Murals

A hidden jewel – Lady Waterford Hall

Posted on by Platypus Man

Viewed from the outside, Lady Waterford Hall in the tiny Northumberland estate village of Ford is unremarkable, pretty enough in its own way but easily forgotten. Take a look inside, however, and everything changes. The Hall’s interior is extraordinary, the walls lined with a series of outstanding watercolour murals featuring Biblical subjects. Perhaps even more surprisingly, this magnificent work of art was once the village schoolhouse.

The murals were painted in life-sized watercolour on paper stretched on wooden frames or panels, which were then washed with distemper to tighten them before being mounted on the walls. Louisa painted them in her studio at Ford Castle. .

The schoolhouse and its 16 massive murals were a decades-long project of Louisa Anne Beresford, Marchioness of Waterford (1818-1891). Her well-connected father was appointed British Ambassador to France in 1816, and Louisa spent much of her childhood in Paris. Given her high society background it was no surprise that she married well in 1842, when she got it together with Henry Beresford, 3rd Marquess of Waterford.

The exterior of Lady Waterford Hall offers no hint of the marvels to be found within

Louisa spent most of her married life at her husband’s family home in County Waterford, southern Ireland. When he died in a riding accident in 1859, he left Ford Castle and its estate in Northumberland to his widow. She was clearly a kind and caring person, and as such she wasted no time in turning the redevelopment of Ford village, and the welfare of her tenants, into her “great experiment”.

Jesus Midst the Doctors (Luke, ch.2, v.46)

Building a schoolhouse for the village children was one of Louisa’s priorities. Work began in 1860, but did not end with bricks and mortar, nor with desks and blackboards. She was an accomplished artist who had received some tuition from the Pre-Raphaelite master Dante Gabriel Rosetti, and she decided to use her talents to paint a series of magnificent murals to help decorate the school’s interior walls.

Left: Moses and Miriam (Hebrews, ch.11, v.23). Right: Samuel and his Parents (1 Samuel, ch.2)

As well as showcasing Louisa’s artistic abilities, the murals’ religious theme enabled her to shine a light on her deeply-held Christian beliefs. Her paintings were intended to act as a teaching aid, encouraging pupils at the school to learn from the moral lessons underpinning the Biblical stories she depicted. In an attempt to make these seem more relevant to their intended audience, she used local estate workers, villagers and children as models for the people featured in her paintings.

Joseph sent to his Brethren (Genesis, ch.1, v 14)

The murals took Louisa just over 20 years to complete, and one can only imagine the pupils’ wonder as they watched their school gradually morphing into a wondrous art gallery. The building continued to operate as the village school until 1957, meaning that several generations were able to benefit from her efforts.

The Child Saviour (Luke, ch.2, v51)

Today known as Lady Waterford Hall, the former schoolhouse is now managed by a charitable trust which aims to preserve the building and the collection housed within it.

Left: The Sacrifice of Cain and Abel (Genesis, ch.4, v.7). Right: Abraham and Isaac (Genesis, ch.22, v.7 & 8)

In addition to its current role as an accredited museum that celebrates Louisa’s artistic legacy and philanthropic endeavours, the building continues to serve the local community by acting as the local village hall. Until we visited a few months ago I had never heard of Louisa Beresford nor encountered any of her work; from what we witnessed and learned during our time there, she clearly deserves to be better known.

Where art and religion meet – the Berwick Church murals

Posted on by Platypus Man

Once upon a time, the interior of the typical English church was a riot of colour. In the Middle Ages churchgoers were greeted by vibrant images on just about every available surface; images featuring great biblical events and stories from the gospels. At a time when most of the population were illiterate, wall paintings were an important teaching aid, communicating key messages of Christianity to the masses. And then the Reformation came along, and put a stop to all of that.

St Michael and All Angels Church, Berwick, dates from the Middle Ages, but the paintings are several hundred years younger.

The Protestants who found themselves empowered by the Reformation in the 16th century regarded painted murals as just one more example of Roman Catholic frivolity, a distraction from the deadly serious business of religion. Convinced that God was on their side, the Protestants ordered the whitewashing of church murals. Soon, church interiors were uniformly white. Boring!

The exterior of the church gives no hint of the artistic treasures that lie within.

Although some murals survived, hidden for centuries beneath successive layers of whitewash, most were destroyed when the whitewashed plaster was eventually hacked off prior to resurfacing. The newly applied plaster was equally white, and equally boring. But in just a few places, enlightened individuals speculated that the return of wall paintings would not provoke the wrath of God, but instead might serve to celebrate the glory of His creation. One such place was the village of Berwick, in the southern English county of East Sussex.

The chancel arch, depicting Christ in Glory, was painted by Duncan Grant – one of the Bloomsbury Group – in 1941.

The murals that now adorn St Michael and All Angels Church, Berwick, were the brainchild of Bishop George Bell of Chichester, in whose diocese the church is to be found. The Bishop had a personal interest in Modernist art, and was keen to forge links between the church and the arts. With his encouragement the project was undertaken at the height of World War II: it was commissioned in 1941, and a service of dedication to mark the completion of the murals was held in October 1943.

These paintings at the bottom of the chancel screen depict the Four Seasons. They were painted by Duncan Grant in 1944.

The Berwick murals were painted by renowned artists Duncan Grant, Vanessa Bell and Quentin Bell, who all happened to be living just a few miles away at the time. They were all part of the Bloomsbury Group, an informal circle of English writers, intellectuals, philosophers and artists active in the first half of the 20th century. Members of the Group also included Virginia Woolf, John Maynard Keynes, E. M. Forster and Lytton Strachey.

The reredos screen (behind the altar) was painted by Julian Bell in 2020. He is the grandson of Vanessa Bell.

Those associated with the Bloomsbury Group were regarded as unorthodox in terms of attitudes to aesthetics, fashion, gender, politics, sex and war, and it’s therefore no surprise that what the artists came up with at Berwick is unlike anything else to be found in an English church.

“The Supper at Emmaus” by Quentin Bell

Although the subject matter of the Berwick murals is religious, they have a distinctly modern feel. For example, the landscapes that form the background to the paintings are representations of the local South Downs area of Sussex, while many of the figures represented in them are based on local farmworkers, their families and children.

The three servicemen depicted here, to the left of the chancel arch, were from Berwick village. They are a reminder that the country was at war when the church’s murals were painted.

Given that the country was at war with Adolf Hitler and his henchmen, the murals celebrate a way of life that was then under threat. One of them, Christ in Glory, depicts three servicemen, representative of the countless soldiers, sailors and airmen who put their lives at risk to keep the people of Berwick, and all their compatriots, safe from the Nazi hordes.

The pulpit was originally painted by Vanessa Bell. It was vandalised in 1962. As she had died the previous year Duncan Grant repainted them to designs by her daughter Angelica Garnett (Bell), a painter and writer in her own right.

The aim of the artists was clearly to make Christianity more accessible and relevant to the local community. Bishop Bell (who, incidentally, was unrelated to either of the artists who shared his surname) put it this way:

“The pictures will bring home to you the real truth of the Bible story …help the pages of the New Testament speak to you – not as sacred personages living in a far-off land and time, but as human beings …with the same kind of human troubles, and faults, and goodness, and dangers, that we know in Sussex today.“

I’m not a religious man, nor do I have any artistic tendencies or abilities, but I have to say that I found Berwick Church to be extraordinary, quite unlike any other that I’ve visited before. Sir Nicholas Serota, Chair of Arts Council England since 2017, summed it up perfectly when he said:

“…the remarkable decorative scheme in Berwick church is of national and even international importance. It is, critically, the only example in the country of the complete decoration of the interior of an ancient rural parish church by twentieth century artists of repute.”

I can’t help thinking, however, that the Protestant zealots who whitewashed the walls of parish churches up and down the land in the 16th century wouldn’t have been nearly as impressed as either me or the estimable Mr Serota!

Left: The Annunciation, by Vanessa Bell (1941). Top Right: The Nativity, by Vanessa Bell (1941). Bottom Right: Christ in Glory, by Duncan Bell (1941).

Mural reveals village’s hidden history

Posted on by Platypus Man

Murals are springing up all over my home county of Derbyshire. A little while ago I wrote about a magnificent painting of a kingfisher that had suddenly appeared on the side of a house in our local town. And just a couple of weeks later we came across another unexpected mural, this one featuring a railway locomotive in full steam.

To be fair, the steam train mural has been there since 2021, but it’s in a part of the county we rarely visit. Driving through the village, Westhouses appears totally unremarkable, and my initial reaction was to question why anyone would choose to cover one wall of its abandoned social club with a painting of a long extinct mode of transport. All of which proves how little I knew about the history of that corner of Derbyshire!

It turns out that Westhouses owes its very existence to railways. The village is named after West House Farm, but there was little if any other habitation in the area until the middle of the nineteenth century when the Midland Railway company drove a line through it to serve numerous local collieries and ironstone pits. The company needed to put in place a range of support facilities, and so in the 1870s it set about the creation of a new village, including workers’ houses, a school and a church, as well as a big engine shed to stable and maintain its locomotives.

Once upon a time railways were the lifeblood of Westhouses, but not now. Both the engine shed and railway station closed decades ago, and it seems improbable that any local people are now employed in the railway industry. However, residents remain proud of their connection with that industry, and when organisers of a community arts project searched for topics to engage local interest it’s no surprise that a steam locomotive was amongst those chosen.

The mural was painted by two artists from Leicester-based spray art collective Graffwerk. It took them five days of spraying to finish the job, and local train enthusiasts – many of whom had family connections with the Stanier 8F steam locomotive that is pictured – were on hand to make sure they got all the details absolutely right!

Trawling through social media posts dating from immediately after the project was completed in 2021, it’s clear that local residents were blown away to have such a wonderful piece of art in their village. Murals that are well chosen and brilliantly executed clearly have enormous power to bring whole communities closer together.

They are also a reminder to casual visitors such as me that seemingly ordinary places may have hidden histories that are well worth celebrating. Before seeing that mural I would never have given Westhouses a second glance, but having stumbled across it I was curious to know how and why it came to be there. So, thanks to the mural – and then the internet! – I did some research, and discovered the extent of my earlier ignorance. It’s clear there’s much more to Westhouses than I would ever have guessed, thanks to its proud railway heritage.

An unexpected mural

Posted on by Platypus Man

Our town is recognised by UNESCO as part of the Derwent Valley Mills World Heritage Site. The cotton mills erected along the Derwent Valley in the late 18th century witnessed the birth and establishment of the modern factory system that helped shape the world in which we live today. Belper is therefore rich in history, but in other respects is fairly ordinary, not exactly a cultural desert but boasting little of interest to the casual visitor.

So, imagine our surprise when we discovered that a large, eye-catching mural had suddenly appeared along the main road passing through the town.

Driving along Chapel Street about a month ago we were puzzled to see what appeared to be random splatterings of paint on the gable end wall of one of the houses that front the road. We assumed artistically-challenged vandals had been at work, and thought no more of it.

A few days later, we were amazed to discover the unfathomable daubings had morphed into a magnificent mural of a kingfisher. As well as the brightly-coloured bird, the mural also features magnolia blossom and a waterwheel, the latter being a reference to Belper’s industrial heritage.

The mural is the brainchild of the house owner, Steph Walsh, who thought her local area needed a boost. She told the local radio station “”When you drive into Belper and you see that expanse of grey wall, it’s screaming out for a mural…I think it will be a positive thing for Belper – it will be the first thing you see as you drive in.”

Viewed from the other direction there’s no hint of Belper’s new, exciting mural!

Steph showed great initiative by raising the money for the mural through crowdfunding. When enough had been generated she commissioned artist Sarah Yates to get her spray-paints out and do the business. Sarah has been spray-painting for 15 years, and specialises in producing spectacular murals of birds and animals. The portfolio of street art on her website shows her to be a rare talent.

So, respect and thanks to Steph for an initiative that definitely succeeds in brightening up her part of Belper, and well done to Sarah for turning Steph’s dream – which she says she’s had for 15 years – into reality. Well-executed street art clearly improves the urban environment and raises the spirits of all who see it, so let’s hope their great little project will encourage Belper to go mural-mad.

The Invergordon murals

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It’s around 11am and we’re wandering the streets of Invergordon, a small town in the Scottish Highlands, in search of its famous murals. The place is dead: all the shops appear to be closed, there’s no traffic and no pedestrians either. We’ve not logged onto the Internet this morning, so maybe civilisation ended overnight and we’ve missed out on the news?

“Fire, Fire” by Anna Stirling, depicting a fire at the Royal Hotel in 1973.

We continue to explore the main street, our eyes scanning random walls for murals, cameras at the ready. After about a quarter of an hour we encounter a dishevelled, middle-aged guy slumped on a bench seat. He eyes us suspiciously.

“We’re here for the murals,” I say brightly by way of explanation.

“Oh, them!” he grumbles, “they’re rubbish. I can do better with a can of spray paint, even when I’m drunk!”

We must be looking doubtful, so Wasted Tam – as I like to think of him – adds, with more than a hint of bitterness, “I live around here and I’m telling you, they’re rubbish. You should go to Inverness, or…anywhere but here. This place is rubbish.”

“A Century of Sport” by Alan Potter. Interesting that one of the sports depicted is cricket, as this is a game not usually associated with the Scottish Highlands.

Although it’s not yet lunch time, a miasma of alcohol fumes hovers above Tam’s head, and I calculate that if I strike a match right now we’ll all go up in flames. We resolve to treat his assessment of Invergordon and its murals with a degree of caution. But we also note that this place is not without problems!

Invergordon is a small port town on the Cromarty Firth in north-east Scotland, infamous as the spot where – in 1931 – the UK’s entire Atlantic Fleet went on strike when the government tried to cut ratings’ pay. The Invergordon Mutiny, as it became known, ended peacefully and the town slipped back into well-deserved obscurity for 70 years, until local resident Marion Rhind proposed an idea to brighten up her neighbourhood and attract visitors by scattering some murals about the place.

“Gather Round” by Alan Potter, depicting the Invergordon Highland Gathering, which was an important annual event for the local community and visitors for over 100 years

Marion was inspired to come up with her cunning plan by her parents, who told her about a little Tasmanian town called Sheffield, where gable ends have been brightly painted to depict local characters and stories. Coincidentally, Mrs P and I have also visited Sheffield and liked the place. I wrote about it on my blog of our 2016 trip to Tasmania, but never knew it had prompted a similar initiative in Scotland.

“Pipes and Drams” by Anna Starling, a tribute to the famous Invergordon Distillery Pipe Band. In the background is the former Invergordon Castle.

Following Marion’s lightbulb moment, a working group was formed in January 2002 to help turn theory into practice. The Invergordon Off the Wall group came up with the following aims for its project: to…

  • revive the community spirit of Invergordon, by giving the community a common aim
  • enhance civic pride
  • celebrate the history of Invergordon
  • halt economic decline by re-branding the town as a destination for tourism
  • create a cultural focus for the town through a special outdoor art gallery
  • promote an ongoing interest in our own history

Lofty aims indeed, and although there are perhaps not as many murals as we anticipated they are fascinating and well executed. One shows the range of sports that are, or have been, played by local people, while another offers insights into the Invergordon Highland Gathering. A third celebrates the local lifeboat and its volunteer crew, and another reflects nostalgically on “The Way We Were.”

“The Way We Were” by Steve Des Landes depicts the Royal Marine Band marching down Invergordon High Street, as they did in the past when the Royal Navy fleet were regular visitors to Invergordon’s deep water anchorage.

One of the most striking murals depicts a fire that engulfed Invergordon’s Royal Hotel in 1973. This was reportedly a dramatic, memorable day for local people, and the magnificent mural serves to keep those memories alive. Also eye-catching is “Pipes and Drams”, a tribute to the Invergordon Distillery Pipe Band. I can’t help thinking that Wasted Tam must approve of the distillery’s product, even if he hates murals (and possibly pipe bands too!)

“Volunteer Spirit” by Ken White shows the previous Invergordon lifeboat, which served in Invergordon from 1996 until 2021.

However, my favourite of all the murals is “Our Legacy”, depicting some of the wildlife and wild places to be found in the Invergordon area. It includes this quote from Trinidadian author Aliyyah Eniath –

“Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints, kill nothing but time.”

Taken from “The Yard” by Aliyyah Eniath

The quote echoes my own feelings for the natural world, and as an added bonus the colourful mural features in one corner my favourite bird in the whole world, the oystercatcher. The mural was created with the assistance of local children, whose names are preserved for posterity beneath the images they helped to paint.

“Our Legacy” by Tracey Shough features wildlife that can be see in the Invergordon area.

Taken as a whole Invergordon’s murals are a fine example of community public art, but I worry that they’ve done little to boost tourist numbers or revive the local economy. And, if Wasted Tam is in any way typical of other townsfolk, they’ve not done much to enhance civic pride either. Invergordon Off the Wall is a well-intentioned, impressive project, and deserves to be better appreciated.

Oystercatcher detail from the “Our Legacy”.

Murals and metaphors

Posted on by Platypus Man

External appearances can be misleading. Uninspiring when viewed from the outside, some apparently ordinary buildings conceal hidden gems within. A prime example is the tiny church of St Martin in the Surrey village of Blackheath – who would expect to find, behind its thoroughly unchurch-like exterior, a rich and vibrant display of murals depicting scenes from the life of Christ?

St Martin’s Church dates from the 1890s, and was designed by architect Charles Townsend (1851-1928) in the Arts and Crafts style. Inspired by Byzantine and Romanesque buildings he had seen on his travels in Europe, Townsend created a low-roofed structure modelled on an Italian wayside chapel.

Instead of the traditional cruciform footprint, he opted for an oblong hall topped off with a low, barrel-vaulted ceiling. Alabaster lines the chancel walls and sanctuary arch, which are separated from the main body of the hall by a gleaming, gilded screen. In line with the principles of the Arts and Crafts movement, the church was built wherever possible from locally sourced materials.

The murals are, for me, the stand-out feature of the church. Of course, back in medieval times nearly all internal church walls were awash with paintings, but these were mostly destroyed or painted over during the Reformation. Since then, adorning church walls with murals has happened in a few places, but it remains unusual to find any English church painted in this fashion. For me, this is what makes St Martin’s so appealing.

The St Martin’s murals were painted in 1893-95 by artist Anna Lea Merritt (1844-1930). Born in Philadelphia, Merritt moved with her family to Europe in 1865. By 1870 she was living in London, where she met the noted art critic Henry Merritt (1822–1877). They married in April 1877, but sadly Henry died just three months later.

Anna outlived her husband by over 50 years, and – remarkably for a woman of that period – spent her days, and earned a living, as a successful artist. She believed that true religious feelings are accompanied by light, hope, and cheerfulness, and her murals at St Martin’s convey the message wonderfully. St Martin’s is unlike any church I’ve ever visited, and one that I shall never forget.

* * * * *

Surrey is several hours drive from where we live, so it’s unlikely we’ll be making a return visit to St Martin’s any time soon. However, there is a church much closer to home that also boasts some fascinating murals. St Mary’s Church in the Derbyshire village of Cromford was built in the last decade of the 18th century. It is historically significant as the final resting place of Sir Richard Arkwright, builder in 1771 of the world’s first water-powered cotton-mill.

Arkwright, regarded as one of the founding fathers of the Industrial Revolution, commissioned the construction of St Mary’s to serve the workers at his Cromford cotton-mill. However, the striking wall paintings were not added until 1898, as part of the church’s centenary celebrations. The artist responsible for them was Alfred Octavius Hemming (1843-1907).

From the outside St Mary’s looks more typically like a church than St Martin’s. But here too there is no hint of the splendid and highly unusual murals that lie within. And perhaps we should see this as a metaphor, or maybe a life-lesson? External appearances, these two churches remind us, are often misleading. We should endeavour to look beyond them to seek out that which initially lies hidden from view. Only by doing so do we stand a chance of discovering deeper meaning and true beauty.