The Artist As A Young Man

Today we find ourselves on the Suffolk/Essex border, walking part of the way in the footsteps of a schoolboy who regularly passed through these meadows over 200 years ago.

From what we can learn the lad was no great scholar and had been beaten in his previous school. However his father had great hopes that he would one day take over the family business, though it turned out that his talents lay in a different direction - and it appears that his daily walks to and from school, as he perhaps idled along gazing all about him, had a more profound effect than the wise words, or reprimands, of any schoolmaster.

That boy was called John Constable and he went on to become England's most famous painter of rural landscapes. 

You sometimes read that he was the son of "a humble miller", but nothing could be further from the truth. Golding Constable was a wealthy landowner who owned Flatford Mill and, later, also Dedham Mill and a small ship too. The Grammar School at Dedham was built to educate the sons of the well-to-do citizens of the area and it was there that the young Constable made his reluctant way each morning.

The river here is the Stour, which we've met before on our rambles, and a very artistic river it is too. Thomas Gainsborough was born and lived in Sudbury, which was also the birthplace of Maggi Hambling. John Nash lived at Bottengoms Farm in Wormingford (later home to the writer Ronald Blythe). Cedric Morris and Lett Haines lived and taught in Dedham, which was also home to Sir Alfred Munnings. And now Grayson Perry has his astonishing dream house/art installation/shrine to "Julie Cope" on the Stour Estuary near Wrabness.

But today we are quite definitely in what the tourist boards have named "Constable Country" and it attracts bus-loads of sightseers to the National Trust property at Flatford Mill, which is where we must also go if we are to complete our pedestrianised pilgrimage.

Above is the hump-backed footbridge leading to Bridge Cottage and the hamlet of Flatford, all looking very much as it must have in Constable's day - though I'll bet he never had to wait for a group of tourists and their long-winded guide to move before crossing over!

Paintings like "The Haywain" and "Dedham Vale" are so ubiquitous today, appearing in books, magazines, on calendars or chocolate boxes, that it's hard to imagine that in his day Constable was something of innovator. Landscape painting at that time had become a search for an almost dream-like perfection but Constable was in love with the reality of the world around him. "The sound of water escaping from mill dams etc., willows, old rotten planks, slimy posts, and brickwork, I love such things".

Much of the vigorous roughness of his painting is lost as his work is miniaturised for modern consumption. The original paintings are about six feet (2 m) across. Lets have a look at "The Haywain"....

At first glance we have a nostalgic, pastoral scene - even with the artist's forceful brushwork. But lets look at the composition. Those of you who know a little about the "rules" for taking photographs will notice that he's done something very odd: not only has he placed a light-coloured object (Willy Lott's cottage) at the edge of the frame but he's cut it in half! In other works people and animals face out of the picture. He is, I think, trying to make his scenes look more natural and uncontrived.

I contrived to do the same thing when photographing the scene today. (And who would have guessed that there'd be more trees now than there were in the past). Anyway, here's a view of Willy Lott's cottage that's much less familiar...

Back briefly to "The Haywain": Although it is to some extent a nostalgic scene from the artist's childhood, painted when he was a mature man, the world was already changing and industry was rearing its unattractive head. And there's one detail which is often missed - take a look at the sky in the painting. If he'd wanted to paint an idyllic scene surely it was not beyond his powers to paint a blue sky with fluffy clouds. Instead we have people going unhurriedly about their business - you can make out the men haymaking in the far distance,....

....the carter and his lad carry on a conversation, the horse waits patiently in the stream (soaking the wooden wheels to tighten them up, I'm fairly sure), a man is fishing and a woman gathers water (both almost hidden in shadows) while all the time the clouds are building up for rain. I interpret it as a metaphor for the turmoil that's about to hit the countryside. And Constable's original title was "Landscape: Noon" which to me, at least, suggests a tipping point in the fortunes of the day and perhaps of history.

I'm not sure if the group gathered before Flatford Mill were thinking such thoughts or whether they were looking forward to the National Trust's tearooms and gift shop!

Or maybe after viewing the stunning half-timbered Valley Farm....

....they were going for a boat ride. Either rowing themselves or....

....taking a trip on the electric boat - looking here like a journey up the Orinoco!

As for us, we're about to walk back to Dedham where we can visit John Constable's old school, as well as seeing one of his few religious paintings, which hangs these days in the church.

*******

So you thought I'd forgotten....

Congratulations to Rosie ("Corners Of My Mind") for being the closest with her guess, "a roost for bats". It's actually a "bat hibernaculum", so a place where bats hibernate, rather than just roost. What we see here is the entrance to a long tunnel. It was partly funded by National Lottery money and seems to be working; many different bat species have been recorded on the reserve.

Take care.

Above The Tideline

Aldeburgh beach is tough as old seaboots. The shingle crunches underfoot with every laborious step as you weave between old boats, fishing nets, lobster pots and rusty tractors. There's the smell of fish and the cry of the gulls all along this working coastline. Not everyone would see this as a place of beauty, or even interest.

Now you might think that the citizens of this genteel little town might object to Charlotte and her rather scruffy friends, along with all the necessary equipment and unnecessary rubbish that the fishing industry leaves strewn above the tideline. But strangely enough they seem to take it all in their stride. No, when they began complaining in 2003 about rusty, twisted lumps of metal on their beach they meant this.....

 

Maggi Hambling's "Scallop", a tribute by the artist to the composer Benjamin Britten, who often walked along the beach here, caused all kinds of turmoil amongst the good people of Aldeburgh when the 4-metre-high work was first installed. 

 

I think they've got used to it by now, but you can trudge along the shifting shingle bank and make your own mind up. Me? I think I can find room in my world for both large sculptures and old fishing boats.

Take care.

 

Colour And Energy From The Past

Yesterday afternoon I came across a box of photos that I'd forgotten about. Among them were these very colourful abstract images and I could immediately recall how they came about.

They are from a time when I was caring for young people with cerebral palsy, most of whom were very affected. We used to do a lot of art work to allow them to express themselves, though they needed a certain amount of help with this. Now, it's very easy when helping to take over and help too much, but I remember that we'd discussed this and were determined to let the youngsters be in charge. The paintings were impressive but some had rather thick layers of paint and many got a bit torn or screwed up.

Then someone had the bright idea of photographing the most interesting bits and printing them on glossy paper......

(with huge thanks to all the wonderful young people I knew over the years and who taught me far more than I ever taught them!).


Take care.

In The Company Of Angels

I've been here before. I passed along this road on my way to Hertford. I may even have glanced out of the bus window and spied the little church of St Michael And All Angels at the roadside. But I'm not really sure because, you see, there are lots of small, Victorian churches in this part of the country.

This particular one was designed by Henry Woodyer, the flamboyant and eccentric architect responsible for the extraordinary church at Highnam in Gloucestershire. Here though, he's working on a much more modest scale. The church was paid for by the local lord of the manor, R A Smith, and all the timber was obtained from his estate. He wasn't short of funds though; he just had other priorities.

Despite the understated exterior, the inside is exquisitely and extravagantly decorated by some of the leading artists of the day. I rather warm to Mr Smith for being so unlike the typical Victorian gent; most would have gone for a large building to display their wealth and power to everyone who passed by, but instead this magnificent show of beauty was reserved for just his family and workers, who came here to pray.

These are not wall-paintings but mosaics designed by J P Hutchinson for J Powell and Sons. They completely cover the walls of the chancel.

The area around the altar is paved with colourful Minton tiles, the finest available in the Victorian era. But the church's real treasure is its collection of stained glass windows. 

Most of the windows date from soon after the church was built (1872) and are the work of William Morris and his associates. Morris was a complex man with a huge array of talents - poet, writer, interior designer, stained-glass artist, businessman, Marxist and even translator of Icelandic sagas into English. The window above is his interpretation of the Annunciation, with Mary looking uncannily like Jane Morris, his wife. In fact most of the women in Pre-Raphaelite art, and a good many men, look like her.

The rather stern-looking gentleman holding the big key is St Peter, but it's said to be based on Morris himself and is the work of his close friend Edward Burne Jones. I like the idea that Morris is gazing down upon all these beautiful windows with the sun blazing down behind him as it was yesterday morning.

Burne Jones is responsible for several of the works here. Above is his lively portrayal King David and Miriam. Apparently this pair of windows is highly rated by Lady Lucinda Lambton, for those of you who might remember her off-beat-and-slightly-bonkers documentaries for the BBC (she once did a remarkable programme about the history of toilets!).

There's something eccentric about Miriam too as she swirls and twists amongst the usual formal and staid representations of Biblical characters.

Christ and The Angels is a later work by Burne Jones, dating from 1896. There's that Pre-Raphaelite face once again, but I'm also attracted by the depictions of leaves above and below them.

The swirling patterns echo the sort of thing that is commonly found in William Morris's famous wallpaper designs and may, I suggest, even be a deliberate tribute to him from his old associate, as 1896 was also the year of Morris's death.

Some of these later windows were commissioned as memorials to members of the Smith family, like the Mary and Jesus above which commemorates  the wife of the man who had the church built. It was designed by Burne Jones but was actually made by J H Dearle, for the very good reason that it dates from 1917, at which time Burne Jones had been dead for nearly twenty years.

I hope you're not becoming overloaded with all these beautiful windows as I've still got a few more up my sleeve - and I'm not even showing you them all. This set of three windows are to be found in the west wall of the church and depict Noah, St Phillip and John the Baptist. The last is another work by Burne Jones while the first two are by Ford Madox Brown.

The parable of the wise virgins meeting the bridegroom is interpreted by Selwyn Image, another designer greatly influenced by William Morris and his circle.

Image (what a great name for an artist!) strove for beauty and simplicity of line - and there's that distinctive profile once more.

The great Scottish stained-glass designer, Douglas Strachan, contributed the window above in 1928 very much in his own style. By this time he was a much sought-after artist designing huge windows for cathedrals.

So what do you do if you're Karl Parsons and asked to design the last window to complete the church?

It might have been easier to slink into the corner and hope nobody noticed: Parsons decided to outshine them all. He was an accomplished worker in stained glass with several important commissions to his name, but he spent a lot of his life assisting other artists and teaching students. His St Cecilia is a tour-de-force of artistry and technique and seems to me to tell the whole tale of the young saint.

I'm certain my photographs don't do his work justice, though it was actually the easiest to photograph as the translucence of the colours used has been balanced to perfection. I find this a very moving work, not only extremely beautiful but full of deeper meaning and emotion, like the finest symphonies; very apt for Cecilia, the patron saint of music.

The church is open every day and is situated in Waterford, just north of the town of Hertford; I recommend it to anyone who has the chance to visit. I certainly won't be able to hurry by again without popping in to pay my regards to St Cecilia and all the angels.


Take care.