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English
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Church_of_Santa_Maria_do_Olival
The Church of Santa Maria do Olival is a Roman Catholic church in the city of Tomar, in Portugal.
The church was built in the second half of the 12th century by the provincial master of the Order of the Knights Templar in Portugal, Gualdim Pais. It was used as a burial place for the Knights Templar of Tomar and, later, by the Knights of the Order of Christ, which succeeded the Templars in the 14th century. Gualdim Pais is buried in the church, and his original tomb slab, dated from 1195 and bearing a gothic inscription, is still preserved inside.
The current building is mostly the result of a reconstruction carried out in the 13th century in early Gothic style. The main façade has a beautiful rose window and a simple portal with several archivolts, and is flanked by a free-standing bell tower. The interior is very simple. The church has three naves covered by a wooden roof, and the columns of the pointed arches of the naves are devoid of capitals. The main chapel of the apse is covered by a Gothic ribbed vault. The tracery of the small rose window in the Eastern wall of the nave has the shape of a pentagram.
In the 16th century the church was restored and several chapels were added to the Southern side of the church. Notable are the polychromed statue of the Virgin Mary and Child (early 16-century) in the main altar and the funerary monument of Diogo Pinheiro, first Bishop of Funchal, a fine Renaissance work dated from 1525, located on the wall of the main chapel.
Português
pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Igreja_de_Santa_Maria_dos_Olivais
A Igreja de Santa Maria dos Olivais, também conhecida como Igreja de Santa Maria do Olival, situa-se na cidade de Tomar, na margem esquerda do Rio Nabão. O templo, cuja fundação remonta ao século XII, foi a sede da Ordem do Templo em Portugal, tendo servido como panteão dos mestres templários. Após a extinção desta ordem, a igreja tornou-se a cabeça da nova Ordem de Cristo, tornando-se na matriz de todas as igrejas do Império Português, com honras de Sé Catedral. Este templo, Monumento Nacional desde 1910, é um dos exemplares mais emblemáticos da arte gótica em Portugal, tendo servido de modelo às igrejas de três naves construídas até ao período manuelino.
A igreja primitiva foi fundada por volta de 1160 por D. Gualdim Pais, mestre da Ordem do Templo, no local onde anteriormente se erguia um mosteiro beneditino, mandado edificar no século VII por São Frutuoso, Arcebispo de Braga. Esta zona fazia parte da antiga cidade romana de Sellium, facto confirmado por escavações levadas a cabo nas imediações do templo, e que puseram a descoberto alicerces e estruturas dos antigos edifícios e arruamentos. Não muito longe dali, foi encontrado o antigo fórum da cidade. A igreja e a sua envolvente serviram como necrópole dos freires da ordem, tendo o próprio Gualdim Pais sido sepultado no interior do templo, em túmulo datado de 1195 do qual resta a inscrição funerária.
Na segunda metade do século XIII, durante o reinado de D. Afonso III, a primitiva igreja sofre uma ampla reforma, dando lugar ao edifício gótico actual. Da feição românica inicial, apenas resta a porta de arco de volta perfeita da fachada norte. O novo templo tornou-se uma referência para a arquitectura gótica mendicante portuguesa, tendo servido como protótipo a várias igrejas paroquiais, monacais e catedralícias de norte a sul do país. Após a extinção da Ordem do Templo, em 1314, a igreja tornou-se a sede da recém-instituída Ordem de Cristo, mantendo a sua função funerária.
A grande importância da igreja na época medieval é comprovada pela existência de uma bula papal, passada ainda durante o período templário, que colocou o templo a depender directamente do Papa e da Santa Sé, fora da alçada de qualquer diocese. Mais tarde, em 1455, uma bula do Papa Calisto III tornou-a matriz de todas as igrejas dos territórios descobertos na Ásia, na África e na América, sendo-lhe conferida a honra de Sé Catedral. A este facto não foi estranha a intensa participação da Ordem de Cristo nas viagens de descoberta quatrocentistas.
No século XVI, durante os reinados de D. Manuel I e de D. João III, foram levadas a cabo obras de reparação e de alteração, que resultaram na construção da abóbada e da janela de verga golpeada da sacristia, da galeria corrida da fachada sul, do púlpito, das capelas maneiristas do lado sul e, do túmulo renascentista de D. Diogo Pinheiro, primeiro bispo do Funchal – executado em 1528 e atribuído a João de Ruão. Durante esta campanha de obras, dirigida por Frei António de Moniz e Silva, foram destruídos os túmulos e epigrafias dos mestres templários e da Ordem de Cristo, sendo poupados apenas quatro deles.
Já no século XVII, foi colocado o revestimento azulejar das capelas do lado sul, que viriam a ser destruídas no século XIX, durante a realização de obras de restauro. A campanha de obras levada a cabo na primeira metade do século XX, pretendeu recuperar a aparência gótica da igreja, sendo então reconstituídas a cantaria do altar-mor e a grande rosácea da fachada principal. A janela moderna que existia sobre o arco do cruzeiro foi substituída por uma rosácea, enquanto que a primitiva porta românica da fachada norte foi desentaipada. Ainda nesta intervenção, foram reconstruídos, nas capelas laterais, os altares de alvenaria com frontal de azulejo, que haviam sido apeados no século anterior.
A igreja, de invocação de Nossa Senhora da Assunção, é uma obra marcante da arquitectura gótica mendicante, apresentando ainda diversos elementos característicos do renascimento e do maneirismo.
A fachada principal apresenta três corpos, que definem as naves. O corpo central inclui o pórtico gabletado, de quatro arquivoltas ogivais assentes em colunas capitelizadas, sobrepujando-o uma magnífica rosácea de doze folhas trilobadas. No frontão do gablete, que envolve o portal, está gravado um signo-saimão. Nos corpos laterais, separados do central por dois gigantes, rasgam-se duas frestas de verga trilobada e espelho duplo. A abside, flanqueada por gigantes, é rasgada por altas frestas de ogiva pouco apontada, que iluminam amplamente a capela-mor. A fachada sul apresenta uma galeria corrida, ao nível das naves, enquadrada por colunas toscanas. No adro, ergue-se uma vigorosa torre de fundação medieval que serve como sineira, possuindo a particularidade de se apresentar separada da igreja. Esta torre teve inicialmente a função de atalaia, tendo sido adaptada a sineira na época de D. Manuel I.
O interior é constituído por três naves, de cinco tramos, de diferentes alturas, sendo a central a mais elevada. A cobertura das três naves é em madeira, com as arcadas quebradas suportadas por pilares cruciformes facetados sem capitel. Do lado do evangelho, merece destaque o púlpito de balaústres, adossado ao último pilar e constituído por um feixe de colunas, que assenta numa coluna coríntia estriada. A inexistência de transepto, leva a que a capela-mor abra imediatamente para as naves, através de um arco triunfal gótico, coroado por um espelho que rompe a empena. A cabeceira, abobadada, compõe-se de capela-mor de dois tramos, sendo o derradeiro de sete faces, e é ladeada por dois absidíolos rectangulares. A sacristia encontra-se adossada ao absidíolo do lado sul, sendo ladeada por um pequeno torreão quadrangular. Esta dependência, à qual se tem acesso através de uma porta renascença, tem uma cobertura quinhentista em abóbada de florões e é iluminada por uma janela manuelina de verga golpeada.
Do lado da epístola, abrem-se cinco capelas, com arcos de pedraria quinhentistas, de volta perfeita, sobre pilastras com capitéis jónicos. As capelas são intercomunicantes, sendo iluminadas por frestas e cobertas por abóbadas nervuradas, cujos fechos possuem ornatos diferenciados. Os altares, em alvenaria, são revestidos de azulejos policromos seiscentistas, com excepção do da terceira capela, que é em talha dourada. Nestas capelas, é possível admirar imagens de Santa Ana, escultura dos finais do século XVI, de Santa Maria Madalena e de São Brás.
A capela-mor, que apresenta uma cobertura em abóbada nervurada, possui dois altares, sendo o altar-mor de calcário e o outro de madeira. Nesta capela, admiram-se uma escultura de pedra quinhentista, exposta no altar-mor, representando Nossa Senhora do Leite, e a arqueta renascença do bispo D. Diogo Pinheiro, abrigada sob um arcossólio de volta perfeita, com intradorso em abóbada de caixotões e decoração com querubins na arquivolta. As capelas colaterais, que se acedem através de arcos de volta quebrada, são revestidas por azulejos do tipo padrão e apresentam altares em alvenaria, cujos frontais são revestidos com azulejos policromos. A capela do lado da epístola, conhecida como Capela de Simão Preto, tem uma cobertura em abóbada nervurada azulejada, apresentando uma imagem de Nossa Senhora da Conceição no altar. A capela do lado do evangelho é coberta por uma abóbada de berço quebrada e azulejada.
Algumas das lápides parietais, que se encontram espalhadas um pouco por toda a igreja, são dignas de registo, nomeadamente a de D. Gualdim Pais e a do Mestre Lourenço Martins, ambas embebidas no paramento da segunda capela do lado da epístola, e a do Mestre D. Gil Martins, na capela-mor, todas elas com inscrições em caracteres góticos.
St Peter and St Paul, Salle, Norfolk
During their awesome reign over the other great teams of Europe in the 1970s and 1980s, Liverpool football club placed a huge sign in the changing room corridor, so that it was the last thing visiting teams saw before they walked out on to the pitch: This is ANFIELD, it warned. The name alone was enough. Similarly, the cover of the guidebook here proclaims, in a single word, SALLE. Again, it suffices; the word, pronounced to rhyme with call, stands for the building. Perhaps only the name Blythburgh has the same power in all East Anglia.
The greatest East Anglian churches were built in the 15th century. It is often observed that there can never have been enough people to fill them, but this is to miss the point. They were never intended for the forms of worship to which they now play host.
The shape of a late medieval church is not an accident. East Anglian parish churches of the 15th century had many common features; wide aisles to enable liturgical processions, a chancel for the celebration of Mass, places for other altars, niches for devotional statues, a focus towards the Blessed Sacrament in the east, a large nave for social activities, large windows to fill the building with light, a roof of angels to proclaim a hymn of praise, a pulpit for the preaching of orthodox doctrine, benches to enable the people to hear the preaching, and carvings, stained glass and wall paintings of the sacraments, Gospels and rosary mysteries, of the catechism and teaching of the Catholic Church.
As Le Corbusier might have said if he'd been around at the time, a late medieval East Anglian church was a machine for making Catholicism happen.
No longer, of course. The radical and violent fracture in popular religion in the middle years of the 16th century gave birth to the Church of England, and the new Church inherited buildings that were often unsuitable for congregational protestant liturgy - a problem that the Church of England has never satisfactorily solved.
Over the centuries, the problem has been addressed in different ways; celebrating Communion at a table in the nave, for example, and blocking off the chancel for other uses. Although this was challenged by the Laudian party in the early part of the 17th century, it was the way that many parishes reinvented their buildings, and most were to stay like that until the middle years of the 19th century. Some went further: a pulpit placed halfway down the nave, or even at the back of the church, meant that the seating could be arranged so that it no longer focused towards the east, thus breaking the link with Catholic (and Laudian) sacramentalism. For several centuries, Anglican churches focused on the pulpit rather than the altar.
With the rise of the 19th century Oxford Movement, all this underwent another dramatic change, with the great majority of our medieval parish churches having their interiors restored to their medieval integrity, reinventing themselves as sacramental spaces. This Victorian conception of the medieval suited itself to congregational worship, and responded in a satisfactory way to the structure of the building. But still, of course, they weren't full.
This 19th century re-imagining is the condition in which we find most of them today, and Anglican theologians everywhere are asking the question that the Catholic Church asked itself at Vatican II in the 1960s - is a 19th century liturgical space really appropriate for the Church of the 21st century?
It requires a shift in the mind to recall that these were not originally Anglican buildings, but it is a shift we need to make. The idea of a previously unchanging Church now confronting the demands of the modern age is wholly incorrect. These buildings have faced a variety of challenges over the centuries; they have only ever been truly suitable for the use for which they were originally built six hundred years ago.
Two of the largest late medieval churches in East Anglia are just three miles apart, at Cawston and Salle in the middle of Norfolk. These clusters are not uncommon; think of Blythburgh, Southwold and Walberswick in Suffolk, for example, or Lavenham and Long Melford in the same county. But Cawston and Salle are really close - you can see the tower of one from the other. St Peter and St Paul is a complete example of a 15th century rebuilding; St Agnes at Cawston retains its elegant earlier chancel.
If not merely for congregational worship, why were these churches built so big? Impressive as they seem now, they must have been awesome at the time they were built, since they were the only substantial buildings outside of the towns, and would have dwarfed the houses of the parish. Some were in villages; but many were not. Salle church has always been out in the fields. Why are earlier East Anglian churches not so massive? Certainly, East Anglia has its cathedrals; Norwich and Ely pre-date the great churches by several centuries, and Bury Abbey was bigger than either before its destruction. The great majority of East Anglia's churches are piecemeal affairs; typically, a 13th century chancel, which must have been the most substantial part of the building when it was first erected, an early 14th century nave and tower, and perhaps later elaborations of the piece with aisles and a clerestory. Salle and Cawston churches are both rebuildings of earlier structures, but a surprising number of East Anglian churches were not rebuilt, until perhaps the Victorians saw the need for a new chancel, or new aisles. Often, these smaller churches are exquisitely beautiful, as if beauty rather than grandeur was the imperative.
And then, towards the end of the 1340s, a great pestilence swept across Europe; in East Anglia, outside of Norwich which got off lightly, it killed perhaps a half of the population. In emptying the countryside, it completely altered the economic balance; a shortage of labour gave new power to the survivors, perhaps setting in place the preconditions for the capitalism that we can recognise by the 16th century. And, in extinguishing the flower of Decorated architecture, it also gave birth to the great love affair between the late medieval mind and death.
In Catholic theology there is no great divide between the dead and the living. For the medieval Christian, communion was something that existed between all members of the parish, whether alive or dead. Thus, prayers were said for the souls of the dead (who, it was presumed, were saying prayers for the souls of the living).
To ensure that prayers were said for them after their death, the very richest people endowed chantries. These were foundations, by which priests could be employed to say masses for their souls in perpetuity. A priest in such a capacity was called a chantry priest. The masses would be said at a chantry altar, probably in the nave; if the person was rich enough, this might be enclosed in a specially constructed chantry chapel. Many churches had them. After the Reformation, many were pressed into service as family mausoleums or pews.
For the poorest people, there was the opportunity to join a guild, where, for a penny or so a week, they could ensure that the guild chantry priest would say masses for their soul after their death (along with those of the other dead members of the guild). Many of these guilds were organised around particular occupations or devotions, and became a focus of social activity. The investment that produced the income to pay the chantry priests was most commonly in land. The church or guild oversaw the management of the land, which is one of the reasons we have an image of a wealthy pre-Reformation church. Land bought to produce income in this way was known as chantry land, a name surviving in many places today. Those who invested in chantries (and few and far between must have been those who didn't) presumed that they were ensuring prayers and masses in perpetuity; but, of course, this was not to be.
Bequests and chantries seem to have reached their peak in the 15th century. Perhaps the Black Death reinforced the urgency of the task. People did not merely want to be remembered; they wanted to be prayed for. And so, those who could afford it ensured that this was not forgotten by leaving their wealth in the very place that was at the centre of communion: the parish church. The richest paid for the additions of aisles and chapels, or for a new font or rood screen. This was not just a naked desire for the recognition of their family status. There was an underlying insecurity to the new landed classes. They wanted to control their destiny beyond their deaths. And so, their gift would be recorded in the form of a dedicatory inscription. One of these survives on the screen at Cawston, and another on the base of the font at Salle. Orate pro anima, they begin, "Pray for the soul of...", an injunction urgently emphasised by the pre-Reformation liturgy, only to be cursed and defaced by the later Anglicans and puritans. Stained glass was another common gift, as well as images, candlesticks, furnishings. Thus were many churches developed piecemeal.
But sometimes, where a parish could rely on a steady supply of substantial bequests, they might be channelled into a complete rebuilding, as at Salle, a summa cum laude apothesosis, where the new church of the late 15th century survives in pretty much its original form. Sometimes, a single wealthy family would shape and direct the rebuilding of a church. One of the richest families in East Anglia in the 14th and 15th centuries was the de la Poles, the Earls of Suffolk. Their mark can be found throughout East Anglia, but most famously and substantially at Wingfield in Suffolk, and at Cawston in Norfolk. Theirs was a long term project; at Cawston, the tower predates the furnishings of the nave and chancel by almost a century.
So why so vast? Certainly, it was ad maiorem deo gloria, to the Greater Glory of God; but it was also to the greater glory of the de la Poles and their contemporaries. The great landed families of England came into the late middle ages full of confidence, and they were determined to demonstrate it. They had survived the Black Death. They had grown richer on its consequences. They had assumed a political power unthinkable a few centuries before. They controlled not just the wealth but the imagination of their parishes. They asserted orthodox Catholic dogma in the face of rural superstitions and abuses. They imposed a homogenised Catholicism on late medieval England. And, as they increased their secular power and influence, a time would come when they would embrace the Great Idea already beginning to take shape on the continent - protestantism. But that was still in the future.
And so, to Salle. St Peter and St Paul is big. This is accentuated by the way in which it stands almost alone in the barley fields, with only a couple of Victorian buildings and a cricket pitch for company. What an idyllic spot! And yet there is an urban quality to the building, as if this was some great city church in the middle of Norwich or Bristol. It went up in the course of the 15th century, a replacement for an earlier building on the same site, broadly contemporary with neighbouring Cawston. While Cawston was largely the work of a single family, here the building benefited from an accident of history; several very wealthy families owned manors and halls in the parish at the same time, and it so happened that the time was the greatest era of rural church building.
Among them were the Boleyns, the Brewes, the Mautebys, the Briggs, the Morleys, the Luces and the Kerdistons, and some of their shields appear above the great west door, along with two mighty censing angels, characteristic of late medieval piety. A steady stream of hefty bequests meant that no expense needed to be spared, and the mighty tower with its vast bell openings was topped with battlements and pinnacles on the very eve of the Reformation.
As at Blythburgh, St Peter and St Paul benefited from the restraint of a late restoration, and the building as we see it now has no external Victorian additions. It is all of a piece. The porches either side are huge affairs, matching the transepts, and give the effect of a vast animal, a dragon perhaps, sprawling with erect head in the Norfolk countryside. Its tail is the chancel, in itself longer and higher than many Norfolk churches. The aisles are tall, austere, parapeted, the Perpendicular windows arcades of glass. In the porches, the vaulted ceilings are studded with bosses; the central one in the north porch depicts Christ in Majesty, sitting on a rainbow in judgement.
You enter the building from the west, an unusual experience in East Anglia, and your first sight is of the seven sacraments font with its tall 15th century canopy, similar to the cover at Cawston. This one is so big it is supported by a crane attached to the ringing gallery under the tower. The font below is interesting because each panel is supported by an angel holding a symbol of the sacrament above - a pot of chrism oil beneath Baptism, for example. The panels themselves are simply done, and are not particularly characterful, apart from the way that Mary turns away and is comforted at the Crucifixion. This panel faces west, and then anticlockwise are the Mass (viewed sideways, as at nearby Great Witchingham), Ordination (the candidate kneeling), Baptism (a server holds the book up for the Priest to read), Confirmation (the candidate obviously a child), Penance (perhaps the most interesting panel - the penitent kneels in a shriving pew), Matrimony (the couples' hands joined by a stole, she in late 15th century dress) and finally Last Rites (the dying man on the floor under blankets also as at Great Witchingham). The font step has a dedicatory inscription to John and Agnes Luce, asking for prayers for their souls. We know that John died in 1489. Perhaps the fabric of the building was complete by this date.
Beyond the font stretches the vastness of the building, the arcades gathering the eyes and leading them forward to the great east window. The chancel arch is barely there at all, just a simple high opening; but as MR James pointed out, it was never intended to be seen.The sheer bulk of the rood screen dado tells us quite how vast the rood apparatus must have been here, and the arch would have been pretty well hidden. Everything is built to scale; although everything has been cut off above the panels, probably in the late 1540s, the panels themselves are enormous, almost six feet high. As at Cawston, St Gregory, St Jerome, St Ambrose and St Augustine, the four Doctors of the Church, are on the doors. Either side are just two surviving paintings; to the north are Thomas and James, to the south are Philip and Bartholomew. The empty panels are a mystery; the screen stood here for a century before its destruction, so it must have been finished; and the dado seems too high to have been hidden by nave altars. And yet, it has all the appearance of never having been painted.
Because the building is so vast, the surviving medieval glass seems scattered, but there is actually a lot of it and some of it is very significant. Some was moved during the restoration of the early 20th century, when the modern glass in the north transept was installed, and the yellow galley lozenges were thankfully replaced with clear glass in the 1970s. The images in the east window are mainly figures; old kings kneel before young princes, there are armoured men and angels, the remains of a scaly dragon. In the centre at the bottom is a perfect Trinity shield, displayed by an angel looking askance.
Some of the panels are now in the south transept. These include fragments of a set of the orders of angels. A kneeling figure is Thomas Brigg, donor of the transept; the scroll behind him begins Benedicat Virgo, 'Blessed Virgin'. The mother of God sits surrounded by red glory, and two women holding croziers, one of them crowned, may be St Etheldreda and St Hilda. Certainly, the crowned figure holding a cross is St Helena.
Despite the wonders of the font, the screen and the glass, the crowning glory of the building is the set of bosses that line the roof of the chancel. They are easily missed, being very high. There are nine altogether, the first and last set against the walls at the ends of the roof ridge, and they form a kind of rosary sequence of joyful and glorious mysteries. They start with the Annunciation in the west (see left) and then continue with the Adoration of the Shepherds, the Adoration of the Magi, the Presentation in the Temple, the Entry into Jerusalem, the Last Supper, the Crucifixion, the Resurrection, and the Ascension into Heaven.
There is a fine set of return stalls in the chancel. Although Salle probably never had a college of Priests, all those Masses for the dead must have provided plenty of employment, because we know that there were seven Priests here at a time when the population of the parish was barely 200. Bench ends include heads, a dragon tied up in a knot, a cock, a restored pelican in her piety, and a monkey. The misericord seats feature faces, including one that is quite extraordinary.
Although the roof isn't up to the glory of neighbouring Cawston, it includes lots of original angels and paintwork, including sacred monograms, and around the wallplate part of the Te Deum Laudamus and Psalm 150. These particular texts seem to have provided the inspiration for many late 15th century interiors; the angels in the roof, the animals on the bench ends, the Saints on the rood screen all in harmony: Let everything that has breath Praise ye the Lord!
The nave benches are mostly renewed now, but the pulpit is an elegant example of the 15th century, from the time when a priority began to be placed on preaching. Curiously, it has been rather awkwardly converted into a three-decker arrangement, probably in the 18th century, with the addition of a platform and desk from a set of box pews. A large sounding board has been placed overhead. The box pews suggest that the medieval furnishings were replaced at an early date, although the replacements too have gone now.
Salle is one of those churches full of intriguing little details that might easily pass you by, so great is the wonder of everything around. Those two little corbel heads above the south door, for instance - what were they for? Perhaps they supported an image that could be seen from the north doorway as people entered, although not a St Christopher as the guidebook suggests, I think. There is a pretty piscina in the unfortunate north transept that has been outlined in wood, a memorial and helm above, a tall image bracket in the corner of the wall of the south transept, a floreated piscina nearby.
There are many brasses and brass inlays in the nave floor; one of the most interesting is a chalice brass (although the chalice is now gone) to Simon Boleyn, a Priest, who died in 1489, and to the east of it a pair of brasses to Geoffrey and Alice Boleyn, great-grandparents to Anne Boleyn, second wife of Henry VIII. Another pair of brasses are to Thomas and Katherine Rose and their eight children. Unlike many churches, Salle actually retains some of the 'missing' brasses, now locked away for safety. It would be nice to think they could eventually be reset in the floor.
One part of the building that many visitors must miss is the chapel above the north porch. There is no sign indicating it; but the doorway, at the west end of the north aisle, is always open. Inside, the vaulted roof is punctuated by spectacularly pretty bosses which you can view at close quarters. The colour is a bit fanciful, but they are fascinating, particularly the central boss of the Coronation of the Queen of Heaven - how on earth did that survive the Reformation?
This is a tremendous building, a box of fascinating delights. What purpose does it serve now? As I said in the introduction, its size was not in response to the needs of a congregation, and as far as worship is concerned it will never be full. It remains constantly in use, however; for regular services in the chancel, sometimes for concerts and recordings, but also of course for the poshest sort of wedding, the kind only the Church of England can provide, and no doubt other elements of the core business of CofE PLC. It is easy to be cynical, but if they ensure the survival of the building, then so be it.
A ground-floor window of Iford manor, built 1725-30. 'The windows are all pedimented', Pevsner tells us. Here, as you can see, the shutters are almost closed, presumably to protect the interior from too much sun.
Guess what they sell in this establishment.
I was waiting for my husband in the car outside and it struck me that I may get a photo out of it.
The place had two windows both showing their wares in this fashiom
THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR FAVS AND LOVELY COMMENTS. THEY ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED
Installed in 1641, the work of local artist, François Bierges, this is one of three roae windows in Auch cathedral.
This Window in the West end Depicts Jesus talking to two of his Disciples on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, All Saints church in Doddinghurst,
Essex, England.
Read that this month's 2009/365 theme was THROUGH THE WINDOWS AND DOORS OF OUR LIVES so just pointed camera at the window to show what I see when I sit at my desk!
The old cabin
has a window
overlooking a lake.
hidden in summer
when trees are dressed...
yet ever so present
once Autumn arrives...
it doesn't take her long
to make a date
with old man winter..
Their lovers you know..
(doesn't everyone know?)
she sends him autum kisses
made of leaves
dancing in the cold winds..
(she left a few for me
tucked on the window)
Just before He arrives
she changes things..
(green is not
her favorite color..)
she paints them red
yellow and mauve,
orange..even purple..
then she strips them naked
to prove her promice
of dancing
into winter...
I have been told
in late September
the old man stands
at this window
watching Her ......
All peoms posted on this site are by connetta jean...
For Window Wednesdays and a MOOC class project.
Here we have two glass windows with reflections and a window that has been bricked up.
The whole of the scene has been camouflaged in a blanket of shadows from a couple of trees near the building.
Captured with iPhone and Hipstamatic's Oggl App, using the Lucifer VI lens and Rock BW-11 Film combination.
The contrast of light and dark were very extreme and this combo really caught that scene well.
DIFFERENT WINDOWS WITH ISLAMIC ARCHITECTURE & DECORATION IN MOSQUES IN OLD HISTORIC CAIRO MOSQUES,, CAIRO EOS CANON ,, 2016
Millennium window in the south aisle by Andrew Taylor, an attractive display of rich colour incorporating scenes of rural life.
St Mary's at Shawbury was my last church of the day, but as it was now nearly 6pm hopes of getting inside were fading, but the door yielded nonetheless!
It is marked by a particularly fine late medieval pinnacled west tower. Much of the building is otherwise late Norman, including the nave arcades with some interesting carved capitals. The font is Norman too, a tub carved with purely non figurative ornament including rope molding.
The wide interior culminates in a Perpendicular chancel with a plain glazed east window, but nearby is one window crammed full of early 15th century fragments including bits of an Annunciation and canopywork. The modern window in the south aisle with rural, secular imagery really grew on me.
Window at the Sacred Heart Roman Catholic church in Bilton, Warwickshire.
This composite panel was made up of 'leftover' pieces of one of the former side windows of the nave, displaced when the church was extended in 1990. Other parts have been incorporated into windows two similar windows nearby.
Originally built in 1958 on a traditional plan with an oblong nave and chancel in one chamber, the church was dramatically re-organised and extended in the early 1990s under the guidance of Fr Paul Chamberlain, wherein the axis of the church was re-orientated by 90 degrees with a centralised granite block altar in what was the heart of the old nave. The 'south' nave wall was removed to allow an extended aisle and ambulatory on this side. The former main entrance narthex was blocked up to create what is now the Blessed Sacrament chapel.
One of the most dramatic innovations in the re-ordered church is the full immersion fount, a cruciform marble pool set into the floor before the altar, evoking the earliest method of Christian Baptism by immersion in the River Jordan.
The two main stained glass windows on either side of the old nave were removed and re-sited in truncated form in the new extension, and in the place of the northern one a large crucifix (painted by Fr Chamberlain) has been set up as a focus behind the new altar. The six high windows on this wall are the latest addition to the church and are my own work from 1999.
Photo taken for Our Daily Challenge: Through the Looking Glass
Seen alternative below. I think these two are a toss-up. Do you have a preference?
On a personal note: About five minutes after I took this photo, I got busted by a security guard. He said that I wasn't supposed to take photos in the mall. I said " Sorry, I didn't know" and left. But, I will return!