That cornice frieze carving was a local peculiarity in a small enclave of the East Midlands is interesting enough, and is easily proved just by their comparative abundance. The map alone should be sufficient to convince all but the hardened nay-sayer. The true value of this study, however, is in its identification of individual styles of carving that give us some insight into the mobility of the masons and the apparent existence of an organised group or company to which they may have belonged. In the next section we will be looking at the ubiquity of certain “trademark” carvings and later at individual stonemason carvers.
The names of very few mediaeval parish church stonemasons are known to us. It was perhaps less a case of undue modesty, more the case that there was no compelling reason for their names to be recorded. The few we do know are preserved because of the few score precious survivals of mediaeval building contracts. Surnames were not the familial identities of which we are so proud today: a mason’s name was most likely to comprise his baptismal name plus the village or town from whence he came: a practice I will emulate later.
If the names of the stonemasons are elusive, so are their bodies of work. It is a brave person that looks at Church A and declares that it was built by the man who built Church B. Walls and structural norms were hardly the stuff of artistic differentiation. Moreover, our churches evolved over centuries, often with three or four phases of mediaeval building, each erasing some of what went before. Then came the Victorians who had a laudable desire to save churches from post-Reformation ruin but a less laudable penchant for deciding what was “right and proper” leading sometimes to the disastrous loss of art and architecture that we would now regard as having been priceless.
If we cannot identify a mason’s work, does it matter? From the attempts of many Church Guide books to establish links with other local churches – often through the at best unreliable coincidence of masons marks – it seems that for many people it does matter. Today we are used to the idea that we works of art can be attributed to individuals. A painting by a renaissance master might be worth hundreds of millions. The moment the attribution is questioned the value of what when all is said and done is the same painting, falls maybe by a factor of hundred. As individuals, many of us crave some sort of “legacy” and the democratisation of the internet encourages us to believe that we can indeed leave our mark on the world.
And, as individuals, we like to “follow” or “collect”. Our affluence makes it possible. If all English parish churches came with the name of a mediaeval architect attached who can doubt that we would have books and leaflets expounding on their techniques and foibles and that some of these men would have their own modern “following” with a host of books and leaflets to encourage it? So an important part of this study is to show that we have in the East Midlands a few masons whose work can be identified - even if I have I have had to invent my own fictitious names for them.
But first I want to look not at friezes but at gargoyles. Let us remind ourselves that a gargoyle is not an all- purpose word for a grotesque carving: a gargoyle is a usually monstrous figure through whose gaping mouths water is channelled away from a roof to the ground either directly or via a drainpipes. Like corbels and unlike friezes, they are functional.
Gargoyles are, of course much larger carvings than those found on friezes. Although we all love to see their ferocious or amusing faces they are artistically one dimensional. Once you have seen a few dozen of them they all tend to blur into one! I have yet to see someone definitively identify gargoyles at several churches that are palpably carved by the same mason. At this group of churches, however, we are going to see just that. We are going to see an unique and iconic design and we are going to see the work of a single gargoyle carver at several churches. Thus we are going to very firmly establish the case for a group of mason-sculptors working at several churches within a limited geographical area.
I have already pointed to the importance within this narrative of Oakham Church in Rutland. A frieze carver shared with Ryhall Church was the first clue to the existence at least one mason who could be seen to have worked at more than one church and without having to rely on dubious clues such as shared masons marks. We saw also the presence of no fewer than three exhibitionist “mooner” carvings and we are going to see a great deal more of them at other churches. Another curiosity is a very distinctive gargoyle. The main figure has a startled look and wavy fur. Across his back is a person taking a piggy back ride. The person stares fixedly ahead, her hands clutching the jowls of the beast below. Bizarrely, another figure can be seen spanning the space between the creature’s back legs just above the modern drain pipe that has replaced the gargoyle’s mouth as the water conduit. It is located on the west side of the south chapel. I have dubbed it the “Hitchhiker Gargoyle”. On the east side is another gargoyle, clearly by the same sculptor. His distinguishing feature is is a pair of dragon-like wings folded against his body.
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