Thursday, 31 December 2015

A trip to Bruton, Somerset.


Today the sun is shining and I need my cool shades as we drive South West.   We pass via Stonehenge.  


I am argung with T of N about whether, back in the day, you had to pay.  I have clear memories of parking on the road and just fronting up there.  There was no reception, no ice cream van, no loo.  Nada.  Just ourselves, the sunrise and a million other alternative 80s people enjoying the spring solstice, the mud and the best-known prehistoric monument in Europe.  Now there is a visitor centre, some mock neolithic houses and an exhibition of 250 ancient objects.  Or so I glean from the web site.  We are on a different mission today and do not have time to stop.   


One and a quarter hours later we arrive at Hauser & Wirth, a private Modern Art Gallery just outside Bruton. 


This is quite a new concept.  Art dealers are essentially selling their goods in a pleasing enviroment with  no emphasis on the transaction.  No prices are displayed.  There is also a shop and and the well designed Roth Bar & Grill, which is seen here from the approach to the complex. The restaurant serves high class locally sourced produce, including that from the small kitchen garden.



The shelves behind the bar are made using old ladders.  The clutter above resembles T of N's garage. We enjoy a coffee break here half way through our visit.

A Calder Sculpture faces the outside dining area.  Pity that is has turned cold and windy today, and we do not want to linger.  


Durslade’s Farmhouse shown below is a working farm which also supplies the restaurant.  It forms part of the group of Grade II listed buildings that date back to 16th century and now comprise the gallery. The farm changed hands several times, however in recent years the buildings were left vacant and fell into disrepair. In 2012 Hauser & Wirth received planning permission to restore the buildings, and construction work started later that year. 
The Farmhouse also provides accomodation for visiting guests and artists. There are six bedrooms and the minimum stay is two nights.  I imagine taking a course here or having an anniversary weekend.  I will dream on. 


Piet Oudolf, the internationally lauded landscape designer from the Netherlands, has designed the landscaping scheme for the entire site. A series of paths cut through the vegetation, inviting visitors to wander through the garden. Oudolf’s landscaping design continues around the buildings including the inner cloister courtyard, where the old buildings meet the new.



The Radić Pavilion sits naturally within this landscape.  It depicts a semi-translucent, cylindrical structure, designed to resemble a shell resting on large quarry stones.



Inside it is really cool and it looks like you can get drinks here in the summer.  My Own Art Historian has crept into the photo. 


I enjoyed the exhibiton of Don McCullin's Photo Journalism entitled 'Conflict, People, Landscape'.  Don started out in the 50s and now lives in Somerset.  His work covers the conflicts that have touched me during my life time especially The Troubles in Northern Ireland, but also Biafara, Vietnam, poverty in the UK, the construction of the Berlin Wall, the Lebanese civil war, Belgian Congo, the Russian invasion of Afghanistan and the fall of Phnom Penh.  His later landscape photography seems melancholic and I suspect he has not really recovered from what he has seen. 

My favourite, again for personal reasons, is Tibetan Refugees, Delhi Railway Station, 1965.



Matthew Day Jackson, Magnificent Desolation, 2013




Inside the gallery there is a No Photography Rule.  This is to make you think you are in a real gallery, according to my Own Art Historian.   There is a lovely Peter Lanyon and some nice black Rodin like sculptures, white horses and rabbits.  I suggest you look at the web site for more detail.  This is defintely a good place to visit, perhaps as a break on the way to the West Country. 

Next we have a wander round Bruton.  It has some wonderful ancient buildings but nowhere decent to eat that isn't packed out so we resolve to go home while it is still light and to explore the small town next time.  

We do however spot the appealing Sexey's Hospital which was built around 1630. The West Wing and chapel have been designated as a Grade I listed building.  The East Wing and gateway are grade II listed.  It is possible to visit some of these areas. 
Hugh Sexey, (1556–1619), was a local landowner.  After his death the trustees of his will established Sexey's Hospital as an institution to care for the elderly.  I think this still functions as alms houses. Fantastic.


When we arrive home T of N cooks his Olive and Potato Lasagne.  


I enjoy this and then give the Art Historian a lift to her party.  Then it is Camden Brewery's Hell's Raiser Lagar and a Happy New Year to all. 





Monday, 28 December 2015

Down to the South Coast

The Christmas holidays continue in our household of two retired persons and one groovy young Londoner with two weeks leave.   Time to head for the sea to visit S&N have and more fun. 

First stop is the Pallant House Gallery, Chichester, which is one of our favourite galleries and a special request of J.  It is located in an original Queen Anne, grade I listed town-house as well as a new wing, which has quadrupled the exhibition space.


The Gallery's collection of British Modern Art is described as one of the best in the UK, with important works by Gino Severini , Ivon Hitchens, Henry Moore, John Piper, Graham Sutherland, Patrick Caulfield, Michael Andrews, Peter Blake and Richard Hamilton.

The exhibitions today are about David Jones, a pupil of Eric Gill and the very interesting Evelyn Dunbar, the only female war artist.  This is a remarkable collection of lost works discovered in the attic of a Kent Coast house. 

 Men Stooking and Girls Learning to Stook. 1940. 


This lovely painting was created in the long, hot summer of 1940, when so often the skies of southern England were criss-crossed with trails from RAF Spitfires and Hurricanes defending the homeland.  The Land Girls of the Women’s Land Army are marching with the men, and have turned the task of stooking into a military operation, mirroring the men on the right.  However, the Land Girl on the left, who appears to be giving the orders, has tucked her left hand behind her back into the crook of her right elbow in a definitely non-military pose, a touch of a gentle feminist subversion often observable in Dunbar’s war paintings. Strangely, this painting was not accepted by the War Artists’ Advisory Committee. 

Evelyn Dunbar (1906-1960) was a gifted draughtswoman and brilliant student at the Royal College of Art; principal muralist at Brockley School; book illustrator; devout Christian Scientist; official World War 2 artist, the only woman artist to be salaried throughout the war, post-war allegorist and much-loved teacher; subtly insistent feminist, devoted gardener and inspired advocate of 'green' values. She apparently had a warm and witty but self-effacing personality and many accomplishments including rock-climbing and playing the banjo.  Above all she was all a very individual artist, whose work, which hangs in all major UK galleries and several overseas, defies ready classification.


Born in Reading, Berkshire, into a merchant family, Evelyn Dunbar moved in childhood to Kent, where she lived for most of her life.  Having been appointed Official War Artist in 1940, She quickly became associated with the Women's Land Army. Her remit to record women's home front activities also allowed her to promote a gentle and unaggressive feminism.


In 1940 she met and married Roger Folley, then an RAF officer but later to become a leading horticultural economist. Their common interests and convictions encouraged Evelyn, after the war, to concentrate on a series of allegorical paintings and drawings which reflected her beliefs, and also her debt to Ruskin and the Pre-Raphaëlites, whose ideas about the function of art and the place of narrative in painting she acknowledged as strongly influential.


Evelyn died suddenly at the age of 53, leaving behind a studio collection of some 800 works, major and minor, which only came to light in 2013, and which we are thrilled to view today. 


Now it is time to head off to for lunch and a catch up with S and N, not to mention the lovely Joseph the Border Collie, aged 2.   After lunch we set off to experience the windy English Channel. 



Four humanns and a dog 


Two groovy people. 


After tea we must endure the M27/ M3/A34 before experiencing more festivites, then finally falling asleep refreshed by sea air.  



Ack 

http://www.lissfineart.com/6735sub0_041.htm








Check earlier

Dunbar 

Coast photos 

Saturday, 26 December 2015

Saint Frideswide's Well

This year, despite absent friends and a diminished family unit, we had a great Christmas Day.  Church, Pub, Presents, Great Food and Drink, and Downton. So on Boxing Day we needed a walk.  
Parking some distance from The Pot Kiln, Frilsham, (our target!), we took a route through the wood. We made an interesting discovery:  St Frideswide's Well.  


T of N annointed our hands with the clear water.  The miracle is still awaited.  

Now I have heard of St Fridewide in the context of Oxford but had assumed the saint was a man.  Not so.  Legend has it that she was was born in Oxford in the mid seventh century. Her father was King Didan of Lower Mercia. He give her a large area of land at the gates of the city where she built a church and installed herself as a nun.  

Frideswide, or Fritha, was a Saxon celebrity.  Beautiful and with plenty of money, she was much courted. Aelfgar, the Earl of Leicester sent her messengers asking for her hand in marriage.  Frideswide had taken a vow of chastity and was not interested in suitors or worldly pleasures and fled Oxford with two of her companions.  

The three found a small boat tended by an angel in disguise who agreed to take them down the  Thames to Abingdon. They then sought refuge in the deep oak forest which covered much of Berkshire at that time.  They travelled miles to a place then called Bentona, near Yattendon. Here they discovered a small ivy-covered pig-sty.  Frideswide made the sty into a small oratory for the three companions and here they lived off the land for years, drinking from a well which appeared when Frideswide had prayed for water.

Aelfgar had not given up.  He sent two messengers into the forest with gifts and songs of love. Frideswide received them with quiet reverence, and listened to what they had to say. Her answer, however, was as before. The two returned to Oxford, but as they entered the city gates to report to Aelfgar, they were both struck blind.  The furious Prince rode off into the forest to confront Frideswide, who by now was weak and her spirit broken. She would not give up her chastity, but she saw no alternative but to accept Prince Aelfgar. Just as she became within grasping distance of him, he was also struck blind.

The prince pleaded forgiveness from Frideswide and swore his repentance. He would leave her be, if only he could see again. Having pity on this pathetic man, Frideswide took Aelfgar by the hand and led him to her well. Here she bathed his eyes and prayed for his sight to be restored.  It was. Frideswide  decided to return to her nunnery at Oxford.

On her way back through North Berkshire, she and her companions met a leper. Her friends were repulsed, but when he asked her to kiss him, Frideswide overcame her own revulsion. She made the sign of the cross and gave the man a kiss on the lips.  He was cured. It was another miracle.

Frideswide died in 735, having performed so many miracles that she was soon proclaimed a saint.

The well she left deep in the Berkshire forest, near Yattendon, also became a place of pilgrimage, and a small village grew up around them. They called it Fritha's Home or Frilsham.

At the Pot Kiln, thanks to our mild winter, people were sitting outside. 





.


Inside my companions enjoyed West Berkshire Beers: Mr Swift's Pale Ale, Yule Fuel and Mr Chubbs Lunchtime Bitter.  All were highly rated and I enjoyed a pineapple juice.  


Now it is my turn to have a festive tipple back at the ranch! 


Acknowledgment: David Nash Ford's Royal Berkshire History 




















Edited from David Nash Ford's Royal Berkshire History 



Saxon name, properly spelt Frithuswith. In France, she was known as Frevisse. She was born around AD 665. Her father, Didan, or more properly Dydda or various other variations, appears to have been a real man, who did indeed give his name to DidcotDydda's Cottage. His wife should properly be Saethryth (Safrid is a man's name!). Didan appears to have ruled around the Upper Thames Valley, an area which changed hands several times during this period, between the West Saxons and Mercians. Didan's supposed Mercian connections ring true for his reign would line up quite well with a period of Mercian domination. He was probably a sub-King under the overlordship of King Wulfhere of Mercia. His Kingdom may have included the whole of Berkshire, for the southern boundary of the River Blackwater was known, at that time, as the Deadbrook, that is Dydda's Brook. Other sites possibly associated with Didan are Dydda's Valley, mentioned as being on the western bounds of Kingston Lisle in a charter of 963, and Dudebeorh or Dydda's Barrowin the Uffington Charters. This latter lies very near the Uffington White Horse and would appear to have been Didan's burial place, perhaps indicating that, unlike his daughter, he was not a Christian. Recent excavation has shown that the barrow was originally a Roman burial mound reused in Saxon times.

There are other known Royal and landed personages from this period whose names had the prefix, Frith. It was the Saxon custom for family members to have recurring elements in their names. So these people may have been related to Didan and Frideswide (Frithuswith). The most well known of such characters was Frithuwold, another sub-king under King Wulfhere and also his brother-in-law. He is usually referred to as King of Surrey. His Kingdom, however, was probably much larger than this, spreading way up into Buckinghamshire, for his daughter St. Osith was said to have been born at his palace in Quarrendon (Bucks). His Kingdom would thus have covered the Berkshire Province of Sonning and would have adjoined that of Didan. Frithuwold appears to have been somehow connected to one Frithuric, a landed gentleman from Leicestershire who signed several of the former's charters. Both may have been St. Frideswide's brothers. In a third character, Frithugith, who married King Aethelheard of Wessex in 730, may have been her niece.

It may have been through Frithuric that Prince Aelfgar heard of the beautiful Frideswide, for they both apparently lived in the same area. Aelfgar is portrayed as a powerful man, probably more so than Didan, variously described as King, Prince and Earl of Leicester or Mercia. He may have been a sub-King, like Didan, or more likely a younger member of the ruling House of Mercia, or possibly both. The term Earl is Norse and stems from the word Jarl, the equivalent of the Saxon Ealdorman (modern Alderman), but the office did not exist during this early period. The name Aelfgar does appear amongst the legendary ancestors of the 11th century Earl Leofric of Mercia (husband of Lady Godiva), and this may be from where the Prince sprang.

The identity of Bentona is the most controversial part of St. Frideswide's story. The traditionalists from Oxford claim it is Binsey, where our story says the saint retired. This lies just outside the city, not quite in Berkshire, where the county boundary departs from the Thames and follows, instead, the Seacourt Stream. St. Margaret's Church was St. Frideswide's pig-sty-cum-oratory, and her well, St. Margaret's Well. It was a great place of pilgrimage in the middle ages. Tradition says the deserted medieval village of Seacourt (in Wytham parish) had twenty-two inns to house the vast numbers of pilgrims visiting Binsey (excavation has shown there was only actually one). But if St. Frideswide had prayed to Saints Cecilia and Catherine for deliverance, then why the dedication to St. Margaret? Though it seems unlikely that Bentona is related to Yattendon (Etingedene 1086, Gettendon 1195, etc.), Frilsham's parish church is dedicated to St. Frideswide and not far away is her holy well. This was still visited by loved one's, early last century, to see if the male partner was approved of by the well's spitting toad. If the man's intentions were not honourable he would be violently spat at! Also nearby is Kings Wood (King Aelfgar's wood perhaps), and Reading Abbey held some of Frideswide's relics. Place-name experts tell us that Frilsham means Frithel's Homestead. However, such a personal name is unrecorded elsewhere, and a diminutive form of Frithuswith seems at least possible. There are, of course, other claimants: Bampton and Benson, also in Oxfordshire, and Bomy in Artois across the Channel in France. This latter also has the obligatory chapel and well of St. Frideswide (Frevisse) and displays her bones. However, the legend never mentions the saint crossing the Channel, and, indeed, only the site at Frilsham is consistent with her journey down the Thames to Abingdon. The first rendering of the story in c.1125 by William of Malmesbury does not mention the place by name, and the slightly later life of St. Frideswide confusingly says she hid at Bampton, in a wood called Binsey. Unfortunately the two are nowhere near each other, and the writer was clearly confused. Later writers dropped Bampton, claiming the place was Binsey, in a wood called Thornbury. Recent excavations at Binsey have revealed an Iron-Age/Early Saxon enclosure surrounding St. Margaret's Church which is consistent with the name Thorn-bury, the Thorny Fort. Recent analysis, however, also indicates that Bampton was originally understood to be Bentona. There is a church and well here too, but any Frideswide association has long since been lost. Thus the later Binsey connection, as put forward by the Berkshire tale, is perhaps given some credence.

The Oxford version of the story also tells how during a lull in Aelfgar's searches, St. Frideswide returned home to Oxford. It was at this point that the Mercian prince descended, besieged the city, and eventually forced his way in to carry her off. Just as he entered through the city gates, he was struck blind! Ever since the superstition grew up that the same would happen to any monarch who entered the City of Oxford. Accordingly, the Kings of England stayed away until the reign of Henry III. Some say that all the ills of his reign were due to this presumption. Perhaps, if the kings had known the Berkshire version: that the people of Oxford were St. Frideswide's betrayers, not her defenders, then perhaps they would have visited the place sooner.

St. Frideswide's nunnery was destroyed by the Danes in 1002. The monastery was re-established for Austin Canons in 1122. The church was rebuilt in 1180 and St. Frideswide's body translated to a beautiful shrine. Many pilgrims visited her there, including Henry III, Edward I and Henry VIII's queen, Catherine of Aragon. In 1525, Cardinal Wolsey gained permission from Pope Clement VII to dissolve the monastery and transform it into Cardinal College, with the Abbey Church as the college chapel. In 1546, Henry VIII changed this to Christ Church College and the church became the Cathedral of the new Diocese of Oxford. St. Frideswide still lies buried there beneath part of her reconstructed shrine. However, she is not alone. In 1561, a religious fanatic named Caldiff, a canon of Christ Church and a commissioner of Elizabeth I, mixed her bones with those of one Catherine Cathie Dammartin, a former nun and latter wife of the Zwinglian Regius Professor of Divinity, Can


Edited from David Nash Ford's Royal Berkshire History