A Scribe and Illuminator’s Workroom

Having just finished twenty-one new pieces for my forthcoming British Library book (this post is written in July 2023), I decided to re-cover my sloping board – something I do once about every 3-4 years, depending on how dirty it is. As it was so lovely and clean I felt that it might be interesting to show the board and the rest of my workroom. This is the view from the door, and although it looks big, it’s about 2 metres by 3·5 metres. However, don’t think that I’m complaining that it’s small! I know how very lucky I am to have a dedicated workroom when most people have to share their working space within another room, as I did for very many years. My chair in front of the board is padded with two flat cushions and stools are to hand on the right to put completed work or a computer, or texts just written. Note also how close my chair is to the sink on the left.

So, the room tour. Directly to the left of the door are large cardboard tubes. Most of these are from vellum skins sent from William Cowley, but the large one at the back right is from work I did for the Damian Hirst ‘s exhibition held in Venice – ‘Treasures of the Wreck of the Unbelievable’. To the immediate left are red tubes of tracing paper for large projects. The tubes are useful not only for storing large sheets of paper but also for sending large artworks to those who have commissioned pieces. Now, however, I work mostly on vellum, and so large pieces are stretched over board requiring a different delivery system, and so these tubes are a bit redundant, somehow, though, I can’t bring myself to throw them away!

On the work surface to the right of the tubes are swans’ and Canadian goose feathers ready to be cut into quills. It may look like quite a lot for one scribe but most are waiting for workshops I teach on ‘Quills and Calligraphy’. I also don’t cure feathers with heat – sand or a Dutching tool and an iron. I find that feathers cure themselves by just being left to dry naturally as I’m sure happened in mediæval and Renaissance times. It was only with the rise of literacy and growth of empires and the need for records that more and more pens were needed and the curing process had to be speeded up that heat was needed.

Above that are cupboards of books and supplies. This is the first cupboard. At the bottom left is a small folder bursting with papers. These are quotations, poems and prose that I’ve collected over many years and which I write out to give to friends or for my own use. Occasionally someone will ask me if I’ve got something suitable for an occasion and it may be in here or in one of the books to the right which focus on important stages in life – birth, marriage and death mainly. Above that are various books by other calligraphers – it’s always useful to see what the competition is up to. And above that books on Latin, Chaucer, and various reference books to use in my work.

Under that cupboard is a new piece on vellum waiting to be sent to the person who commissioned it. I hope to be able to do a blogpost about this in the future as it was a really interesting artwork to do. Behind that is a strip of lead to be made into lead points to show to classes and for them to use. And at the back, to the right is oak gall ink getting nicely black. Oh and more books!

Below that, all along the work surface are even more books! Book shelves in the house are completely full, so are the cupboards here. I also have my own books here which I also use for reference – not everything stays in mind and so it’s helpful to look things up. In front of the books is a new box of Schmincke Calligraphy Gouache to use in photographs for the new book. They really are the best paints to use for writing and for painting. There’s more about them and mixing colours from the two reds, two blues, and two yellows here.

There’s a small sink just behind where I sit, completely reachable by simply swivelling round in my seat. I cleaned it up specially for this photo! It’s usually covered with ink and colour and not a pretty sight. To the right of the sink is a pot with old toothbrushes in it ready to brush the nibs clean. To the side and behind the sink are clean little jars up-ended and ready to fill with water for washing brushes when painting or to add to gouache to dilute it for writing and painting. It isn’t shown here but the tap is this side of the sink just to the left again for ease of use.

On to the window sill there’s clean paper towels for wiping nibs and reservoirs dry so they don’t rust, and tubes of Schmincke gouache ready to use. There are too many tubes to store neatly but I know where each tube is in that pile and usually just need to reach my hand out to grab the one I want.

Further along the window sill is a pot of quills already cut just waiting to be used. The nibs of all of these will have separated into two halves. This is not a disaster! The strength of a feather is when it is complete, cutting into it weakens it. However, popping the quill into a jar of water for an hour or so brings the two tines together ready for use and doesn’t soften the nib.

Below the window sill and just to the left of the seat is a trolley of already mixed (but now dried) small palettes and crucibles of paint, jars of black ink, and ink droppers to add water to paint (never use a brush dipped in clean water as the quantity can’t be controlled). Good quality gouache will last in this dry state with water added when it needs to be used. At the front right are pen holders, the green one in the shape of a dragon, and an Arkansas stone to sharpen nibs. As a right-hander, everything is to my left so that I can easily fill pens with ink and paint with my left hand, and then not take a fully charged pen over where I’ve just written. I did think to clean this up a little before this post, but it’s how I work and so I left it!

Then, proud moment here, my clean new board. This is flat whereas it would usually be at a slope of about 45°. It’s a large board with its own stand with a sloping rule, ideal for drawing the many lines calligraphers need to do. A pad of white paper completely covers the board, and then a fold of paper (fold at the top) goes right across bottom part of the board held at a slight tension, so that the writing paper can go to the right and left, and up and down, and doesn’t slip. The writing paper or vellum isn’t attached anywhere because it needs to be at a comfortable writing level which is usually when the hand is about the same level as the shoulder. The shadow is a large light fitted with daylight bulbs so it gives the truest light. The window, which is another source of light, is of course, for a right-hander on my left so that my hand doesn’t create a shadow where I’m writing and painting.

To the right of the board are all the tools I need for painting and writing. At the back on the left is a long metal straight edge for cutting paper and skin of large pieces, and to the left, in the front, are erasers in a little muller, behind that a tiny jar of pounce, and behind that little bags of sandarac in a shallow pot. Magic tape, used pretty much all the time to attach lines on roughs and best pieces is to the left of a hygrometer which indicates the humidity for illumination. And behind that are scissors, dividers, pens, brushes, paste and wash brushes etc. To the right of the storage pots are large knives for cutting vellum.

At the back of the table to the right is a plastic folder which holds set squares. One side of all of these has a metal edge for cutting (don’t cut using a set square without a metal edge as the knife is bound to cut into the plastic and ruin the straight edge). It is easy to stand up from my board and simply reach over for these. In front of them is a magnifying glass on its own stand for working on tiny paintings.

All sit on a variety of sizes of cutting mats. Of course, everything has to be moved off if I want to use the larger one, so I must admit that I usually use the medium sized one and just slide the paper/skin along. This isn’t the best or most efficient and it really would be more sensible simply to move stuff off!

A relatively new addition, recommended by my son-in-law who is an excellent photographer, is this flat table and two powerful lights (not the the Anglepoise to the right which has a different purpose) to take good quality photographs of my work, and the camera I use (far too old but I don’t know what new one to get – I’m far from an expert!) is at the back. On the table is a card with gesso at various mixes, and an experiment of shell gold on vellum written with a quill just to make sure that the treatment I was going to give for the actual skin produced the best result.

The last of the ‘tour’ are rolls of vellum (and one of paper to the left). It is better to take the relatively tightly rolled skins out of the tube they are sent in so that the roll is much looser; this then makes it easier to cut large and small pieces from the skin. In front of the rolls are smaller pieces of vellum in a clear plastic folder, some far too small to use but somehow I think they may be handy for something. I used to make vellum size from them for making gesso but now I use fish glue (Seccotine). This is a bit of a dark corner so the Anglepoise lamp is there to add light when selecting the skins.

And a last tantalising look at how the sloping board is at the moment (July 2023). These are the twenty-one new pieces of artwork with stage-by-stage of how they were done for the ‘Art of the Scribe’ book to be published Spring 2024 by the British Library. It is an information book about seven selected writing styles – the ones most commonly used by calligraphers –and also a practical section for each script of three graded pieces with detailed instructions on how to do them. You’ll have to wait until the book is published to see what’s in those folders!

‘Hands of Time’

There is now only a handful of watchmakers in the UK which means that it has been in the Critically Endangered category in the Heritage Crafts Red List of Endangered Crafts since the first research was published. Hurray, then, for Craig and Rebecca Struthers who run their company, Struthers Watches, in the Jewellery Quarter in Birmingham. The fact that this is such a rare craft means that Rebecca’s book ‘Hands of Time’ is even more important.

However, do not think that this is yet another book on craft, who does it and how to do it, of which there seem to be quite a few at the moment. This is a fascinating, delightful and well-written book about all aspects of time and the development of measuring time, as the title suggests, No wonder it was chosen to be ‘Book of the Week’ on BBC’s Radio 4 in what seemed like only seconds after it was published! Rebecca is the only person in the UK to have a PhD in horology and her research and depth of knowledge stands her in good stead for this book.

All the drawings in the book (here and as above) were done by Rebecca’s husband, Craig, and the care, precision, delight, and execution add immensely to the book. They also show the need for the supreme accuracy that is required for those who work with objects that are often less than a mm in size.

What is particularly interesting about the book is the way in which Rebecca weaves her own story and experiences into the means by which counting and recording time has developed. In the first chapter, for example, it is meeting with friend Jim, whose wife is a shepherdess, who explains the effects of nature and the seasons on the times when ewes get pregnant and then giving birth; this emphasises the way in which the yearly cycle has on all of us, even though it is often not always obvious to city dwellers. This also relates to the 44,000 years old Lebombo bone (see image) which has scratched markings on it that are thought to reflect and represent the days of the lunar month and the monthly cycle – perhaps a degree of sophistication at that time which many hadn’t fully appreciated.

Rebecca considers both the development of watches and a number of special watches such as this lion watch which some believe to have been owned by Mary, Queen of Scots, and was presented to her by her first husband, Francis II, King of France. This watch was then given to Mary Seton, one of the ‘four Marys’ who accompanied the Queen to France and then back to Scotland. It was said to have been given to Mary Seton on the Queen’s execution, but was this actually the case?

Should watchmakers and repairers leave any sign of their work on watches? This is similar to calligraphy which is rarely signed. Decades later it is often difficult to work out who was responsible for great works of art. Rebecca was told never to leave a trace, but this person inadvertently left a finger print here on the back of an enamelled watch. (Can you see it, just under the word ‘Wilson’?) Wouldn’t it be interesting to know who this person was and at what stage they were involved in making the watch?

One of my favourites, photographed by Andy Pilsbury, as indeed all the photographs are in the book, is this watch which is part of a chatelaine, worn by a housekeeper or someone in charge of a large house. What a lucky housekeeper to have such a wonderful instrument as part of her daily duties to refer to every day.

I have had such pleasure reading this book, and enjoyed every moment as stories both of Rebecca’s own experiences, and the history of watchmaking are revealed, and the art and craft of watchmaking are interleaved with the history and development of watches. I cannot recommend this book highly enough – buy one for yourself and one or two more for those who you may think would also be fascinated, and those really difficult people (uncles, aunts, cousins, brothers) who are difficult to buy for – you won’t regret it!

‘Craft Britain – Why Making Matters’

It is not always the case that a new non-fiction book is a page turner, but ‘Craft Britain – Why Making Matters’ by Helen Chislett and David Linley is certainly one such. Page after page of beautiful photographs are surrounded by an informative, fascinating and interesting text. To be fair, craft usually photographs well, but these images are exquisite!

In my view, the book starts not on page one, but with the gloriously marbled blue endpapers by Lucy McGrath, acknowledged in the text – reflecting books in the nineteenth century when most would have had endpapers like this. It gives the book the quality that continues on the following pages.

Lucy McGrath is marbling paper here by flicking – in a controlled way – colour on to a thickened water base. A piece of suitably sized paper is then floated on the top and when lifted off the marbling has been transferred on to the sheet of paper. The beautifully patterned paper is used not simply for endpapers but for books, book marks, Christmas baubles and much else.

From the wonderfully colourful to the monotone, but equally exquisite work of Geoffery Preston MBE. He works in stucco/plaster, moulding by hand the flowers, foliage and flourishes that he designs. This is an overmantel that he’s produced and if you want to see more of his work, save up and go to the bar at the Goring Hotel in London where you’ll be amazed at the sea creatures and his designs that are on the wall leading out to the garden. This craft links to pargetting which is included in the book.

Although all craft is beautiful in my eyes, particularly heritage craft (!), it is often, and perhaps usually, useful as well, and none more so than most objects to do with the making of shoes. Steven Lowe owns and runs Crispians which produces lasts for bespoke shoes; lasts are the wooden former, the shape of a person’s foot, around which shoes are made. He also runs Lastmaker House which trains those who wish to learn the craft. When Steven presented at the All-Party Parliamentary Group for Craft a few years ago he explained that the vast majority of those who come on his courses are from abroad; it is a sad situation when this endangered craft cannot recruit those in the UK who could make it viable.

Another craft carried out by only a few people is wheelwrighting. Mike Rowland and Son are featured in the book. The skills are being passed on in that they have trained one apprentice already and now have Sam Phillips, shown here, working in the workshop. Self-employed makers and micro businesses like these find the costs of training almost prohibitive. If just one day a week is set aside for passing on the skills, and it is usually much more, then production goes down by 20% and that’s a craftsperson’s profit, so they can afford to live, not enouigh to pay for an apprentice. Government provision for support for apprenticeships in the UK works well for bankers and hairdressers, but is virtually non-existent for these endangered crafts. This is rather ironic because the crafts are where the whole apprenticeship, journeyman and master system was established!

Many do not realise the craft skills that are involved in scientific glass instrument blowing, but they are definitely right at the centre! A lot of scientific and medical experiments and processes could not take place if they did not have the correct glass equipment to do so. This elegant tower of glass could sit under a spotlight on a shelf in an expensive penthouse suite as an ornament, but it is actually a water jacketed oxygenator made by Terri Adams as part of cardiovascular research. Terri is the University of Oxford’s only scientific glassblower, and this is an endangered craft with fewer than fifty of these craftspeople in the UK.

Nowadays we are used to wallpaper being produced by machine, but this wasn’t always the case. In the past wallpaper was printed from carved wooden blocks, often cherry wood; here Hugh Dunford Wood is carving a pattern in lino bespoke to clients who can choose not only the design but also the colours for the ground and print.

The book is divided into twelve chapters after a foreword by Stephen Bayley and an Introduction. Each chapter is a cornucopia of crafts, with details and photographs of each one. It really is an absolute delight and very highly recommended.

A wonderful Edward Johnston book

Sometimes the most chance encounters bring rich rewards! At a recent Christopher de Hamel lecture at the British Library, I overheard the words ‘Edward Johnston’, and my ears pricked up. It turned out that a church on the south coast had an illuminated book of the Communion Service written by the great calligrapher in 1902. The photos I was shown looked amazing and I arranged to go and see the book as soon as I could. It truly was wonderful and such a thrill to see page after page of Edward Johnston’s writing and illumination.

The note at the back (see below) explained the production of the book and that the hands and faces in this crucifixion scene were painted by ‘my friend E G Treglown of Birmingham’. Note the border decoration of a waving pattern of vine stems and leaves with bunches of grapes, reflecting John 15 ‘I am the vine: you are the branches’. The gold here is shell gold – gold powder in gum Arabic base – with raised gold leaf grapes.

A paragraph in Priscilla Johnston’s book about her father notes that ‘ G B Gabb, a surgeon … accordingly commissioned Johnston to write out the Communion Service. The terms of the agreement were that he was to ‘make the most gorgeous book within his power’ and ask for money whenever he wanted it’. What a commission! The lavish use of gold leaf here and above, (where shell gold as well has been used in the border,) are certainly testament to the gorgeous nature of the book! Johnston used ‘Reeve’s raising agent’ as gesso. I haven’t been able to find out anything about this raising agent and would be grateful if anyone reading this can shed any light on it. It is a much deeper red than the pink colour made by the addition of Armenian bole to gesso today.

The decorated initials are particularly fine as can be seen here. A raised gold leaf initial A with first a background of ultramarine and shell gold applied in straight lines with a ruler, with circles along the lines on the left, and then a similarly raised gold A with an ultramarine background and a swirling foliage pattern in green and red with the addition of white dots.

As would be expected of Johnston the initial letters are particularly fine as here, although the red gold cross behind the raised gold letter A may not be a complete success, but all is forgiven by the surety of the strokes in the versals!

This glorious page of raised gold letters absolutely shone in the light and would lift anyone’s heart and spirit. It really is a tour-de-force.

The book also contains music for the service as here with an impressive decorated border of raised gold leaves and blue cranesbill. The main wavy line going through the image is drawn with a firmness of the master. I think Johnston would particularly have enjoyed creating the squiggly fine black lines of decoration.

That same firmness of line is shown here in this red vermilion decorated chalice; many would envy that sureness of stroke. Interestingly, it looks in places that Johnston may have used a broad edge calligraphy nib for some of the strokes. Note how the furthest left curved line to the base gradually changes from a thicker line to thinner, and also the thin and thicks on the two circles in the oval shape halfway up.

The lettering, as Johnston explains in the note at the back, is based on tenth-century manuscripts. We know that he was introduced to these by Sir Sydney Cockerell, particularly the Ramsey Psalter (BL Harley 2904) which Johnston studied and then developed into his Foundational Hand. The tail of the letter g extending to the right is very much one found in the Psalter. The tenth-century Benedictional of St Æthelwold, written at about the same time and probably at the same location, has a similar style of writing, but here the tail of this letter is dealt with more successfully. Now, dare I say this, pace calligraphers, but Johnston does need to work more on his letters s where almost invariably the top bowl is larger than the bottom (it should be the other way round to prevent the letter looking top heavy).

And traditional to the period of study, Johnston used a blind point to rule the lines, where the furrow on one side of the page created a raised line on the other. On the left-hand image there is a faint black baseline where some of the ink on the opposite page has rubbed off on the raised skin.

The gold tooled cover is just magnificent – produced by Douglas Cockerell, probably the most famous bookbinder of his time, and brother of Sydney.

In each corner is a little raised carved ‘button’, not as large as a penny coin, with the symbols of the four evangelists. These are exquisite and the design fits so well in to the circular shape.

Matthew – the winged man,

Mark – the lion,

Luke – the bull,

And John – the eagle.

At the back Johnston explains about the book, where his sources for the text come from, and also about the materials used. The skin is ‘Roman vellum’, or lambskin, manufactured at Brentford, no doubt by Bands (since closed), and could explain the difficulty in achieving really fine strokes as this skin is renowned for its greasiness. The blue is ultramarine ash, which I know only as a much paler colour than ultramarine, but here it’s about as strong.

This truly is a remarkable book and it is a privilege to show photographs of it here.

St Peter’s Church, Monkwearmouth

In the seventh century it must have been amazing for the people at the time living near Monkwearmouth in Northumberland to see this building going up! The craft skills of building in stone were lost when the Romans left Britain at the beginning of the fifth century, and, according to an Anglo-Saxon poem called ‘The Ruin’ it was thought that such buildings were created not by mere mortals but by giants. However, on his five journeys to Rome, Benedict Biscop (c. 628–690) saw magnificent large and sturdy stone buildings and brought back masonsfrom Gaul, as well as glassworkers to create stained glass windows, and, under his direction, they built this church in 674–5 and its sister church of St Paul’s in Jarrow.

Only the tower and west wall remain of Benedict’s church now but they are supreme examples of the stone mason’s skills. It is thought that many of the actual stones and some of the masonry came from Roman buildings nearby, and this arch certainly has a Roman feel to it with its carefully dressed stone. Even so, if it was created by the Romans, dismantling and recreating it on this site needed knowledge and techniques.

The massive corner stones give great strength to the building, some of them being about three feet (1 metre) in length as can be seen here. Even the strong Northumberland wind and sometimes inclement weather wouldn’t shift this structure!

Even now, the mason’s skill can be seen. There are horizontal striations on the two short pillars supporting the arch in the front of the porch.

The barrel vaulting creating the rounded arched roof is truly magnificent, the stones being selected very carefully to be well matched in size and shape. What an entrance to a church!

Either side of the arch are two similar smaller arches, with carefully cut stones to create the top curve. Although the wall may look rather higgledy-piggledy, a little like a dry stone wall, the stones are actually carefully selected and neatly placed.

There is even some pattern in the seemingly random stones creating here a zig-zag texture.

The porch was extended upwards by the end of the seventh century when a second floor was added, and this can be seen from inside the church here in a line in the masonry just below the narrow single window above the arched doorway.

In the porch are two stone slabs and on one there are incised depictions of a sword, a decorated cross and what could be a bishop’s crook (?).

The tower was extended upwards by the tenth century with other floors added, but the Romanesque style of half-moon arches was still being used in buildings.

St Peter’s in Monkwearmouth is just outside Sunderland* and is well worth a visit. I am so very grateful to the vicar and those at the church who kindly stayed on after the Sunday morning service and opened up the porch door so that I could take the photographs used in this post.

Benedict Biscop was given the land to build this church. He was also given land close by – the ‘sunder’ land, hence ‘Sunderland’.

HUGE Choir books

Producing books before printing was an expensive exercise. The text was written by hand and often detailed and precise illuminations were added. Whereas nowadays each member of a choir would usually have their own copy of the music and words, this was prohibitive in times past because of cost. So how could a choir sing together without having to learn everything by heart? For rich and prestigious religious foundations and churches, large choir books were produced. However, in Granada cathedral in Spain, behind the altar, not just large books but HUGE choir books are on display! (Apologies for the photographs. Avoiding the reflections on glass was impossible on an iphone!)

Now when HUGE is mentioned, the actual size may not be truly appreciated. These books are actually over three feet high and two feet wide – they really are massive and would need at least two people to carry them! This ‘miniature’ of the Christ with Virgin Mary and St Anne with John the Baptist is at least 1 foot or 30 cms in size, and would have been glorious for the members of the choir to look at while they were singing.

Of course, the lettering had to be pretty large too! The x-height for these was over an inch, 3 cms, high, and written so very precisely, as can be seen here. It is likely that some form of balsa wood pen would have been used to create strokes this wide, but the purity of form, and the sharpness of outline, with dense black ink, are truly inspiring and commendable. The style of writing is called Gothic Rotunda by calligraphers, and was the Italian and Spanish equivalent to the dense Gothic Textura, or Gothic Black Letter, of northern Europe.

Each page shown was an absolute masterpiece and it was truly a privilege to see page after page of these books – and displayed at a height and in a way that they could be seen easily – not always the case with manuscripts!

Although there is no musical time indicated, and the notes didn’t appear to have a value in terms of length such as a crotchet or minim, it is likely that the positions next to one another indicated how long each note should be held for, and, of course, their position on the stave indicated the pitch.

The clarity of the script is shown well here.

The coat of arms in one of the books is certainly for a cardinal, indicated by the hat and number of tassels (although they should be red, but depicted here in grey against the red background), but I have not been able to find out which cardinal this represents.

Many of the pages have elaborate decorated and illuminated borders. This shows wonderful Renaissance decoration of urns, butterflies, and foliage with a scattering of gold dots – the ‘dots’ being at least a quarter of an inch, 5 mm in diameter!

A fully clothed Christ, without his two companions at Calvary, is shown in this image of the crucifixion, with the most glorious surrounding border. It must have been difficult to focus on the singing with this feast for the eyes within sight!

The carved and elaborate stand on which the choir books are displayed is placed just behind the magnificent altar. There is space for one on each of the four sides, but only two were on show this time, allowing for the gilded and decorated back panel to be seen.

Intangible Cultural Heritage and the UNESCO Convention

What links traditional craft skills with the Notting Hill Carnival, the Cornish language, the Norfolk rotation, Arbroath Smokies, sea shanties, and Plough Monday? They, and many, many more, are all part of the rich fabric of Intangible Cultural Heritage, or our living heritage, which make individual villages, towns, regions and counties distinctive and different and what they are. In many cases these are customs and traditions that have been carried on for centuries by ordinary people rather than any organisation or national society.

Cremona’s current oldest luthier, Hungary’s Stefano Conia, 74, and his son Stefano Jr, 47, are pictured with a violin at their workshop in Cremona. — AFP

These are recognised throughout the world as part of our Intangible Cultural Heritage (our living heritage), as distinct from our tangible cultural heritage. For the latter, they are essentially our buildings such as stately homes and castles, our landscapes, and our historical artefacts in museums and libraries – things that can be seen. For our living heritage, the craft skills and the traditions cannot actually be ‘seen’ in themselves, which is why they are ‘intangible’. Most countries are able to identify traditional crafts, such as violin making in Cremona, Italy, flamenco dancing in Spain, samurai sword making in Japan, and list them in a similar way to World Heritage Sites. They are significant to the individual communities and need to be supported.

Sadly, the UK is not able to do that. This country is one of only 12 out of 193 signed up to UNESCO that has not ratified the 2003 Convention on Intangible Cultural Heritage. The UK was one of the world leaders in our tangible cultural heritage with the National Trust, Historic England and the listings of important and significant buildings in Grade I, II and so on. The British Museum and other museums and libraries have been in existence for centuries to ensure that our heritage objects are displayed, conserved and looked after for future generations. But what of our intangible cultural heritage, surely this is just as important? Sadly on that we are really far, far behind almost every other country in the world.

The UNESCO Convention identifies five different domains as part of our intangible cultural heritage:

Oral traditions and expressions, including language as a vehicle of the intangible cultural heritage;
Performing arts;
Social practices, rituals and festive events;
Knowledge and practices concerning nature and the universe;
Traditional craftsmanship

And it is the latter particularly, and my interest in heritage crafts that mean that this post is being written.

And the lack of ratification is, simply, a lack of government will. The cost is $150,000 a year to sign up to the Convention, which would then give the UK a seat at the table, representing this country with such a rich living heritage; that seat is so badly needed post-Brexit. This is really nothing in terms of government spending, although, to be fair, there would be costs on top of that to ensure that the five domains were surveyed and plans in place for support. However Heritage Crafts surveying the sector with its regular issuing of the Red List of Endangered Crafts are already on the case, and their Endangered Crafts Fund and The President’s Award support the passing on of craft skills. This shows that it won’t cost a fortune to be done!

It would also mean, as said by Professor Tim Ingold of Aberdeen University: this is really about revitalising skills and practices that have the potential to be transformative for future generations. This is much bigger than Arbroath smokies and Stilton cheese. It is about placing values of care and custodianship, as well as respect for difference, at the heart of the ways we live.’

It would mean that, similar to the ways in which for the UK City of Culture, people get together to define what makes their city special, what they can do to produce a programme of cultural events that have a lasting legacy, each village, rural area, town, city, county and region could, as Professor Ingold states, place values of care and custodianship and a respect for difference on what they feel is important. In this fractured society, it could bring people together to identify and share their cultural heritage.

With seven different Secretaries of State at the Department for Culture, Media and Sport over the last five years Intangible Cultural Heritage has clearly not been a priority, but it would be fantastic if it was! Ratification would not be a panacea to everything but it would mean that it has a place in the department and our wonderful traditions would be surveyed and not simply regarded as not worth anything.

If you feel that this is important, and you have got to the end of this post, you can make a difference. Everyone living in the UK has an MP and, as their constituent, it is hoped that they would take on issues that concern you (they are after your vote in the end!). It is not difficult to write to them, you can do so here and it doesn’t need a proper letter sent by post, you can simply email them. Please use any of this post to make your point (I’m not worried at all about copyright here, just want to get that Convention ratified!), and ask them to contact the Secretary of State at DCMS to encourage her (Lucy Frazer as I write this, but who knows after a month or two??) to ratify the UNESCO Convention on Intangible Cultural Heritage. Stress that the UK is one of only 12 countries out of 193 not to have done so, and let’s see if together we can make things happen!

The Glitterati of October 2021

This was the first time that I have held the 3-day course in October focusing on the tools, materials, skills and techniques of mediæval illuminators, and I think that those involved on the course will be keen to tell you why. We had challenges, but the results were impressive nevertheless, as can be seen.

I have always been incredibly fortunate by the way in which these different groups of people from all over the UK and indeed the world come together on these courses, and this was no exception, with a WhatsApp group formed and dinners together in the evenings.

But it was the challenges that we had on day two which had to be overcome. The weather on the first day was horrendous; it was torrential rain and we’d never experienced it quite as bad as it was. It was a lesson for me to learn because when we came to prepare the gesso for gilding on the second day it was still very plastic because of the 90% humidity.

The good news was that everything didn’t go to plan, which is often exactly what happens when you get home after courses like this and start to do it yourself. It meant that we had to think on our feet, go to Plan B and work out how to gild in time to get the painting done. In the end we all had to wing it, and although the gesso wasn’t always as smooth as we would have liked, the gold was still pretty shiny!

And here are some comments from the course – not necessarily written by the person who produced the miniature the comment is beside.

Loved it! Would cheerfully do another 3-5 day class and workshop. Such generosity of spirit! Thanks for all the kindness and patience. A delightful time of learning and experimentation. Thanks.

I would fully recommend this course, it has been amazing. It is incredibly good value for money too as the help and support have been brilliant and the supplies have been endless. I have been blown away by how hospitable you have been in taking us into your own space, cooking for us and entertaining our company. It has been wonderful!

Outstanding tuition – clear, concise, great encouragement and all the time felt what I was doing was possible in spite of my apprehension. A lovely course where I learned a huge amount. I feel it is something I could continue for myself. Very generous with items given to us.

Loved Patricia’s style – kind, endearing, engaging, enjoyed the simplicity and great structure to the days.

I have had the best time. Learned, developed, and surrounded with like minded people. It has been Awesome!

Thank you for everything. SO worth every penny. Tremendous privilege to be part of this small group. We all gelled.

Thank you Patricia for world class masterclass.

Incredibly valuable experience that I will truly cherish.

The talks were fascinating, a great addition to the practical parts of the course.

(Unfinished on the right.)

‘The Inscriptions of Ralph Beyer’ by John Neilson

Ralph Beyer really was a remarkable letterer and to a large extent one of a kind. The influence of his German parents just before the Second World War was considerable, and the rather peripatetic childhood that he had resulted in experiences that affected his later work.

This new book by John Neilson focuses on Ralph Beyer’s inscriptions, but it is so much more than just this. It would be impossible to write about this remarkable man without touching on his time with Eric Gill, the influence of Henry Moore, how David Kindersley helped and very much more.

Because war was imminent, Beyer was sent to the UK from Germany when he was 16 years of age leaving the rest of his family behind, and one of his uncles arranged for him to go to Pigotts to work in Eric Gill’s workshop. Beyer seemed to find the rather traditional atmosphere restricting, and the contradictions of no electricity but a phone, and doing everything by hand but using a car rather strange. He was asked to draw a Roman Capital alphabet with a pencil. Eric Gill then used a red fountain pen to improve the letters as shown here.

It was the inscriptions at Coventry Cathedral where Ralph Beyer showed his great prowess. The mediæval cathedral had been bombed and almost destroyed in the Second World War, and the architect Basil Spence was chosen to design a new, modern one. His aim was to have a up-to-date building but incorporate many craft skills in a more contemporary way, and certainly Beyer’s inscriptions fulfil that role. He took on other lettering in the Cathedral and also carved the shell shape into the boulder of rock from Bethlehem to make the font.

It would be expected that work would come flooding in after the publicity of his work in Coventry Cathedral, although not everyone was in favour of the differing shapes and sizes of the letter-forms, but this didn’t happen and for some time his income, and the support for his family, was rather precarious. Beyer did, though, cut the letters for the National Library of Scotland.

And for this he was helped by his assistant Peter Foster (shown on the right here). Sadly neither the lively coat of arms, nor the name are there now after a refurbishment programme.

Ralph Beyer cut letters in a rather unusual way. Rather than position the chisel with the corner in the central part of the letter, he placed it on the outer edge and cut from there.

His lettering, though, continues to inspire, and to help the reader focus on the text in a new way.

And one of my favourites, the lively lettering for the Thames Chamber Orchestra, shown particularly well against a red background.

This book by John Neilson captures the spirit of this great letterer, it explains Ralph Beyer’s background and influences and the way in which he made his work all his own. It is a terrific tour-de-force and gives inspiration to calligraphers, type designers, logo designers (use hand-drawn lettering!) and letter cutters. It is highly recommended.

‘The Ins and Outs of Public Lettering’

This delightful little book ‘The Ins and Outs of Public Lettering: Kindersley Inscriptions in the Open’ by Marcus Waithe, Lida Lopes Cardozo Kindersley and Thomas Sherwood does exactly what it says. Following their books on the workshop itself, letter cutting, sundials, apprentices, cut letters in gardens and much else, this book focuses on examples of lettering from the workshop which all can see.

Amazingly, the workshop is now in its ninth decade, with David Kindersley having started his training with Eric Gill in 1934, and, after setting up on his own in 1936 he settled in the Cambridge workshop in 1946. This is now run by his gifted letter-cutter widow Lida and there are still apprentices and journeymen learning the skills of letter-form and letter cutting in the workshop.

The workshop has many important and significant commissions under its belt, such as the lettering on the gates of the British Library as shown on the cover of the book, but it does not omit the more seemingly straightforward perhaps and more discrete examples of public lettering such as this memorial in a graveyard. It seems to simple yet note how the word ‘Remember’ is carefully placed on the rather narrow, rugged stone, and that to fit in the larger letters, the first ‘M’ and ‘E’ share a stroke, and the second ‘M’ and ‘B’ do too. And note the three different forms of the letter ‘E’. All add variety, catch the eye, show what good design is all about, but need inspiration, careful thought and great cutting to execute.

Perhaps more easily seen and certainly more complicated is the memorial to Francis Crick at Gonville and Caius College in Cambridge. His work on the double helix structure of DNA won him a Nobel Prize. Cut in green slate and Caithness stone, the DNA structure forms the pattern for the memorial and can be seen from outside the college from the Senate House entrance opposite St Mary’s Church.

Another complicated piece for the workshop was the design for the Garden Building at King’s College also in Cambridge. Twenty seven slates from the roof of the college were used – not that easy as they had little depth for cutting and the edges were friable – to mark the benefactor, and tie in the name of the building and the life of the benefactor’s late brother with flowers from English gardens of particular resonance to the family.

Everyone in the workshop was involved in painting the flowers on the slate tiles.

Benefactors to Cambridge colleges and Nobel Prize winning scientists are one thing, those who gave their lives saving others at sea are another, but those unsung heroes are nevertheless recorded and remembered on this slate which is now on the Old Coastguard Rescue Station at Shingle Street.

Almost missed perhaps on the building itself, but appreciated by anyone who walks by and notices the many ways in which extraordinary people can be remembered in stone.

This little book has so many examples and is certainly worth buying to look through and appreciate the many ways in which letter cutting can bring buildings to life and record the lives of those of note.

Patricia Lovett MBE

Calligraphy | Illumination | Design