Outside access to the Chapel of St. Nicholas windows is not easy, so I have never previously viewed them from that perspective. However, closer examination of one of the windows dew me to venturing outside. It appeared that the glass was layered. Certainly not immediately obvious, but there are sections that clearly have more than one layer of stained glass, producing a three dimensional feel that is most apparent on this tiled floor section from ‘The Lord is my refuge and fortress’. However, trying to photograph this effect as intended, is close to impossible. The best I could manage was to demonstrate that there is a lower layer of lead.
From the outside, such features are evident on only two of the four accessible windows, but are significantly more obvious (and more abundant those windows than is apparent from the inside). Some of the double layers are in vivid, dark coloured locations – perhaps two layers of glass are necessary to achieve the deep blues, for example (although it is worth noting that not all vivid blues areas are double-layered).
Seen in its entirety from the outside, with the benefit of some highlighting, the images below show the extent of the double-layering. When overlaid with a mirror image of the edited window, it is clear that this feature exists only in the darker areas or vivid colour.
UPDATE: November 25, 2018
Further research reveals this process to be ‘plating‘ – a stained glass technique perfected by L.C. Tiffany in the early 1900’s. Plating is the process of layering glass, one piece over another, to create shadows, contour and add depth to compositions.
Apse – the often domed, semi-circular or polygonal east end where the altar is located.
Calme or Came – Strip of lead H shaped to hold the pieces of glass together, from the Latin calamus, meaning reed.
Cartoon – A full size drawing of the design for a stained glass window.
Cinquefoil – A five lobed shape.
Design – See Vidimus.
Diaper – A decorative pattern applied using glass paint to enhance the glass surface.
Enamel – A technique developed in the late C15 to allow colours to be painted on to glass.
Ferramenta – The metal framework (iron, aluminium, copper, brass) fixed into the masonry to hold panels of stained glass.
Flashing – Application of a thin coat of coloured glass on to clear glass – most reds are flashed.
Grisaille – Clear or grey glass often decorated with foliage design
Grozing – A method of shaping the edges of pieces of glass to the right size using a metal tool known as a grozing iron.
Lancet – Tall, narrow windows with a sharp pointed arch at the top.
Light – The vertical division of a window.
Medallion – Circular panel of several pieces of glass leaded together.
Mullion – Upright stone section of a window. Divides the window into a number of lights.
Narthex – An antechamber at the western entrance of some churches, separated from the nave by a screen.
Nave – the central part of a church building, intended to accommodate most of the congregation.
Needlework – Fine relieving done with a needle or sharp instrument, scratching out.
Panel – An element of a stained glass window, generally no more than 1m square. A single windows is, as a rule, made of several panels.
Plating – The doubling up of glass by the attachment of an additional layer, held together within a single lead. This can be part of an artistic technique, used as a means of modifying or intensifying colour or texture, or can be used as a protective measure during conservation.
Relieving – The removal of paint from the surface of the glass prior to firing, to allow light to come through; methods include needlework and stickwork.
Rinceau – Foliage design usually used as a background.
Rose – Round windows that often have elaborate tracery and lots of decorated stained glass. They are usually facing the altar.
Roundel – A unipartite panel, generally round, bearing a self-contained design.
Quarry – (from French carré, square): a small pane of glass, usually diamond-shaped. Imitation quarries are glass panels that have lead lines painted on them to simulate the appearance of quarries.
Quatrefoil – Windows with four petal shaped sections.
Stanchion – A vertical support bar set into the masonry, internally or externally (or both). Used in conjunction with Support Bars, which sometimes have eyes through which a stanchion can pass.
Stickwork – Relieving done with the end of a brush or blunt instrument, picking out.
Support Bar or Saddle Bar – A bar set horizontally into the masonry, to which stained glass panels are tied with lead or copper ties, supporting and preventing panels from flexing out of the vertical plane.
Tie Bar – See Support Bar or Saddle Bar.
Tracery – Ornamental stone openwork, typically in the upper part of a Gothic window.
Tracery Lights – The small, often ornate openings at the top of a window.
Trefoil – Windows with three petal shaped sections.
Vestibule – See Narthex.
Vidimus – Before the cartoon was drawn, preliminary sketches would be made to show what the finished windows would look like so the design could be approved. The approved design was the Vidimus. The approved design of a window, before the cartoon is made. Latin for “we have seen”.
I have started the process of contacting the next batch of Oxford Colleges, seeking permission to photograph within their chapels and was delighted to receive an instant response from the Chaplain of one, but the details were not quite so pleasing…
The Queen’s College require all such requests to be referred to their Governing Body for approval. This requires me to submit a formal ‘Photography Request Form’ upon which they will cogitate. It is likely that this will happen at their next meeting… on 17 October. 50 days before I might know if they are happy for me to photograph their stained glass windows!
Today marks the 155th birthday of the Russian chemist and photographer Sergey Prokudin-Gorsky. An event immortalised in today’s Google Doodle animation.
Between 1909 and 1915 Sergey Prokudin-Gorsky traveled through Russia in a railroad car specially equipped with a mobile darkroom to document Russian life using a technique he called ”optical colour projection.”
Born in Murom, Vladimir Province, Russia, on this day in 1863, Prokudin-Gorsky was a chemist who became interested in photography. He travelled to Germany to study with Adolf Miethe, a pioneer of the colour separation method, and soon developed his own formulation for photographic emulsion so he could create life-like photos in natural colours. His portrait of the great Russian author Leo Tolstoy was widely reproduced, bringing Prokudin-Gorsky a measure of fame. As a result, Tsar Nicholas II agreed to sponsor his ambitious project.
Prokudin-Gorsky’s images of people, landscapes, architecture, historic sites, industry, and agriculture were created by exposing three glass plates through three different colour filters – green, red and blue – and then combining them to create a composite colour image. He captured thousands of images that offer a rare glimpse of Russia before the Bolshevik Revolution and First World War.
Prokudin-Gorsky planned to use the resulting photos to educate Russian school children about their vast country. Today, his body of work is preserved on thousands of glass plates, which are prized by historians and scholars.
Sergey Prokudin-Gorsky (1915) Austro-Hungarian POW, Russia
While Prokudin-Gorsky’s work shows only a tenuous link to my research, it does provide a glimpse of early multiple exposure bracketing at a time when capturing a single image was demanding enough. To have to produce three glass plates for each photograph while ensuring that every aspect of the scene remains constant must have been incredibly demanding, to say nothing of the extraordinary physical size of the growing portfolio.
St. Edmund Hall was somewhat of an enigma: why does it have its own chapel when its library is housed in a former church, listed in the Domesday Book? Request to photograph the chapel was directed, as always, at the chaplain Revd Will Donaldson, who was prompt in accepting my request, but also directed my request to photograph the library (St. Peter-in-the-East) to the new librarian.
With each of the chapels varying so greatly, the preliminary visits are so important, affording time to plan which windows might work best and allowing me to decide which lens or lenses are most appropriate for the eventual shoot. Additionally, it forms the starting point of important background research into the history of each chapel: something that will prove invaluable when I start work on the guide that will accompany the portfolio.
The supper at Emmaus (Ceri Richards, 1958) Chapel of St. Edmund
The Chapel of St. Edmund really was small. Built by Stephen Penton and consecrated in 1682, it is famous for the painting ‘The supper at Emmaus’ by Ceri Richards that hangs over the altar and is also well known for the stained-glass window on the east side that was constructed and designed by William Morris and Edward-Burne Jones.
A 3D tour of the chapel proved a useful starting point, but revealed little of the detail of the stained glass windows. In addition to an impressive East Window, the chapel boasts four pairs of lights, each depicting a saint. On visiting, it became apparent that some lights where unevenly lit as a result of shadows cast by nearby buildings and trees. Indeed, one pair of lights is only visible from the organ loft and it is hidden behind the organ – as such it is impossible to photograph in any meaningful way.
The diminutive size of the chapel is quite an issue as I may find that a 90mm lens will be too powerful for photographing the lights in the north and south walls, and anything smaller may result in increased distortion. As it is, the height of the windows will necessitate photography at an angle, leading to converging verticals that will lessen the image quality through post production digital correction. The East Windows seems the most sensible choice for photography as it affords the greatest distance, by using the full length of the nave. , but its relatively old age for a pre-Raphaelite window gives it a rather uncared-for appearance compared with those created in the late 1890’s and beyond.
A window of opportunity enabled me to return to St. Edmund Hall today, for a preliminary visit to their library (formerly St. Peter’s-in-the-East), having secured provisional permission to take photographs, thanks to the support of James Howarth, Librarian at St. Edmund Hall.
While technically a church, as it is deconsecrated and forms part of the St. Edmund Hall campus, I am happy to include reference to it within my research project.
St. Peter-in-the-East is said to be named after the church of S. Pietro in Vincoli in Rome and is named in the Domesday Book (c.1085). It was used as the student chapel for St. Edmund Hall until the chapel was built on the College grounds in 1682. The church was closed as a place of worship in 1965 and reopened as the College library in 1970.
Once again, aided by a 3D tour of the former church prior to the visit, I was prepared for some of the surprise that was in store… photography can be difficult enough within chapels when only having to negotiate pews, however in a building now filled with bookcases, tables and computer desks, this location will prove quite demanding. To further confound things, I will only be allowed to photograph the site outside the Oxford University term dates. This is likely to result in the work not forming part of my Module 3 portfolio.
Notwithstanding, I set about surveying the numerous windows – all magnificently cleaned and restored in readiness for the church becoming the library of St. Edmund Hall. The location of furniture presents quite a headache for most lines of sight. I am most optimistic about my chances in photographing the East Window, however, this is likely to necessitate me mounting my tripod on desk – something that may be frowned upon in a library.
Detail information about and from guide book here.
Possibly the smallest chapel in Oxford, St. Edmund Hall’s chapel was consecrated for use in 1682 and dedicated to St Edmund. The stained glass windows were installed a couple of centuries later by Messrs Clayton and Bell. Sadly, where photography is concerned, choice over stained glass windows was limited: much of the glass suffered from close proximity to other buildings or dense foliage, making it incredibly dark, or resulting in a mottled appearance.
The east window was work of the famous artists and designers, Sir Edward Burne-Jones and William Morris, and was inserted in 1865. It is the earliest example in Oxford of their stained glass work. The arrangement of the window was designed by Philip Webb, who also designed the pattern work. Fortunately, the main light within the East Window (by Burne-Jones) was lit uniformly and lent itself to convenient shooting, as there was the full length of the nave to use.
The east window demonstrated very high contrast, with significant area proving difficult to resolve in anything more than black. It is also a window that has not been cleaned recently, showing much build-up of dark grime.
Crucifixion (Edward Burne-Jones, 1865) The Chapel of St. Edmund
Ecce Agnus Dei qui tollit peccata mundi
Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world!
John 1:29
Shot at 220mm, using the Canon EF 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6L IS II USM lens, at the now standard aperture of f/8.0, there was only a small amount of perspective distortion to correct in the final image.
My project is a study of the stained glass windows within Oxford’s chapels. With 47 chapels to contend with (I keep finding more!) I am focusing on just one window per chapel, although in reality, I typically photograph three of four. Using multiple exposure blending in order to create an image that demonstrates the wide and full dynamic range depicted within each window necessitates as many as thirty images of each window to be captured. A composite image is created by piecing together, manually, the optimum individual glass pieces from the available range. That image then receives a final edit, removing any damage and eliminating the horizontal support bars. Depending upon the size and complexity of the window, post production can take 20+ hours.
A significant concern is the time and requirements it takes in order to secure access to the chapels. Some of Oxford’s Colleges are very accommodating indeed, but rather too many play hard to get, or require an extraordinary level of paperwork. I am in a bit of a battle with one at the moment: I have filled out the very detailed two page ‘Tour, Filming and Photography Application Form’, which first has to undergo a committee hearing, then, if approved, has to be passed in front of the Governing Body for ratification. This process should take less than two months. However, they require me to have £10 million liability cover in place for photography in interior locations and currently I only have £5 million of cover. I do a lot of competition target shooting… somewhat perversely, were I to travel into the chapel with one of my rifles, I would be covered for the required £10 million liability insurance!!
While I have enjoyed aspects of the previous modules, the one stand-out feature is that they prevent me from working on my project. I can commit to one or the other, but not both. My aim for this module is to attempt the impossible, managing my job, my project and the module. Quite how others cope with the addition of a family, I cannot imagine!
‘The break’ for me was the start of a new academic year, so since late August I have been working seven day weeks in-school… much looking forward to next Saturday and Sunday, being the first Leave of the term! However, last Wednesday afternoon I did dash into Oxford and photograph three stained glass windows within Oxford’s smallest chapel: The Chapel of St. Edmund’s Hall, but these have yet to leave my camera. I hope to get the chance to work on these images during my off-duty nights this week – if that is the case, images will follow…
I was hoping to have edited two lights from the east window, but time only allowed for one…
The ‘before’ shot is the middle of the 25 exposure bracketed images, with the final image being the result of about ten hours of multiple exposure blending, followed by eight hours of editing to remove the supports bars (this image being particularly awkward as a result of the patterns on the assorted gowns). The final part of the process was a return to the chapel, with the image saved on a tablet so that I can compare the edited image with the actual window or light. In this instance, it required no further work… I was keen to brighten the image as it appears quite murky in places, but that is true to the original, so I have left it looking, perhaps, rather dull…
This window is the earliest example in Oxford by Edward Burne-Jones and William Morris (1865). The finished image suffers a little because the entire window is quite dirty… resulting in the blackened specks in many of the individual pains of glass. Additionally, I have noticed that the earlier pre-Raphaelite windows are significantly less vibrant than those of the late 1890’s and beyond.
The Latin quote, ‘Ecce Agnus Dei qui tollit peccata mundi‘ is from John 1:29… ‘Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world!’
Stained glass is a unique art form in that it is illuminated by transmitted light, either from the sun or an artificial light source. In situ, stained glass windows become animated through the movement of the traversing sun as well as the weather’s interaction, with clouds changing the light on a whim. The transmitted coloured light brushes across the fabric of the building as it has done for many centuries, visible today to the passive onlooker in the exact same way as it was when first built.
The religious significance of stained glass is largely lost to us today, but to emphasise its original importance, Bishop Guillaume Durand de Mende stated around 1300 that “stained-glass windows are divine writings that spread the clarity of the true sun, who is God, through the church, that is to say, through the heart of the faithful bringing them true enlightenment.”
Some 300 years later, Pierre de Roissy wrote, “The stained-glass windows that are in churches and through which . . . the clarity of the sun is transmitted, signify the Holy Scriptures, which banish evil from us and enlighten our being.”
The link between churches and the sun remains true even when there is no stained glass. When touring with the Summer Fields Chapel Choir in 2006, we sang in Vézelay Abbey, northern Burgundy, France. This stunning Basilica together with the hill upon which it sits, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Beyond the impressive proportions of this Burgundian Romanesque architectural masterpiece, there is a striking purity. I was surprised by the lack of stained glass: it is lit entirely through plain glass.
While there, I read that it was not until 1976, more than eight centuries after construction, that the reasoning behind the orientation axis of the Basilica was rediscovered. At midday on the summer solstice, the light coming through the southern clerestory windows creates luminous sports that exactly locate in the full midst of the nave. To quote from Father Hugues Delautre, in the absence of coloured glass, “the builder, fascinated by the beauty of the universe which he recognises as the work of God, erected this vestibule to Heaven in imitation of God who created with order, measure and beauty.”
In medieval times, windows, stained glass or otherwise, were essential to the churches, illuminating the building and the people within, both literally and spiritually: in the eyes of the worshipers, they allowed the light of God into the church. At a time when few could read, painted windows were used to instruct people in the Christian faith and encourage religious devotion. Many windows illustrated scenes and stories from the Bible and the lives of the saints, who were revered both as a source of help in everyday life and as mediators in Heaven. With the magnificence of the stained glass providing an indication of wealth, as a gesture of philanthropy, rich donors, anxious to be remembered in the prayers of the faithful, often paid for the expensive windows.
Making a stained glass panel (2010) Victoria and Albert Museum
The term “stained glass” encompasses three different processes: colouring, staining and painting, each one complex and requiring the application of many skills. The glaziers who made these windows did not themselves make the glass, this was the job of the glass-makers. Glass manufacture was hot and dangerous work that required great skill and knowledge. Glass-makers knew and jealously guarded the glass recipes and furnace conditions needed to make a myriad of colours. They would mix the raw materials in clay pots heated with wood fires and then manipulate the resulting viscous liquid with metal and wooden implements.
Glass-makers would supply sheets of coloured glasses to the glaziers to create their windows. The process of making a stained glass window begins with the artist’s sketch, known as the vidimus (Latin for “we have seen”), but today more commonly referred to as the “design”, such as Henry Holiday’s example to the left. The vidimus was then drawn to full scale (known as a cartoon) on a whitened table top. The panes of coloured glass would then be cut to shape, placed on the cartoon. Over the years, several types of paints and stains have been developed to further enhance the stained glass designs. For example, a silver nitrate stain producing a yellowing effect has helped to enhance borders and haloes. A stain called Cousin’s rose was also developed, enabling artists to enhance individuals’ flesh tones.
As a final step, the window pieces are slotted into H-shaped lead (calmes). The joints are then soldered together and an oily cement is inserted between the glass and the dividers to ensure stability and reduce any potential rattling.
Once almost solely confined to medieval churches and chapels, stained glass windows spread into guildhalls, hospitals and manor houses thanks to wealthy patrons who could afford the luxurious coloured glass windows. During the 19th and 20th centuries, stained glass windows became popular in other places of worship, together with civic and domestic buildings. In more recent times, it has been used to form part of the main structure of corporate buildings, hotels, community centres and shopping centres.
There are precious few stained-glass windows in Oxford produced within the last century, so it is refreshing to read of the latest installation within Westminster Abbey: a vibrantly coloured window designed by David Hockney using an iPad and filling a space more than six meters tall and about two metres wide. I do wonder what thought Hockney put into the variation of light intensity and colour temperature that his work would undergo post-installation? Did he go to the trouble of simulating how the piece might look at different times of the year, or different timed of the day on his iPad?
I do rather enjoy the juxtaposition between this work and mine… here Hockney used an iPad to design a stained glass window installation. My work sees me photographing stained glass window installation then, having edited them, I view them on a Windows tablet (more apt, I feel) in situ to ensure they are a faithful reproduction.
The window celebrates Queen Elizabeth II’s 65-year reign, and is set in Yorkshire, featuring hawthorn blossom. It was created using traditional techniques by Barley Studio, a stained glass studio based in York.
Alan Williams (2018) David Hockney and The Queen’s Window
David Harrison (2018) The Queen’s Window at Barley Studio