Glimpses of eternity

GLIMPSES OF ETERNITY

W

With the light of summer the greater spaces reverberated bright sunlight and the air was shot through with rays of optimism.

We aspire to float in space, to soar like a bird, high above it all. Great architecture, art and music enable us to do that.

In my early days I chose safer subjects – the tranquillity of the Cloister, doorways and quiet corners. These gave me the strength to take on the sublimity of the place and, in so doing, perhaps better to understand the glory of God. One bright Sunday morning I ventured into the Henry VII Chapel alone. A vivid sunlight electrified the space, the banners of the Order of Bath were a kaleidoscope of colour, the intricate fan vault a crescendo of geometric harmonies and the floor a shimmer of shining reflections. I was the only person there to witness it and I was thrilled, immediately embarking on a series of drawings and vibrant colour notes. These interpreted the power and the glory of the place, its fragility and perfection. I had perhaps found a way in.

From that point on I would try to work in the Abbey out of hours and on Sundays when the place regained its serenity. I continued in the Henry VII Chapel before turning to the South Ambulatory and Poets’ Corner, all enlivened by morning sun. Details and wider views spoke to me in shafts of sunlight; God and nature revealing momentary treasures, all gathered into a sketchbook and smuggled out under my arm!

I spent an entire night in Westminster Abbey during the celebrations for the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible. I sketched an unfamiliar Abbey distorted by deep shadows and flickering candles.

estminster Abbey is far more complex than I had ever imagined. It is a place of worship, theatre of state, resting place of kings and nobles, of statesmen and poets, memorial to the great and repository of excellence. The prerogative of the establishment is to safeguard history and Westminster Abbey stands as the central shrine of England’s provenance.

My first invitation to visit was in the summer of 2011. I arrived at the Abbey with sketchbook in hand to explore the intricacy, grandeur and profundity of the place. I began drawing details of carved stone and meagre sunlight, sketching around the massive task ahead and quite literally drawing a way into the subject. Some months later I had accomplished a quantity of sketches and colour notes; I knew my way around and where the light would be best during the day. From then on I was able to work in the studio to develop finished works from the many sketches and colour notes made in situ.

The massive edifice of the Abbey is best understood when silent and empty. Alone in the Abbey every footfall echoes in the stony darkness, the air is filled with whispered prayers and hopes, silent colours contrived by eager eyes.

Isolated from our habitat of lights, noise and society, our imagination is free to contradict the known, to seek out the unexplainable, to observe the invisible and to feel the uncomfortable.

We can absorb the spirit of the place, the presence of God, the power to drive us beyond the constraints with which we bind ourselves.

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Opposite and below: Henry VII Chapel – working pencil sketches

markets and to clients. I have followed and I have led. In respect of contemporary art I have preferred to run with the flame of tradition than to gaze into the ashes of futility. My subject matter has travelled widely from royal palaces through crumbling churches and beautiful houses, to exotic temples and elaborate superyachts, and hasty thumbnails for eager students. It is always rewarding.

The Abbey has guided my own response to the monuments and places which commemorate human achievements so powerfully. Over the six years since my first introduction to Westminster Abbey it has become a constant in my life, a firm anchor in the ebb and flow of fortune and the vagaries of exertion and contentment. I am delighted to have had the privilege of undertaking this collection. I have been humbled by the gravitas of tradition safeguarded within the Abbey, thrilled to have seen and experienced parts of the Abbey which are accessible only to a few, privileged to have witnessed great events of church and state, and nourished by beauty elaborated by generations of artists and craftsmen to adorn this extraordinary edifice.

I am extremely grateful to The Dean and Chapter, and to the Receiver General for the opportunity to have spent time freely in the Abbey and for their patience in awaiting the results.

The cavernous interior took on a new sublimity, the vault soaring high above, dark, weightless and distant, while a few figures huddled in the candlelit Nave or Quire. On another occasion I was working in the organ loft during a service, hidden from view but able to draw energetically, spurred on by the organ music in my ears. It struck me again that the spirit of a place – the Holy Spirit – can be felt and interpreted in many ways: for me it came through integration of mind and place through senses, rather than by direct consideration.

The trigger is harmony and beauty.

These paintings of Westminster Abbey do not aim to chronicle exactitude. They might not need labels to identify them. A painting should be enjoyed freely as a glimpse of a sensation or a manifestation of the spirit of the place which the artist had experienced. At first glance my paintings take architecture as their subject. Then they distort it and convert it into a barely seen theatre of light, which might be exaggerated or invented. Contrivance of light can be based on truth, but is used to describe my sense of the place. A painting relies on a momentary light to illuminate and give life to the subjects, which are themselves all illusions, drawn on paper.

I have been fortunate to enjoy significant success as a painter in the traditional manner, having learnt ability and technique from past masters. My work has responded to inspiration and opportunity, to

Alexander Creswell, October 2017 5

GLIMPSES OF ETERNITY

W

With the light of summer the greater spaces reverberated bright sunlight and the air was shot through with rays of optimism.

We aspire to float in space, to soar like a bird, high above it all. Great architecture, art and music enable us to do that.

In my early days I chose safer subjects – the tranquillity of the Cloister, doorways and quiet corners. These gave me the strength to take on the sublimity of the place and, in so doing, perhaps better to understand the glory of God. One bright Sunday morning I ventured into the Henry VII Chapel alone. A vivid sunlight electrified the space, the banners of the Order of Bath were a kaleidoscope of colour, the intricate fan vault a crescendo of geometric harmonies and the floor a shimmer of shining reflections. I was the only person there to witness it and I was thrilled, immediately embarking on a series of drawings and vibrant colour notes. These interpreted the power and the glory of the place, its fragility and perfection. I had perhaps found a way in.

From that point on I would try to work in the Abbey out of hours and on Sundays when the place regained its serenity. I continued in the Henry VII Chapel before turning to the South Ambulatory and Poets’ Corner, all enlivened by morning sun. Details and wider views spoke to me in shafts of sunlight; God and nature revealing momentary treasures, all gathered into a sketchbook and smuggled out under my arm!

I spent an entire night in Westminster Abbey during the celebrations for the 400th anniversary of the King James Bible. I sketched an unfamiliar Abbey distorted by deep shadows and flickering candles.

estminster Abbey is far more complex than I had ever imagined. It is a place of worship, theatre of state, resting place of kings and nobles, of statesmen and poets, memorial to the great and repository of excellence. The prerogative of the establishment is to safeguard history and Westminster Abbey stands as the central shrine of England’s provenance.

My first invitation to visit was in the summer of 2011. I arrived at the Abbey with sketchbook in hand to explore the intricacy, grandeur and profundity of the place. I began drawing details of carved stone and meagre sunlight, sketching around the massive task ahead and quite literally drawing a way into the subject. Some months later I had accomplished a quantity of sketches and colour notes; I knew my way around and where the light would be best during the day. From then on I was able to work in the studio to develop finished works from the many sketches and colour notes made in situ.

The massive edifice of the Abbey is best understood when silent and empty. Alone in the Abbey every footfall echoes in the stony darkness, the air is filled with whispered prayers and hopes, silent colours contrived by eager eyes.

Isolated from our habitat of lights, noise and society, our imagination is free to contradict the known, to seek out the unexplainable, to observe the invisible and to feel the uncomfortable.

We can absorb the spirit of the place, the presence of God, the power to drive us beyond the constraints with which we bind ourselves.

4

Opposite and below: Henry VII Chapel – working pencil sketches

markets and to clients. I have followed and I have led. In respect of contemporary art I have preferred to run with the flame of tradition than to gaze into the ashes of futility. My subject matter has travelled widely from royal palaces through crumbling churches and beautiful houses, to exotic temples and elaborate superyachts, and hasty thumbnails for eager students. It is always rewarding.

The Abbey has guided my own response to the monuments and places which commemorate human achievements so powerfully. Over the six years since my first introduction to Westminster Abbey it has become a constant in my life, a firm anchor in the ebb and flow of fortune and the vagaries of exertion and contentment. I am delighted to have had the privilege of undertaking this collection. I have been humbled by the gravitas of tradition safeguarded within the Abbey, thrilled to have seen and experienced parts of the Abbey which are accessible only to a few, privileged to have witnessed great events of church and state, and nourished by beauty elaborated by generations of artists and craftsmen to adorn this extraordinary edifice.

I am extremely grateful to The Dean and Chapter, and to the Receiver General for the opportunity to have spent time freely in the Abbey and for their patience in awaiting the results.

The cavernous interior took on a new sublimity, the vault soaring high above, dark, weightless and distant, while a few figures huddled in the candlelit Nave or Quire. On another occasion I was working in the organ loft during a service, hidden from view but able to draw energetically, spurred on by the organ music in my ears. It struck me again that the spirit of a place – the Holy Spirit – can be felt and interpreted in many ways: for me it came through integration of mind and place through senses, rather than by direct consideration.

The trigger is harmony and beauty.

These paintings of Westminster Abbey do not aim to chronicle exactitude. They might not need labels to identify them. A painting should be enjoyed freely as a glimpse of a sensation or a manifestation of the spirit of the place which the artist had experienced. At first glance my paintings take architecture as their subject. Then they distort it and convert it into a barely seen theatre of light, which might be exaggerated or invented. Contrivance of light can be based on truth, but is used to describe my sense of the place. A painting relies on a momentary light to illuminate and give life to the subjects, which are themselves all illusions, drawn on paper.

I have been fortunate to enjoy significant success as a painter in the traditional manner, having learnt ability and technique from past masters. My work has responded to inspiration and opportunity, to

Alexander Creswell, October 2017 5

The Nave – Nocturne 76 × 56 cm An opportunity to spend a night in the Abbey arose during an all-night series of prayers, readings, enactments and performances to mark the fourth centenary of the King James Bible.

It was an extraordinary privilege and a chance to understand something of the silence, gravitas and profundity of the Abbey. As I sat there the scene became almost medieval. I drew what I could, barely able to see the page, and later worked up some colour notes from memory. This strangely serene view of the south aisle of the nave captures a half-light which envelops the detail, while a few red gowns of the Marshals stand out in the distance like drops of fresh blood on a dark canvas.

The Cloister 38 × 56 cm A view of the Cloister, a peaceful sunlit place of contemplation. As with so much of the Abbey, tombs and memorials line the walls, while underfoot eroded names mark the passing of many. Beneath my sketching stool I noticed one memorial to Philip Clark, plumber to the Abbey, interred here in 1707.

A gentle reflected light lifts the vaulting and in a distant arch strong sunlight marks the gateway to Dean’s Yard.

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The Nave – Nocturne 76 × 56 cm An opportunity to spend a night in the Abbey arose during an all-night series of prayers, readings, enactments and performances to mark the fourth centenary of the King James Bible.

It was an extraordinary privilege and a chance to understand something of the silence, gravitas and profundity of the Abbey. As I sat there the scene became almost medieval. I drew what I could, barely able to see the page, and later worked up some colour notes from memory. This strangely serene view of the south aisle of the nave captures a half-light which envelops the detail, while a few red gowns of the Marshals stand out in the distance like drops of fresh blood on a dark canvas.

The Cloister 38 × 56 cm A view of the Cloister, a peaceful sunlit place of contemplation. As with so much of the Abbey, tombs and memorials line the walls, while underfoot eroded names mark the passing of many. Beneath my sketching stool I noticed one memorial to Philip Clark, plumber to the Abbey, interred here in 1707.

A gentle reflected light lifts the vaulting and in a distant arch strong sunlight marks the gateway to Dean’s Yard.

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St Faith’s Chapel

Tombs in St Nicholas’s Chapel

56 × 38 cm

56 × 38 cm

Through a heavy door in Poets’ Corner, the hushed cool penumbra of St Faith’s Chapel provides a secluded sanctuary away from the bustle of the Abbey’s daily life. Reserved for private prayer and lit by a soft indirect daylight, St Faith’s Chapel is the counterpoint to all the Abbey’s grandiose monumentality.

It provides a simplicity that allows the spirit of the place to suggest peace and contemplation; the dark air creates a soft vacuum devoid of the jangle of reality, where thoughts make the only movement in the half-light.

While sketching St Nicholas’s Chapel my eye was repeatedly drawn to this knight’s helmeted face lying serenely by my left elbow, gentle sunlight describing the contours and the veining of the alabaster.

The delicate, almost translucent nature of the stone gave an impression of pale, lifeless flesh, art imitating life – or death.

I abandoned the previous drawing and turned to focus on this figure in the foreground. The Abbey was silent – a Sunday morning between services – and this serene image rose to my pencil, encapsulating one of the most gentle and harmonious treats to be discovered in the treasure house of Westminster Abbey.

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St Faith’s Chapel

Tombs in St Nicholas’s Chapel

56 × 38 cm

56 × 38 cm

Through a heavy door in Poets’ Corner, the hushed cool penumbra of St Faith’s Chapel provides a secluded sanctuary away from the bustle of the Abbey’s daily life. Reserved for private prayer and lit by a soft indirect daylight, St Faith’s Chapel is the counterpoint to all the Abbey’s grandiose monumentality.

It provides a simplicity that allows the spirit of the place to suggest peace and contemplation; the dark air creates a soft vacuum devoid of the jangle of reality, where thoughts make the only movement in the half-light.

While sketching St Nicholas’s Chapel my eye was repeatedly drawn to this knight’s helmeted face lying serenely by my left elbow, gentle sunlight describing the contours and the veining of the alabaster.

The delicate, almost translucent nature of the stone gave an impression of pale, lifeless flesh, art imitating life – or death.

I abandoned the previous drawing and turned to focus on this figure in the foreground. The Abbey was silent – a Sunday morning between services – and this serene image rose to my pencil, encapsulating one of the most gentle and harmonious treats to be discovered in the treasure house of Westminster Abbey.

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The North Ambulatory Looking West 102 × 76 cm Continuing the exploration of the north side of the Abbey, this view represents a 180-degree turn from the tombs on the curve of the North Ambulatory. Here the regularity of the longitudinal axis of the Abbey reveals a hint of the growth and development of the building over time.

The aisle looks crooked, disjointed; this is not due to the careless drawing of the artist but a reminder of the historic growth and expansion of the Abbey over the ages.

The building evolved by eye, without modern aids, by an almost organic system of growth, complete with all the vagaries that such primitive methods produced.

For that very reason I felt this to be a charming view, a very human aspect of the great edifice.

The North Transept – St Andrew’s Chapel from St Michael’s Chapel 46 × 61 cm In the North Transept – Statesmen’s Corner – these two chapels appear as one, containing a cluster of monumental memorials jostling for supremacy. To the right sculptural figures recoil in horror from a ghastly skeletal figure of Death lunging out at them with a lance. Beyond stands a stately catafalque, while on the left is another mise en scène of an angel stooping to touch a bereaved figure atop the tomb. Here the monuments exchange solemnity for theatricality.

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The North Ambulatory Looking West 102 × 76 cm Continuing the exploration of the north side of the Abbey, this view represents a 180-degree turn from the tombs on the curve of the North Ambulatory. Here the regularity of the longitudinal axis of the Abbey reveals a hint of the growth and development of the building over time.

The aisle looks crooked, disjointed; this is not due to the careless drawing of the artist but a reminder of the historic growth and expansion of the Abbey over the ages.

The building evolved by eye, without modern aids, by an almost organic system of growth, complete with all the vagaries that such primitive methods produced.

For that very reason I felt this to be a charming view, a very human aspect of the great edifice.

The North Transept – St Andrew’s Chapel from St Michael’s Chapel 46 × 61 cm In the North Transept – Statesmen’s Corner – these two chapels appear as one, containing a cluster of monumental memorials jostling for supremacy. To the right sculptural figures recoil in horror from a ghastly skeletal figure of Death lunging out at them with a lance. Beyond stands a stately catafalque, while on the left is another mise en scène of an angel stooping to touch a bereaved figure atop the tomb. Here the monuments exchange solemnity for theatricality.

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The Pyx Chamber

The Chapter House

38 × 51 cm

46 × 71 cm

Close to the Chapter House, a gnarled wooden door leads down a few steps to the Pyx Chamber, a diminutive space in the undercroft. Its low vaults have protected the room over the centuries, and its ancient stone altar has survived from before the Reformation.

The chamber dates from the eleventh century and takes its name from the boxwood chest that was used to store newly minted coins awaiting assay or verification by King Edward the Confessor’s abbey. I have portrayed the space with a hint of daylight percolating through the stonework, a fanciful alteration in order to focus the viewer on the altar.

The Chapter House is a vibrant and bright place, joined to the Abbey but separate from it. In the thirteenth century this house was used by the Benedictine monks of the Abbey for their daily meetings, and later it became the meeting place of the King’s Great Council. It is a stand-alone shrine to governance, debate and assembly, as well as the seat of England’s first parliament. As such its octagonal form is noble and non-hierarchical, the slender single column elegantly supporting an apparently weightless roof far above. In morning light the space is radiant, like a calm glade in bustling modern London – an oasis of peace and contemplation.

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The Pyx Chamber

The Chapter House

38 × 51 cm

46 × 71 cm

Close to the Chapter House, a gnarled wooden door leads down a few steps to the Pyx Chamber, a diminutive space in the undercroft. Its low vaults have protected the room over the centuries, and its ancient stone altar has survived from before the Reformation.

The chamber dates from the eleventh century and takes its name from the boxwood chest that was used to store newly minted coins awaiting assay or verification by King Edward the Confessor’s abbey. I have portrayed the space with a hint of daylight percolating through the stonework, a fanciful alteration in order to focus the viewer on the altar.

The Chapter House is a vibrant and bright place, joined to the Abbey but separate from it. In the thirteenth century this house was used by the Benedictine monks of the Abbey for their daily meetings, and later it became the meeting place of the King’s Great Council. It is a stand-alone shrine to governance, debate and assembly, as well as the seat of England’s first parliament. As such its octagonal form is noble and non-hierarchical, the slender single column elegantly supporting an apparently weightless roof far above. In morning light the space is radiant, like a calm glade in bustling modern London – an oasis of peace and contemplation.

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The West Door 38 × 56 cm A final vignette of the West Door of the Abbey, almost a glance over the shoulder on leaving the place. It is also a record of the diagonal shadows which project across the West elevation in the late afternoon. I am always fascinated by cast shadows which so beautifully describe the surface of that onto which they fall. Here it was a simple and succinct way of recording the statuary in the niches on the Abbey’s West Front. Like notes in a musical score, individually these statues are distinct but collectively they form a harmonious texture. The sunlight in the interior of the Abbey can just be made out through the great glass doors, a sense of almost infinite distance within this great edifice, this Abbey, Royal Peculiar, church, monumental mausoleum and tourist attraction.

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