This
blog is written retrospectively, a brief look back at a trip to that most
beautiful and interesting English city, our second capital. I write to
celebrate the wonderful city of York, a city steeped in history, art and
culture.
I
travelled soon after Christmas with my friend Corinna in 2015, a journey not
everyone approved of but not because of the company, the distance or the
location. Many of my family and my friends voiced concern with regards the
weather. England was at that time experiencing exceptionally heavy rain and
this was causing flooding in many parts of the country. Parts of the North of
England were particularly badly hit and York itself was under threat. The Ouse
had broken its banks nearby and our ability to travel safely was therefore
questioned.
Corinna
and I decide to brave the conditions and approached York from the south west in
the hope of avoiding the more severely and therefore, more dangerous areas
affected. Even this route however, was not without its excitement. We were able
to see first-hand the severity of the flooding, although we travelled on roads
predominantly clear of the surface waters, we passed flooded fields, a village
with water halfway up the ground floor windows and even a playing field, that
had its goal posts halfway underwater. It was not a sight I will easily forget.
Driving
into York looking for a parking space we passed roads that were closed off and
more houses with flooded gardens, driveways and access roads. The thought did
occur to us that even if we got into the centre of York, we may not get out. We
eventually found a safe and suitably dry side street, parked and made our way
towards the city centre on foot.
The
walk was pleasant, the air was not too cold and the sun was bright. We were
able to appreciate the older architectural features of the route, ruins, walls
and buildings. We paused on the outskirts of the old city before the Bootham
Bar and turning towards our primary destination, the Art Gallery. Here I viewed
that old Medieval Gate with the Minster behind. My pause here was deliberate,
as I considered the historical wonder of this great city.
Here
on walls of this city the head of Richard Plantagenet Duke of York, was mounted
after the battle of Wakefield. He was the father of the future Edward IV and
Richard III, grandfather of Elizabeth of York and therefore, ancestor of all
English kings since. Shakespeare makes great play of this great Duke’s death in
his play Henry VI Part 2 and has the head of John Clifford the 9th Baron de
Clifford, latter mounted on the same walls. This last action is unlikely to be
historically accurate but it serves to illustrate the place of York within the
British consciousness.
The
Art Gallery is not an old building but sits conveniently nestled between far
older ones, set back on an attractive plaza with a pool out front. Examples
from the exhibitions inside are displayed as posters on hoardings on the nearby
wall and the building has a welcoming, airy entrance. Inside there is the
necessary ticket booth, a convenient café, other conveniences and a ground
floor gallery for the temporary exhibitions.
In
this first hall we were able to view a delightful exhibition of Florentine art,
with exhibits representative of the late Medieval and early Renaissance
periods. The pieces were examples of religious iconography, ornate creations of
oil and rich gilt upon wooden boarding. Much was typical of the Italian
‘school’ but equally, much was reminiscent of the ‘icons’ of the Russian
Orthodox Church, in particular the obvious altar works and triptychs.
Several
works by the esteemed Laurence Stephen Lowry were on display in the second
gallery. Never had I seen so many in one place, so this provided us with the
very unusual opportunity of comparing his works as a group and not in
isolation. Previously I have not been an admirer of Lowry, being familiar with
his works through the medium of photography, I have been unable to adequately
appreciate his ability. Here in the direct physical experience, without the use
of a second medium and viewing his works collectively; I was able to perceive
his genius, his depth and his range. Lowry is so much more than ‘matchstick men
and matchstick cats and dogs.’ Lowry captures life in the North of England, real
people with real hopes and experiences. There is meaning to his work that is
not at first apparent.
The
picture collection in York is impressive and surprisingly extensive, covering a
range of styles across time and subject. There is a pleasing inclusion of
local, perhaps less well known artists, amongst those of a broader appeal. Not
all is as traditional as the Florentine works or as typically representative of
Britain as Lowry, other works are of an abstract, modernist nature.
The
upper galleries were no less extensive or broad in the presentation, as the
collections included many curious exhibits of quality. The ceramic collection
was so enormous, that it was difficult to fully assimilate. There were so many
charming and unusual items, truly a feast of size and colour, with many very
unusual and disturbing items, that the display was quite overwhelming.
In
the centre of the large hall was housed a display of white ceramics on shelving
stretching to the roof. The bowls and vases although of a uniform colour, were
not of a uniform shape and were displayed in manner that invited the viewer to visually
explore them. Here I stopped to appreciate an unexpected and pleasing
phenomenon, the sunlight coming through the skylights creating a pleasing
display of light and shadow across the ceiling supports.
The
further galleries successfully maintained our mood of pleasurable curiosity
with a puzzling mixture of exhibits, which although not necessarily relating to
a particular or related theme, somehow complimented the general atmosphere and
experience. Across one wall a display of aquatic taxidermy was placed in
deliberate juxtaposition to a display of avian taxidermy. Further displays of
pottery that included some very fine equine studies, led us to a magnificent
display of rocking horses and cavalry jackets. This display by a most tenuous
but amusing association, brought us to a fascinating and theatrical toy
collection.
The
upper floors of the gallery are home to a range of delightful curiosities. There
are treasures that surprise the visitor in almost every display case and
corner. York Art Gallery itself is a venue of outstanding quality, with
exhibits of importance and interest, the visitor cannot help but be impressed
by the presentation and composition of the collections.
Leaving
the wonders of the gallery behind, we headed towards the old city in search of
lunch, before heading on to the Shambles. The Shambles itself is officially
only one street called Shambles, narrow and pedestrianised, it is derived from
the old name for a butcher’s market. Famous for its age and overhanging
buildings, it has a certain quaint atmosphere and remains a well-known tourist
attraction. More generally however, the term ‘the Shambles’ refers to the
street and other connecting ones, including the five connecting Snickleways, that
collectively form the famous medieval shopping heart of old York.
Hidden
in the centre of the Shambles, between gifts, antique and book shops, is a
substantial chapel. This is the shrine of Margaret Clitherow, a Catholic martyr
and saint, one of many tragic victims of the religious troubles of the
sixteenth century. The shrine is allegedly the site of her husband’s butchers
shop but due to a renumbering of the street in the century after her death, the
actual shop is now believed to be the building opposite. It is a charming and
peaceful shrine, which provides a place of quietness, away from the hustle and
bustle of the shops.
Further
along the street we became aware of the most beautiful and irresistible aroma
of fudge. We had stumbled upon Roly’s Fudge Pantry, so naturally we perused
their wares and chatted to the staff.
The
Shambles that day although busy, was not as crowded as usual. The actual and
threat of the floods had kept many away. Indeed many shops were closed, staff
either could not get in or had concerns that once in York, they would not get
out. This we learnt talking to the staff at Roly’s who were themselves,
considering closing early.
Leaving
the Shambles we debated our own course of action, to head for home and safety,
to stay longer? The sensible option was to leave whilst still light but other
options presented themselves. York Minster was lit beautifully in the late afternoon
sun and invited us to make it our third port of call.
My
friend Corinna is a Roman Catholic, I am a Pagan of rather traditional tastes.
It cannot be denied that as two friends we are a decidedly odd couple, yet we
share many a common interest, in art, history, spirituality and music.
We
paused outside the main entrance to admire the ornamentation, including some
quite stunning scenes depicting the creation of the world, the temptation of
Eve and the expulsion from Eden. On the opposite side of the door arch, there
was work of equal quality that depicted scenes from the lives of Noah and
Abraham.
We
were surprised to discover that entrance that day was free, this was in
recognition of the flooding. Fewer people had journeyed to York, attendance was
down and there was to be a special service for the victims of the flooding. We
took great pleasure in exploring this magnificent church building, admiring
both the famous Rose window and the Heart window from the inside, illuminated beautifully
by the setting sun.
Our
exploration included the Chapter House, famous for the ornate ceiling and the nearby
tombs, both are areas of the church decorated by remarkable carvings. The roof
bosses of York are of obvious interest, many are old but many are modern
replacements. These were placed during the 1980’s restoration following the
fire and some were designed by viewers of the BBC children’s television programme
Blue Peter.
Being
so soon after Christmas the various decorations were still in place, including
trees, a very impressive Nativity Scene and the largest Advent Crown I have
ever seen. The nearby Astronomical Clock is a large wooden built monument
standing in the north transept. It is actually a war memorial commemorating some
18,000 Royal Air Force personal who based in Yorkshire, Durham and
Northumberland, gave their lives during the Second World War.
We
decided to join a sizable group for the service in the choir stalls and we were
delighted to discover that a coral group from Europe, was to provide the
musical interludes. Now it may indeed appear somewhat odd that a Catholic and
Pagan should wish to attend such a service. Yet although it may be impossible
for either of us to fully participate in such, our attendance is a recognition
of the place of the church within our society and is a cultural as well as
spiritual experience.
This
is not the first time that Corinna and I have attended a church service
together. Corinna once took me to a Catholic Mass. That was primarily for her
benefit but it is well known that besides the cultural experience, I very much enjoy
church music. I do not believe that my friend seeks to convert me, anymore than
I seek to bring her to the Pagan faith. Although we do occasionally joke about
our trips and the associated services.
Leaving
the Minster we found York to be in darkness, the birth place of Guido Fawkes
(better known as Guy and a member of the Gunpowder Plot conspirators) to be lit
up and busy. Once a family home, the building is now a public house called the
Guy Fawkes Inn. The sign is a design based upon the mask from the film V for
Vendetta, well done but not to my traditional taste.
We
returned to the car, still safely parked and not yet washed away, to begin our
journey home. We could reflect on a very full and enjoyable day, on a homebound
journey far less exciting than the journey in. Whether the flooding had abated
or whether due to the darkness, we travelled in blissful oblivion and unaware
of the flooding either side of the road is hard to say.
There
is so much we did not explore, there is so much that York has to offer. The
Viking history of the city is well known, as is the tragedy of Clifford’s Tower.
Attractions associated with these we did not have time to explore and some we
could not, the Jorvic Viking Centre was flooded.
York
is a city of glory and it basks in this glory. Whether it is the glory of the
Christian Faith, in a history both bloody and significant, that stretches from
Roman times through Viking and Medieval to the modern period. The glory of York
is found in this history, in the architecture and in art; all this and more
serve to make this our northern capital, a cultural treasure.
Useful websites
Drakes
Fish and Chip Restaurant
Saint
Margaret Clitherow of York
Roly’s
Fudge Pantry York
York
Art Gallery
York
Minster
