The Garden Museum

Courtyard of The Garden Museum with view of east window. Interior view of east window with bottom half of the figures obscured by interior wall, glass by Francis Stephens (1953).

The Garden Museum in St Mary’s Church, Lambeth was the world’s first museum dedicated to the history of gardens and gardening. Due to changing population in the area the church was made redundant in 1972 and condemned for demolition, this was only fourteen years after the installation of a series of windows (made from 1953 - 58) by Francis Stephens that replaced the ones destroyed in the blitz.

The churchyard contains the tomb of John Tradescant and his son John who were gardeners, plant collectors and creators of their own public botanical garden in Lambeth in the 1620s. Building on this legacy, Rosemary and John Nicholson saved the building from demolition and established the Tradescant Trust, opening the church as The Museum of Gardening History in 1977. Since then it has undergone a complete transformation inside and outside, with new gardens by Christopher Bradley-Hole and Dan Pearson and an interior remodelled by the architects Dow Jones in 2008 and 2015.

Interior of The Garden Museum looking west. Exterior view of west window by Francis Stephens.

The remodelled interior keeps a central space for events (above left), with a separate exhibition gallery and a display space on a mezzanine level that wraps inside the outer walls without touching them. The clear glass windows are visible to let in daylight, but nearly all the stained glass is partly obscured. I went outside to see Francis Stephen’s west window from 1958 (above right), drawn by the top of two globes just visible above the gallery walls. These illustrate Stephen’s interest in missionary work but also hint at the world wide travels of the Tradescants.

The only stained glass that you can really see is in the baptistry at the museum’s entrance, although a carved stone has been put at its base (below left). Above is a scene showing the apostles at Pentecost, below are rituals of the church across different lands: the detail shows a confirmation and a baptism scene with the people drawn in a style that I remember from picture books of that period depicting ‘children around the world’.

Baptistry window by Francis Stephens (1957) and detail.

Stained glass windows often get blocked off or moved, particularly as tastes change or the subject matter is irrelevant to the new use of a building - so fair enough with the treatment of these 1950s Francis Stephens windows. But there was a window commissioned by Rosemary Nicholson in 1981 for the new museum - The Tradescant Window by the great stained glass artist Lawrence Lee - that nobody thought was worth highlighting in the latest remodelling of the Garden Museum. It is behind the wall of the exhibition gallery in the north west corner of the church, so when you get up on the mezzanine level you can look at the top tracery and down the length of the window - a hopeless view as you can see in the photo below left. There’s not even a sign acknowledging the window or its maker.

The Tradescant window by Lawrence Lee (1981). Left: looking down. Right: kneeling down in front of a display case and looking through a glass balustrade to the centre of the window.

I read that it was one of Lee’s favourite windows - it does look wonderful and it’s a treat to get up to the top tracery and see the plants close up including a red columbine (bottom right) and the three petalled flowers of the plant tradescantia around the initials JJT for father and son. Lee wrote about the window: The central circle is the world as seen from outer space – a symbol of a world-wide interest in plants promoted by the Tradescants …. The square area below is a symbol of order and may also be thought of as an enclosed garden …. Though these elements are the main subject matter of the window, the spectator should first see it as an evocation of nature through colour and design, and not be too concerned with literal explanations. This is something I always like to hear!

I was particularly interested in the way that Lee used the central mullion as a part of the design, with the tree stems growing alongside it, and the branches higher up organically crossing the tracery shapes. I’m amazed that this window wasn’t used as a centre piece of the museum, but it’s still there and I hope that the walls around it will come down one day.

Above and below: details in the tracery from The Tradescant window.

In Manchester Cathedral

Left: View of Manchester Cathedral from the west. Right: Interior with windows by Antony Hollaway - Creation 1991 and St George 1973.

In the late medieval period Manchester Cathedral was a collegiate church dedicated to Saints Mary, George and Denys. The rebuilding of the tall west tower and the addition of chapels, galleries and a large annexe happened mostly after the building was given Cathedral status in 1847, then more changes came with destruction caused by the second world war and by the IRA bomb in 1996, so it is hard to identify anything from the medieval period. However all of the windows along the exceptionally wide east and west fronts were made between 1966 - 2016, chief among these being the five west windows designed and made by Antony Hollaway. I am writing ‘made’ with confidence as Tony Hollaway was head of three-dimensional design when I was a fine art student at Trent Polytechnic, and I went to his studio to see one of the windows being made on his workbench. So on my recent visit to Manchester I thought I would take another look, and make an assessment of these, his most celebrated works.

From left to right they are Creation 1991, St George 1973, St Mary 1980, St Denys 1976 and Revelation 1995. As you would expect from a series that spans 22 years, the styles are quite different with nothing obvious that links them all together other than the vision of one artist and his patron, the cathedral architect Harry M. Fairhurst.

Left : detail from bottom left of Creation window 1991. Right : detail from bottom right of St George window 1973.

The Creation window which fittingly starts the sequence has an angular, complicated composition evoking landscape and skyscape, with versions of circular gender symbols at the bottom (above left). The next in line is the earliest window and is dedicated to St George, there is a deconstructed red cross that spans most of the window and lurking behind is a dragon, whose abstracted body appears in green on the right hand side (above right). While the Creation window is smothered in the sort of messy paintwork that I never liked, the details in St George are more curvy, with period looking scaley patterns in the rich colours that are often used for stained glass dragons.

St Mary window 1980 and detail from bottom left.

The St Mary window is next and higher up as it’s in the tower. This is the one that you see on all the publicity for the cathedral, and it’s the one that I saw being made in 1979. I really remember the evening studio visit where I was allowed to join a group of not particularly interested 3D design students, glass wasn’t a material in favour at the college then. I remember the jumbled lettering - words from the Magnificat - letters being used for their look rather than their meaning as it seemed to me at the time, so another work with echoes from the past and a period of stained glass design that i was trying to get away from. I was never taught by Hollaway, but he was very rude about the work I was doing in the manner of a typical 1970s art school tutor.

Left : Interior with windows by Antony Hollaway - St Denys 1976 and Revelation 1995. Right : St Denys window.

The glass in the St Denys window returns to the predominantly red palette of the St George window, and like the Mary window, uses a large off centre circle to symbolise the saint. In addition to the crosses there are elements of buildings and foliage (below left) with painting and colour drifting in bands across the 15th century tracery.

Left : detail from bottom right of St Denys window. Right : detail from bottom right of Revelation window.

Finally the latest window and for me, easily the best. No jarring red circles, just stones to symbolise the heavenly city in a divine range of colours and although the close up (above right) shows you that every piece is indeed painted, the black/grey pigment doesn’t dominate. This work reminds me of the windows of Brigitte Simon in Tournus Abbey, France, where her aim was to '‘extend the impression of the stones’ in an ancient building.

Revelation window 1995.

Opposite Revelation, across the length of the cathedral, is Margaret Traherne’s Fire window from 1966 (below). This also looks fantastic in the space, the regimental chapel, and is the most simple, literal interpretation of the theme that was originally commissioned to commemorate the rebuilding of the cathedral by the architect Hubert Worthington after the 1940 Manchester blitz. When the window was damaged by the 1996 Manchester bomb, Traherne supervised its restoration using superb streaky glass and an eccentric leading panel that closely matches the original - I checked on the pre 1996 postcard I have of the work.

Regimental chapel at the north east end of the church with Fire window by Margaret Traherne 1966, remade in 1996.

And a quick mention for the paintings of Carel Weight in the recesses of the stonework above the entrance doors to the Chapter House. In the lower panels separate small paintings with titles of seven of the beatitudes (or blessings from Christ’s sermon on the mount), above them a painting that spreads across the compartments and shows Christ with the people in a rural, local setting. All are wonderful - it’s a pleasure to see the work of these distinguished twentieth century artists in such a magnificent setting.

Entrance to The Chapter House, with paintings of The Beatitudes by Carel Weight 1963.

Cornwall in Cornish Stained glass

St Winwaloe, Gunwalloe, view through the beach facing window and from the porch.

St Winwaloe in Gunwalloe is the sort of church I hope to see when on holiday in Cornwall. There has been a church here, practically on the beach, from the fifth century with several stages of rebuilding since. It remains a small, stoney structure at the foot of the sand dunes with a view of the sea through the pale colours of the simple windows and from the porch (above).

St Uny, Lelant, view of the church and Trencrom hill from Hayle, view of Hayle from the church.

St Uny in Lelant, between St Ives and Hayle, is also a three hall church dedicated to a distinctively Cornish saint and with a view of the river estuary from its windows (above). The central stained glass window is a fine twentieth century one designed and made by Michael Farrar-Bell of Clayton and Bell in 1973. It succeeds in complementing the decorative glass on either side, maintaining a twentieth century style (obvious even from the outside) and packing in Cornish references, which is something that local people and holiday makers love to see.

The three east facing windows of St Uny with 1973 stained glass by Michael Farrar-Bell in the centre.

East window donated by Col. Giffard Loftus Tyringham, formerly of Trevethoe House, Lelant, in memory of his parents, wife and son. At the bottom of the window Tyringham House, Bucks, is on the left and Trevethoe House is on the right, where you can also find a portrait of R.W.G. Tyringham out shooting with his dog.

The saints depicted are St Uny, St Erth, St Anta, St Ia, St Gwinear and, thrillingly, St Winwaloe holding the church on the beach that I’d just visited. In the centre is the Cornish cross, above are recognisable birds - chough, woodcock, puffin and gulls - and below are nicely painted details that either relate to the history of the donor family or show the local landscape.

The Tyringham coat of arms on Trencrom Hill.

This is the coastline of St Ives that I’d been looking at from Hayle beach and in the foreground the rocky hill fort of Trencrom Hill that has a view of the Hayle Estuary and also over to St Michael’s Mount. How satisfying to see actual details of the region, crisply painted against a patterned sea and sky.

The coastline of St Ives with R.W.G. Tyringham’s yacht.

The Bolitho war memorial window at St Pol de Léon Parish Church, Paul, Robert Anning Bell 1917-18.

For comparison, here is another celebrated twentieth century window in the region that has a Cornish sea at the bottom. Although this could be interpreted as the view of the west coast of the Lizard as seen from the churchyard at Paul, it looks to me more like a decorative pattern with repeated cliff motifs rising above curling waves. The window was given in memory of Lieutenant William Torquill Macleod Bolitho who died in 1915 at the second battle of Ypres, at the top of the five lights are scenes from the battlefield and the first world war trenches.

For another comparison, we have Alfred Fisher’s 1987 window in Penzance that shows St Mary as Our Lady, Star of the Seas. Here the sea is shown in wavy bands engulfing a tower and reminding me of the sea sickness I felt on the Scillonian ferry.

I would have found this window, designed at the time I was starting out on my own career in architectural glass, difficult to date just by looking at it. I remember the 1980s as a time of experimentation with technologies, materials and a mix of artistic styles which included a return to figurative imagery in painting. Perhaps the period of commissioning abstract (non representational) stained glass for English churches was mostly over by the 1980s as artists like Alfred Fisher, who had previously experimented with new techniques for making windows, returned to the old ways.

St Mary, Penzance, Alfred Fisher 1987. St Mary in front of the Scillonian ferry, a fishing lugger, nets and lobster pots.

More Mark Angus

Small window in St Andrew, Steyning, West Sussex. Mark Angus 2000

Since I appreciated (and described in a blog post last March) a whole church full of Mark Angus windows I have been looking for more. The one in St Andrew’s church, Steyning, didn’t disappoint, high up in the north east corner and casting an inky light on the stuff accumulated below (above right). The coloured glass is beautiful, the detail not painted but using what I think of as his signature - the abundant use of those liberated lead lines, veering off the dividing lines between glass pieces like the strokes of a thick pen.

The church website says that, wanting to commission a millenium window, a decision was made to seek a good example of contemporary art. A number of artists was approached but most of the proposals were judged to be unimaginative, so Mark Angus was commissioned because of his “Daily Bread” window in Durham Cathedral. The Steyning window, seventeen years later, does resemble that one, but the subject matter is (supposedly) inspired by Ezekiel 47:12: “On the banks, on both sides of the river, there will grow all kinds of trees for food.”

In Mark Angus’ 1984 book Modern Stained Glass in British Churches, he wrote “The Artist must always bear in mind that his work is experienced daily by ordinary people. His work’s must be accessible, explain mystery, and yet maintain mystery, give insight and meaning alongside awe.”

West window in Christ Church, Bradford-on-Avon, Wiltshire. Mark Angus 1993

Before he moved to Germany, Mark Angus lived near Bath and there are several of his windows in that region, including two in Bradford-on-Avon. I think I love his west window in Christ Church, although I could hardly see it. There is no colour but there are different types of white glass and more of those wonderful lead lines making a picture that describes a rainbow with cloud, rain and sunshine in the most original way. You get no direct view of this window inside the church (did you ever? I wonder) as there is an inaccessible gallery above the west door, beyond which an accumulation of gloomy stuff again (above right).

East window in St Mary Tory, Bradford-on-Avon, Wiltshire. Mark Angus 1999

Also in Bradford-on-Avon and with a Mark Angus east window, the chapel of St Mary Tory is a rare treat. This is a tiny building, rebuilt in the late nineteenth century on the site of a former chapel and hermitage dating from the fifteenth or early sixteenth century. When I took the photo above right I was standing with my back against the west wall and facing through the windows a fantastic view of the town.

The window was commissioned by retired vicar Canon Bill Matthews on behalf of the donor Enid German who wrote “An inner image prompted me to finance a coloured window to replace the existing plain glass one. After deep concentration in prayer, the design for the central panel came. Those of the two side panels I left to the artist, Mark Angus, then unknown to me. I passed my ideas to Bill who acted as go-between.” It is fascinating to get such an insight into the commissioning process, especially, as in the same bit of text on display in the church Mark remembers it differently. He describes in detail how he arrived intuitively at the design for each lancet, aiming for a mood of “active quietness”. After describing each panel he wrote “So now we have the whole image. Of a garden, of nature, of light, of the mystic, of refreshing tears and raindrops, of sky, of heaven. It is an escape from the hard realities of life, a retreat and a resting place.”

The view from the chapel of St Mary Tory.

Of course the central lancet is quite obviously a flower, in Mark’s words “a mystical rose, which is both contained and is free”. I had to get up close to check on the yellow splodge of stamen in the middle (below left), it’s so unusual to see him using glass enamel and it looks more superficial than those wandering signature lead lines. There are views of houses and trees through the coloured glass, who on earth would prefer nothing but plain glass windows?

St Mary Tory, detail and view from a south facing window.

twentieth century Stained Glass

Hornsey Parish Church (of St Mary with St George) from the outside.

I saw that the doors of Hornsey Parish Church were wide open as we drove past it, giving a full view down the nave to a window of the type that I particularly like. My visit, later in the day, didn’t disappoint. The church was designed by architect Randall Morris in 1959, there is no mention of a designer or maker of the windows in the comprehensive information boards inside the church, but they look to me to be architect designed. Made in the simplest way with large pieces of pastel coloured machine made unpainted glass, these would generally be classified as leaded lights rather than stained glass.

Hornsey Parish Church, the chancel at the north end and the west wall of the nave.

The interior is wonderful, light airy and calm with colour on the ceiling panels emphasising the parabolic curve of the roof that is echoed in the design of the windows on all four sides. The proportions of these windows change from the back (facing north) to the south (above the doors) to the sides, but the design of overlapping scales sensitively coloured and placed on the windows’ supporting bars is consistent throughout.

Hornsey Parish Church, the window above the south facing entrance doors - a really satisfying design.

St Paul’s Parish Church, South Harrow, east and south facing windows on a dull day.

Rising incongruously from the streets of another London suburb, is St Paul’s Church, South Harrow. It’s a Cachmaille-Day church from 1937, and again I could see from the outside that it contained exciting looking stained glass. It was open but there was a service about to start, so I only got a glimpse of the windows from the entrance (above right), these are arranged in two sets of five very tall thin lancets facing south and east..

Cachemaille-Day worked with many different artists using many different styles in the dozens of churches he designed or reconfigured between the 1930s and 60s. The St Paul’s windows are listed as the work of Christopher Webb from 1938, their colours may look familiar but their style is not like the C. Webb windows I’m used to seeing. There is a motif of stars and curved bands that repeats up each window, creating a jazzy 1930s regular pattern that is spectacular when the sun is out, as in the photo below right (not my own). I wonder what level of collaboration between architect, artist and commissioner led to this stained glass solution, so perfect for the building.

St Paul’s, south facing window from the outside, the windows on a sunnier day.