Squares

Left: from my 1996 sketchbook, drawing before making the kitchen window. Right: photo of window 500mm square.

I made a window for the kitchen door in our old house which I sold to a friend who was visiting. It was a simple thing, an arrangement of squares of glass scraps, mostly enamelled, and mostly featuring the stripes I use for my samples. This window was much better than the snap I have of it (above right), but luckily I also have my sketchbooks from a time when I drew everything, before I made it (above left) and even after I made it (below). The before drawing in coloured pencil shows that I changed about five pieces before leading it up, with the thinnest possible lead used for the verticals. The arrangement spiralled around the central circle on a square of orange flashed glass (that I remember breaking when I was sandblasting off the thick orange layer) becoming paler towards the edges of the window.

Pencil drawing (not rubbing) of the window.

Left: glass squares on the lightbox. Right: centre of the new panel.

I’ve never found a pattern for putting sample pieces together that I like as much as that simple mosaic of squares, and as I had a lot of small ones (40mm sq.) in my sample box I thought I’d make a new panel in the same spirit. In 1996 I was led by the central orange square but this time, 27 years later, I had lots of green pieces that suggested a landscape format, and lots of diagonal stripes that I was careful to arrange in an imaginary oval that pulls the composition together. I found a piece with a building painted on it and then one with a belisha beacon, these added interest to the panel so I dared to add a cow in the middle. These pieces all contain the right subject matter for a local landscape and show me a way of using small scale imagery that mixes well with my habitual pattern making.

Comparing my old work and approach with my new one, I know that I used to put more concentrated effort into drawing and that the glass I made was quite scrappy and loose. Now my drawing is rough and untidy, while I put a lot more detail and care into the glass painting.

Woman in an Opera Dress at a Prison Camp

Left, Ray Ward’s painting, egg tempera and indian ink on gesso. Right, my stained glass interpretation of Woman in an Opera Dress at a Prison Camp, 420 x 360 mm.

This is the latest in my series of so called collaborations with Ray, made as a request by one of his collectors who missed out on buying the original black and white painting (above left). Sometimes Ray’s characters are adapted from visual sources, like a snapshot, but this one comes from a story told in her memoirs by Evgenia Ginzburg who served an 18 year sentence in labour camps at the eastern edge of the Soviet Union. Here she met women who arrived at the camp in their tattered finery because they had been arrested while at the opera. This was a great choice of painting to interpret as it is covered in lines and textures, with the dress and her flesh that is visible through it seemingly the focus of the piece.

Although I trace directly from a photocopy of Ray’s work, I have to do the lines in a completely different way - too many black lines on coloured glass would look like a load of dirty scribbles. Instead for the dress I chose two shades of streaky pink flashed glass and sandblasted the colour off to make fine white lines. You can see in the photo of the dress detail above how deep I had to go to get to the white, creating a texture that looks pleated and scruffy, as I imagine the original dress was. I covered the background in fine sandblasted lines and smoky paintwork too, with the only bit of sgraffito scribble on the ground behind the figure. All this talk of detail makes me think I should concentrate less on the technique and more on the subject matter.

Choosing the glass, painted pieces on the lightbox.

Evgenia Ginzburg survived her ordeal in the gulag, as did my mother’s cousins. She met them for the first time when we went to visit the family in Gus-Khrulstany in the year 2000, a photograph (below) marks the happy occasion The two cousins are in the back row in the centre of the photo, I can see that I could have used either of their faces for the portrait of the woman. Next to them sits my mother Elizabeth (wearing glasses) with me in the right foreground.

In the 1990s Anastasia, the granddaughter of my mother’s cousin Natasha and therefore my second cousin once removed, brought the branch of the family that had stayed in Russia into contact with the branch of the family that had gone to England at the Revolution. She is in the centre of the photo above and on the left below with her parents and grandmother Natasha. We have a wealth of family stories, diaries and photographs from the pre revolutionary period, then a big gap except for one story from the late 1920s or 30s. My great aunt Lena travelled to Gus in an attempt to bring little orphaned Natasha back to England with her, but the grandfather wouldn’t let her go. As Natasha recounted the familiar story to us she said, ‘think how different my life would have been then.’

Three Small windows

St Margaret, St Margaret’s, Herefordshire.

The last church we visited on our trip to Hereford and back was St Margaret’s, the name of both the village and the church, which is in a field high up with a view of the Golden Valley to the east (above). It’s a beautiful spot, the small church is notable for its carved oak screen which is also a loft (below), a rare survivor from the Tudor period. Beyond the screen is a low chancel with more of the painted biblical texts on the walls and a wonderfully detailed east window by Archibald Davies, otherwise known as A.J. Davies of the Bromsgrove Guild.

St Margaret’s, Herefordshire, looking through the tudor screen.

The chancel, St Margaret’s with east window by A.J. Davies 1926

The window fits perfectly with the other features in the church in terms of its colouring, its size and its scale of detail with an oak leaf border that echoes the screen. It’s so satisfying to see this sort of harmony in a church interior - the wonderful details you find on closer inspection (below) are an added bonus.

Details from the A.J. Davies window that shows a scene from the life of St Margaret.

This window was the third I had seen on this trip where a low decorated chancel was beautifully complemented by a small east stained glass window. The other two were in Gloucestershire churches, both with a series of Norman arches carved with zig zags. At St John, Elkstone (below) zigzags also arch over the virgin and child window by Henry Payne who taught A.J. Davies at Birmingham School of Art.

The chancel, St John, Elkstone, Gloucestershire.

The features of this beautiful chancel are the vaulted arches with dragons’ heads where they meet and the amazing yellow light that fills the space through the south windows. The stained glass window is simple and fits in as well as an ancient one would. I always admire Payne’s flower details, here the floral border seems to nod to the Norman carving with the flowers contained by diamonds and separated by a string of circles.

Elkstone: left, looking through the norman arches: right, east window by Henry Payne 1929.

Kempley: left looking through the Norman arch: right, east window by C.E. Kempe 1876.

I found the most remarkable combination of stained glass and church decoration to be at St Mary, Kempley, a church that is famous for its Romanesque wall paintings. The paintings start in the nave and above the arch as you can see in the photo above left, then past the checked pattern under the arch to a low vaulted chancel. Once inside you are surrounded by a background of strong, earthy colours and the pale silhouettes of patterns and figures as the walls and ceiling are completely covered with frescoes that were painted around 1130 then covered over between the Reformation and the 1870s. The small east window by C.E. Kempe (above right) is in his familiar style but really looks at home here with a similar balance of pale silver stained figures against a dark red background, silhouetted by the light.

The chancel, St Mary, Kempley, Gloucestershire.

I was reminded of how much I value a small window, as opposed to metres of glazing. And how refreshing it is in a church to progress to a small, intimate space which, in all three cases, has a truly divine atmosphere.

St Mary, Kempley - no hint of what’s inside but a fabulously pink wall.

Church Camping

Inside St Cuthbert’s church, Holmes Lacy, Herefordshire.

Church camping, otherwise known as champing, is an initiative by The Churches Conservation Trust where you can book to stay in one of the churches that they care for. We chose to champ in St. Cuthbert’s, Holme Lacy, in a bend on the river Wye near Hereford, a large church with magnificent marble monuments and a notable window by Henry Payne. You can see our sitting room above, half way along the south aisle, and our bedroom in the north aisle in front of a wooden screen and with a great view of the monuments and the aforementioned notable window.

Left: Monument to James Scudamore who died in 1668. Right: Tomb of Sibell and John Scudamore who died in 1571 with Henry Payne window in the background.

You’re not supposed to drag the camp beds around the church, otherwise I would have been tempted to sleep in the chancel with the Scudamores (above). It was fascinating to see these monuments and windows over a whole night and day as the light moved around the space which was light enough in the daytime (with no artificial lighting) and perfectly dark at night. We went to sleep and woke up discussing the mysterious Payne window (below), which shows the Archangel Michael with the scales of judgement, weighing souls.

East window by Henry Payne c.1920 and detail of right hand panel.

Detail of the Henry Payne window showing the weighing of souls.

There are some gorgeous details, particularly the tiny figures in the scales and in the angel’s drapery (above), but the design of the window is confusing. The angels seem to be jostling unnecessarily for space, with great big overlapping wings and behind, rising feet and heads popping up in unexpected places. The main problem is how dark the window appeared, there is a whole bank of trees in the churchyard outside blocking the early morning light.

In the north wall between our bedroom and the chancel is a great example of a medieval fragment window (below). Here you can also find gorgeous details, with heads and hands appearing unexpectedly. As we sat on our chairs in the evening with the light fading all around us, this one still glowed - its patchwork of colours and painted details perfectly illuminated as the stained glass windows along the east and south walls lost their colour to the darkness.

North chancel window made of fragments of medieval glass and detail.

Trees in stained glass

In this commission, finished but not yet installed, I have linked the glass door panels with the fanlight above by using a vertical design, based on trees. These are not trees with bare branches like the ones I’ve written about on a previous blog Drawing Branches. They are lollipop style decorative trees with clumps of leaves placed where the layout and balance of the design dictates.

The tree sections of door panels and stained glass fanlight photographed on my light box.

Rather than nature, I’ve drawn on historical stained glass as a guide. Not just the trees in medieval glass at, for example, Canterbury Cathedral (below left), but more particularly the trees you see in the backgrounds of Clayton and Bell windows (below right) with a jumble of different painted leaf forms making up the clumps.

Left: Adam Delving, Canterbury Cathedral c.1176. Right: Clayton & bell window from Sts. Peter & Paul, Wantage 1870s.

My trees have clumps made of four different patterns (below). The two on the left are not particularly like leaves, while the other two patterns each come in three different versions created with sandblasting, stencilling, scrafitto and painting. The client didn’t want any colour in the front door, instead there is tone, translucency and overlaps created by using both layers of glass in the double glazed units.

The four leaf patterns.