Five Wells

Recently I spent some time compiling all my research into the best local Neolithic and Bronze Age sites to form a list of where I hope to visit in the near future. A number of local sites I have already visited. But that doesn’t mean I don’t intend to return, especially to see different seasons from these amazing sites.

One place high on my list was the Neolithic burial Cairn of Five Wells, located near Chelmorton, just south of Buxton. After seeing a few photos of this site and reading a little information I was impressed how intact the Cairn was compared to many and how visible the chamber was to visitors, so it went high on the list of where to go next.
In early March a perfect opportunity arose to visit Five Wells, so off I went on a 30 mile drive to discover another amazing piece of Derbyshires ancient history.

After some map consultation I parked near Chelmorton church and set out following a trail uphill in the general direction of the tomb. The villages original wellspring is en route and signed as a point of interest on the way.

The landscape is largely farmers fields and grazing livestock, but a strange, what I presume to be, natural rocky feature runs along the ridge of the hill as a seam dividing the space in two.  It’s quite rugged terrain and I imagine what the whole landscape would have looked like before agriculture moved in.

At a crossroads I managed to wander into a nearby farm, (still following a public footpath) when actually I should have turned left to find the Cairn in fields behind the farm. A little correction later (after thinking I was going to be savaged by dogs!) and I spotted the Cairn on the horizon at last.

It’s structure is quite imposing on the hillside. Like jagged teeth reaching out to the heavens it sits prominent and protruding. The moment I laid eyes on it, I loved it. The rugged and weather beaten hillside and these great stones erupting from the earth. It had an incredible feeling and atmosphere I wasn’t expecting, but wholly embraced.

One of the tombs is slowly being consumed by the earth, as much is covered by a thick layer of moss, while the more intact chamber exists like a miniature shelter missing its roof. Great upright pillars of the entrance give the feeling you are entering a mysterious and incredible time. As ever with these ancient places I stand and wonder what happened, were rituals performed when these people were buried in this great tomb? What did this place in the landscape mean to these people? The rolling landscape surrounding the Cairn is certainly one I’d be quite comfortable to spend my eternity in.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't find Five Wells to be an incredible, moving place. Though I will not attempt to provide any real reasoning why. For me personally these sites often seem to create an overwhelming sense of connection with our history and the traditions of our ancestors. Although this window into the past is only fleeting, for me it strengthens the feeling that these people, their values and respect for and use of the land is incredible, admirable and frankly far better than our own. These people had so many things right that we do not. They worshiped the land for the life it gave, we merely abuse it. For me, Cairn sites in particular always give a sense of ancestors rooted in the earth. For them, in life and death the landscape was clearly so important. I only wish I could know more about their lives and understand more about their world ...

Witch Marks After Dark: Apotropaic magic at Creswell Crags

Apotropaic magic is a very interesting and mysterious subject. In recent years the interest in apotropaic magic has soared, largely I believe due to our increasing understanding of the subject, and the ongoing discovery of apotropaic marks and objects in all sorts of places. One of these places is Creswell Crags. It would be tempting to say that recently apotropaic marks were discovered in their largest cave system, however the term ‘identified’ is actually much more appropriate.

In an unusual turn of events, two visitors to the Crags Hayley Clark and Ed Waters, avid hunters of so called ‘Witches Marks’ spotted some marks within the cave and informed their guide. After further research and observations in the cave what had previously been thought to be nothing more than (reasonably) modern graffiti was actually suddenly understood to be hundreds upon hundreds of apotropaic marks.

A brief explanation on apotropaic magic; the term literally means something which has the power to ‘turn away’ evil. There are countless different examples of this in most cultures throughout the world; the evil eye charm in Greece and Turkey, the Cimaruta and Mano Cornuto in Italy, Witches bottles and Horse shoes in Britain, the Eguzkilore in Basque France and Spain, to name just a few. The main purpose of these objects is believed to be to cast away evil spirits, Witches, Demons and Dark Magic. Apotropaic items have been found hidden within buildings; in cavity walls or under floorboards. But most apotropaic items or symbols are situated in or around entrance ways, to prevent the evil entering the building. A very common form of apotropaic magic as well as objects is marks, like the ones seen in Wookey Hole, Woolsthorpe Manor, Tithe Barn and of course Creswell Crags.

Creswell Crags has the largest concentration of spotropaic marks in Britain, and specialists are still trying to fully understand why. There are a few theories; perhaps to keep evil spirits from the cave so it could be used for winter storage, perhaps the site was a focus for local folklore and superstition or maybe the cave was perceived as a meeting place between worlds and the hole which plummets into the earth (incidentally where the concentration of the marks is most fervent) was perceived as a ‘well to hell’ and the Marks served the purpose to keep the demons from entering our world. Maybe we will never know what was going through the minds of the people who laboriously scratched these marks into the rock, but it’s certainly a major cause for curiosity.

The symbolism of the particular marks at Creswell are largely derived from Latin words or phrases commonly thought to be protective in the 17th century. The most heavily featured is the double V, which looks a lot like a W, which stand for ‘Virgo Virginum’ (Virgin of Virgins), but there are also many ‘C’s for Christ, I for Iesus (original Latin spelling of Jesus), R for Rex or Regina (referring to king or queen) and several other variations which generally all relate to Mary and Jesus in some form.

There are also some which may take the form of ‘demonic traps’ designed to ensnare evil in a maze like form, such as a Merels board, ladders and other usually straight edged shapes.

As you might imagine there has been some scepticism from visitors suggesting that the symbols are merely graffiti. However when you take into account the sheer volume of symbols, witness first hand their obsessive repetition and are aware of the presence of the same symbols hundreds of miles apart the significance of these marks becomes startlingly obvious.

I hope that in years to come more becomes known about the Witch Marks at Creswell Crags and that we learn who put them there and exactly why. But the team there are certainly up against it with all the changes that have happened on site over the last few hundred years, in particular Victorian excavations which didn’t record findings as rigorously as archaeologists do today, and considered anything from the 17th century too contemporary to bother with and sadly may have discarded many clues to deciphering the mysteries of the cave.

A huge thank you to the team at Creswell for their dedication and passion, and of course to our guide Sarah who made the experience a fantastic one!
Witch Marks After Dark tours run on select dates until the end of the month. Check out the Creswell Crags website here to find out more!

Red House

For more years than I can count I have dreamed of visiting Red House. As a life long lover of William Morris and everything he stood for (Socialism, quality products, hand craftsmanship, well considered design, the aesthetic beauty of everyday objects, truth to and respect of nature, obsession with the Medieval ... the list goes on) Red House for me has always been some what of a Holy Grail.
Every time I've visited London and begin to think about what I can cram in Red House always comes to the front of my mind, looming large like some un-vanquished beast. And then I look at Bexleyheath and its awkward location and the logistics never quite seem to fit.

But this wasn't a trip to London, this was a trip to France and beyond, and with Bexleyheath only a short drive from the M25 to my logic it was 'on the way' (as too was Bodingham Castle apparently) and the perfect opportunity to finally make a pilgrimage to Morris's home. And so it was built into the mammoth road trip schedule.

Our arrival at Red House hadn't been quite what I was expecting. A winding, modern suburban housing estate with boring, cloned houses costing I shudder to think how much lining the narrow winding lanes which felt a million miles away from London (however the traffic on the main roads did not). Twisting and turning wondering where on earth it was as the satnav had not-so-helpfully announced we had arrived, yet it was nowhere to be seen. Then suddenly around a bend lofty trees loomed up from behind a high brick wall and a blue plaque, here we were! Red House at last.

To say the property is National Trust you would hardly know in all honesty. A little out building with a small gift shop in but none of the usual pomp and grandeur that generally greets you at most trust properties (though we have visited other exceptions). From outside the walls Red House is quite unassuming, hidden behind trees and garden walls, most people probably drive by without a second glance. However inside those walls, it feels like I've walked into Morris' personal paradise. The steeply pitched roof gives the house a dramatic, imposing presence, while the many different windows in lots of shapes and sizes soften it and give it a charming character. On first impression the house is simple, honest. Its not until you get around the back of the house you see its more complex side, with a much more cosy feeling as it comes around to hug the ornate well and envelope the garden. One thing you truly get a sense of at Red House is Morris's connection to nature. The beautiful gardens were as important to Morris as every other aspect of this home, and that truly shows.

Inside the building had the echoes of some great medieval hall with beams, dark wood and bespoke gothic furniture in most rooms. But it was not as Morris intended it. White washed walls and Morris wallpaper Red House has been painfully sanitized over the years. Beautiful murals painted over, colour schemes whited out, stained glass sold, its true artistic intention and creation, lost. Colour swatches in the rooms tell you the original schemes Morris used. Deep reds, ocre, dark green, all those beautiful Medieval colours he so loved and we see today immortalised in illuminated manuscripts. Gone. The house was a living work of art and what he and Jane achieved there in 5 short years is incredible. So why isn't it being restored?

I asked volunteers why original schemes had not been reintroduced, or more original features had not been uncovered as for me the sorry state of the inside compared to what it could and should be was heart breaking and if I'm honest, a little distressing. Many were flippant, one telling me there were beautiful artworks on the doors, but she preferred the teal blue they were now painted and hoped they would stay that way. I wanted to tell her that wasn't her decision to make, this was Morris's dream and should reflect his vision, not hers, surely that's what we're saving this gem for, in tribute to his memory and genius? But, I wound my neck in and held my tongue. Other staff said they didn't have enough funding to carry out the costly work involved, painstaking work I know, but worthwhile surely? And I was also told of some urgent structural problems which needed to be addressed but for whatever reason hadn't been yet.

Its frustrating to see the house which was Morris' vision a shadow of its former self. But its easy to understand how this happens when an organisation as large as the National Trust has guardianship of a building. Over the past years we've been to so many of their properties, and what they do to safe guard and protect our heritage is nothing short of incredible. But when you visit Red House and are one of perhaps a dozen people in the entire grounds, you can see that compared to a property such as Nostell Priory, which on the day we visited there were literally thousands of people, and we were told on our tour how many tens of thousands of pounds they paid to reupholster a single sofa in one room of the Priory because it was looking a bit past it, you realise Red House is sadly a little fish in a big pond. And not the big bucks money spinning tourist attraction which some of their buildings are.

To have finally made it to Red House was a double edged sword. With so much joy to finally see this unique home, and yet sadness and frustration at wanting it to truly reflect Morris still. I hope that when the time comes when I have chance to visit again more of the intricate work of Morris will have been uncovered for future generations to treasure and protect.

Next to complete on my Morris pilgrimages is Kelmscott Manor. Perhaps one for 2019 ...

'Evil, be gone ...': Eguzkilore inspired Flora and Fauna

This design has particular significance for me. It was inspired by numerous trips to Southern France and Basque country, which has its own very unique traditions and beliefs. In the region many beliefs have existed which are almost unique to the area and have often been persecuted, such as Basque Paganism and the Cathars. The remnants of these beliefs live on in different traditions and daily life in the region. I first noticed visiting the incredibly picturesque Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert 4 years ago a strange symbol adorning many doors in the commune, what I thought to be a dried sunflower, yet subsequent research revealed it to be a Carlina acaulis - a type of silver thistle (which I detailed in my blog 'Eguzkilore'). Research told me the symbol had originated from basque pagan tradition, symbolising the sun and protecting the home from darkness and demons. Yet again last year I saw the symbol, in Narbonne in a collection of archeological stones at the Lapidary Museum. The stones date back to Roman times, many are ancient grave markers. Many featured the symbol, which could be seen hundreds of times, obviously holding great significance and importance in Roman Narbonne.

When beginning design work for my flora and fauna series I began to consider incorporating Eguzkilore into one piece. The more I considered it, the more I thought what a good idea it was to theme one piece around the symbolism of the Eguzkilore and pay homage to the traditions of my beloved Languedoc-Roussillon.

When sketching for the piece I decided to draw the image of the Eguzkilore blooming in the wild, not dried and nailed to a door, however as far as I'm concerned the symbolism is still the same. When contemplating insects to feature in the composition I quickly decided on the cicada, as this is another strong symbol of the Languedoc-Roussillon region. I first saw a ceramic cicada in Aigue Mortes and wondered what on earth it meant, and the more I looked, the more of them i saw. It turns out the cicada, like Eguzkilore is a symbol of protection and against bad luck, but in the wider world the cicada is also represents resurrection, immortality and spirituality.
As a second insect it felt apt to include the Scarabaeidae commonly known as the Scarab beetle. The Beetle is one of the most well known symbolic insects in the world and of course represented the sun in ancient Egyptian culture. I felt this reaffirmed the symbolism of the Eguzkilore and ensured the piece was tied in with the sun, light and protection from evil.

The symbolism of this piece is so important to me because it pays homage to an ancient tradition which for many is a hidden piece of history only there for those willing to look. For me the symbol of the Eguzkilore represents the region I have come to love and adore so much. Its layers of history, its warmth and positivity and the richness and depth of culture waiting for those willing to scratch the surface. 'Evil, be gone ...' pays tribute to history, tradition and all things Languedoc-Roussillon.

Aesthetics of Death: The Tomb Effigy

Following a visit to one of my favourite museums; the V&A during a short break in London, I have decided to write a piece looking at the aesthetics and importance surrounding tombs.

The V&A is packed with effigies, busts, sarcophagi and tombs. The aesthetic depiction of death is everywhere, but what is its historical and cultural significance?

Physical reminders and markers of the dead stretch throughout history, from domed earth mounds bearing the remains of one, or many people, to elaborate tombs and monuments found in virtually every civilisation across the globe. With time, tastes and faith, the way we bury, and physically remember and represent our dead has changed. Certainly in modern day England, personal monuments have largely become (for the most part) unimaginative, uninspired and increasingly unpopular. Something you simply choose out of a catalogue, for your convenience, and pay by the letter to express your dearest sentiments. But across Europe during the Medieval and Renaissance periods things were very different. Like the Romans and Egyptians before them, they felt death mattered. Being remembered, respected and immortalized forever, demonstrated the most important things achieved during your life; your wealth, earthly deeds and ultimately - status.

The 'Tomb Effigy' or as the French call it 'Gisant' (meaning recumbent) was a popular expression of this. The height of funerary fashion from the 12th century onwards, a tomb effigy was a guaranteed reminder of your physical presence and legacy on the earth, indefinitely. Monarchs from the mightiest kingdoms and empires were immortalised after death, with the most excessive tombs and monuments imaginable. But gisants weren't just reserved for royalty, and they provided the chance for a few to get their slice of immortality.

Initially the tomb effigy began life essentially as a low relief or carving decorating the lid of the deceased's casket. As time progressed designs became larger and more elaborate, eventually becoming life size, fully formed reclining sculptures. The gisants became lavish, opulent and excessive, with Queen Elizabeth I's tomb effigy even dressed in magnificent, luxurious clothing.    

An example of Royal gisants and their unapologetic grandeur is Henry VII's tomb effigy. A plaster reproduction of the original can be seen in the V&A, the main article is on display in its own dedicated chapel in Westminster Abby. The original gilded bronze effigy, which is positioned beside Henry's Queen looks remarkably different to the reproduction. The gilding of the reproduction is tarnished with oxidization, giving it a much more subdued, emotionless look in comparison to the gleaming, lavish original which simply oozes power, wealth and excess.

My favourite tomb effigies on display at the V&A were those of husband and wife Don García de Osorio and Doña María de Perea. The effigies originated from 14th century Spain, which is reflected in their religious imagery and the simple, honest aesthetics of the figures. On first glance the female figure appears to be a nun, however she is not, the items such as the rosary beads and her modest dress, symbolise her piety and faith. Her husband was a member of the Order of Santiago, an order of Christian knights who defended pilgrims and the Christian faith. On his chest the symbol of his order can be clearly seen, suggesting his allegiance in life and death. Latin inscriptions upon his sword reading 'Jesus give me victory' and 'The blessing of God' reaffirm the importance of their faith. It is the main focus of their effigies, suggesting that religion was the foundation of their lives.
Knelt at the feet of Don García de Osorio is an unidentified woman, a 'mourning figure' became popular feature of tomb effigies as they developed in complexity and detail. Many mourning figures knelt in prayer for the dead, as an attempt to encourage those who looked upon the tomb to do the same, however the figure mourning the knight is simply supporting the weight of her grief with her hand, with a posture which suggests respect, sorrow and possibly even waiting.

These effigies are prime examples of how funerary art was used to convey various elements of peoples lives after their death. Their morals, achievements, status and their legacy have all been captured in stone, immortalising their fleeting earthly existence forever.

Alice Durose   

Art in focus: 'The Sun'

As a new year is upon us I am embracing new beginnings and embarking on something different in the form of 'Tarot Tuesdays'. Each week an 'Art in focus' piece will focus on a different Tarot card, the historical significance of the card, its traditional imagery and an in depth look at my own interpretation of the card.

So let's kick off the year on a positive note with 'The Sun'!

Traditionally in Tarot 'The Sun', as the source of all life on Earth represents life, vitality and fertility. 'The Sun' card is read as a very positive sign, it brings boundless strength and happiness to your life, just as the sun brings to the earth. 'The Sun' is the most positive card in the whole of the major Acarna, so feel optimistic; the universe is on your side! 

In one of the earliest surviving Tarot decks, the Marseille Tarot, the image depicted is simply the sun, raining life upon the earth, with two figures stood beneath, possibly rejoicing and embracing. The imagery is simple in comparison to later decks, such as the Rider-Waite deck, which has complex symbolism linking to innocence and purity, as well as the vitality, happiness and optimism depicted by earlier decks. 

In my interpretation of 'The Sun' Tarot I purposely wanted the sun to dominate the card, ensuring it was the main focus of the image and portrayed a sense of strength and power.

When designing my sun I felt the inclusion of a face, to give the sun a personality and identity was essential. The expression of the face felt a very important element, and was something I did a number of sketches of to get right. I wanted the sun to appear melancholy, as he sees the world in the cold light of day, the harsh, often painful realities of mankind are all too clear to him. I wanted him to express a silent sorrow, that the life he gives is not always appreciated, rejoiced or treasured in the way it should be.

Stretching out beneath his life giving rays his bounty covers the land below. The crops and beauty he creates though the fertility he bathes the earth with is ours for the taking, but without his sustenance we would perish. Before him stands the lovers, a recurring theme within a number of my Tarot cards, symbolising fertility, the life the sun gives, and their respect for the Suns gifts, as they are enlightened, not ignorant, individuals.
The crops I chose to represent the Suns bounty are wheat and sunflowers. Wheat has been a staple food for the rich and poor for thousands of years, it has sustained entire civilizations, is one of the most ancient food sources and is still consumed all around the world everyday. The sunflower is a physical symbol of the sun and has been important in art symbolism throughout history. Sunflower crops can be seen sprawled across Europe, with their oil a major ingredient in cooking, the millions of nodding heads is quite a sight to behold, and one that always fills me with joy, hence my inclusion of it upon the card.
I chose a very rich, decadent palette for this Tarot, as I wanted it to represent the intensity of the sun and the light he brings to the world. I looked to illuminated manuscripts for my palette inspiration, as they are timeless and ancient like the sun, and capture a glowing vibrancy and true beauty. 

Sketch and progress work for 'The Sun'

'The Sun' fine art print

Gothic Grandeur

Deciding to utilize a Bank Holiday we planned a peaceful day out at Bolsover Castle, to explore and soak up some history. However, upon arrival we were greeted by the sight of a Medieval encampment, hoards of armour clad warriors, and hundreds of spectators. So a relaxing walk around the castle grounds was slightly more hectic than originally planned!

The architecture of the Castle is incredibly eclectic, and largely ruinous. Various parts of the castle reflect its colourful past and differing uses throughout history. Beginning life in the 12th century as a  genuine battlement, it later became a 'stately home castle', as is so often the case, meaning the additional mixture of classical, baroque and Norman architecture could wrongly fool one into thinking Bolsover Castle is all style and no substance.
My favourite part of Bolsover was the Little Castle. The small building, designed to emulate a Norman keep in appearance, was infact a lavish house. Now part in decay, part restored, there is an eerie charm about the place with its many maze like rooms, nothing more than an empty shell hinting at former grandeur.

And yours truly ready for battle!