glance along the surrounding wall, to the right and to the left of the Dolder and along the Semme reveals its picturesque side, the solidity and the importance of these fortifications.

Riquewihr / ʁik (ə) viːʁ / ( Rïchewïhr Alsatian) is a French commune located in the department of Haut-Rhin, in the region East Grand.

This town is located in the historical and cultural region of Alsace.

Riquewihr is a famous village in Alsace, very visited for its architectural heritage, a picturesque medieval city, untouched by the destruction of the two world wars. The village is south of Hunawihr and Ribeauvillé, 10 km north of Kaysersberg, in the heart of the Alsatian vineyard, on the Alsace wine route.

Nestled at the entrance of a wooded valley, protected by the Schœnenbourg against the northerly winds, Riquewihr slightly overlooks the Alsace plain and offers a magnificent view over the Rhine valley, from the Alps to Sélestat.

The three surrounding hills gave the logo of the Hugel et fils house, one of the largest wine-growing families in Riquewihr.

The mild local climate is very favorable to the cultivation of vines, the slopes with heavy soils and steep slopes offering no other possibilities.

Riquewihr is 3 km from Hunawihr where the stork park is located, 5 km from Ribeauvillé, 5 km from Kaysersberg, 13 km from Colmar and 70 km from Strasbourg.

It is one of the 188 municipalities of the Ballons des Vosges regional natural park.

In German, its name is Reichenweier, sometimes Reichenweiher or Reichenweyer.

Legend has it that the name of Riquewihr came from a certain Countess Richilde, for some, daughter of Adelaide, sister of Pope Leo IX, or for others granddaughter of Sainte-Hune, who would be, for her part, originally from Hunawihr.

Alsace (/ælˈsæs/, also US: /ælˈseɪs, ˈælsæs/; French: [alzas]; Low Alemannic German/Alsatian: 's Elsàss [ˈɛlsɑs]; German: Elsass [ˈɛlzas]; Latin: Alsatia) is a cultural and historical region in Eastern France, on the west bank of the upper Rhine next to Germany and Switzerland. In 2017, it had a population of 1,889,589.

Until 1871, Alsace included the area now known as the Territoire de Belfort, which formed its southernmost part. From 1982 to 2016, Alsace was the smallest administrative région in metropolitan France, consisting of the Bas-Rhin and Haut-Rhin departments. Territorial reform passed by the French Parliament in 2014 resulted in the merger of the Alsace administrative region with Champagne-Ardenne and Lorraine to form Grand Est. Due to protests it was decided in 2019 that Bas-Rhin and Haut-Rhin would form the future European Collectivity of Alsace in 2021.

Alsatian is an Alemannic dialect closely related to Swabian and Swiss German, although since World War II most Alsatians primarily speak French. Internal and international migration since 1945 has also changed the ethnolinguistic composition of Alsace. For more than 300 years, from the Thirty Years' War to World War II, the political status of Alsace was heavily contested between France and various German states in wars and diplomatic conferences. The economic and cultural capital of Alsace, as well as its largest city, is Strasbourg, which sits right on the contemporary German international border. The city is the seat of several international organisations and bodies." - info from Wikipedia.

During the summer of 2018 I went on my first ever cycling tour. On my own I cycled from Strasbourg, France to Geneva, Switzerland passing through the major cities of Switzerland. In total I cycled 1,185 km over the course of 16 days and took more than 8,000 photos.

Now on Instagram.

Become a patron to my photography on Patreon.

Water Stone, 1986

Isamu Noguchi (American)

Basalt

Japanese-American artist Isamu Noguchi (19041988) sculpted in stone throughout his life. Noguchi first learned to carve stone in Paris in 1927, as a studio assistant to the French-Romanian abstract sculptor Constantin Brancusi (18761957). His culminating work in sculpture was produced at his studio on Shikoku Island, Japan, where he focused on transforming the local basalt stone into abstract sculptures.

Water Stone, commissioned in 1986 for the Japan Galleries of the Metropolitan Museum, was one of Noguchi's final works in basalt. While steeped in modernism, this sculpture also draws upon Japan's long stone-working tradition. Like stone basins set within Japanese gardens, Water Stone instills a meditative mood within the Museum galleries.

Noguchi's stone basin is both familiar and surprising: rather than pouring down into the well, water flows up from the ground into the basin. Water Stone rests upon a bed of white rocks taken from the flats of the Isuzu River, which flows along the sacred site of Ise Shrine. As if it were flowing from the Isuzu River that once sculpted the stones, water flows up into the basin (via a pump), then over the rim, polishing the stone naturally as it cycles. Noguchi recognized water as a natural maker of sculpture, here gradually eroding and rusting the iron-rich basalt.

By bringing together two fundamental natural elements, Water Stone becomes an expression of this and other natural processes. The materials embrace contrasts found in nature: the movement and sound of water against the solidity and stillness of stone; the hues and textures of rock in contrast to the transparency and smoothness of water; and the permanence of stone versus the transience of water.

The sculpture also underscores tensions between natural and human-defined elements. Noguchi alternated naturally worn, curvilinear outer rock surfaces with smoothly polished planes created through deliberate, angular cuts into the stone. The irregular circumference of the rounded form contrasts with the perfect circle of the central well. The cut circle introduces layers of symbolic meaning, representing the life cycle, seasonal cycle, sun, full moon, or enso symbol of Zen enlightenment, perfection, and unity. It may also simply evoke a ring created by a pebble dropped into water.

The water reaching the surface appears to come to a standstill, until it cascades over the edge, clinging to the stone sides as it falls. Water Stone, with its unending flow of water up and over the stone, expresses the unity of opposites that underlies the working of nature.

Purchase, Anonymous Gift, 1987 (1987.222)

**

The Metropolitan Museum of Art's permanent collection contains more than two million works of art from around the world. It opened its doors on February 20, 1872, housed in a building located at 681 Fifth Avenue in New York City. Under their guidance of John Taylor Johnston and George Palmer Putnam, the Met's holdings, initially consisting of a Roman stone sarcophagus and 174 mostly European paintings, quickly outgrew the available space. In 1873, occasioned by the Met's purchase of the Cesnola Collection of Cypriot antiquities, the museum decamped from Fifth Avenue and took up residence at the Douglas Mansion on West 14th Street. However, these new accommodations were temporary; after negotiations with the city of New York, the Met acquired land on the east side of Central Park, where it built its permanent home, a red-brick Gothic Revival stone "mausoleum" designed by American architects Calvert Vaux and Jacob Wrey Mold. As of 2006, the Met measures almost a quarter mile long and occupies more than two million square feet, more than 20 times the size of the original 1880 building.

In 2007, the Metropolitan Museum of Art was ranked #17 on the AIA 150 America's Favorite Architecture list.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art was designated a landmark by the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission in 1967. The interior was designated in 1977.

National Historic Register #86003556

Ferstel

(Pictures you can see by clicking on the link at the end of page!)

Ferstel and Café Central, by Rudolf von Alt, left the men's alley (Herrengasse - Street of the Lords), right Strauchgasse

Danube mermaid fountain in a courtyard of the Palais Ferstel

Shopping arcade of the Freyung to Herrengasse

Entrance to Ferstel of the Freyung, right the Palais Harrach, left the palace Hardegg

The Ferstel is a building in the first district of Vienna, Inner City, with the addresses Strauchgasse 2-4, 14 Lord Street (Herrengasse) and Freyung 2. It was established as a national bank and stock exchange building, the denomination Palais is unhistoric.

History

In 1855, the entire estate between Freyung, Strauchgasse and Herrengasse was by Franz Xaver Imperial Count von Abensperg and Traun to the k.k. Privileged Austrian National Bank sold. This banking institution was previously domiciled in the Herrengasse 17/ Bankgasse. The progressive industrialization and the with it associated economic expansion also implied a rapid development of monetary transactions and banking, so that the current premises soon no longer have been sufficient. This problem could only be solved by a new building, in which also should be housed a stock exchange hall.

According to the desire of the then Governor of the National Bank, Franz von Pipitz, the new building was supposed to be carried out with strict observance of the economy and avoiding a worthless luxury with solidity and artistic as well as technical completion. The building should offer room for the National Bank, the stock market, a cafe and - a novel idea for Vienna - a bazaar.

The commissioned architect, Heinrich von Ferstel, demonstrated in the coping with the irregular surface area with highest conceivable effective use of space his state-of-the art talent. The practical requirements combine themselves with the actually artistic to a masterful composition. Ferstel has been able to lay out the rooms of the issuing bank, the two trading floors, the passage with the bazar and the coffee house in accordance with their intended purpose and at the same time to maintain a consistent style.

He was an advocate of the "Materialbaues" (material building) as it clearly is reflected in the ashlar building of the banking institution. Base, pillars and stairs were fashioned of Wöllersdorfer stone, façade elements such as balconies, cornices, structurings as well as stone banisters of the hard white stone of Emperor Kaiser quarry (Kaisersteinbruch), while the walls were made ​​of -Sankt Margarethen limestone. The inner rooms have been luxuriously formed, with wood paneling, leather wallpaper, Stuccolustro and rich ornamental painting.

The facade of the corner front Strauchgasse/Herrengasse received twelve sculptures by Hanns Gasser as decoration, they symbolized the peoples of the monarchy. The mighty round arch at the exit Freyung were closed with wrought-iron bare gates, because the first used locksmith could not meet the demands of Ferstel, the work was transferred to a silversmith.

1860 the National Bank and the stock exchange could move into the in 1859 completed construction. The following year was placed in the glass-covered passage the Danube mermaid fountain, whose design stems also of Ferstel. Anton von Fernkorn has created the sculptural decoration with an artistic sensitivity. Above the marble fountain basin rises a column crowned by a bronze statue, the Danube female with flowing hair, holding a fish in its hand. Below are arranged around the column three also in bronze cast figures: merchant, fisherman and shipbuilder, so those professions that have to do with the water. The total cost of the building, the interior included, amounted to the enormous sum of 1.897.600 guilders.

The originally planned use of the building remained only a few years preserved. The Stock Exchange with the premises no longer had sufficient space: in 1872 it moved to a provisional solution, 1877 at Schottenring a new Stock Exchange building opened. The National Bank moved 1925 into a yet 1913 planned, spacious new building.

The building was in Second World War battered gravely particularly on the main facade. In the 1960s was located in the former Stock Exchange a basketball training hall, the entire building appeared neglected.

1971 dealt the President of the Federal Monuments Office, Walter Frodl, with the severely war damaged banking and stock exchange building in Vienna. The Office for Technical Geology of Otto Casensky furnished an opinion on the stone facade. On the facade Freyung 2 a balcony was originally attached over the entire 15.4 m long front of hard Kaiserstein.

(Usage of Leith lime: Dependent from the consistence and structure of the Leitha lime the usage differed from „Reibsand“ till building material. The Leitha lime stone is a natural stone which can be formed easily and was desired als beautiful stone for buildings in Roman times. The usage of lime stone from Eggenburg in the Bronze age already was verified. This special attribute is the reason why the Leitha lime was taken from sculptors and masons.

The source of lime stone in the Leitha Mountains was important for Austria and especially for Vienna from the cultur historical point of view during the Renaissance and Baroque. At the 19th century the up to 150 stone quarries of the Leitha mountains got many orders form the construction work of the Vienna „Ring road“.

At many buildings of Graz, such as the castle at the Grazer castle hill, the old Joanneum and the Cottage, the Leitha lime stone was used.

Due to the fact that Leitha lime is bond on carbonate in the texture, the alteration through the actual sour rain is heavy. www.geocaching.com/geocache/GC2HKZ9_leithagebirge-leithak...)

This balcony was no longer present and only close to the facade were remnants of the tread plates and the supporting brackets recognizable. In July 1975, followed the reconstruction of the balcony and master stonemason Friedrich Opferkuh received the order to restore the old state am Leithagebirge received the order the old state - of Mannersdorfer stone, armoured concrete or artificial stone.

1975-1982, the building was renovated and re-opened the Café Central. Since then, the privately owned building is called Palais Ferstel. In the former stock exchange halls now meetings and presentations take place; the Café Central is utilizing one of the courtyards.

de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palais_Ferstel

The Higashi Chaya District in Kanazawa is renowned for its atmospheric streets lined with traditional wooden machiya, but a closer look reveals hidden gems that tell a richer architectural story. The featured building in this photo stands out with its striking Art Deco influences, seamlessly blending with the district's historical surroundings. With its clean geometric motifs and arched windows, this structure embodies Japan’s early 20th-century embrace of Western architectural styles while preserving local craftsmanship.

The smooth plaster exterior is punctuated by intricate relief patterns that mirror Kanazawa’s reputation as a hub of artisanship. The arched window designs, framed by delicate mullions, create a harmonious balance of form and function, letting light flood into the interiors. The granite base adds a touch of solidity and permanence, grounding the modernist aesthetic within the district's historical context.

This building serves as a cultural bridge, standing amidst Higashi Chaya’s Edo-period charm, where ochaya teahouses continue to evoke the elegance of geisha performances. Its juxtaposition highlights Kanazawa’s evolution through time, from feudal traditions to modern innovations.

The surrounding streets maintain their timeless allure, lined with cobblestones, gas-style street lamps, and wooden latticed facades. Nearby, visitors can enjoy traditional tea ceremonies, artisan craft shops, and Kanazawa’s famed gold-leaf products. A walk through Higashi Chaya is not just a journey into the past but an exploration of how history and modernity coexist, offering a unique experience for history buffs, architecture enthusiasts, and cultural explorers alike.

Strasbourg was when it was first mentioned in 12BC the Roman camp Argentoratum. Strasbourg was probably a bishop's seat from the 4th century. Alemanni, Huns, and Franks conquered the city in the 5th century. Strasbourg was then ruled by the Strasbourg bishops until 1262 when the citizens violently rebelled against the bishopric and Strasbourg became a free imperial city and so belonged to the Holy Roman Empire. Led by two rival patrician families (Müllheim and Zorn), the city prospered, although the town hall required two separate entrances for the two families.

On February 14, 1349, one of the first and largest pogroms of persecution of Jews in connection with the plague in the German area took place here. In the course of the St. Valentine's Day massacre, several hundred (some say up to 3000) Jews were publicly burned, and the survivors were expelled from the city. Until the end of the 18th century, Jews were forbidden to stay within the city walls after 10 pm.

Strasbourg came under French rule in 1681, after the conquest of Alsace by the armies of Louis XIV. However, the revocation of the Edict of Toleration of Nantes in 1685, which legalized the suppression of Protestantism in France, did not apply in Alsace, and religious freedom prevailed, even if the French authorities endeavored to favor Catholicism wherever possible.

Strasbourg's Lutheran, German-influenced university continued to exist. Moreover, until 1789, Alsace was a de facto foreign province, separated from the rest of France by a customs border running along the Vosges Mountains. Therefore, the city and its surrounding area remained German-speaking. In the period of the French Revolution, the city became attractive for republicans from Germany and later an exile for German oppositionists.

Around 600, a monastery with a church dedicated to the Apostle Thomas was founded at the current location. In the 9th century, a new church was built with an adjoining school. Both burned down in 1007 by lightning. After reconstruction, the monastery was converted into a collegiate monastery in 1031. Lightning struck again in 1144. The construction of a new building began in 1196, which combines Romanesque solidity with early Gothic details. The construction work ended in 1521 with side chapels in the late Gothic style.

It is the main Lutheran church of the city since its cathedral became Catholic again after the annexation of the town by France in 1681. So it is nicknamed "la cathédrale du Protestantisme alsacien". It is the only hall church in the Alsace region.

Here are many more photos taken in

Selestat and the Bas Rhin area.

www.ipernity.com/doc/323415/album/1255496

Gouache and ink on paper; 57.8 x 47.0 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.

Ferstel

(Pictures you can see by clicking on the link at the end of page!)

Ferstel and Café Central, by Rudolf von Alt, left the men's alley (Herrengasse - Street of the Lords), right Strauchgasse

Danube mermaid fountain in a courtyard of the Palais Ferstel

Shopping arcade of the Freyung to Herrengasse

Entrance to Ferstel of the Freyung, right the Palais Harrach, left the palace Hardegg

The Ferstel is a building in the first district of Vienna, Inner City, with the addresses Strauchgasse 2-4, 14 Lord Street (Herrengasse) and Freyung 2. It was established as a national bank and stock exchange building, the denomination Palais is unhistoric.

History

In 1855, the entire estate between Freyung, Strauchgasse and Herrengasse was by Franz Xaver Imperial Count von Abensperg and Traun to the k.k. Privileged Austrian National Bank sold. This banking institution was previously domiciled in the Herrengasse 17/ Bankgasse. The progressive industrialization and the with it associated economic expansion also implied a rapid development of monetary transactions and banking, so that the current premises soon no longer have been sufficient. This problem could only be solved by a new building, in which also should be housed a stock exchange hall.

According to the desire of the then Governor of the National Bank, Franz von Pipitz, the new building was supposed to be carried out with strict observance of the economy and avoiding a worthless luxury with solidity and artistic as well as technical completion. The building should offer room for the National Bank, the stock market, a cafe and - a novel idea for Vienna - a bazaar.

The commissioned architect, Heinrich von Ferstel, demonstrated in the coping with the irregular surface area with highest conceivable effective use of space his state-of-the art talent. The practical requirements combine themselves with the actually artistic to a masterful composition. Ferstel has been able to lay out the rooms of the issuing bank, the two trading floors, the passage with the bazar and the coffee house in accordance with their intended purpose and at the same time to maintain a consistent style.

He was an advocate of the "Materialbaues" (material building) as it clearly is reflected in the ashlar building of the banking institution. Base, pillars and stairs were fashioned of Wöllersdorfer stone, façade elements such as balconies, cornices, structurings as well as stone banisters of the hard white stone of Emperor Kaiser quarry (Kaisersteinbruch), while the walls were made ​​of -Sankt Margarethen limestone. The inner rooms have been luxuriously formed, with wood paneling, leather wallpaper, Stuccolustro and rich ornamental painting.

The facade of the corner front Strauchgasse/Herrengasse received twelve sculptures by Hanns Gasser as decoration, they symbolized the peoples of the monarchy. The mighty round arch at the exit Freyung were closed with wrought-iron bare gates, because the first used locksmith could not meet the demands of Ferstel, the work was transferred to a silversmith.

1860 the National Bank and the stock exchange could move into the in 1859 completed construction. The following year was placed in the glass-covered passage the Danube mermaid fountain, whose design stems also of Ferstel. Anton von Fernkorn has created the sculptural decoration with an artistic sensitivity. Above the marble fountain basin rises a column crowned by a bronze statue, the Danube female with flowing hair, holding a fish in its hand. Below are arranged around the column three also in bronze cast figures: merchant, fisherman and shipbuilder, so those professions that have to do with the water. The total cost of the building, the interior included, amounted to the enormous sum of 1.897.600 guilders.

The originally planned use of the building remained only a few years preserved. The Stock Exchange with the premises no longer had sufficient space: in 1872 it moved to a provisional solution, 1877 at Schottenring a new Stock Exchange building opened. The National Bank moved 1925 into a yet 1913 planned, spacious new building.

The building was in Second World War battered gravely particularly on the main facade. In the 1960s was located in the former Stock Exchange a basketball training hall, the entire building appeared neglected.

1971 dealt the President of the Federal Monuments Office, Walter Frodl, with the severely war damaged banking and stock exchange building in Vienna. The Office for Technical Geology of Otto Casensky furnished an opinion on the stone facade. On the facade Freyung 2 a balcony was originally attached over the entire 15.4 m long front of hard Kaiserstein.

(Usage of Leith lime: Dependent from the consistence and structure of the Leitha lime the usage differed from „Reibsand“ till building material. The Leitha lime stone is a natural stone which can be formed easily and was desired als beautiful stone for buildings in Roman times. The usage of lime stone from Eggenburg in the Bronze age already was verified. This special attribute is the reason why the Leitha lime was taken from sculptors and masons.

The source of lime stone in the Leitha Mountains was important for Austria and especially for Vienna from the cultur historical point of view during the Renaissance and Baroque. At the 19th century the up to 150 stone quarries of the Leitha mountains got many orders form the construction work of the Vienna „Ring road“.

At many buildings of Graz, such as the castle at the Grazer castle hill, the old Joanneum and the Cottage, the Leitha lime stone was used.

Due to the fact that Leitha lime is bond on carbonate in the texture, the alteration through the actual sour rain is heavy. www.geocaching.com/geocache/GC2HKZ9_leithagebirge-leithak...)

This balcony was no longer present and only close to the facade were remnants of the tread plates and the supporting brackets recognizable. In July 1975, followed the reconstruction of the balcony and master stonemason Friedrich Opferkuh received the order to restore the old state am Leithagebirge received the order the old state - of Mannersdorfer stone, armoured concrete or artificial stone.

1975-1982, the building was renovated and re-opened the Café Central. Since then, the privately owned building is called Palais Ferstel. In the former stock exchange halls now meetings and presentations take place; the Café Central is utilizing one of the courtyards.

de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palais_Ferstel

"The Dolder was the entrance of the city of Riquewihr built along the wall to the 13th century (in 1291). It was used to defend the city against any foreign intrusion thanks to its watchtower installed on the belfry. Dolder means in Alsatian "the highest point". The belfry is 25 meters high and was built to impress the enemy thanks to the military aspect of its exterior facade. The side facing the city gave a more pleasant aspect thanks to its beams in the form of and its four floors which were occupied by the caretaker's family. The guard had to keep watch and close the gate at the entrance to the village every evening and warn the population if something abnormal happened by sounding the alarm. For this he had a small bell on the top of the belfry. This bell was cast in 1842 and bore the inscription "It is joy, it is the alarm that my sound produces. By day I announce the din and the rest of the night ”. This monument is still today the most noticed emblem in the city. The interior of the Dolder, once the keeper's home, now houses the local museum of folk art and tradition on three of its floors. The tower houses a collection of 15th to 17th century weapons and various tools and objects directly related to the wine profession. There are also documents and memories of families as well as utensils from the time, the use of which has now completely disappeared. A glance along the surrounding wall, to the right and to the left of the Dolder and along the Semme reveals its picturesque side, the solidity and the importance of these fortifications.

Riquewihr / ʁik (ə) viːʁ / ( Rïchewïhr Alsatian) is a French commune located in the department of Haut-Rhin, in the region East Grand.

This town is located in the historical and cultural region of Alsace.

Riquewihr is a famous village in Alsace, very visited for its architectural heritage, a picturesque medieval city, untouched by the destruction of the two world wars. The village is south of Hunawihr and Ribeauvillé, 10 km north of Kaysersberg, in the heart of the Alsatian vineyard, on the Alsace wine route.

Nestled at the entrance of a wooded valley, protected by the Schœnenbourg against the northerly winds, Riquewihr slightly overlooks the Alsace plain and offers a magnificent view over the Rhine valley, from the Alps to Sélestat.

The three surrounding hills gave the logo of the Hugel et fils house, one of the largest wine-growing families in Riquewihr.

The mild local climate is very favorable to the cultivation of vines, the slopes with heavy soils and steep slopes offering no other possibilities.

Riquewihr is 3 km from Hunawihr where the stork park is located, 5 km from Ribeauvillé, 5 km from Kaysersberg, 13 km from Colmar and 70 km from Strasbourg.

It is one of the 188 municipalities of the Ballons des Vosges regional natural park.

In German, its name is Reichenweier, sometimes Reichenweiher or Reichenweyer.

Legend has it that the name of Riquewihr came from a certain Countess Richilde, for some, daughter of Adelaide, sister of Pope Leo IX, or for others granddaughter of Sainte-Hune, who would be, for her part, originally from Hunawihr.

Alsace (/ælˈsæs/, also US: /ælˈseɪs, ˈælsæs/; French: [alzas]; Low Alemannic German/Alsatian: 's Elsàss [ˈɛlsɑs]; German: Elsass [ˈɛlzas]; Latin: Alsatia) is a cultural and historical region in Eastern France, on the west bank of the upper Rhine next to Germany and Switzerland. In 2017, it had a population of 1,889,589.

Until 1871, Alsace included the area now known as the Territoire de Belfort, which formed its southernmost part. From 1982 to 2016, Alsace was the smallest administrative région in metropolitan France, consisting of the Bas-Rhin and Haut-Rhin departments. Territorial reform passed by the French Parliament in 2014 resulted in the merger of the Alsace administrative region with Champagne-Ardenne and Lorraine to form Grand Est. Due to protests it was decided in 2019 that Bas-Rhin and Haut-Rhin would form the future European Collectivity of Alsace in 2021.

Alsatian is an Alemannic dialect closely related to Swabian and Swiss German, although since World War II most Alsatians primarily speak French. Internal and international migration since 1945 has also changed the ethnolinguistic composition of Alsace. For more than 300 years, from the Thirty Years' War to World War II, the political status of Alsace was heavily contested between France and various German states in wars and diplomatic conferences. The economic and cultural capital of Alsace, as well as its largest city, is Strasbourg, which sits right on the contemporary German international border. The city is the seat of several international organisations and bodies." - info from Wikipedia.

During the summer of 2018 I went on my first ever cycling tour. On my own I cycled from Strasbourg, France to Geneva, Switzerland passing through the major cities of Switzerland. In total I cycled 1,185 km over the course of 16 days and took more than 8,000 photos.

Now on Instagram.

Become a patron to my photography on Patreon.

mutual heights building, friezes and panels

these stitched images do not do the original panels any justice. lines are distorted but methinks the complete is more important, albeit for now. in future AI will improve

photographer's notes and text borrowings-

"mutual building", cape town. art deco, deluxe. finished in 1939. architect, fred glennis

inspiration maybe from the "met tower", NYC"?, chicago board of trade", "chrysler building, NYC"?

stone mason, ivan mitford-barberton (south african)

most of the building was changed into residential units

beautiful friezes by miftord-barberton

some nine (only?) african tribes depicted in stunning granite carvings on one facade of the building. it's unclear why only nine tribes were depicted

the tribes being-

matabele

basuto

barotse

kikuyu

zulu

bushman

xosa (xhosa)

pedi

masai

the building has three street facades, darling, parliament and long market streets, cape town CBD

much more to be explored and to be pixed. the building itself is exquisite

***********************

Mutual Building

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

The Mutual Building (Afrikaans: Mutual Gebou), in Cape Town, South Africa, was built as the headquarters of the South African Mutual Life Assurance Society, now the "Old Mutual" insurance and financial services company. It was opened in 1940, but before the end of the 1950s—less than 20 years later—business operations were already moving to another new office at Mutual Park in Pinelands (north east of the city centre); since then Old Mutual has become an international business and their present head office is in London.

The building is a fine example of art deco architecture and design, and it has many interesting internal features such as the banking hall, assembly room, directors' board room; external features include a dramatic ziggurat structure, prismoid (triangular) windows, and one of the longest carved stone friezes in the world. It has been said that it provides evidence of the colonial attitudes of the time, and the "ideals of colonial government promulgated

by Rhodes in the late nineteenth century".[1]

The Mutual Building is now converted to residential use, although some parts of the building are used commercially. For example, the Banking Hall (which is now an events venue) and the retail shops that operate outside on the ground level.

Coordinates: 33°55ʹ27.45ʺS 18°25ʹ20.25ʺE

Mutual Building

Mutual Gebou

The front of the building, in Darling Street, Cape Town

Location in central Cape Town Alternative Mutual Heights, Old Mutual

names Building

General information

Contents

1 History

1.1 The business

1.2 The "new" (1940) Head Office in Darling Street

1.3 Search for inspiration

1.4 Completion

1.5 Vacating and conversion

2 Structure of the building

3 Design elements

4 Features of the building

4.1 The Entrance Hall 4.2 The Banking Hall

4.3 The lifts (elevators) 4.4 The Assembly Room 4.5 The Directors' Rooms 4.6 The atrium

4.7 The windows

4.8 Granite cladding 4.9 The Tribal Figures 4.10 The frieze

5 Views of (and from) the building 6 References

7 Other external links

Type

Architectural style

Address Town or city Country Coordinates Completed Inaugurated Renovated Owner Height

Structural system

Floor count Lifts/elevators

Commercial converted to residential

Art Deco

14 Darling Street

Cape Town

South Africa

33°55ʹ27.45ʺS 18°25ʹ20.25ʺE 1939

1940

2005

Mutual Heights Body Corporate 84 metres (276 ft)

Technical details

Reinforced concrete, granite cladding

12 plus 3 levels basement parking

7

Architect

Architecture firm

Architect

Renovating firm

Structural engineer

Awards and prizes

Fred Glennie Louw & Louw

Renovating team

Robert Silke Louis Karol

Murray & Roberts

South African Institute of Architects, Presidents Award 2008

Website

Design and construction

www.mutualheights.net (www.mutualheights.net)

History The business

The Old Mutual business has a long history. In 1845 John Fairbairn (a Scot) founded "The Mutual Life Assurance Society of the Cape of Good Hope" in Cape Town. Over the next 100 years the business was to evolve significantly, changing its name in 1885 to the "South Africa Mutual Life Assurance Society", but becoming familiarly known simply as "The Old Mutual", so as to distinguish it from newer businesses of the same kind.

The company employed women as early as 1901, expanded into Namibia in 1920 and into Zimbabwe (then

Rhodesia) in 1927.[2] Old Mutual is now an international business with offices all over the world, and its portfolio

of financial services continues to evolve to meet market needs.

It is now some years since the business "de-mutualised" in order to issue shares and fund its operations using conventional investment markets.

The "new" (1940) Head Office in Darling Street

The name of the building in English and in Afrikaans ("Mutual Gebou"): The interesting frieze shown here is described in the text

Some comparisons with earlier inspirational buildings

In the 1930s it became clear that a new headquarters building was needed and very ambitious targets were set for the building: it was to be the tallest building in South Africa (possibly in the whole continent of Africa, with the exception of the pyramids in Egypt), it was to have the fastest lifts, it was to have the largest windows. At the same time it was to epitomise the values of the business: "Strength, Security and Confidence in the Future"; this demanded a combination of traditional

and contemporary design.[1]

Although it is clearly identified on the exterior as the "Mutual Building" (or "Mutual Gebou" in Afrikaans) it is often familiarly referred to as "The Old Mutual Building". Here, in the body of this article, it will be referred to as the "Mutual Building", thereby acknowledging the

nomenclature on the exterior of the building itself.

Search for inspiration

The figure here (adapted from www.skycrapers.com) compares the building with some of the other contemporaneous tall buildings in the world. Those involved in the design of the building travelled widely to study inspirational examples of corporate buildings elsewhere in the world. They learnt about the latest approaches to lighting, ventilation and fire protection in the USA, South America, England

and Sweden.[3] In the USA, the Eastern Columbia Building in Los Angeles is one example of the genre of building design that captured their attention: this building was completed in 1930 and has also since been

converted to residential occupation.[1]

The art deco style was chosen. However, the building is embellished with features in other styles (such as neo-classicist in the case of the banking hall) intended to reinforce the long- standing and traditional values of the Old Mutual business.

Completion

The building was completed in 1939 and opened

early in 1940 with a great fanfare. The local paper provided a 16 page supplement,[4] and South African architects and dignitaries enthused about it. In his definitive examination of the design of the building, Federico Freschi summarises the status of the building thus:

"Ultimately, the consensus suggests that the Old Mutual Building is at once a worthy monument to modern design principles and the consolidation of an important corporate and public image."[1]

The building is listed elsewhere as a notable building,[5] and it is regarded as an important example of the social values of the time and of the economic state of the nation, but all as seen from a European or

"colonial" perspective, as explained by Freschi.[1]

Vacating and conversion

Within 20 years (in the late 1950s) the Old Mutual began to vacate the building, moving in stages to new offices at Mutual Park in Pinelands, Cape Town. By the 1990s, only assorted tenants remained, the last of

which departed in May 2003.[3]

At this time, conversion to residential occupation began under the direction of Robert Silke at Louis Karol

Architects.[6] The name of the building was changed by the developers to Mutual Heights (www.mutualheights.net), a decision that did not find favour with all owners and residents involved in

the new community.[7] Despite scepticism about the name, it is generally agreed that the conversion was the first in a series of projects that re-invigorated the central business district of Cape Town. The conversion has

been the subject of a number of architecture and design awards.[8]

In February 2012, the large "Old Mutual" sign on the east side of the building was removed, leaving little external evidence of the commercial origins of the building; in 2015 Old Mutual Properties finally disposed of the remaining portions of the interior that had not been sold previously, including the banking hall, the directors suite and the fresco room.

Structure of the building

The building is constructed using reinforced concrete, filled in internally with bricks and plaster, and clad on the outside with granite. At first sight, the building is a striking example of the Art Deco style and many of its features epitomize this genre - however, some interior features deviate from true Art Deco and probably reflect the desire of the company to demonstrate solidity and traditional values at the same time as

contemporaneous, forward-looking values.[1]

It is 276 feet (85 metres) high, as measured from the ground floor to the top of the tower,[3] but the building is often listed as being more than 90 metres high (even as high as 96.8 metres on the Old Mutual web

site[2]); this probably takes account of the "spire" at the top.

Having only 10 levels ("storeys") above ground level in the main part of this tall building (excluding the three levels of basement car parking, and the additional levels in the tower), it is evident that the spacing between floors is generous — generally each floor is about 5 metres above (or below) the next. In one of the meeting rooms on the eighth level (the Assembly Hall - see below), the curtains alone are more than six metres long. This generous spacing between floors was intended to achieve the greatest possible overall height for the building without exceeding the city planning limitation of 10 storeys, and it was allowed only

in view of the "set back" design of the exterior structure.[1]

Design elements

The original design of the building is attributed to Louw & Louw (Cape Town architects), working with Fred Glennie (best known at the time as a mentor to architectural students) – Mr Glennie is personally

credited with most of the detailed work[9] but Ivan Mitford-Barberton[10] was also involved with some

internal details as well as with the external granite decorations.

It is pleasing that the principal areas of the building have been so little changed over the years, especially the entrance, the banking hall, the assembly room, the directors' room, the atrium, and the windows. Even the original door handles (including the Old Mutual "logo") and the original banisters (on the staircases) are all still intact, and the atrium is largely unchanged although it is now protected from the weather by a translucent roof.

The original light fittings in the "public" areas are largely still intact, and in most parts of the building there are beautiful block-wood (parquet) floors.

Here is a selection of interior design details that exemplify the quality and attention to detail that was applied to this project by the architects, artists and designers.

Marble from the columns in the banking hall

As you use the stairs, you are reminded which storey you are on

Bulkhead lights on the 9th level

White-veined Onyx from the entrance hall

Hardwood block floors are still in place in many parts of the building

An original door handle (of which many remain)

The entrance hall has a gold leaf ceiling

Detail of a banister on one of the stairs

Original fire doors, with distinctive handles

Detail of the rail at the gallery of the Assembly Room

Some interior design details

The paragraphs below now visit each of the significant areas and features of the building in turn.

An original light fitting

The light fittings in the Assembly Room

The entrance lobby

Features of the building

The building incorporates a range of significant features.

The Entrance Hall

Black, gold-veined onyx is used in the Darling Street foyer, the ceiling of which is over 15 metres high and finished with gold leaf, laid by Italian workmen. The view of the glass window over the door to the banking hall (above) shows the iconic ziggurat shape of the building etched into the glass. Visitors must climb 17 steps to gain access to the banking hall, and towards the top they are met by the original "pill box" where security staff can observe who (and what) is entering and leaving the building. On either side of the pill box are the entrances to the main lifts – two on the left and two on the right (there are two "staff" lifts and one "service" lift elsewhere in the building).

Characteristic stainless steel trim and light fittings, such as can be seen here, are used extensively throughout the building.

The Banking Hall

Given its tall marble-clad colonnades, the magnificent banking hall would be more properly described as an example of "neo-classicism" although the light fittings echo the art deco theme that prevails elsewhere in the building, and again we see that the glass over the doors (at the far end in the photograph below) are etched with the iconic ziggurat form that is taken by the whole building.

The two service counters that can be seen in the banking hall look identical, but only the one on the right is original—the one on the left is a later, somewhat inferior, copy.

The banking hall

Between the columns of the banking hall the coats of arms are presented for each of the many provinces and countries within Southern Africa in which the South African Mutual Life Assurance Society had a presence.

The crests that appear between the columns in the banking hall

Northern Rhodesia Cape Colony Durban Rhodesia

Natal Petermaritzburg Port Elizabeth Orange Free State

Johannesburg Pretoria Kenya Colony Bloemfontein

Cape Town Union of South Africa Potchefstroom Windhoek The banking hall is now owned privately and is available for hire as an events venue.

The lifts (elevators)

The main lifts in the building are fast ("the fastest in Africa" it was claimed when the building opened) and no expense was spared – even in the basement parking area, the lifts are trimmed with black marble. Each door has an etched representation of an indigenous bird or animal from South Africa, with significant plants as additional decoration, or in some cases the corporate logo of the time.

There are seven lifts in the building, four of them "principal" lifts (as here)

The individual etchings in detail (click on the images to see the full-size version):

Springbok (Antidorcas marsupialis), with a king protea (Protea cynaroides), the national flower

Kudu (Tragelaphus), with veltheimia (Veltheimia bracteata) at the lower right

Giraffe, with a succulent (Crassula)

Zebra (Equus quagga), with a prickly pear (Opuntia ficus-indica)

The individual etchings on the lift doors

Ostrich (Struthio camelus australus), with prickly pear (lower left) and "century plant" (Agave americana)

Leopard (Panthera pardus pardus), with spekboom (Portulacaria afra) at the lower right and candelabra lily (Brunsvigia josephinae) at the lower left

Crane (Balearica regulorm) with reeds behind (Phragmites australis)

Lion, with lion's tail (or wild dagga - Leonotis leonuris) at lower left, violet painted petals (Freesia laxa) lower right and coral tree (Erythrina lysistemon) at the top

Secretary bird (Sagittarius serpentarius), with unidentifiable tree

The corporate "logo" (three entwined anchors), with Strelitzia reginae (bottom right), Disa uniflora (bottom left) and proteas (Protea repens) at the top

Vulture

These designs are attributed to Ivan Mitford-Barberton.

The Assembly Room

Perhaps the best known feature of the building (in artistic circles at least) is the Assembly Room, sometimes referred to as the "Fresco Room"; Freschi indicates that this was originally intended as a facility for policy

holders.[1] Here there are striking frescoes depicting some of the history of the nation of South Africa,

undertaken by Le Roux Smith Le Roux two years after the completion of the building.

Le Roux was supported in his early career by the famous British architect Herbert Baker, who provided bursaries so that Le Roux could spend time in

London and elsewhere. In London he

undertook a mural in South Africa House with

Eleanor Esmonde-White. An acquaintance (still living) of Le Roux and Esmonde-White recalls that Baker insisted that Eleanor Esmonde-White be awarded a bursary, despite gender-related objections from elsewhere; in the event she got to go to London with Le Roux, with the bursary. Following their years in London, Le Roux was awarded this commission to work on the Mutual Building and he therefore returned to Cape Town, but only after the main building work was done - it was not sensible to undertake this meticulous work while building operations were still in progress.

These frescoes are considered elsewhere as good examples of the genre—see for example

"Decopix - the Art Deco Architecture Site"[11] where the Mutual Building itself is well

represented.[12] The five frescoes on the end

walls and over the entrance depict more than

100 years of the history of the nation,

including industrial development, the Great

Trek, mining following the discovery of gold,

the growth of industry and agriculture, and a

hint of international travel and trade. Freschi considers that ".. in contemporary terms, Le Roux's work was seen to be distinctly progressive and very much in keeping with the ostensibly liberal party line of Jan

Smuts' coalition government".[1]

The panels are reproduced below, and selected portions from them are provided in the images that follow.

The five panels are presented left to right, in a clockwise direction when standing in the Assembly Room, back to the windows. The first and fifth are on the side walls, the second, third and fourth are on the long wall that includes the main entrance.

The fresco panels in the Assembly Room

The Assembly Room

Engineering water, The Great Trek building industry and

railroads

Trade and international travel

The discovery of gold

Railroads in service, productive farms

The fifth image includes a representation of the Mutual Building itself, the tallest building in what is known as the "City Bowl", below the slopes of Table Mountain. This did not remain true for long, it was only one year later that the General Post Office was built on the other (seaward side) of Darling Street, and a large number of larger more modern buildings have been built since (see the views from and of the building, shown further down this page).

Some details from the panels:

Some selected portions of the fresco panels in the Assembly Room

Mixing concrete, Wind-powered water working with the plans pumps provide

irrigation

The Great Trek - ladies Farm produce at last - a in their bonnets, men on smile on his face

horses

The Directors' Board Room

A detail - laying railway The image of the track Mutual Building under

Table Mountain

The Directors' Rooms

On the fourth level, at the front of the building, is the Directors' Board Room. As well as the board room there are two side rooms, one of which was a sitting room for Directors.

In the board room there is a continuous carved stinkwood frieze above the dado rail that incorporates animal and floral motifs (14 different species of birds and animals are represented). Ivan Mitford-Barberton is credited with this carving and it is probably the last work that he did in the building. Above the carved frieze is a mural designed and executed by Joyce Ord-Brown using stain on pale sycamore panelling. It represents

Cape Town as the "Tavern of the Seas" in a light hearted way.[1]

The selections below show some portions of the mural and the frieze, followed by some other details of the directors' rooms. The sea plane (second picture) is probably a Martin M-130, which is not recorded as having serviced South Africa (it worked the pacific routes). This is probably "artistic licence" on the part of Ord-Browne.

Portions of the Joyce Ord-Browne decorations

The Southern hemisphere, with route from Cape Town to London

Blue cranes flying

A sea plane

A portion of the Northern hemisphere, with King Neptune

Penguins and whales

A mermaid

Portions of the Mitford-Barberton stinkwood frieze

Some features of the directors' board room and sitting room

Entrance to the board room (see note below)

Easy chairs in the sitting room - unused in a long time

Marble at the door to the board room

Another original light fitting in the sitting room

Directors had their own storage drawers in the board room

An original light fitting in the board room that (seemingly) doubles as a ventilation device

It is of note that the etched ziggurat icon on the glass over the entrance to the board room (see the enlarged version of the first image above) is not the same as that which is used elsewhere.

The Directors' suite has great heritage value but in 2015 it was re-finished as a private apartment.

The atrium

The atrium extends from the roof of the banking hall to the very top of the main building. It was originally open to the weather, but it is now protected by a translucent roof, through which the tower can be seen extending even higher.

The circular windows visible here are incorporated into the apartments that now occupy the front of the building.

The windows

On entering the residential area of the building, one is struck by this extraordinary "top to bottom" atrium

The windows compared

The rising nature of the ziggurat mass of the exterior of the building is reinforced by the prismoid (triangular) windows, which extend up and down the height of the building. These windows are of note because they set the Mutual Building apart from some of the buildings that inspired it, for example the Eastern Columbia Building in Los Angeles. They are also functional, because they allow light to enter the building more effectively than would otherwise be the case (using the reflective properties of the inside face of the glass), and by opening and closing blinds on the one side or the other it is possible on sunny days to manage the heat entering the building as the sun traverses the sky.

Water-cooled air conditioning was another innovative feature of the original building, that avoided the need for extensive natural ventilation and allowed more freedom for the design of the windows and granite spaces between; the same water-cooled air conditioning design is in use today.

As Freschi notes in his paper, the prismoid windows make for much more visual interest than the conventional windows in the General Post Office building. Here the image juxtaposes the Mutual building (foreground) with the General Post Office built the following year (behind).

Granite cladding

The granite cladding of the building was hewn from a single boulder on the Paarl Mountain, north east of the

city of Cape Town.[1] The cladding incorporates decorative baboon, elephant and tribal heads that project from the upper facades of the Darling Street elevation (the front of the building).

The granite decorations

The decorations Elephant (6th level) Baboon (8th level) Tribal head (tower)

Tower with tribal head

The Tribal Figures

On the Parliament Street facade there are carved granite figures representing nine ethnic African groups (not just South African) labelled thus: "Xosa", "Pedi", "Maasai", "Matabele", "Basuto", "Barotse", "Kikuyu", "Zulu", and "Bushman". Note that the identification of the tribes does not necessarily follow current practice.

The nine tribal figures looking over Parliament Street.

The individual figures in detail (remember you can click on the images to see the full-size version):

The individual tribal figures

"Xosa" "Pedi" "Masai" "Matabele"

"Basuto" "Barotse" "Kikuyu" "Zulu"

"Bushman"

Recently Sanford S. Shaman has written a critique of these figures, and other features of the building [13] partly based on interviews with pedestrians walking around the building.

The frieze

Around the three sides of the building facing Darling Street, Parliament Street and Longmarket Street there is a 386 feet (118 metre) frieze depicting scenes from the colonial history of South Africa, reported at its

completion to be the longest such frieze in the world.[4]

A portion of the 386 feet frieze that traverses three sides of the building, showing the 1820 settlers landing

It is of interest that, at the time, it was proclaimed that the building was built by South Africans, using South African materials; while the frieze was itself designed by South African, Ivan Mitford Barberton (born in Somerset East, Eastern Cape, in 1896), the work was executed by a team of Italian immigrants led by Adolfo Lorenzi. It has recently come to light that, in the course of the work, Lorenzi's team of masons were incarcerated when the Second World War broke out in 1939, being Italian and therefore regarded as "the

enemy" at that time. They were obliged to finish their work under an armed guard.[14]

A composite view of the frieze can be seen at the right; unfortunately in this version some portions are missing or obscured by trees in leaf.

The sections of the frieze are as follows:

The landing of Jan van Riebeeck

The arrival of the 1820 Settlers

The "Post Office Stone"

The building of the Castle of Good Hope

The emancipation of the slaves

Negotiations with Chaka (also known as "King Shaka)" The Great Trek

The dream of Nongqawuse (other spellings are sometimes used) Discovery of diamonds at Kimberley

Erection of a cross by Bartholomew Dias

Rhodes negotiating with the Matabele

David Livingstone preaching, healing and freeing slaves The opening up of Tanganyika Territory

The defence of Fort Jesus depicting Arab inhabitants

A second version of this collage of the complete frieze can be found elsewhere[15]

A composite showing almost all of the frieze in its 15 sections – some portions are missing in this version – click to see a readable version and then choose the "Full resolution" option under the image (but be patient, this is a large file – 1Mb)

Seen from Darling Street, the Mutual Building today stands proud as the day it was built.

Views of (and from) the building

The busy city works around the building. The Mutual Building can claim that its restoration and conversion to residential use brought new life to the city centre, and started a five year programme of re- invigoration and rapid improvement. The large green "Old Mutual" sign and logo were removed from the building in February 2012.

The skyline of the city of Cape Town has changed significantly since the Mutual Building was constructed. Even from its highest point of easy access, the Mutual Building View is now dwarfed by the more modern buildings in the Cape Town central business district.

In the modern skyline the Mutual Building is lost in a maze of tall buildings. Here the sea mist swirls around the central business district and the small coloured arrow picks out the Mutual Building, at the left. This photograph is taken from District Six, on the slopes of Devil's peak to the east of Table Mountain. Click to see the full size version of this photograph, when the outline of the building can be more easily discerned.

The view of the harbour from the middle levels of the Mutual Building in Darling Street in Cape Town, once uninterrupted, is now obscured by the General Post Office constructed shortly afterwards (seen here at the extreme left).

Table Mountain and its "table cloth" seen from the upper levels of the building.

Looking in the other direction, the City Hall, the Grand Parade and the Castle can all be seen clearly. In the distance are the Hottentots Holland Mountains.

References

The learned article by Federico Freschi is particularly recommended to all who are interested in this building and its context.

1. Freschi, F (1994). "Big Business Beautility: The Old Mutual Building, Cape Town, South Africa". Journal of Decorative and Propaganda Arts, Vol 20, pp.39-57

2. "Old Mutual - Our heritage". Old Mutual Web Site. Retrieved 27 December 2010.

3. CSD, (2003). "Mutual Heights Heritage Impact Assessment Report", CS Design Architects and Heritage

Consultants, Cape Town, South Africa (August)

4. Cape Times (1940). "Old Mutual in New Home", The Cape Times (special supplement) (30 January)

5. "Mutual Heights". Emporis - The world's building website. Retrieved 27 December 2010.

6. "Cocktails over the Grand Parade". Cape Times online. 25 July 2003. Retrieved 27 December 2010.

7. Minutes of the Annual General Meeting of the Body Corporate, Mutual Heights, 2008

8. "Louis Karol awards". Louis Karol web site. Retrieved 27 December 2010.

9. "SA Mutual Life Assr Soc (Old Mutual)". Artefacts web site. Retrieved 27 December 2010.

10. "Ivan Mitford-Barberton". Biographical web site by Margaret C Manning. Retrieved 27 December 2010.

11. "Decopix - the Art Deco Architecture Web site". Randy Juster's Art Deco web site. Retrieved 27 December 2010.

12. "The Mutual Building featured on Randy Juster's art deco web site". Randy Juster's Art Deco web site. Retrieved

27 December 2010.

13. "Art South Africa web site". "The Heights of Contradiction" by Sanford S. Shaman. Retrieved 3 March 2011.

14. Correspondence by email, Giovanni Adolfo Camerada to Andy Bytheway, 2008

15. "The Mutual Building Frieze". Web site of the Mutual Heights community.

Other external links

Website for the Mutual Heights Community (www.mutualheights.net)

Louis Karol Architects website (www.louiskarol.com/index.html)

Randy Juster's art deco web site (www.decopix.com)

David Thompson's art deco buildings web site (artdecobuildings.blogspot.com/) City of Cape Town web site (www.capetown.gov.za)

Stewart Harris' flikr photographs include some images of Fred Glennie and Le Roux Smith Le Roux at work on the building, and other interesting images of the building (www.flickr.com/groups/1615104@N21/)

Confirmation of the Bloemfontein crest that defied identification for several years (www.ngw.nl/heraldrywiki/index.php?title=Bloemfontein)

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Othon Friesz was a French artist of the Fauvist movement. It was while he was at the Lycée that he met his lifelong friend Raoul Dufy. He and Dufy studied at the Le Havre School of Fine Arts in 1895-96 and then went to Paris together. In Paris, Friesz met Henri Matisse, Albert Marquet, and Georges Rouault. Like them he rebelled against the academic teaching of Bonnat and became a member of the Fauves, exhibiting with them in 1907. The following year Friesz left Paris to return to Normandy and to a much more traditional style of painting, since he had discovered that his personal goals in painting were firmly rooted in the past. He returned to Paris in 1919 and remained there until his death in 1949, painting in a style completely removed from that of his earlier colleagues and his contemporaries. Having abandoned the lively arabesques and brilliant colors of his Fauve years, Friesz returned to the more sober palette he had learned in Le Havre from his professor Charles Lhuillier and to an early admiration for Poussin, Chardin, and Corot. He painted in a manner that respected Cézanne's ideas of logical composition, simple tonality, solidity of volume, and distinct separation of planes.

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.

Part of the complete sequence of seven early 14th century windows preserving most of their original glass in the choir clerestorey.

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.

www.tewkesburyabbey.org.uk/

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 Eyzaguirre5​para 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 1823,3​2​ 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.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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 1823,3​2​ 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.

(In English Below)

Enfin complet !

Le Tie Crawler Version 2. Je préfère cette version.

Un de Tie mes préférés, encore une fois par son côté ridicule et peu pratique.

Le Tie Crawler (aussi connu comme Tie Century ou Tie Tank) est un véhicule blindé léger. Armé de deux blasters Tie classique, et d’un blaster anti-personnel (donc plus léger). Un seul pilote qui fait aussi office de tireur.

Idées dans le Lore

Il était simple à produire, et c’est à peu près tout. J’ai aussi le souvenir d’avoir lu quelque part que les recrues de l’Empire échouant au test pour devenir pilote de chasseur Tie, pouvaient se reconvertir plus facilement en pilote de Tie Crawler. Mais je n’ai pas pu retrouver la source. Et de toute façon l’idée que ce soit plus facile de devenir pilote de char plutôt que pilote de cargo quand on échoue à devenir pilote de chasse est stupide.

Limites

Tel que décrit, l’engin est limité. Les armes sont trop basses. Les deux blasters de Tie classique ne peuvent pas pivoter et du fait de son emplacement, le blaster antipersonnel ne peut pas pivoter verticalement avec un angle très grand. Les trois sont donc quasi inutiles sur n’importe quel terrain accidenté. De plus, la forme des chenilles me fait dire qu’un bloc de béton, d’environ un mètre de haut, suffirait à bloquer le Tie. Et puis c’est un Tie, donc pas de bouclier énergétique, donc peu blindé. L’unique pilote est à la merci de n’importe quel armement anti-char ou chasseur spatial. Il a aussi un gros point faible évident : les quatre réservoirs visibles de fuel. Bon déjà, c’est un point faible évident que n’importe quel rebelle mal armé essaiera de viser. Mais aussi, pourquoi les avoir mis là ? Vous avez vu la taille des chenilles ? Et la tailles des réservoirs ? Il suffisait de les mettre quelque part dans les chenilles où ils auraient été mieux protégés, mais aussi plus proche des moteurs. Sans compter qu’en cas d’explosion, les éloigner un peu du pilote augmenterait ses chances de survie. Et l’Empire a à cœur la sécurité de ses employés…

Amélioration de Lego 7664

Lego a amélioré le concept en rendant les ailes pivotantes et indépendantes. Le Tie crawler devenant tout à coup vraiment tout terrain. De plus, ils ont ajouté des lance-missiles planqués dans les ailes. Ce que j’avais maladroitement fait dans ma première version. Cette version n’en a pas. Les idées que j’ai testées en la matière manquaient tous de solidité. Et pour être franc, une fois sur l’étagère, les missiles cachés le resteraient.

Utilisation possible.

L’engin a quand même son utilité, surtout avec les améliorations lego. Ok, il n’a pas de boucliers, mais même la partie la plus faible (le cockpit) résiste au vide spatial, ce n’est pas non plus une voiture en plastique. En cas de guérilla, il peut être pratique. Il est relativement rapide (90km/h), et contrairement au AT-Walkers (toute la série des AT-AT, AT-ST, AT-DP, AT-RT…), il ne risque pas de tomber. D’ailleurs, même si on le retournait, ce ne serait pas un problème, ce serait même un avantage d’avoir les canons en haut. Il est aussi plus simple à stocker que des AT-AT et AT-ST, probablement aussi plus simple d’entretien.

Je vois aussi un avantage en tant qu’escorte de fantassin lors de patrouille à pied en zone de guérilla. En cas d’escarmouche, une demi-douzaine de soldats pourraient s’abriter derrière un mur de chenille. Concernant le point faible à l’arrière, c’est aussi un défaut de certains char IRL, donc on ne peut pas vraiment lui en tenir rigueur.

Il se trouve que j'ai trouvé un autre usage au Tie Crawler, en effet le mode « tourelle », avec les deux chenilles en position verticale.

Imaginez l'Empire arrive sur une nouvelle planète, ils explorent le terrain, et trouvent un endroit pour monter une base temporaire. Le temps de monter la base, le Tie Crawler pourrait monter la garde en mode tourelle. J’ai pas mal joué à Star Wars Battleground à l’époque (pour ceux qui ne connaissent pas, imaginez Age of Empire, mais version Star Wars). Imaginer un peu l’utilité d’une unité qui ferait à la fois tourelle et Tank.

Concernant le modèle en lui-même.

Le cockpit est bien solide, j’en suis très content, d’autant que j’ai réussi à y ajouter une ouverture de toit fonctionnelle, avec un passage. Alors soyons clair, vous n’y feriez pas passer une minifig, le trou ne fait que 1x2, mais c’est suffisant pour y positionner le conducteur en mode vigie (un pilote AT-AT piqué dans un set micro-fighter).

Les stickers viennent de lego, le TIE classique UCS que j’ai démonté depuis longtemps, mais dont j’avais gardé les pièces « stickers » pour cet usage.

Les chenilles aussi sont solides, je regrette de n’avoir pu y intégrer un lance-missiles dissimulé comme le set lego, mais mes tentatives tenaient sur lego studio, mais pas sur IRL. Et si j’aimais l’idée de lego, je n’aimais l’exécution lego. J’ai donc laissé tomber.

Le seul point faible étant qu’avec le poids des chenilles, leur fixation au cockpit peut lâcher sous une contrainte trop grande. Contrairement au set lego, je déconseille de tenir le tout par les réservoirs. Il vaut mieux tenir le modèle par les deux chenilles en même temps.

Finally complete!

The Tie Crawler Version 2. I prefer this version.

One of my favorite Tie, again for its ridiculousness and impracticality.

The Tie Crawler (also known as Tie Century or Tie Tank) is a light armored vehicle. Armed with two classic Tie blasters, and one anti-personnel blaster (so, lighter). A single pilot who also acts as a gunner.

Ideas in the Lore

It was simple to produce, and that's about it. I also remember reading somewhere that Empire recruits who fail the test to become Tie fighter pilots could more easily be converted to Tie Crawler pilots. But I couldn't find the source. And anyway the idea that it's easier to become a tank pilot than a freighter pilot when you fail to become a fighter pilot is stupid.

Limitations

As described, the machine is limited. The weapons are too low. The two classic Tie blasters cannot rotate and because of its location, the anti-personnel blaster cannot rotate vertically at a very large angle. All three are therefore almost useless on any rough terrain. Also, the shape of the tracks tells me that a concrete block, about a meter high, would be enough to block the Tie. And it's a Tie, so it has no energy shield, so it's not very armored. The single pilot is at the mercy of any anti-tank weapon or space fighter. It also has an obvious weak point: the four visible fuel tanks. Now, this is an obvious weak point that any poorly armed rebel will try to target. But also, why put them there? Have you seen the size of the tracks? And the size of the tanks? They could have been put somewhere in the tracks where they would have been better protected, but also closer to the engines. Not to mention that in the event of an explosion, moving them a little further away from the pilot would increase his chances of survival. And the Empire cares about the safety of its employees...

Improvement of Lego 7664

Lego has improved the concept by making the wings swivel and independent. The Tie crawler suddenly becoming truly all terrain. Moreover, they added missile launchers hidden in the wings. Which I had clumsily done in my first version. This version does not have them. The ideas I tested in this area all lacked solidity. And to be honest, once on the shelf, the hidden missiles would stay there.

Possible use.

The thing still has its uses, especially with the lego upgrades. Ok, it doesn't have shields, but even the weakest part (the cockpit) resists the vacuum of space, it's not a plastic car either. In case of guerrilla warfare, it can be handy. It is relatively fast (90km/h), and unlike the AT-Walkers (the whole series of AT-AT, AT-ST, AT-DP, AT-RT...), it does not risk falling. Moreover, even if it was turned over, it would not be a problem, it would even be an advantage to have the guns on top. It is also easier to store than AT-ATs and AT-STs, probably also easier to maintain.

I also see an advantage as an infantryman escort when on foot patrol in a guerrilla zone. In case of a skirmish, half a dozen soldiers could take shelter behind a track wall. Regarding the weak point at the rear, this is also a flaw of some IRL tanks, so you can't really hold it against it.

I happened to find another use for the Tie Crawler, the " tower " mode, with the two tracks in vertical position.

Imagine the Empire arrives on a new planet, they explore the terrain, and find a place to set up a temporary base. By the time the base is set up, the Tie Crawler could stand guard in a tower mode. I played a lot of Star Wars Battleground at the time (for those who don't know, imagine Age of Empire, but Star Wars version). Imagine the usefulness of a unit that would be both tower and tank.

About the model itself.

This cockpit is very solid, I'm very happy with it, especially since I managed to add a functional roof opening, with a passage. So let's be clear, you wouldn't fit a minifig through it, the hole is only 1x2, but it's enough to position the driver in lookout mode (an AT-AT pilot nicked from a micro-fighter set).

The stickers come from lego, the classic UCS TIE that I disassembled a long time ago, but I kept the "sticker" parts for this purpose.

The tracks are also solid, I regret not having been able to integrate a concealed missile launcher like the lego set, my attempts were successful on lego studio, but not on IRL. And if I liked the lego idea, I didn't like the lego execution. So I gave up.

The only weak point is that with the weight of the tracks, their fixation to the cockpit can break under too much stress. Contrary to the lego set, I don't recommend to hold the whole thing by the tanks. It is better to hold the model by both tracks at the same time.

Corfe Castle

Corfe Castle, Dorset, United Kingdom

Corfe Castle is a fortification standing above the village of the same name on the Isle of Purbeck in the English county of Dorset. Built by William the Conqueror, the castle dates back to the 11th century and commands a gap in the Purbeck Hills on the route between Wareham and Swanage. The first phase was one of the earliest castles in England to be built using stone when the majority were built with earth and timber. Corfe Castle underwent major structural changes in the 12th and 13th centuries.

In 1572, Corfe Castle left the Crown's control when Elizabeth I sold it to Sir Christopher Hatton. Sir John Bankes bought the castle in 1635, and was the owner during the English Civil War. His wife, Lady Mary Bankes, led the defence of the castle when it was twice besieged by Parliamentarian forces. The first siege, in 1643, was unsuccessful, but by 1645 Corfe was one of the last remaining royalist strongholds in southern England and fell to a siege ending in an assault. In March that year Corfe Castle was demolished on Parliament's orders. Owned by the National Trust, the castle is open to the public and in 2010 received around 190,000 visitors. It is protected as a Grade I listed building and a Scheduled Ancient Monument.

Corfe Castle was built on a steep hill in a gap in a long line of chalk hills, created by two streams eroding the rock on either side. The name Corfe derives from the Old English ceorfan, meaning 'a cutting', referring to the gap. The construction of the medieval castle means that little is known about previous activity on the hill. However, there are postholes belonging to a Saxon hall on the site.The hall may be where Edward the Martyr was assassinated in 978.

A castle was founded at Corfe on England's south coast soon after the Norman Conquest of England in 1066. The royal forest of Purbeck, where William the Conqueror enjoyed hunting, was established in the area.Between 1066 and 1087 William established 36 such castles in England. Sitting as it does on a hill top, Corfe Castle is one of the classic images of a medieval castle, however despite popular imagination, occupying the highest point in the landscape was not the typical position of a medieval castle. In England, a minority are located on hilltops, but most are in valleys; many were near important transport routes such as river crossings.

Unusually for castles built in the 11th century, Corfe was partially constructed from stone indicating it was of particularly high status. A stone wall was built around the hill top, creating an inner ward or enclosure. There were two further enclosures: one to the west, and one that extended south (the outer bailey); in contrast to the inner bailey, these were surrounded by palisades made from timber. At the time, the vast majority of castles in England were built using earth and timber, and it was not until the 12th century that many began to be rebuilt in stone. The Domesday Book records one castle in Dorset; the entry, which reads "Of the manor of Kingston the King has one hide on which he built Wareham castle", is thought to refer to Corfe rather than the timber castle at Wareham. There are 48 castles directly mentioned in the Domesday Book, although not all those in existence at the time were recorded. Assuming that Corfe is the castle in question, it is one of four the Domesday Book attributes to William the Conqueror; the survey explicitly mentions seven people as having built castles, of which William was the most prolific.

Corfe's keep dates from the early 12th century.

In the early 12th century, Henry I began the construction of a stone keep at Corfe. Progressing at a rate of 3 to 4 metres (10 to 13 ft) per year for the best part of a decade, the work was complete by 1105. The chalk of the hill Corfe Castle was built on was an unsuitable building material, and instead Purbeck limestone quarried a few miles away was used. By the reign of King Stephen (1135–1154) Corfe Castle was already a strong fortress with a keep and inner enclosure, both built in stone. In 1139, during the civil war of Stephen's reign, Corfe withstood a siege by the king. It is thought that he built a siege castle to facilitate the siege and that a series of earthworks about 290 metres (320 yd) south-south-west of Corfe Castle mark the site of the fortification.

The south-west gatehouse, which allowed access from the outer bailey to the west bailey, dates from the mid 13th century.

During the reign of Henry II Corfe Castle was probably not significantly changed, and records from Richard I's reign indicate maintenance rather than significant new building work. In contrast, extensive construction of other towers, halls and walls occurred during the reigns of John and Henry III, both of whom kept Eleanor, rightful Duchess of Brittany, in confinement ar Corfe. It was probably during John's reign that the Gloriette in the inner bailey was built. The Pipe Rolls, records of royal expenditure, show that between 1201 and 1204 over £750 was spent at the castle, probably on rebuilding the defences of the west bailey with £275 spent on constructing the Gloriette. The Royal Commission on the Historical Monuments of England noted the link between periods of unrest and building at Corfe. In the early years of his reign John faced lost Normandy to the French, and in further building work at Corfe coincided with the political disturbances later in his reign. At least £500 was spent between 1212 and 1214 and may have been focused on the defences of the outer bailey.[15] R. Allen Brown noted that in John's reign "it would seem that though a fortress of the first order might cost more than £7,000, a medium castle of reasonable strength might be built for less than £2,000". The Pipe Rolls show that John spent over £17,000 on 95 castles during his reign spread; he spent over £500 at nine of them, of which Corfe was one. Additional records show that John spent over £1,400 at Corfe Castle.

One of the secondary roles of castles was to act as a storage facility, as demonstrated by Corfe Castle; in 1224 Henry III sent to Corfe for 15,000 crossbow bolts to be used in the siege of Bedford Castle. Following John's work, Henry III also spent over £1,000 on Corfe Castle, in particular the years 1235 and 1236 saw £362 spent on the keep. While construction was under-way, a camp to accommodate the workers was established outside the castle. Over time, this grew into a settlement in its own right and in 1247 was granted a market and fair by royal permission. It was Henry III who ordered in 1244 that Corfe's keep should be whitewashed. Four years previously, he also ordered that the keep of the Tower of London should be whitewashed, and it therefore became known as the White Tower.

In December 1460, during the Wars of the Roses Edmund Beaufort and his army marched from the castle destined for the Battle of Wakefield. During the march the army split at Exeter so the cavalry could reach the north quicker, and on 16 December 1460 some of his men became embroiled in the Battle of Worksop, Nottinghamshire. Beaufort and the Lancastrians won the skirmish.

Post-medieval

The castle remained a royal fortress until sold by Elizabeth I in 1572 to her Lord Chancellor, Sir Christopher Hatton. Ralph Treswell, Hatton's steward, drafted a series of plans of the castle; the documents are the oldest surviving survey of the castle.

Lady Mary Bankes defended the castle during two sieges in the English Civil War.

The castle was bought by Sir John Bankes, Attorney General to Charles I, in 1635. The English Civil War broke out in 1642, and by 1643 most of Dorset was under Parliamentarian control. While Bankes was in Oxford with the king, his men held Corfe Castle in the royal cause. During this time his wife, Lady Mary Bankes, resided at the castle with their children. Parliamentarian forces planned to infiltrate the castle's garrison by joining a hunting party from the garrison on a May Day hunt, however they were unsuccessful. The Parliamentarians gave orders that anyone joining the garrison would have their house burned and that no supplies were to reach the castle. Initially defended by just five people, Lady Bankes was able to get food through and swell the garrison to 80. The Parliamentarian forces numbered between 500 and 600 and began a more thorough siege; it went on for six weeks until Lady Bankes was relieved by Royalist forces. During the siege the defenders suffered two casualties while there were at least 100 deaths among the besieging force.

In the 17th century Corfe Castle was demolished by order of parliament.

The Parliamentarians were in the ascendency so that by 1645 Corfe Castle was one of a few remaining strongholds in southern England that remained under royal control. Consequently it was besieged by a force under the command of a Colonel Bingham. One of the garrison's officers, Colonel Pitman, colluded with Bingham. Pitman proposed that he should go to Somerset to and bring back a hundred men as reinforcements, however the troops he returned with were Parliamentarians in disguise. Once inside, they waited until the besieging force attacked before making a move, so that the defenders were attacked from without and within at the same time. Corfe Castle was captured and Lady Bankes and the garrison were allowed to leave. In March that year, Parliament voted to slight (demolish) the castle, giving it its present appearance. In the 17th century many castles in England were in a state of decline, but the war saw them pressed into use as fortresses one more time. Parliament ordered the slighting of many of these fortifications, but the solidity of their walls meant that complete demolition was often impractical. A minority were repaired after the war, but most were left as ruins. Corfe Castle provided a ready supply of building material, and its stones were reused by the villagers.

After the restoration of the monarchy in 1660, the Bankes family regained their properties. Rather than rebuild or replace the ruined castle they chose to build a new house at Kingston Lacy on their other Dorset estate near Wimborne Minster.

The first archaeological excavations were carried out in 1883. No further archaeological work was carried out on the site until the 1950s. Between 1986 and 1997 excavations were carried out, jointly funded by the National Trust and English Heritage. Corfe castle is considered to be the inspiration for Enid Blyton's Kirrin Island, which had its own similar castle. It was used as a shooting location for the 1957 film Five on a Treasure Island (film).

Corfe Castle is on a hill overlooking the village which bears its name

Corfe Castle's outer gatehouse

In the 1980s, Ralph Bankes bequeathed the entire Bankes estate to the National Trust, including Corfe Castle, much of the village of Corfe, the family home at Kingston Lacy, and substantial property and land holdings elsewhere in the area. In the summer 2006, the dangerous condition of the keep caused it to be closed to visitors, who could only visit the walls and inner bailey. The National Trust undertook an extensive conservation project on the castle, and the keep was re-opened to visitors in 2008, and the work completed the following year.

During the restoration work, an "appearance" door was found in the keep, designed for Henry I. The National Trust claims that this indicates that the castle would have been one of the most important in England at the time.

The castle is a Grade I listed building, and recognised as an internationally important structure. It is also a Scheduled Monument, a "nationally important" historic building and archaeological site which has been given protection against unauthorised change. The earthworks known as "The Rings", thought to be the remains of a 12th-century motte-and-bailey castle built during a siege of Corfe are also scheduled. In 2006, Corfe Castle was the National Trust's tenth most-visited historic house with 173,829 visitors. According to figures released by the Association of Leading Visitor Attractions, the number of visitors in 2010 had risen to nearly 190,000.

Taurus - April 21 to May 21

The characteristics of taurus are solidity, practicality, extreme determination and strength of will - no one will ever drive them, but they will willingly and loyally follow a leader they trust. They are stable, balanced, conservative good, law-abiding citizens and lovers of peace, possessing all the best qualities of the bourgeoisie. As they have a sense of material values and physical possessions, respect for property and a horror of falling into debt, they will do everything in their power to maintain the security of the status quo and be somewhat hostile to change.

Mentally, the caracteristics of taurus are keen-witted and practical more often than intellectual, but apt to become fixed in their opinions through their preference for following accepted and reliable patterns of experience. Taurus character is generally dependable, steadfast, prudent, just, firm and unshaken in the face of difficulties. Their vices arise from their virtues, going to extremes on occasion,such as sometimes being too slavish to the conventions they admire.

On rare occasions a Taurus may be obstinately and exasperatingly self-righteous, unoriginal, rigid, ultraconservative, argumentative, querulous bores, stuck in a self-centered rut. They may develop a brooding resentment through nursing a series of injuries received and, whether their characters are positive or negative, they need someone to stroke their egos with a frequent, "Well Done!" Most Taurus people are not this extreme though.

They are faithful and generous friends with a great capacity for affection, but rarely make friends with anyone outside their social rank, to which they are ordinarily excessively faithful. In the main, they are gentle, even tempered, good natured, modest and slow to anger, disliking quarreling and avoiding ill-feeling. If they are provoked, however, they can explode into violent outbursts of ferocious anger in which they seem to lose all self-control. Equally unexpected are their occasional sallies into humor and exhibitions of fun.

Health Problems:

Taurus governs the throat and neck and its subjects need to beware throat infections, goiter and respiratory ailments such as asthma. They are said to be at risk of diseases of the genitals, womb, liver and kidneys, and of abscesses and rheumatism. Because their body type has an inclination to physical laziness, Taureans can be overweight.

LIKES

Stability

Being Attracted

Things Natural

Time to Ponder

Comfort and Pleasure

DISLIKES

Disruption

Being pushed too hard

Synthetic or "man made" things

Being rushed

Being indoors

haha, that's alot of reading, and I don't blame you if you don't want to read all of it. I just really love astrology and learning about the zodiac signs. Can you guess what I am?? lol

And the health problems, yes I have had problems with my throat. And that is the reason I got my tattoo where I did.

This didn't turn out exactly like I imagined (stupid horn problem). I actually drew a picture that inspired this years and years ago. I never finished the drawing though.

The more I look at this the more I dislike it. . . blah! I might have to redo the whole thing.

i'm gonna make a license for racing motors

In March 2022, I went to the Burgundy town of Autun, chiefly to photograph the world-renowned tympanum of the Saint Lazarus cathedral. However, I had in mind to visit also another, much older place...

This is the Carolingian crypt of Saint-Andoche. It is not a place open to the public, as it is enclosed within the confines of a catholic teaching institution, but I managed to get access through my contacts. Even through the place is quite dirty and used as a repository for old school furniture and similar junk, the pillars and vaults from the 800s are splendid in their purity, lightness and immovable solidity. They have been standing and supporting the hundred of tons above since the 800s.