Tourism

The Sculpture Park: riding dinosaurs, boosting moods

Posted on by Platypus Man

A few months ago I wrote about a controversial sculpture in Birmingham. I called the piece “Art’s Not Meant to be Easy” and concluded by observing that artists have a duty to make us reflect, to make us debate, to make us think critically about the world in which we live, even if the process is painful. In retrospect I should have said that this deadly serious task is one of an artist’s duties. On the other hand, sometimes the artist’s role is – quite simply – to help us have fun, to focus on boosting moods rather than improving minds.

"Pre-Hysteric": a sculpture by Andrew Sinclair.

Pre-Hysteric, by Andrew Sinclair

When we visited The Sculpture Park in Surrey a few months ago there was plenty on show to make us think. But there were also some witty creations dotted around the ten acre (4 ha) site, works that seemed to serve no higher purpose than to entertain and raise a few laughs. Who, for example, can fail to be delighted by the sight of well-built lady riding on the back of a dinosaur, while wearing nothing but a top hat and an anxious expression?

"Pre-Hysteric": sculpture of a naked lady riding on the back of a dinosaur, by Andrew Sinclair.

The piece in question is called Pre-Hysteric. Standing 11 feet (3.5m) high, it is made from bronze resin. Its British sculptor, Andrew Sinclair, claims never to have grown out of his fascination with dinosaurs, and has evidently put his childhood obsession to good use. Pre-Hysteric was one of the first pieces we encountered on entering The Sculpture Park, and immediately we saw it we knew we were going to have a great day.

"Pre-Hysteric", by Andrew Sinclair - sculpture of a lady riding on the back of a dinosaur, while wearing nothing but a top hat and an anxious expression
"Pre-Hysteric": a work by Andrew Sinclair on display at The Sculpture Park in Surrey (October 2022).

Pre-Hysteric could be yours to own for the princely sum of £29,000 (USD 34,000). Plus tax, of course. Our government’s a bit short of cash right now, and would very much like to get its hands on some of yours. You have been warned!

"The Butler" - A sculpture by Paul Richardson on display at The Sculpture Park in Surrey (October 2022), with the added bonus of a bottle of hand sanitiser to help protect visitors from Covid!

The Butler, by Paul Richardson

Another sculptor who made us laugh is Paul Richardson. Paul appears to specialise in grumpy old men, and since – according to Mrs P, anyway! – I am one, I suppose it’s inevitable that I should feel some affinity with his work! The Butler seems to be a servile, miserable old guy, slightly stooped and obsequiously carrying a small drinks tray. But all is not as it seems…hidden behind his back he carries a tyre iron, with which he presumably intends to beat his master into submission. His facial expression suggests that he relishes the prospect of avenging the indignities that his job has inflicted upon him.

"The Butler" - A sculpture by Paul Richardson, in which an apparently obsequious servant hides a menacing tyre iron behind his back.

Look carefully to spot the tyre iron he’s hiding behind his back!

In a magical contemporary twist, some bright spark has placed a bottle of hand sanitiser on The Butler‘s drinks tray. I’m tempted to say that we could easily manage without such reminders of the pandemic, but on the other hand isn’t it good to be able to laugh at Covid for a moment rather than to fear it.

"Doctor Foster", a work by Paul Richardson on display at The Sculpture Park in Surrey (October 2022)

Doctor Foster, by Paul Richardson

Other delightfully grumpy old men fashioned by Paul Richardson include Doctor Foster, who carries a brief case in which – no doubt – he stores various instruments of surgical torture that he will inflict upon his poor unsuspecting patients, and Jonah, who looks so fearsomely cantankerous that he’s almost certainly a politician in his spare time.

"Jonah", a work by Paul Richardson on display at The Sculpture Park in Surrey (October 2022)

Jonah, by Paul Richardson

Neither Sinclair nor Richardson’s pieces are high art, but they are supremely witty – seeing them lifted our spirits and boosted our mood enormously. After all, what’s the point of life without a bit of laughter now and then?

Horse power!

Posted on by Platypus Man

Although its primary focus is on the preservation and display of historic buildings from South-East England, the Weald and Downland Living Museum offers other fascinating insights into the lives of ordinary people in times past. A notable highlight of our visit last October was to be able to watch a team of horses ploughing a field that forms part of the Museum’s land. Only a few decades ago such a sight would have been totally unremarkable anywhere in rural England, but these days draught horses have little if any role in country life beyond their participation in ploughing competitions that hark back nostalgically to the pre-industrial world.

The term “draught” horse is derived from the Old English word dragan, meaning “to haul” or “to draw”. They are also referred to as carthorses, work horses or heavy horses. And these terms, I guess, tells us all we need to know. Back in the day, when heavy loads needed to moved or agricultural land had to be worked, the horse was England’s go-to beast of burden. Even as the Industrial Revolution started to kick in, horses toiled along towpaths hauling canal barges laden with raw materials and manufactured goods.

In these modern times, when internal combustion and diesel engines rule the roost, it’s difficult to imagine a moment when we depended not on them but instead on the humble horse. The Weald and Downland Living Museum’s mission is to celebrate and remind us of the world we have lost, and watching three magnificent horses going about their business did just that.

The Museum’s horses are Percherons, a breed of draught horse that originated in western France. Usually grey or black in colour, Percherons are sturdy animals known for their intelligence and willingness to work. They were originally bred as war horses, but later became sought-after animals for agricultural work and hauling heavy goods. As well as ploughing, the horses we encountered also help out with a number of other seasonal farming tasks. These include sowing, haymaking and harvesting, as well as timber-extraction from the Museum’s woodland.

The Museum’s Percherons seemed content in their work, and the guy leading them clearly cared deeply for their welfare. He was practising for a ploughing competition the next day, and although I’m no expert it seemed from what I saw that he and his horsey team were in with a good shout!

In addition to its draught horses, the Museum has several fine examples of historic horse-drawn vehicles. These include a spectacularly colourful gypsy caravan dating from the late 19th century, and a far more humble “living caravan” which would have been home to labourers who travelled the countryside in search of opportunities for paid work.

Like the rest of the exhibits on display at the Weald and Downland Living Museum, the Percherons and horse-drawn vehicles we saw there offered fascinating insights into a world that is almost beyond comprehension from our comfortable, 21st century perspective. I strongly recommend a visit!

Glimpses of a lost world

Posted on by Platypus Man

When we spent a few days down south last October, one of the places we were determined to visit was the Weald and Downland Living Museum in the county of Sussex. Readers living in the UK may be familiar with the Museum as the place where the BBC’s Repair Shop series is filmed, but there are plenty more good reasons to call in besides the chance of spotting the odd TV celebrity (although, just for the record, I should point out that we were pleased to see two of the programme’s regularly featured craftspeople strolling around the site at lunchtime!)

The Weald and Downland Living Museum preserves and exhibits over 50 fine examples of historic architecture originating in the Weald area of South-East England, which covers parts of the counties of Kent, Surrey, Sussex and Hampshire between the North and South Downs.

The buildings on display date from around 950AD to the early 20th century, and are spread across a site covering some 40 acres (16 hectares). The Museum lies within the scenic landscape of the South Downs National Park, which provides the perfect backdrop for the presentation of buildings that were dismantled, moved and then re-assembled on site in order to protect them from demolition.

Bayleaf farmstead, from Chiddingstone in Kent

Bayleaf farmstead, for example, is a medieval timber-framed hall-house dating mainly from the early 15th century. It was moved to the Museum between 1968 and 1972. The central hall, heated by an open fire, is flanked at one end by service rooms, and at the other by rooms for the owner and his family.

It’s interesting to note that there was no chimney, and smoke from the fire would have exited the building by seeping through the roof. It sounds eye-wateringly uncomfortable from our 21st century perspective, but at least they had a roaring fire and a solid roof to help keep them warm and dry. For the poorest people living in England, when Bayleaf farmstead was built, this would have been an unattainable luxury.

Medieval farmhouse, from Sole Street in Kent

A second farmhouse on display at the Museum is the medieval structure from the Kent village of Sole Street. Also dating from the 15th century, it was finally condemned as being unfit for habitation in 1960, but continued to be lived in until 1967. When efforts to preserve it in situ failed, it was acquired for the Museum and dismantled in 1970. It was not re-assembled until 1991.

Pendean Farmhouse, from Midhurst in Kent

Pendean farmhouse, originally from the Kent village of Midhurst was built in 1609. Times changed and building styles evolved, so this building contrasts with those mentioned earlier by having separate downstairs rooms, rather than an open hall. It also has a chimney! However it retains some medieval features, including unglazed – and therefore very draughty! – windows.

Poplar Cottage, from Washington in West Sussex

Poplar cottage dates from the mid-17th century, and has two rooms on the ground floor with two more on the floor above. It is believed to have belonged to someone too poor to own land, a labourer partially or wholly dependent upon wages.

Although clearly much smaller than the farmhouses, Poplar cottage still seems quite substantial given that it is approaching 400 years old. However, the almost total absence of windows – although understandable given the price of glass and the need to minimise unwelcome draughts – is a reflection of novelist L. P. Hartley’s famous observation that “the past is a foreign country. They do things differently there.“

A lost world, but not one I’d like to inhabit!

There are many other residential dwellings scattered throughout the Museum’s grounds, as well as some historic farm and working buildings. Photographs of a few of these are included below. Taken as a whole, the buildings on display at the Museum offer us a fascinating glimpse of a lost world, but are also a potent reminder of how far we’ve come.

It’s easy to get seduced by the romantic appeal of ancient, traditional, “authentic” structures, but would I – living in my light, spacious, cosy, centrally-heated, draught-free home with water on tap and sewage disposal only one flush away – wish to live or work in one of them? I don’t think so!

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Some of the other residential dwellings in the Museum. Left: mid-17th century house from Walderton in Sussex; Middle: Boarhunt medieval hall house (late 14th century) from Boarhunt in Hampshire; Right: c15th century house from North Cray in Kent

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A small selection of the farm / working buildings preserved at the Museum – Top left: Aisled Barn, built c 1771, from Hambrook in Sussex; Middle left: barn built about 1536, from Cowfold in Sussex; Bottom Left: Granary built in 1731, from Littlehampton in Sussex; Right: 17th century watermill from Lurgashall in Sussex

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WATCH OUT NEXT WEEK for “All the Pretty Horses at the Weald and Downland Living Museum”

Conservation through education – The British Wildlife Centre

Posted on by Platypus Man

The UK doesn’t have many animals running wild through its countryside, and most of them are in any case rather difficult to see. While Grey Squirrels unashamedly flaunt their presence, most of our mammals keep their heads down. This, often combined with low numbers and a limited geographical distribution, means that few people in this country are well acquainted with the species that call these islands home. The British Wildlife Centre, located near to the village of Lingfield in the county of Surrey, is seeking to put this right.

The Centre was founded by former dairy farmer David Mills in 1997. At the age of 50 David reluctantly came to the realisation that he could no longer face the prospect of milking his herd twice a day, and decided to change the direction of his life by indulging his other great passion – British wildlife. His aim was to build an attraction specialising in UK animals, with the goal of educating ordinary members of the public about our native species and the challenges they face.

Although it strives to offer visitors a good time simply by allowing them to get up close and personal with British wildlife, education is at the heart of the Centre’s mission. Its website explains that

“In term time we specialise in school visits …We can then focus on teaching children to appreciate and respect Britain’s own wonderful native wild species, so that they may develop a life-long interest in their protection and survival. Our philosophy can be summed up as ‘Conservation through Education’.”

British Wildlife Centre website, retrieved 10 February 2023

During our visit to the Centre a few months ago we were pleased to get good views of one of the resident polecats, an animal I’ve never seen in the wild. Once common throughout mainland Britain, they were driven to near extinction in the middle of the last century due to persecution by gamekeepers.

By the late 1930s all that remained of British polecats was a small population in north Wales. Thankfully, the species is now bouncing back, and polecats can be found throughout rural Wales, and growing areas of England including parts of the Midlands, the South and the South-East.

Another member of the weasel family to put on a show for us that day was a stoat. These animals are widely distributed across the UK, but unpredictable and difficult to spot. I have been lucky enough to see stoats in the wild, but only rarely and for just a few fleeting seconds before they hurry away into the undergrowth. At the Centre we were fortunate that one of the animals ceased its relentless dashing and posed for a couple of seconds, enabling Mrs P to capture its image for posterity.

Perhaps the most exciting encounter during our visit to the Centre was with a Scottish wildcat, which looks similar to the domestic tabby, but with more stripes and a bushier, blunt-ended tail that boasts several thick black rings We refer to these animals as Scottish wildcats, but in fact they were once widely distributed across the whole of the British mainland.

However, they disappeared from southern England around the 16th century, and the last one recorded in northern England was shot in 1849. They are now confined to parts of the Scottish highlands, but survival of this outlier population in the wild is threatened by interbreeding with feral cats.

The Centre has many other wildlife treats in store for the visitor, from foxes and badgers – which are invariably dead on the road whenever I see them – to pine martens and otters, animals I rarely see either dead or alive. The Centre’s guiding philosophy of “conservation through education”, the work it does to improve awareness of British wildlife, and its support for captive breeding programmes and scientific research, is to be applauded. I hope that, before too long, we’ll be able to make another visit.

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.

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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.

Chilling out with Nature

Posted on by Platypus Man

We’ve booked to go out for lunch, and with a couple of hours to kill before our appointed time, we decide to treat ourselves to a spot of birdwatching. Straw’s Bridge Nature Reserve was once home to a sewage works and an opencast mine. It doesn’t sound promising, but in recent decades the local council has done a good job of restoring it as a wildlife habitat and local amenity. The locals call it Swan Lake, but the Reserve has plenty more besides the eponymous Mute Swan to tempt nature lovers.

On arrival we’re surprised to see that the Straw’s Bridge lakes are frozen in places. Instead of swimming elegantly across wide expanses of open water, the Mute Swans are reduced to an ungainly waddle and appear in mortal danger of ending up flat on their beaks at any moment. Meanwhile, Black-headed Gulls huddle together miserably on the ice, as if bemused by the sudden meteorological change that has turned their familiar surroundings into an unwelcome skating rink.

As we set off to walk a series of trails around the lakes we spy a robin sitting atop a rubbish bin. Like many of his species, our red-breasted friend seems unperturbed by proximity to humans, even as Mrs P creeps ever-closer in pursuit of the perfect, full-frame photo. She snaps away merrily, the robin sings lustily and I take a bit of video footage. Contentment reigns supreme!

A bit further on we watch an unexpected face-off between a Grey Heron and a mob of Mute Swans. The heron has staked its claim to a section of ice, and although they have a whole lake to choose from the swans evidently decide that the ideal place for a family gathering is the precise spot on which it’s standing. They close in on the heron, which eyes them warily. I train my video camera on them all, expecting to see feathers fly. But the heron clearly thinks better of it, and goes slip-sliding away from the mob in search of a swan-free life. Good luck with that at Swan Lake, my friend.

We continue our stroll around the lakes, revelling in the golden colours of the winter reedbeds. Despite the glorious sun beaming down at us from a clear blue sky, it’s a bitterly cold morning. But we’ve come prepared, wearing so many layers of thermal clothing that we feel comfortably toasty. In the leaf litter beneath a small stand of trees, a solitary redwing – a refugee from Scandinavia, where winters are much colder than our own – searches energetically for anything edible. Meanwhile, in the far distance we spot a flotilla of mallards and coots circling in a patch of open water, while a buzzard scans the landscape hopefully from its vantage point at the top of a nearby tree.

And finally, we happen upon the star of this morning’s birding expedition. It’s another Grey Heron, this one sitting amongst the dead vegetation at the edge of an ice-free section of the lake. The bird is indifferent to our presence as we creep ever closer, and looks majestic in the soft midwinter light.

Thoughts inevitably turn to my Mum. After Dad died in the mid-1990s, we started taking her out on birdwatching excursions with us. She got to love it, and the bird she loved most of all was the heron. The tall, long-legged, long-billed wader fascinated and enthralled her, and was her highlight of any outing to a wetland habitat. Such happy memories!

Far too soon, it is time to head back to the car and drive a couple of miles down the road to where we will be taking lunch. There’s one final surprise in store – in the lakeside car park we see a Pied Wagtail cavorting across a car bonnet, presumably in search of its own lunch of splattered insects.

It’s been an uplifting morning. As reserves go, Straw’s Bridge is hardly spectacular, its list of regularly occurring species totally unremarkable, and yet this is a truly wonderful place to chill out with Nature. We’ll be back again very soon, although next time I hope we can manage without the thermal underwear!

Scouting for squirrels

Posted on by Platypus Man

Last Saturday, 21st January, was Squirrel Appreciation Day. Who knew? Not me, that’s for sure, until it was mentioned in passing on Winterwatch, the BBC’s seasonal wildlife programme. I think the presenter referred to it as Red Squirrel Appreciation Day, because – and let’s be brutally honest about this – nobody here gives much thought to grey squirrels. Reds, however, are an iconic species in the UK, universally loved and widely regarded as a national treasure.

Grey squirrels are everywhere, impossible to miss and, for some, difficult to love. Red squirrels, however, are altogether more elusive. Brownsea Island, located in Poole Harbour on the south coast, is one of the few places in England where a sighting of red squirrels is pretty much guaranteed. Also guaranteed, if you visit at the right time, is a sighting of Boy Scouts, a reflection of the island’s special place in the history of the scouting movement.

Background

The origins of Squirrel Appreciation Day lie in the USA. In 2001, wildlife rehabilitation specialist Christy Hargrove founded National Squirrel Appreciation Day in Asheville, North Carolina. Her aim was to encourage positive attitudes towards, and practical support for, her local squirrels. It’s perhaps ironic, therefore, that it is American squirrels that are responsible for the collapse of our own native red squirrel population.

It’s difficult to believe that here in the UK grey squirrels were once regarded as an exotic species. Some wealthy landowners thought it would be a great idea to brighten up their estates with wildlife superstars from across the Atlantic, and grey squirrels seemed like the ideal candidates. Adaptable, resourceful and tougher than the native reds, the greys soon began to out-compete them. Worse still, the greys were carriers of a disease – squirrel pox – which did them no harm, but was lethal to the reds.

The first recorded release of grey squirrels in the UK was in 1876, at Henbury Park in Cheshire. They thrived, as did other greys that were released elsewhere. Before long, the red squirrel population was in steep decline as greys spread rapidly across the country. Today, Brownsea Island, which is protected from a grey invasion by the waters of Poole Harbour, is one of only a couple of places in southern England where red squirrels still run wild.

Brownsea Island

Brownsea Island is tiny, just 1.5 miles (2.4 km) long and 0.75 miles (1.2 km) wide. It consists of around 500 acres (200 ha) of woodland and heathland, and a brackish lagoon. The island is owned by the National Trust, and much of it is actively managed for the benefit of nature. As well as squirrels, the island is home to a wide variety of bird species, including dunlin, kingfishers, common and sandwich terns and oystercatchers. A major conservation project is currently underway to improve habitats for wildlife, focussed on woodland management, heathland restoration and the removal of invasive plant species.

The island is also notable for having played an important part in the development of the International Scouting Movement. In August 1907 Robert Baden-Powell, its founder, held a week-long camp there to test out his ideas. The experiment was deemed a success, and the following year he published his seminal book Scouting for Boys, thereby kick-starting a ground-breaking organisation which thrives to this day.

Boy Scouts and Girl Guides continue to camp on the island, but none were evident when we took a trip out to Brownsea a few years ago. But that didn’t bother us, as the purpose of our visit was to go scouting for squirrels. We were not disappointed. The red squirrels for which Brownsea is justly famous were present in large numbers, and not at all camera-shy…I guess the feeders, well-stocked with tasty and nutritious nuts, probably had a lot to to with that. Mrs P snapped 335 pics of squirrels that day, some of which are featured in this post. Oh, the joys of digital photography!

Over the years we’ve been lucky to watch red squirrels in several parts of the UK where they are still gamely hanging on, but nowhere have we ever had such wonderful views as those we enjoyed that day on Brownsea Island. I think it’s probably time for a return visit!

Art and Nature in harmony: the Hannah Peschar Sculpture Garden

Posted on by Platypus Man

The Hannah Peschar Sculpture Garden is a very special, magical place where art and nature exist in perfect harmony. Hidden away in the leafy Surrey countryside, the garden was the brainchild of Dutch journalist-turned-art-curator Hannah Peschar and her New Zealander husband, the landscape artist Anthony Paul. They acquired the property in 1977, and spent over half of their adult lives turning it into a place to enjoy – and maybe even to purchase – some wonderful sculpture.

Fragment, by Jill Sutton

At the heart of the site stands a 15th century cottage, set in 10 acres (4 hectares) of gardens. These were first landscaped in the 1920s, but had been left unmanaged for around 30 years and were therefore vastly overgrown when the couple moved in. Anthony spent the next five years restoring order to the chaos they had purchased. Hannah, meanwhile, was contemplating how the reclaimed and newly landscaped garden could be put to good use. Her “big idea” was a public sculpture garden, a courageous vision at a time when such ventures were all but unknown in the UK.

The 15th century, Grade II listed cottage where Hannah and Anthony lived from 1977

The Hannah Peschar Sculpture Garden opened to the public in 1986. Every year around 200 pieces are on display, the work of more than 40 artists from the UK and Europe. The sculptures come in various shapes, sizes and styles, and make use of a range of materials including bronze, stone, wood, wire, glass and ceramics. Most are available to purchase, but only by those with gardens and bank balances that are big enough!

Reclining Valencia, by Paul Vanstone
New Dawn, by Jeremy Moulsdale

What makes this place particularly appealing is the placement of the pieces. Unlike some similar enterprises, there is no sense here that the curators have crammed in more sculptures than the garden can tastefully absorb. The positioning of each amongst the verdant foliage has clearly been planned with great care, and all are given sufficient space to sit comfortably within their surroundings. Every sculpture has the opportunity to shine, and no doubt this helps with the sales figures, which – let’s face it – is the name of the game.

Forget Me Not, by Nicolas Moreton
Inca, by Nimrod Messeg

I would be lying if I claimed to like everything I saw when we visited last October, but overall the collection was a pleasure to view. And to do so in the tranquil surroundings of a beautifully landscaped garden was an absolute delight. Nature and art are in perfect harmony here, each enhanced by its juxtaposition to the other.

Standing Mare, by Stuart Anderson

Sadly, Hannah Peschar passed away in 2021, but Anthony Paul continues to live in the Grade II Listed cottage he and his wife bought nearly half a century ago. The garden that encloses it is a fitting tribute to their enormous vision and creativity, and is well worth a visit if you’re ever in the area. You’re certain to see something you really like, but do check the prices carefully before reaching for your credit card!

Clockwise from top left: Scylla, by Giles Rayner; Pinnate Leaf, by Peter Clarke; Keeper of the Light, by Jeremy Moulsdale; Interred in Aluminium by Joseph Hillier; Flight of Fancy, by Jilly Sutton, 2022; If, by Guy Stevens; Big Red Flower by Neil Wilkin.

Beautiful, extraordinary and utterly magical – Watts Cemetery Chapel

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I must confess that I’d never heard of the Watts Cemetery Chapel before our visit there a few months ago. The little building doesn’t appear to be well known, either locally or nationally. Maybe that’s because it’s hidden away in deepest, darkest Surrey, on the outskirts of a little village, languishing on a road to nowhere. Or maybe because it was designed by a woman, and has therefore – until quite recently – been under-appreciated by the male-dominated architectural establishment?

The designer in question is Mary Watts (1849-1938). She was the wife of George Frederic Watts (G F Watts, 1817-1904), one of the most accomplished painters and sculptors of Victorian Britain. Mary was herself a hugely talented artist, and when their village decided to create a cemetery to increase the capacity of the local graveyard she saw an opportunity to push herself further than she’d ever been pushed before. She offered to build for the village a mortuary chapel, which is a consecrated space in which bodies of the dead can lie briefly before burial or cremation. Mary’s loving husband, 33 years her senior and significantly wealthy thanks to his successful career as an artist, provided financial backing for the project.

The Chapel was built between 1895 and 1904, with a floorplan that is best described as a circle intersected by a cross. Mary’s work oozes with mystical symbolism, and the floorplan is just one example. She described it as “the Circle of Eternity, with the Cross of Faith running through it.”

From the outside, the Chapel looks like a Byzantine or Orthodox Church that has been lifted intact from its place of origin and incongruously deposited two thousands miles away in the leafy Surrey hills. It is built from small bricks made from a local red clay, and the exterior is decorated with a variety of intricate terracotta panels. These boast a complex array of symbols derived from Celtic, Romanesque, Jewish and Egyptian traditions.

Magnificent though it is, the external appearance of the building gives no clue to the wonders that lie within. The walls and vaulted ceiling are totally covered with rich, vibrant decoration. The senses are assaulted by the range of colours, by the glitter of gold and silver, and by a magical, metallic lustre. Angels stand in a circle around the walls, and in the centre of each group of them rises a Tree of Life, its roots entwined below like the arms of a crazed octopus. Above each group, a Seraph (a form of high-status angel) clad in “the crimson colour of love and life” raises its hands in a sign of blessing.

Taken as a whole, externally and internally, the Watts Cemetery Chapel is truly mind-blowing, so it is no surprise that the noted writer and broadcaster on architectural matter, Lucinda Lambton, wrote this about it:

‘It is no exaggeration to say that the Watts Cemetery Chapel is one of the most beautiful, one of the most extraordinary, original, marvellous and magical buildings in the whole of the British Isles!’

Lucinda Lambton

Interestingly, the decoration of the Chapel was a community endeavour. Mary encouraged local people to explore their own creative potential by getting them involved in making some of the external terracotta panels and internal decorative features. The faces that decorate parts of the vaulted ceiling are cherubim and are representations of local children who helped with the project.

Work on the project was completed in 1904, the same year that Mary’s husband G F Watts died. Appropriately, the casket containing his ashes was displayed in the Chapel, before later being buried in the cemetery. The Chapel, and the adjoining cemetery, continue to be used to this day. It is good to know that this wonderful, Grade I Listed building is not simply a tourist attraction, but continues to be used for its originally intended purposes. Long may it continue.

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Postscript: To learn a little more about the Chapel please view this brief video produced by the Watts Gallery Artists Village.

What energy crisis? Dinosaurs light up Yorkshire Wildlife Park

Posted on by Platypus Man

While Brits will know it only too well, overseas readers may be unaware that – due to the knock-on effects of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine – the UK is in the middle of an energy crisis. Prices have gone through the roof, and we are warned that energy rationing, through a rolling programme of power cuts, is a real possibility if there is a prolonged cold snap later this winter.

Everyone is being urged to be energy aware, and to cut down on power consumption if at all possible. But you’d never know that there was any problem at all, if you were basing your opinion on the Festival of Lights and Lanterns at Yorkshire Wildlife Park (YWP).

As I’ve written before, I have some reservations about keeping wild creatures in captivity (don’t we all?), but YWP seems OK. The animals are plainly well cared for, with plenty of space to roam. Importantly, the Park supports a number of conservation initiatives to breed highly endangered species in captivity, and seeks to educate visitors about their plight. But conservation costs money, so managers are happy to embrace initiatives that will attract paying members of the public through the gates. And what better way, at this festive time of year, than to flood the place with countless coloured lights?

We went to last year’s Festival of Lights and Lanterns, and had a great evening. It’s not the most obvious way to celebrate Christmas, but it worked for me and countless others too. Giant, glowing coloured lanterns were distributed throughout the Park, representing some of the critters living there, including polar bears, tigers, giraffes and okapi, and a few others that just wouldn’t feel quite at home, such as whales! There were even a few dinosaurs, poignant reminders of the world we have lost.

The regular critters – tigers, giraffes and the like – were back in force for this winter’s Festival. It was good to see these old friends, and also pleasing to note that last year’s favourites had been recycled and not simply trashed. But the big change, for the 2022/23 season, was in the population of dinosaurs, which seems to have exploded over the last few months!

And don’t the visitors love them, T-Rex and Triceratops, and all their brutish buddies? Children looked on in awe, and adults lapped it up too, a welcome opportunity to escape – if only for an hour or two – the stresses and strains of life in the UK at the end of 2022. Just for a short while it was possible to forget the energy crisis, and bathe irresponsibly in the light of a thousand colourful lanterns. But spare a thought, if you will, for YWP’s Director of Finance…he may be in for a few sleepless night when the Park’s next electricity bill arrives!