WE VISIT DOVER Street in London’s Mayfair frequently to view exhibitions at the commercial art galleries along it. Laid out in the late 17th century, the street is named after Henry Jermyn (c1636-1708), 1st Baron Dover, who was a member of the syndicate that developed the area in which it is located.
Despite having walked along this street countless numbers of times, it was only this September (2024) that we spotted the entrance to a narrow alley way on the west side of the street between numbers 41 and 43. The alley is called Dover Yard. The first 12 yards of this passageway are covered by a high barrel vaulted, brick-lined ceiling. Then, after a short stretch open to the sky, one enters a wide yard made attractive with plenty of plants.
The yard itself is surrounded by modern buildings. In the 1970s, the yard, which has existed since the 18th century, was bought by developers and used as service area and parking lot (www.ianvisits.co.uk/articles/londons-alleys-dover-yard-w1-64590/). It was redeveloped recently, and is now flanked by the elegantly designed Nightingale coffee bar and restaurant (part of 1 Hotel Mayfair) on the north side, and Dovetail, a Michelin-starred restaurant, faces it. West of the wide yard, there is another narrow alleyway leading to Berkely Street. It has become a peaceful, almost hidden oasis in the heart of a busy part of Mayfair not far from Piccadilly.
As is often the case when revisiting places we thought we knew well in London, we come across places like Dover Yard, which we have passed often but never noticed. Although we did not try it, the Nightingale looks like it would be a very pleasant place to stop for refreshment.
WE HAVE WALKED along Jermyn Street and visited Christopher Wren’s church of St James (Piccadilly) innumerable times without being aware that right next to both, there is an attractive public garden. It was only today (the 10th of September 2024) that we first became aware of its existence. The place in question is Southwood Garden. It lies west of the church and along part of the north side of Jermyn Street.
For 200 years the plot to the west of the church was used as a burial ground. At the end of WW2, the newspaper proprietor and Labour politician Viscount Southwood (1873-1946) paid to have the burial ground made into a garden to commemorate the bravery and courage of the people of London. The garden was opened in 1946 by Queen Mary (the wife of King George V).
The garden is approached by short flights of steps, which flank a small pond with a fountain. The pond is flanked by bronze sculptures of two children, each riding on the backs of a pair of dolphins. There are two other sculpted children, one on each side of the steps. At the top of the steps, there is a stone inscribed with “Viscount Southwood”. The few steps lead to a paved area, at the back of which there is an inscribed plaque explaining that Viscount Southwood provided the garden that stands on what had been a bomb-damaged burial ground. Another couple of steps at the southeast corner of the paved area lead up to the well-tended grassy, rectangular garden.
In addition to the sculptures of children astride dolphins, there is another bronze sculpture in the garden. It depicts a standing woman holding some leaves in her right hand. It is called “Peace”. All the sculptures at Southwood Garden were made by the English sculptor Alfred Frank Hardiman (1891-1949).
How could we have missed this delightful garden? There are two possible reasons. First, you cannot see it from Jermyn Street. Second, the fountain and entrance to the gardens are almost hidden behind the food stalls, which are set up during the day in the paved courtyard on the north side of the church. Well, I am pleased that we have ‘discovered’ it at last.
UNTIL THE 22nd OF SEPTEMBER 2024, the Victoria and Albert Museum in London’s South Kensington is hosting an exhibition called “Tropical Modernism: Architecture and Independence”. It focuses on two countries: Ghana and India. It was the exhibits relating to India that interested me most, although those connected with Ghana were also intriguing.
The Royal Institute of British Architects describes Modernism as follows:
“Rejecting ornament and embracing minimalism, Modernism became the single most important new style or philosophy of architecture and design of the 20th century. It was associated with an analytical approach to the function of buildings, a strictly rational use of (often new) materials, structural innovation and the elimination of ornament.” (www.architecture.com/explore-architecture/modernism).
Modernism began both in the USA and Europe in the 1920s and 1930s. Its better-known pioneering exponents include Le Corbusier, Mies van der Rohe, Walter Gropius, Maxwell Fry, Louis Kahn, and Eero Saarinen. The Modernist architects, like the abstract painters of the early 20th century, broke with traditional approaches to form and style.
On the 15th of August 1947, India became independent. The country was no longer ruled by foreigners. Jawaharlal Nehru (1889-1964) became India’s first Prime Minister, a position he retained until his death. His vision for India was for it to shake off the shackles of the past (both colonial and traditional) to become a modern state. This extended to architecture in his new India. He invited Modernist architects including Le Corbusier and his cousin Perre Jeanneret to design a new city in the Punjab (following the loss of Lahore to Pakistan): Chandigarh. This is illustrated well in the V&A exhibition. Le Corbusier wanted to create his ideal of a city, which included forbidding street markets and cows to wandering in its streets. His pupil and collaborator, Balkrishna Vithaldas Doshi, who died in 2023, had a more human approach to architecture. Having seen some of his buildings, notably in Ahmedabad and Bangalore, I would say that Doshi developed an architectural opus, which might be loosely described as ‘user-friendly Corbusier’. Incidentally, Doshi was also taught by Louis Kahn, who worked in India, notably in Ahmedabad.
A label in the exhibition noted that in 1959, at a conference about national identity in Indian architecture, Nehru urged Indian architects not to be “imprisoned by tradition”, but to experiment as had been done at Chandigarh (built between 1951 and 1956). Examples of this experimentation can be seen in the exhibition.
Naturally, since Nehru’s death, there have been many changes in India. I notice new changes every time we make our annual trips to the country. Nehru’s vision of a secular India has been replaced by a different vision in the minds of the leaders of the present Indian Government. Modernism’s internationalist aspects, which attracted Nehru and some of his successors, appear to have lost their appeal currently in India.
Immediately after gaining independence, both Ghana and India favoured Modernism in architecture. The exhibition at the V&A shows that even before independence, architects (almost all European) in Ghana had been building in the Modernist style, but specially adapted to cope with intense heat and high humidity. Ghana’s first leader, Kwame Nkrumah, encouraged the continuation of this architectural style. The exhibition includes a fascinating video about this. In India, Modernism seems to have been introduced post-independence. Both leaders wanted to project visions of a emerging modern countries, freed from the constraints of colonialism. Yet both promoted an architectural style developed largely by architects who came from countries that had had colonies in Asia and Africa.
Before ending this piece, I must not forget to mention two exhibits, which caricatured the great British colonial architect, Edwin Lutyens, who was certainly not a Modernist. One of them is a model of Lutyens’s head which has been combined with a model of one of his imperial buildings in New Delhi. The other, which is painted in the style of a Mughal miniature, shows Lutyens offering a model of the (British) Viceroy’s House (in New Delhi) to the Viceroy.
The exhibition was fascinating. Despite its rather obscure title, a good number of viewers were there during the Monday mid-afternoon when we visited it.
WE HAVE COME ACROSS this type of curious motif once before in the parish church at Long Melford (Suffolk), and recently (September 2024) in the parish church at Long Crendon (Buckinghamshire). The motif consists of three hares (or rabbits) in a circle and joined by their ears which form a triangle at the centre of the design. Each creature appears to have two ears, but between them, they share only three ears. At Long Melford, this image can be seen in a small piece of mediaeval stained glass in a window on the north side of the church. At Long Crendon, it can be seen on a small 14th century tile close to the high altar.
According to the guidebook we obtained in the church at Long Crendon, the three hare/rabbit motif is only seen in a few places in Britain (including 12 of the Stannary villages in Devon and Cornwall, Long Melford, Lavenham, and Chester Cathedral). Also, it stated that it can be seen:
“… in a few places stretching from China to Europe along the Silk Road.”
Well, this got me very interested, and I did a little research on the Internet. Soon, I came across a website, “Three Hares Project” (www.chrischapmanphotography.co.uk/hares/page7.htm). This site contains a mine of information including a map showing where the motif has been found along the Silk Route and other places.
The earliest examples that have been found are on the ceilings of Buddhist caves near Dunhuang in China. They been dated as having been placed there between 581 AD and 907 AD. The three hares have also been found on a late 12th or early 13th century Iranian tray made of brass inlaid with copper. Another example was found painted on the ceiling panel that once used to adorn an 18th century German synagogue. The authors of the website noted:
“The three hares are also found in glass and ceramic wares from the Islamic world.”
So, it appears that the motif that we have seen in churches was not confined to Christian usage.
As to the meaning of the three hares/rabbits motif, the website offered the following:
“… as yet, we have not come across a contemporary written record of its meaning … The hare is strongly represented in world mythology and from ancient times has had divine associations. Its elusiveness and unusual behaviour, particularly at night, have reinforced its reputation as a magical creature. The hare was believed to have mystical links to the female cycle and to the moon which governed it.”
What it meant to Christians, who placed the motif in their churches, was suggested on the website. It said that the ancients believed that the hare was hermaphroditic, and could give birth to its offspring without need for copulation. In relation to this, the learned Thomas Browne (1605-1682) wrote in 1646 in his “Pseudodoxia Epidemica”:
“THE double sex of single Hares, or that every Hare is both male and female, beside the vulgar opinion, was the affirmative of Archelaus, of Plutarch, Philostratus, and many more. Of the same belief have been the Jewish Rabbins: The same is likewise confirmed from the Hebrew word; which, as though there were no single males of that kind, hath only obtained a name of the feminine gender.” (https://penelope.uchicago.edu/pseudodoxia/pseudo317.html).
This belief might have led Christians of old to compare the hare to the Virgin Mary and the birth of her well-known son.
Another less likely possibility is that the three creatures have something to do with representing the Holy Trinity.
Whatever its meaning, I find the motif of three hares sharing three ears almost as fascinating as the eagle with one body and two heads (the double-headed eagle, such as seen, for example, on the flag of Albania and the crest of the Indian State of Karnataka).
I HAVE WRITTEN about this place before, but because it is so lovely, I will write about it again. Located in Leicester Place, which runs north from Leicester Square, it is the francophone Roman Catholic church of Notre Dame de France. Constructed earlier than the mid-19th century, it was originally a visitor attraction known as Burford’s Panorama. In 1865, the French Church bought the building and with the help of the architect Louis-Auguste Boileau (1812-1896), it was converted into a church. He retained the circular plan of the former Panorama and kept its dome. It was the first church in London to incorporate cast-iron structural elements. Badly damaged during WW2, it was rebuilt between 1953 and 1955 under the supervision of the Greek born architect Hector Corfiato (1892-1963).
By Timur D’Vatz
The church is a peaceful haven in a busy district of London. During the day, there are usually several homeless people lying asleep on the pews. Until our recent visit in August 2024, we usually made a beeline for a side chapel on the north side of the church. The walls of this small chapel are covered with coloured line drawings by Jean Cocteau (1889-1963). Depicting the Annunciation, Crucifixion and Assumption, Cocteau completed them in a week during 1962. In addition to the walls, Cocteau painted a wooden panel to cover the front of the chapels altar. This has been removed because it covered a mosaic created in 1954 by the Russian born artist Boris Anrep (1883-1969), who is best known for his mosaics on the floor of the National Gallery. The wooden panel can now be viewed in an alcove next to the chapel. After we had paid homage to the Cocteau drawings, we decided to look at some of the other artwork in the church.
There is a large tapestry above the high altar. It is based on the theme ‘Paradise on earth’, and was created in 19 by Dom Robert de Chaumac (1907-1977), a Benedictine monk from France. He was a friend of Jean Cocteau. Between 1948 and 1958, Dom Robert lived at Buckfast Abbey in Devon. The tapestry was woven in France in 1954. High up on the southeast wall of the church there is an attractive painting depicting the Flight of the Holy Family into Egypt. It was painted in 2016 by Timur D’Vatz, who was born in Moscow (Russia) in 1968. Between 1983 and 1987, he studied art at the Republican College of Art, Tashkent, and between 1993 and 1996, he studied at London’s Royal College of Art. He arrived in London from Moscow in 1992. In 2004, he acquired a studio in France.
Two polygonal incised stone ambos (lecterns) can be seen, one on each side of the high altar. The one on the north side has carvings and names of New Testament figures, and that on the south has Old Testament names and figures. I have not yet found out who designed or made these elegant geometric items. Likewise, I do not know who created the illustrated tiles that can be found at each of the Stations of the Cross.
The façade of the church is worth examining. High above the entrance to the church, there is a large carved stone bas-relief depicting Our Lady of Mercy. It was created in 1953 by the French sculptor Georges Saupique (1889-1961). Below this and flanking the entrance, there are two attractively carved pillars with eight scenes from the life of Mary. These were carved by students from the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris (France).
WHEN MY FATHER sold our family home in Hampstead Garden Suburb in the early 1990s, he gave some of his unwanted possessions to some neighbours, who still live opposite. They stored much of it in their attic. Recently, a plumbing problem required them to empty the attic. Soon after this, we paid them a visit as we had not seen them since before the start of the covid19 pandemic and its associated lockdowns. Amongst the stuff they removed from their attic, they found a sturdy, brown leather suitcase in a well-worn canvas protective covering. The covering was stencilled with the letters ‘BSY’, these being my father’s initials.
The canvas case bears an oval label, which was provided by the “Holland-Afrikalijn”. It states that the suitcase was “For the cabin” and the name of the ship’s destination was “Southampton”. The ship carrying this case was the “Jagersfontein”, and the label bears the date “3/9/55”, There is another torn label, which was issued by South African Railways and what is left of it is “T Elizabeth”, which probably was “Port Elizabeth” before it was torn. This suggests that the case must have travelled to and/or from Port Elizabeth by rail. A third label, which is circular and was stuck on by the shipping company bears a large capital “Y”.
By September 1955, I was three years (and a few months) old. That year, my parents, who were born in South Africa, took me from London, where we lived, to be shown to family and friends in that country. I remember almost nothing of that visit apart from two things. One of them was getting my small foot caught in the groove of the tram-like track of a mobile dockside crane. The other thing was being afraid of the cacti in a greenhouse in a park in Port Elizabeth, the city where my father’s sister and his mother resided.
I know that we also visited King Williams Town, where many of my mother’s family lived. This visit was recorded in a 1955 issue of the town’s “Cape Mercury” newspaper. I discovered it while I was researching information about my mother’s grandmother, who lived in the town. The newspaper article, which is full of small inaccuracies, described me as being “… an adorable little son, aged three …”.
The Jagersfontein has an interesting history (http://ssmaritime.com/fontein-ships-1.htm). Built in Danzig (Germany) in 1939 and given another name, it was badly damaged during WW2, and it sunk. In 1947, she was recovered from the sea, towed to Holland, and refurbished by the Dutch. In September 1947, she began sailing again, as a passenger-cargo liner.
During the voyage from Southampton to South Africa, I crossed the Equator for the first time in my life. My mother told me that when the ship carrying us crossed the Line, a fancy-dress party was held for the children onboard. Some of the parents knew that this would happen and had come prepared with fancy-dress costumes for their children. However, my mother was unaware that this would happen. Being a creative person, she took some of the white bed linen from our cabin, and fashioned a Roman toga for me to wear at the party.
My mother died 44 years ago. Only a few days before we saw the suitcase at our old neighbours’ home, I was rummaging through some photographs that I had not seen since her death. It shows me in my rapidly fashioned bedsheet toga, standing between two larger children dressed up to depict Belisha beacons (that mark so-called ‘zebra’ pedestrian crossings). A small cloth with black and white stripes, representing a zebra crossing, separated the two beacons. Behind the three of us are some adults, whom I cannot recognise.
Empty, the leather case, which looks almost new, weighs 6.3 kilogrammes (13.9 lb). In 1955, passengers travelling by ships such as the Jagersfontein did not need to worry about the weight of their luggage. There were plenty of porters to carry it. We have been given the suitcase, which our daughter is keen to have because it is a family heirloom with sentimental value. Along with the photograph and the newspaper cutting, the case is a wonderful reminder of my first ever travel adventure.
OVER THE YEARS. We have made many visits to Slough, a town in Berkshire, just west of Heathrow Airport. It would usually not figure on tourists’ lists of places that they feel they must see. And there is little in Slough that would entice people to visit the place. Yet, since the early 1970s, we have visited there often.
My PhD supervisor, Robert Harkness, and his wife, Margaret, lived in the countryside not far from Slough. They used to travel between Slough and Paddington stations when they were travelling to and from University College London (‘UCL’). While I was studying with them, they became my close friends. Until they died in the early years of this century, I, and then later my wife and our daughter, often spent weekends in their large Victorian home, Margaret, who played the violin, was involved with the Slough Philharmonic Orchestra (Slough Philharmonic Society). For many years, she not only played in the second violin section but also, she was the orchestra’s honorary accountant. We were often invited to the orchestra’s concerts, many of which were held in concert halls in Slough. A few of the concerts were held in Slough’s ‘posh’ neighbour Eton.
Because Robert and Margaret lived near Slough and we visited them often, we hired a storage unit (‘godown’) in Slough. We could combine visiting our friends with making trips to add things to our storage place. Sadly, Robert and Margaret are now no more than fond memories. However, our storage locker remains in Slough. So, visits to the town continue.
Recently, the company that stores our stuff moved from the edge of Slough to a place closer to the centre. It has a good car park and is close to a wonderful range of food shops. Slough has many inhabitants whose ancestors hail from the Indian Subcontinent and a sizeable Polish population. On the outskirts of Slough, there is at least one large Polish sporting/country club. Near our newly located storage place, there are two well-stocked Polish food supermarkets, which sell many products including things that would not be found at the nearby halal food shops and eateries. In addition to food shops catering for people of Indian and Pakistani origins, there are gift shops where decorated Hindu idols can be bought. There is also a jewellery store whose gold and diamond-studded items are just like what I have seen in India.
Drab as Slough undoubtedly is, the ethnic mix of its inhabitants add a welcome touch of colour and exoticism to the place. Having said that, I am not sure that I would recommend going there unless you have a reason to do so.
JUST OVER SEVEN years ago, I bought a book, which I put on a bookshelf without reading it, and then forgot about it. This September (2024) I found it whilst sorting through our book collection. It is a biography of the British politician Stafford Cripps (1889-1952), who visited India in March 1942. Winston Churchill had sent him there to negotiate with leading Indian Nationalists (including Gandhi, Jinnah, and Nehru) to keep them loyal to the British war effort in exchange for self-government when WW2 was over. It was up to Cripps, then a Labour politician, to formulate the proposed deal. The mission was not a success because Churchill thought that Cripps had offered the Indians too much, and the Indians thought his offer was not enough: they wanted independence immediately.
There have been many books written about Stafford Cripps. The one I found in my collection, “Stafford Cripps. A biography”, was published in 1949, when Cripps was still alive. When I looked at the book after ‘discovering’ it, what surprised me was the name of its author: Eric Estorick.
Until I looked at the book today (3rd of September 2024), I had only associated the name Estorick with a fine museum of 20th century Italian art – The Estorick Collection of Modern Italian Art. This is housed within Northampton Lodge, a Georgian building which was once the home and offices of the architect Sir Basil Spence (1907-1976), who was born in Bombay. This is in Canonbury, which is just north of Islington. The collection was established by the American Eric Estorick (1913-1993) and his German-born English wife Salome (1920–1989) after WW2.
Eric Estorick was none other than the author of the biography of Cripps, which I ‘unearthed’ today. Born in Brooklyn (NY), son of Jewish emigrés from the Russian Empire, he was awarded a PhD in sociology at New York University. In 1947, he married Salome (née Dessau), who was an artist. Eric’s interest in art began before that when he met the American photographer and gallery owner Alfred Stieglitz (1864-1946). The Estoricks began collecting art soon after the end of WW2. During their honeymoon, the Estoricks were introduced to the works of the Italian Futurists. The Collection contains several good examples of their works. In 1960, Eric opened the Grosvenor Gallery in London’s Davies Street. His first exhibition was a display of modern sculpture. It was in his gallery that my mother exhibited some of her sculptures in 1965, in an exhibition called “Fifty Years of Sculpture. Some aspects 1914-1964”. She must have been introduced to Eric at the time.
Apart from his interests in art, Eric Estorick was a prolific author. In addition to writing three books about Stafford Cripps, he wrote others about politics as well as art. One of his books, which was published privately, was a history of the Marks and Spencer firm, in which he worked for some time. It was in that company that Salome Estorick had worked. Marks and Spencer had been a customer of her father’s textile manufacturing firm.
Having found my copy of Estorick’s book and skimmed its contents, I will not be putting it into our storage unit as I had originally intended, but will begin reading it soon.
DUE TO BE DEMOLISHED in 1900, the newly established National Trust (founded in 1895) saved it from this terrible fate that year. The building is a long, narrow half-timbered, brick and wattle structure in the attractive village of Long Crendon in the west of Buckinghamshire. Built sometime between the 14th and 15th century, it served as the manorial courthouse.
Meetings of the manorial court of Long Crendon are believed to have begun before the 13th century. Until 1233, they were held in the lord of the manor’s house, which was demolished that year. In 1275, the manor was divided equally among three female heirs, and courts were held in the farmhouses of their families. By 1558, the courts of the three lords of the manors combined, and it must have been around this time that the courthouse began being used for judicial procedures. The building was not only used by the court but also as a facility for the poor. By the 19th century, it was used by one family to store wool. Some historians question this. In Victorian times the courtroom was used as a Sunday school and a place where occasional public lectures were given.
In 1900, the National Trust purchased the venerable edifice and began repairing it to keep it standing. The Arts and Crafts architect and designer Charles Robert Ashbee (1863-1942) and his wife lived in the courthouse. They used to invite groups of apprentices from London for arts-based holidays lasting a fortnight. In 1902, the Ashbees, whose bohemian activities disturbed the locals, left for Chipping Camden where they established the Guild of Handicrafts. In 1918, Ashbee was sent to Jerusalem as civic adviser to the British Administration for Palestine. In 1937, the courthouse became used as a clinic by the area’s District Nurse. This continued after the NHS was established in 1948. The courtroom then served as a Welfare Clinic.
Between 1985 and 1987, the building was intensively restored. Now, the long room, which occupies most of the upper floor, and was once the court room, is now a village museum. It is reached by a steep flight of wooden stairs. The upper rooms are the only part of the building open to the public. The long courtroom has a timber floor made with irregularly shaped planks. The arched ceiling is supported by massive timber crossbeams. Each one differs in shape from the others. Various exhibits and boards with historic photographs line the walls of this otherwise empty room, in which long ago trials were held.
We visited Long Crendon to see the courthouse. However, many other buildings in this village are incredibly picturesque and well-worth exploring.
yamey 