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Workmen place new cobblestone on the walk at Miradouro da Faja do Condo on the Island of Flores. A lot of effort goes in to maintaining the overlooks and viewpoints in the Azores. I asked these workman if I could take their photos. They said yes but just kept working. Though I didin’t inspect the blocks up close, i think they are made of basalt.
Taken at Bovey Tracey this is a wild bird he was watching the workmen in the park and waiting for worms to appear and grabbing them
Workmen lubricating geared logging locomotive number 2 at the Cass Scenic Railroad prior to its ride up Bald Knob in West Virginia.
This is the Desert View Watchtower on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon National Park. This is at the east entrance to Grand Canyon National Park coming in from Cameron. Mary Jane Colter was the architect for this and numerous Grand Canyon NP projects. The Watchtower is actually built around a steel frame. This is the tallest point on the south rim The tower is 4 stories tall. Incredible detail in the rock work on the tower. The lower left of the Watchtower in this photo is made to look like ancient ruins.
I took a little winter trip to the South Rim. Hardly any crowds at this time of year. Temperatures in the upper 20's during the day, mid teens at night with windchills into the single digits. I am well prepared for these temperatures and was comfortable most of the time. I stayed at the El Tovar Lodge. I had a nice Pan seared steel head trout dinner at the Bright Angel Cafe.
www.nps.gov/articles/000/the-story-of-desert-view-watchto...
From Desert View, aptly named because of the views to the east of the Painted Desert, you can see the Colorado River make a big bend and continue to the west, the North Rim more than 10 miles away, and a panoramic view for well over 100 miles on a clear day.
The Watchtower dominates the near view. This structure was designed by Mary Colter who is often referred to as the architect of the southwest. She traveled throughout the southwest to find inspiration and authenticity for her buildings. The architecture of the ancestral Puebloan people of the Colorado Plateau served as her model. This particular tower was patterned after those found at Hovenweep and the Round Tower of Mesa Verde. Ms. Colter indicated that it was not a copy of any that she had seen, but rather modeled from several.
As you get closer to the building you might see how well it blends into the environment. It is difficult to tell where the rock of the canyon walls end, and the tower begins. She said:
“First and most important, was to design a building that would become part of its surroundings; one that would create no discordant note against the time eroded walls of this promontory.”
To obtain this result she insisted that the rocks not be cut or worked, so they would not lose the:
“weathered surfaces so essential to blend it with the canyon walls”.
Note, too, some of the intricate designs she had built into the tower. For example, look for the white decorative stones near the top, which fade out as the eye goes around the tower. She had seen this pattern at Chaco Canyon and thought it would break the monotony of this Watchtower. The built in cracks which are patterned from some of the ancient towers she had seen are deliberately designed. There are petroglyphs on some of the stones which were brought here from near Ash Fork.
The internal steel framework of the Watchtower was designed and supervised by the bridge builders of the Santa Fe Railway company. Upon this framework, each exterior stone was selected and carefully placed to ensure exactly the look Mary Colter was hoping to obtain for she was a stickler for detail. At one point she had to leave for a day and the workmen continued to put on stone, completing two layers. When she returned, she was not satisfied with one stone on the newly laid layers, and the men had to take the whole thing down and re-do it to her exacting specifications. Her attention to accuracy of detail was amazing.
The Kiva Room, which for years was used as retail space, in 2015 was returned to the open area that Mary Colter had intended, since the room was originally designed to be a rest area. It was here that visitors to the canyon in the 1930’s could sit in comfort and have outstanding views of the canyon. The fireplace is unique in that it does not block the view for visitors. Gaze into one of the reflectoscopes and see a different perspective of the canyon.
As you climb the stairs of the tower there are many stories imbedded in the paintings and artwork which decorate the walls. The first gallery, on the first landing, was done by Fred Kabotie, a Hopi from second Mesa. These represent the physical and spiritual origins of Hopi life. The ceiling images, painted by Fred Geary, are recreations of images from Abo Rockshelter, now part of Salinas National Monument in New Mexico.
The top floor of the tower is without decoration which might detract from the beautiful panoramic views of the Grand Canyon. Again, this design reflects Mary Colter’s respect for the landscape in which she was building.
The Watchtower stands today, partly as a monument to Ms. Colter’s careful attention to detail, her enchantment with the southwest, and her commitment to the cultural preservation.
GC2025
Workmen shovel in the falling snow amidst the steaming 'gloop' from one of the the conveyor outfalls of the Beichang Washery at Chengzihe near Jixi, as the their working ponies wait patiently whilst the carts are loaded up. Nothing went to waste in north east China in the depths of winter and the 'gloop' waste is a highly sought after commodity by households for both warmth and fuel for cooking.
© Gordon Edgar - All rights reserved. Please do not use my images without my explicit permission
The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin, Ufford, Suffolk
Upper Ufford is a pleasant place, and known well enough in Suffolk. Pretty much an extension northwards of Woodbridge and Melton, it is a prosperous community, convenient without being suburban. Ufford Park Hotel is an enjoyable venue in to attend professional courses and conferences, and the former St Audrey's mental hospital grounds across the road are now picturesque with luxury flats and houses. And I am told that the Ufford Park golf course is good, too, for those who like that kind of thing.
But as I say, that Ufford is really just an extension of Melton. In fact, there is another Ufford. It is in the valley below, more than a mile away along narrow lanes and set in deep countryside beside the Deben, sits Lower Ufford. To reach it, you follow ways so rarely used that grass grows up the middle. You pass old Melton church, redundant since the 19th century, but still in use for occasional exhibitions and performances, and once home to the seven sacrament font that is now in the plain 19th century building up in the main village. Eventually, the lane widens, and you come into the single street of a pretty, tiny hamlet, the church tower hidden from you by old cottages and houses. In one direction, the lane to Bromeswell takes you past Lower Ufford's delicious little pub, the White Lion. A stalwart survivor among fast disappearing English country pubs, the beer still comes out of barrels and the bar is like a kitchen. I cannot think that a visit to Ufford should be undertaken without at least a pint there. And, at the other end of the street, set back in a close between cottages, sits the Assumption, its 14th century tower facing the street, a classic Suffolk moment.
The dedication was once that of hundreds of East Anglian churches, transformed to 'St Mary' by the Reformation and centuries of disuse before the 19th century revival, but revived both here and at Haughley near Stowmarket. In late medieval times, it coincided with the height of the harvest, and in those days East Anglia was Our Lady's Dowry, intensely Catholic, intimately Marian.
The Assumption was almost certainly not the original dedication of this church. There was a church here for centuries before the late middle ages, and although there are no traces of any pre-Conquest building, the apse of an early-Norman church has been discovered under the floor of the north side of the chancel. The current chancel has a late Norman doorway, although it has been substantially rebuilt since, and in any case the great glories of Ufford are all 15th century. Perhaps the most dramatic is the porch, one of Suffolk's best, covered in flushwork and intriguing carvings.
Ufford's graveyard is beautiful; wild and ancient. I wandered around for a while, spotting the curious blue crucifix to the east of the church, and reading old gravestones. One, to an early 19th century gardener at Ufford Hall, has his gardening equipment carved at the top. The church is secretive, hidden on all sides by venerable trees, difficult to photograph but lovely anyway. I stopped to look at it from the unfamiliar north-east; the Victorian schoolroom, now a vestry, juts out like a small cottage. I walked back around to the south side, where the gorgeous porch is like a small palace against the body of the church. I knew the church would be open, because it is every day. And then, through the porch, and down into the north aisle, into the cool, dim, creamy light.
On the afternoon of Wednesday, 21st August 1644, Ufford had a famous visitor, a man who entered the church in exactly the same way, a man who recorded the events of that day in his journal. There were several differences between his visit and the one that I was making, one of them crucial; he found the church locked. He was the Commissioner to the Earl of Manchester for the Imposition in the Eastern Association of the Parliamentary Ordinance for the Demolishing of Monuments of Idolatry, and his name was William Dowsing.
Dowsing was a kind of 17th century political commissar, travelling the eastern counties and enforcing government legislation. He was checking that local officials had carried out what they were meant to do, and that they believed in what they were doing. In effect, he was getting them to work and think in the new ways that the central government required. It wasn't really a witch hunt, although God knows such things did exist in abundance at that time. It was more as if an arm of the state extended and worked its fingers into even the tiniest and most remote parishes. Anyone working in the public sector in Britain in the early years of the 21st century will have come across people like Dowsing.
As a part of his job, Dowsing was an iconoclast, charged with ensuring that idolatrous images were excised from the churches of the region. He is a man blamed for a lot. In fact, virtually all the Catholic imagery in English churches had been destroyed by the Anglican reformers almost a hundred years before Dowsing came along. All that survived was that which was difficult to destroy - angels in the roofs, gable crosses, and the like - and that which was inconvenient to replace - primarily, stained glass. Otherwise, in the late 1540s the statues had been burnt, the bench ends smashed, the wallpaintings whitewashed, the roods hauled down and the fonts plastered over. I have lost count of the times I have been told by churchwardens, or read in church guides, that the hatchet job on the bench ends or the font in their church was the work of 'William Dowsing' or 'Oliver Cromwell'. In fact, this destruction was from a century earlier than William Dowsing. Sometimes, I have even been told this at churches which Dowsing demonstrably did not visit.
Dowsing's main targets included stained glass, which the pragmatic Anglican reformers had left alone because of the expense of replacing it, and crosses and angels, and chancel steps. We can deduce from Dowsing's journal which medieval imagery had survived for him to see, and that which had already been hidden - not, I hasten to add, because people wanted to 'save' Catholic images, but rather because this was an expedient way of getting rid of them. So, for example, Dowsing visited three churches during his progress through Suffolk which today have seven sacrament fonts, but Dowsing does not mention a single one of them in his journal; they had all been plastered over long ago.
In fact, Dowsing was not worried so much about medieval survivals. What concerned him more was overturning the reforms put in place by the ritualist Archbishop Laud in the 1630s. Laud had tried to restore the sacramental nature of the Church, primarily by putting the altar back in the chancel and building it up on raised steps. Laud had since been beheaded thanks to puritan popular opinion, but the evidence of his wickedness still filled the parish churches of England. The single order that Dowsing gave during his progress more than any other was that chancel steps should be levelled.
The 21st of August was a hot day, and Dowsing had much work to do. He had already visited the two Trimley churches, as well as Brightwell and Levington, that morning, and he had plans to reach Baylham on the other side of Ipswich before nightfall. Much to his frustration, he was delayed at Ufford for two hours by a dispute between the church wardens over whether or not to allow him access.
The thing was, he had been here before. Eight months earlier, as part of a routine visit, he had destroyed some Catholic images that were in stained glass, and prayer clauses in brass inscriptions, but had trusted the churchwardens to deal with a multitude of other sins, images that were beyond his reach without a ladder, or which would be too time-consuming. This was common practice - after all, the churchwardens of Suffolk were generally equally as puritan as Dowsing. It was assumed that people in such a position were supporters of the New Puritan project, especially in East Anglia. Dowsing rarely revisited churches. But, for some reason, he felt he had to come back here to make sure that his orders had been carried out.
Why was this? In retrospect, we can see that Ufford was one of less than half a dozen churches where the churchwardens were uncooperative. Elsewhere, at hundreds of other churches, the wardens welcomed Dowsing with open arms. And Dowsing only visited churches in the first place if it was thought there might be a problem, parishes with notorious 'scandalous ministers' - which is to say, theological liberals. Richard Lovekin, the Rector of Ufford, had been turned out of his living the previous year, although he survived to return when the Church of England was restored in 1660. But that was in the future. Something about his January visit told Dowsing that he needed to come back to Ufford.
Standing in the nave of the Assumption today, you can still see something that Dowsing saw, something which he must have seen in January, but which he doesn't mention until his second visit, in the entry in his journal for August 21st, which appears to be written in a passion. This is Ufford's most famous treasure, the great 15th century font cover.
It rises, six metres high, magnificent and stately, into the clerestory, enormous in its scale and presence. In all England, only the font cover at Southwold is taller. The cover is telescopic, and crocketting and arcading dances around it like waterfalls and forests. There are tiny niches, filled today with 19th century statues. At the top is a gilt pelican, plucking its breast.
Dowsing describes the font cover as glorious... like a pope's triple crown... but this is just anti-Catholic innuendo. The word glorious in the 17th century meant about the same as the word 'pretentious' means to us now - Dowsing was scoffing. But there was no reason for him to be offended by it. The Anglicans had destroyed all the statues in the niches a century before, and all that remained was the pelican at the top, pecking its breast to feed its chicks. Dowsing would have known that this was a Catholic image of the Sacrifice of the Mass, and would have disapproved. But he did not order the font cover to be destroyed. After all, the rest of the cover was harmless enough, apart from being a waste of good firewood, and the awkwardness of the Ufford churchwardens seems to have put him off following through. He never went back.
Certainly, there can have been no theological reason for the churchwardens to protect their font cover. I like to think that they looked after it simply because they knew it to be beautiful, and that they also knew it had been constructed by ordinary workmen of their parish two hundred years before, under the direction of some European master designer. They protected it because of local pride, and amen to that. The contemporary font beneath is of a type more familiar in Norfolk than Suffolk, with quatrefoils alternating with shields, and heads beneath the bowl.
While the font cover is extraordinary, and of national importance, it is one of just several medieval survivals in the nave of the Assumption. All around it are 15th century benches, with superbly characterful and imaginative images on their ends. The best is the bench with St Margaret and St Catherine on it. This was recently on display at the Victoria and Albert Museum as part of the Gothic exhibition. Other bench end figures include a long haired, haloed woman seated on a throne, which may well be a representation of the Mother of God Enthroned, and another which may be the Coronation of the Queen of Heaven. There is also a praying woman in a butterfly headdress, once one of a pair, and a man wearing what appears to be a bowler hat, although I expect it is a helmet of some kind. His beard is magnificent. There are also a number of finely carved animals.
High up in the chancel arch is an unusual survival, the crocketted rood beam that once supported the crucifix, flanked by the grieving Mary and John, with perhaps a tympanum behind depicting the last judgement. These are now all gone, of course, as is the rood loft that once stood in front of the beam and allowed access to it. But below, the dado of the screen survives, with twelve panels. Figures survive on the south side. They have not worn well. They are six female Saints: St Agnes, St Cecilia, St Agatha, St Faith, St Bridget and, uniquely in England, St Florence. Curiously, the head of this last has been, in recent years, surrounded by stars, in imitation of the later Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception. Presumably this was done in a fit of Anglo-catholic enthusiasm about a century ago.
The arrangement is similar to the south side of the screen at Westhall, and it may even be that the artist was the same. While there is no liturgical reason for having the female Saints on one side and, presumably, male Saints on the other, a similar arrangement exists on several Norfolk screens in the Dereham area.
Much of the character of the church today comes from it embracing, in the early years of the 20th century, Anglo-catholicism in full flood. As at Great Ryburgh in Norfolk, patronage ensured that this work was carried out to the very highest specification under the eye of the young Ninian Comper. Comper is an enthusiast's enthusiast, but I think he is at his best on a small scale like here and Ryburgh. His is the extraordinary war memorial window in the south aisle chapel, dedicated to St Leonard. It depicts Christ carrying his cross on the via dolorosa, but he is aided by a soldier in WWI uniform and, behind him, a sailor. The use of blues is very striking, as is the grain on the wood of the cross which, incidentally, can also be seen to the same effect on Comper's reredos at Ryburgh.
Comper's other major window here is on the north side of the nave. This is a depiction of the Annunciation, although it is the figures above which are most extraordinary. They are two of the Ancient Greek sibyls, Erythrea and Cumana, who are associated with the foretelling of Christ. At the top is a stunning Holy Trinity in the East Anglian style. There are angels at the bottom, and all in all this window shows Comper at the height of his powers.
Stepping into the chancel, there is older glass - or, at least, what at first sight appears to be. Certainly, there are some curious roundels which are probably continental 17th century work, ironically from about the same time that Dowsing was here. They were probably acquired by collectors in the 19th century, and installed here by Victorians. The image of a woman seated among goats is curious, as though she might represent the season of spring or be an allegory of fertility, but she is usually identified as St Agnes. It is a pity this roundel has been spoiled by dripping cement or plaster. Another roundel depicts St Sebastian shot with arrows, and a third St Anthony praying to a cross in the desert. However, the images in 'medieval' glass in the east window are entirely modern, though done so well you might not know. A clue, of course, is that the main figures, St Mary Salome with the infants St James and St John on the left, and St Anne with the infant Virgin on the right, are wholly un-East Anglian in style. In fact, they are 19th century copies by Clayton & Bell of images at All Souls College, Oxford, installed here in the 1970s. I also think that the images of heads below may be modern, but the angel below St Anne is 15th century, and obviously East Anglian, as is St Stephen to the north.
High above, the ancient roofs with their sacred monograms are the ones that Dowsing saw, the ones that the 15th century builders gilt and painted to be beautiful to the glory of God - and, of course, to the glory of their patrons. Rich patronage survived the Reformation, and at the west end of the south aisle is the massive memorial to Sir Henry Wood, who died in 1671, eleven years after the end of the Commonwealth. It is monumental, the wreathed ox heads a severely classical motif. Wood, Mortlock tells us, was Treasurer to the Household of Queen Henrietta Maria.
There is so much to see in this wonderful church that, even visiting time and time again, there is always something new to see, or something old to see in a new way. It is, above all, a beautiful space, and although it no longer maintains its high Anglo-catholic worship tradition, it is is still kept in high liturgical style. It is at once a beautiful art object and a hallowed space, an organic touchstone, precious and powerful.
“The two workmen made identical movements, and Harry mirrored them without conscious thought: All three of them drew their wands. Ron, a few seconds late in realizing what was going on, lunged across the table, pushing Hermione sideways onto her bench. The force of the Death Eaters’ spells shattered the tiled wall where Ron’s head had just been, as Harry, still invisible, yelled, “Stupefy!”
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 9: A Place to Hide
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While a pretty simple build, it was hard NOT to do this one.
I’ve had the cmf battle goddess saved up for a while, because her helmet reminds me of pasta. Originally I’d given up on making a build with it, but then this perfect opportunity arose and I added it last-minute.
Fun fact: this and “The Wedding” were the single most re-shot pictures in the entire series, each being re-done and re-edited a total of 7 times. Insane? Definitely. Why? Why not!
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Book 1: Harry Potter and Philosopher’s Stone - Marcel Veit
Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets - Markus Rollbuhler
Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - Kevin Wollert
Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - Thorsten Xenomurphy
Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix – Johannes Vaio
Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince – Mel Finelli
Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Jared Rosenblitt
Harry Potter, Gringotts, Ukrainian Ironbelly and all related names, images, etc. are property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers Studios.
The workmen were hard at work well before dawn moving gravel to in front of the sea wall in Stokes Bay. The sea has recently been under mining the sea wall. Hopefully the gravel will protect it for a while.
Osborne House, once owned by Queen Victoria, on the Isle of Wight just visible on the left of the picture.
My name for it because in roughly five miles it involves climbing St Catherine's Hill, visiting Winchester Cathedral and Abbey House and gardens (built on land once occupied by the Abbey of St Mary and St Edburga), walking through St Faith's Meadow and passing by The Hospital of St Cross and Almshouse of Noble Poverty. There can be few walks in England which cover such a vast amount of history in just five miles, not to mention an abundance of nature. Come walk with me and help me re-find my hiking feet.
I did this walk earlier last week when I wasn't sure I could manage the hill as well, but then returned two days later and did the walk in reverse so that the hill came first when I felt able to tackle it (only a pimple but sometimes that feels like a mountain) So these photos are taken on two different days but with the same mostly dull and cloudy weather.
The canal is on the St Catherine's Hill side of St Faith's Meadow but here on the other side the path falls between a trickling stream and what is left of the river as seen here when the canal has taken water. There is another part of the river flowing through the meadow which joins up later.
Above some workmen are clearing excessive weeds from the river.
There is something about the way the scaffolding components were being passed up among the workers at St. Matthews Lutheran Church that reminds me of a video game.
This is workmen of the local power company replacing the aerial power lines. I'm pretty sure these guys enjoy their jobs!
Assembled workmen, P.N. Russell & Co., engineers & iron founders, Sydney, c. 1872, State Library of New South Wales, SPF/504 collection.sl.nsw.gov.au/record/1kVd5Oxn
The engineering works closed down in June 1875. Reference: Journal and proceedings / Royal Australian Historical Society. Sydney : The Society, 1964. Vol.50 Part 2 (pp.129-143)
Workmen laying concrete paving, Hunter Street, Newcastle near the Hotel Rawson and premises of Dick Bath, ca. 1921, Sam Hood, from nitrate negative, State Library of New South Wales, archival.sl.nsw.gov.au/Details/archive/110327741
Houses built by the Buenos Aires Great Southern Railway (BAGS or Ferrocarril Sud, as it was known) for the workers in the freight station Sola in Australia Ave., Buenos Aires, Argentina
Casas construídas por el Ferrocarril Sud (BAGS o Buenos Aires Great Southern) para los trabajadores de la estación de carga Sola, Avenida Australia, Buenos Aires, Argentina
The Halifax Branch Canal in Halifax, Calderdale, West Yorkshire.
The canal was a branch line of the still running Calder and Hebble Navigation Canal. The Canal opened in 1828, having been authorised by Act of Parliament in 1825. It was a major breakthrough, bringing 'cheap' coal to Halifax and it was one of the key events of the Industrial Revolution. There were fourteen locks which raised the canal one hundred feet from Salterhebble to the town's terminal basin, known as Bailey Hall. (Close to the present Nestlé factory, previously Mackintosh's toffee factory, home of the famous 'Quality Street' brand.)
Along the canal horse-drawn barges were used to bring coal to the John Holdsworth & Co Ltd.’s Shaw Lodge Mills boiler house where boilers generated steam to drive the massive steam engines, as well as to heat the buildings. Coal was also used by the Company to produce coal gas, which was required for indoor lighting. Workmen used to unload two barges a day, each bringing about thirty-six tons of coal to Shaw Lodge Mills.
The canal was rapidly superseded by the railways and fell into disrepair and was finally abandoned by Warrant of the Minister of Transport in 1942. Whilst the route of the canal is visible through the valley, the canal walls and bed are no longer visible. There is still evidence of many of the old structures such as bridges although very few of the lock workings are visible.
Although there are currently no plans to reopen the canal, nor to restore it, as it would not be cost effective, the historic nature of the canal and features such as the sites of locks mean that it has been protected by the Calderdale Metropolitan Borough Council from development which would see the remaining features removed or obliterated.
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