South Devon Church Interiors by Sasha Ward

On holiday in the South Hams district of Devon we visited five churches, chosen just because they were on our route. All are large rural churches with rows of massive pillars down the nave and, a Devon speciality, a fine medieval rood screen separating the nave from the chancel. The photos I took in the five churches looking down the nave to the screen and the east window beyond show the similarities, but each screen is different and each church has its own particular atmosphere.

Church of St Sylvester, Chivelstone: exterior, nave, fragmented screen end.

A series of new panels describes the history of the large church in the tiny village of Chivelstone, formerly the main place of worship for agricultural workers from all the villages to the south, between Chivelstone and the sea. These are part of an on going programme of repair that includes the conservation of the medieval screen and pulpit and later wall paintings (C17th - 18th). The rood screen has fifteenth and sixteenth century sections, with some painted figures, some renaissance arabesque panels and some reassembled fragments (above right). This is a harmonious interior with little touches of colour, like the pink around the borders of windows and the welcome stained glass of the decorative Victorian variety in the chancel (below centre and right).

St Sylvester, Chivelstone: back of screen, pink bordered window, stained glass in chancel.

Church of St Winwaloe, East Portlemouth: nave, screen, detail of medieval painting on screen.

In the church at East Portlemouth, two and a half miles to the west, the only stained glass is in a drawing hanging on the wall (below left) by the architect Sir Charles Nicholson who carried out the 1934 restoration of the church. Here the panels on the rood screen are filled with 26 exceptional early sixteenth century paintings of saints, beautiful and delicate, like the carving that surrounds them (above right). But the large windows with criss crossed lead lines and lime green borders give this church a chilly atmosphere (below right).

St Winwaloe, East Portlemouth: drawing by Charles Nicholson, reredos as seen in drawing, window with teddy.

Church of St Nicholas and St Cyriac, South Pool: nave, screen, detail of painting on screen.

Next was South Pool, a couple of miles north east along the river estuary. The rood screen in this church is covered in the now familiar carvings of vines and scrolls and painted in mainly reds and greens. The lower panels are all painted in the rare renaissance arabesque style (above right), behind them you can see subtle stained glass in the east window. I was looking forward to finding some more modern stained glass in one of these interiors, here we get a cheesy scene of the village by Roy Coomber of Solaglas, Bristol 1988 (below left) and a number of saints from the Exeter firm of David Gubbin and Son. You can always find a nice bit of detail in this type of glass, like the birds flying in front of St Francis (below right), but do they add anything to the quality of the interior space? - particularly when the scenes and figures are laid on those clear backgrounds that do nothing to temper the light.

St Nicholas and St Cyriac, South Pool: stained glass from the 1980s and 1990s.

Church of St Andrew, Harberton: nave, screen, screen pillar.

Simon Jenkins, in England’s Thousand Best Churches, would say no, but then he doesn’t seem to be very keen on stained glass. To me it was wonderful to go into our next church at Harberton and find all the windows filled with colour - and also to find explanatory boards complete with names and dates (all the windows were made between 1854 and 1931) - but to Simon Jenkins the stained glass in this church is ‘ubiquitous and pernicious’. The whole interior shines, the heavily restored rood screen is detailed in gold with figures of saints that were painted on metal panels in 1871 to replace the original wooden ones, now displayed on the wall of the nave in this very informative and rich interior.

St Andrew, Harberton: screen sideview, The Trist window to the four virgin martyrs Saints Catherine, Agnes, Margaret & Barbara by Beer of Exeter, detail from 1931 window by Maile & Sons.

Church of St Mary, Berry Pomeroy: nave, screen sideview, screen detail.

Berry Pomeroy Church, in the north of the district, rounded off our trip with another magnificent rood screen going from wall to wall in the nave. This one has all its original parts and its painted figures, though they were defaced during the Civil War or the Restoration (above right). The side views of the screens in the last two churches show how far the cornice overhangs, and also the clutter of furniture in front of them (above middle) which I only then realised was to protect the paintings from being bashed. High up in the chancel are three windows by the great Christopher Whall, and there is another by his daughter Veronica in the north east chapel (below right). By this stage I had started to make comparisons and couldn’t help thinking that Christopher Whall’s chancel windows are in the wrong place. They are too elevated to have much chance of interacting with the shapes and colours in the screen, although they were the only windows we saw that could stand up to the comparison.

St Mary, Berry Pomeroy: stained glass in the chancel by Christopher Whall 1908 and by Veronica Whall 1926

Georges and Dragons by Sasha Ward

Left, late fifteenth century St George in St George’s Church, Kelmscott. Right, St George by Veronica Whall 1928 in Christ Church Eastbourne,

Over the years I’ve been collecting St George windows, a saint easy to identify from the red cross that is his emblem, his suit of armour and the dragon that always appears at his feet. In the more dynamic versions he is spearing the dragon from his horse, the similarities of the pose in versions made almost 500 years apart, shown above, are striking.

Left, St George by Jones & Willis 1905 in St George, Orcheston. Centre, St George by Morris and Co. 1860s in St Nicholas Beaudesert, Henley in Arden. Right, St George by Theodora Salusbury c. 1920 in All Saints, Newton Linford.

More often he is standing more or less on the dragon, holding a shield and a spear. What really interests me are the dragons which are always at the bottom of the windows and therefore easy to examine and photograph. In every example I have from the 1860s to the 1930s (above and below) the dragon is made of luscious streaky glass in a range of rich colours, purples, pinks, greens and blues. They are lovely but confusing pictorially as the deep colours jump forward, even when the dragon is in the background.

Left, dragon by C.E. Kempe in St David 1898, Moreton in Marsh. Right, dragon by Morris of Westminster 1930 in St Barnabas, Swindon.

Left, dragon by Aldam, Heaton & Co. in St Michael and All Angels, Brinkworth. Right, dragon in St Oswald, Lythe.

Some of the loveliest dragons are at the feet of the Archangel Michael instead. In the two examples above their long jaws and scales show up better on paler streaky glass, and in the two examples below (left and middle) you know it’s St Michael not from the inscription but from his wings. In one of my favourite sets of local windows there is a beautiful dragon made of red flashed glass at the feet of St Margaret (below right).

Left, St Michael in St John the Baptist, Kingston Lisle by Heaton, Butler and Bayne 1911. Centre, St Michael by Powell & Sons 1919 in St Michael, Highworth. Right, St Margaret by Heaton, Butler and Bayne in St Nicholas, Grafton 1888.

There is a really effective window of St Michael in one of the large, beautiful arched windows of Romsey Abbey (below). The lighting in the alcove made it difficult to get a good photograph of the glass, which is delicately coloured and dynamic with a swirl of feathers and banners as the blue and green streaky dragon gets speared.

St Michael by C.E. Kempe 1897 in Romsey Abbey.

Order And Chaos by Sasha Ward

Towards Order 740 x 740 mm

I made the big, square panel above recently. It combines one of my melted pieces of slab glass with a lovely piece of old window glass. The small bubbles and wobbles in the large clear section don’t show up in the photo, likewise many of the textures in the coloured glass surrounding it. Handling a big glass panel with the hole I had cut in it was tricky, so was inserting the central piece of glass (with a lead wrapped around it) into the hole. The front is very neat, so is the back but it is copper foiled.

Left, tracing paper removed giving a better idea of the textures in the glass. Right, detail of the top section.

Left, colour selection from my scrap box. Right, on the light box, cutting the scraps to a plan.

The design followed on from the shapes of the glass scraps I chose for the border, with colours getting darker towards the edges and harmonising rather than jarring with each other. At one stage, I was going to paint in a loose style over these border pieces, but then my desire for order got the upper hand and I made a plan (below) that returned the composition to a geometric framework, with straight lines and right angles.

The painting and sandblasting plan.

As I planned the painting stage, I tested each type of glass I had used in the composition by firing it in the kiln with splashes of enamel, oxide and silver stain. The pieces looked great all together, so I spent a happy evening leading the sample pieces together (below) in a panel that returns the glass scraps to a jumble of chaos.

Towards Chaos 300 x 240 mm

Snapshots from a walk around Shrewton by Sasha Ward

We took a walk around the village of Shrewton as suggested by the Churches Conservation Trust because there are three churches under their care within a 5km stroll, plus two other churches on the same route and two chapel buildings. It’s hard to imagine seven active congregations in this small area. The villages feel isolated because of their position on Salisbury Plain which is no longer a rich, farming area but one dominated now by the presence of the army. Following a footpath along the River Till and with other parts of the route skirting flooded fields, it was interesting to see two sets of flood cottages with signs from 1842 (below left) reminding us of the date … for ever being the anniversary of that awful visitation - The Great Flood of 1841 …. when 3 people died and 72 houses were destroyed by a surge in the river - also hard to imagine.

St Andrew’s, Rollestone

We started at St Andrew’s in the parish of Rollestone, a tiny church on the edge of a field, everything tidy and well coordinated inside (above). The larger St Mary’s church in the centre of Shrewton has become the main place of worship for the surrounding parishes, inside is some interesting glass including a really effective, beautifully blue, ascension east window (below centre and right) and a screen in front of the tower patched with a catalogue of pressed, textured glasses (below left).

St Mary’s, Shrewton

St Mary’s, Orcheston

Inside St Mary’s in the neighbouring village of Orcheston I took a snapshot that combines the two categories of churchesinchurches and kitchensinchurches in an understated way (above left). You can tell this is an active, rather than CCT, church also by the window displays, intended to be engaging rather than tasteful. The memorial window is in the porch, not to a cat but to the lucky octogenarian Sophie Hamilton-Moore.

St George’s, Orcheston

In case you’re wondering what the outside of the churches really look like, this is St. George’s (above left) also in Orcheston, a village with a feeling of being tucked away both in space and time. Inside the small church everything is calm, while outside horses feed in the flooded fields and even the motorbikes are quiet (below left). The last church on our walk was in another of Shrewton’s old parishes, Maddington, with an equally beautiful and subtly decorated interior. In every church you can find a satisfying bit of stained glass detail, this one comes from the bottom of the east window (by Lavers, Barraud & Westlake 1872).

St Mary’s, Maddington

At the Bowls Club by Sasha Ward

The Bowls Club window, week one.

The Marlborough group of Arts Together, a charity that brings together professional artists and older people for weekly art workshops, meets in the Bowls Club. The windows there provided a good setting for the latest version of my glass painting project. At the end of week one we had a row of glass pieces on the window sill ready to fire, their black iron oxide paint having been textured and scratched off by the group members. Four weeks later, after sessions of enamel painting on the centre and border pieces, I returned with the panels that I’d leaded up in my studio, mostly to their specifications, and displayed them on the window sill again. The black and white pieces looked so good in the first photo, the question is have we improved them over the following weeks?

The Bowls Club window, week five.

Glass by Alan, week one and completed panel.

The example of Alan’s panel (above and below) shows the process from week one, with his enigmatic scraffito drawing on a layer of black paint that becomes the ground for further layers of painting in transparent enamel - harder to do and harder to predict the outcome. The borders are a mix of decorative and sample pieces that make it possible to link the pieces together into a solid stained glass panel, a thing that members might actually want to have.

Glass by Alan, week two before and after firing, week four choosing coloured glass to add in corners.

Glass by Gillian, week one, week two and completed panel.

The example of Gillian’s panel (above) shows an original drawing done with great confidence but not really improved by the enamelling, which she did in a ‘colouring in’ style. Her borders however, with speedy, drippy paintwork worked perfectly the first time, no coloured glass pieces were needed to help out the composition of the panel.

A finished stained glass panel represents several hours of work, with different techniques tried out, skills learned and choices made. In terms of the aims of the group, the activity is more important than the art, which should be enjoyable and sociable. You might think that the purity and simplicity of the black and white drawings are sacrificed during the process, but in this type of teaching it’s more about what you learn than what you make.

Gillian (on left) and friends: Alan and Bill painting.