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Inigo Jones and Palladio: Queen’s House, Greenwich

In Week 3 we turned to the Renaissance, Mannerism and the Baroque. We looked at the Queen’s House in Greenwich, designed in 1618 by Inigo Jones but not completed until 1635. After looking at how Jones took inspiration from visits to Renaissance Italy, and particularly the work of Andrea Palladio, we were asked to look at the architectural features of Queen’s House and comment on elements Jones had clearly taken from Palladio’s work, and how he might be said to have deviated from it.

The south front of the Queen’s House, Greenwich

What struck me when looking at the Queen’s House was that, at first glance, how less three-dimensional it appears than many of Palladio’s porticoed villas on the Veneto. However, looking more closely at features of the south front of the Queen’s House (above), Palladio’s influence becomes clearer, with the inclusion of a six-columned loggia and lower storey rustication.

The north facade’s (above) central bay is projected, even if only slightly, and has a semi-circular windowhead flanked by rectangular windows (though Palladio seemed to prefer a trio of semi-circular windowheads at the centre of his buildings, often with fewer rectangular windows either side).

Browsing photos of Palladio’s villas, the building I thought Queen’s House (or at least the south front) most resembles is the Villa Pisani in Montagnana:

Villa Pisani in Montagnana, south front. Image: Hans A. Rosbach (CC BY-SA 2.5)

It seems that Jones was looking to add his own refinements to his learnings from Palladio, and I think this is perhaps most evident at Queen’s House where the central string course, projecting cornice and balustraded parapet work together to give an overall effect of sharpness and under-stated sophistication (I can’t find an example of Palladio using a balustraded parapet at roof level on a country villa, though might be wrong!)

Villa Pisani in Montagnana, north front. Image: Hans A. Rosbach (CC BY-SA 2.5)

Interior of the Banqueting House, Whitehall (360 view)

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Wells and Bourges cathedrals: a comparison

One of the second week tasks from my course was to look at the interiors of two gothic cathedrals, Wells in England (1180) and Bourges (1195) in France, identifying the stylistic differences that make them representative of Early English and French gothic. I’ve included my answer below some zoomable Google maps images, and also had a crack at describing the west fronts first.

Above: Wells Cathedral (1180) – west front

The western elevation features none of the large gabled porches to be found in French gothic structures of the period, with the small doorways dwarfed by the columns and niches displaying around three hundred sculptures. The string course above the frieze of simple quatrefoil tracery draws the eye horizontally rather than upwards, a facet of Early English Gothic that continues inside. The arched lancet window are tall and narrow, without the elaborate conjoined tracery of the later English Decorated style.

Above: Bourges Cathedral (1195) – west front

In contrast to Wells, the emphasis at the west front of Bourges is on the five large portals with their recessed pointed arches and twin towers. There is also an early introduction of the rose window, though smaller in Bourges’ case, and not yet the dominant feature of the west front, when compared to other French cathedrals started over the next half-century, such as Laon, Amiens and Reims.

Impressive though the front is, there’s a curious lack of windows, with blind arcading where one might expect lancet glazing. This, together with the large entrance portals, elaborate tympanum sculptures, and the dearth of outside space (you can see from the Google image that it’s hard to take a complete photo of the eastern elevation due to the proximity of nearby housing), suggests that the glory of this end was intended to be experienced when entering the cathedral, and not from standing back and admiring it, which could be said of of the east, north and southern facings.

Above: Wells Cathedral – nave looking east

Moving to the interior of Wells, we see the gallery arcades running the length of the nave with the gallery and clerestory above as distinct sections – a strong indication that the cathedral was built in the Early English Gothic period, with the emphasis on horizontality rather than height. There are no floor-to-ceiling shafts, as typical of the French gothic style that English builders took inspiration from. The nave ceiling is lower than found in French cathedrals of the same period, with the vaulting shafts beginning from beneath the clerestory rather than from the floor. The later addition of the spectacular strainer arches (1330) show that architecturally we’ve moved into the English Decorated Gothic period.

Above: Bourges Cathedral, nave looking east

The interior of Bourges is a strong case study of gothic as “an aesthetic of line rather than mass”1. The thin vertical arcade shafts reach uninterrupted to the beginning of the vault ribs, emphasis the height of the nave: at 121 feet it is almost double that of Wells. The huge east window and clerestory windows allow light to flood in, creating a luminous interior that must have astonished its early worshippers.

There are no transepts at Bourges: instead a double set of aisles run the length of the building, forming an ambulatory at the east end, with the inner aisle vault taller than the outer one. The necessity to build vertically rather than horizontally in this period was a constraint faced more by French than English masons, as the preceding Norman/Romanesque structures were more likely to be situated in areas of more highly concentrated housing (see west front, above).

1 Sutton, I. Western Architecture (1999) p.74

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A Guide to Modernism in Metro-Land (2020)

I first discovered Joshua Abbott’s photos of modernist architecture via his Instagram page. His new book is a small but full-colour selective directory of modernist cinemas, factories, Tube stations, private houses and other structures largely built in the first part of the 20th century in the suburbs that sprung up with the development of the Metropolitan Railway.

The best of this type of short guide aren’t designed to be comprehensive, instead reflecting what the author sees as salient, and are all the better for it. Though I did find myself jumping straight to the Hertfordshire chapter to see whether buildings I’m familiar with had made the cut: the Odham’s building and the Ovaltine factory are there, though how long the unlovable Sun Printers clock tower will be around judging by its current crumbling state I’m not sure. The descriptions often tell me something I didn’t know, though I’d have liked more detail on their architectural quirks, though I expect the copy had to be kept short for reasons of length (the book is published by Unbound, a crowdfunding publisher).

What’s more interesting of course are the local buildings you aren’t aware of. I didn’t know about the Peter and Alison Smithson-designed Sugden House in Watford (which at its last sale appeared to have retained its original interior) or a couple of other private dwellings in Bushey, an area more significant architecturally for its surviving arts and craft houses.

The author also notes that he hasn’t included buildings that can’t be viewed from the street. What else is out there, hidden from sight, behind those thick walls of conifers down gated private roads?

The book’s introduction casts metro-land as more of an idea than a place, referencing John Betjeman’s famous 1973 documentary, where architects like Charles Holden (underground stations) and Curtis and Burchett (Middlesex schools) had space to invent their own futures amongst the wistful avenues of mock-Tudor semis and prefabs.

A book like this is also intended to be a pocket tour guide, so organising chapters by London borough (with the Met line’s outer-reaches of Herts and Bucks tagged on) works – a map is included at the start of each.

Might it have been done in another way? I’d have liked to know more about the key architects, with more insight into the way their own backgrounds and personalities influenced their styles, though concentrating on fewer names would have come at the expense of eclecticism and is a different book, perhaps. It might also have been fun to order the chapters as stops or sections along different tube lines – I wonder if that’s something the author considered …

Metro-land
modernism-in-metroland.co.uk

PS – reading up more about Peter and Alison Smithson I came across this film about them from 1970. Something tells me the took their work seriously …

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Interior of the Banqueting House, Whitehall

While trying to find whether Inigo Jones considered a different entrance positioning for the Banqueting House, Whitehall (1619) I stumbled across a 360 degree Google Maps view of the interior. The Banqueting House is sadly closed at present, but is due to re-open in March 2021.

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Clay Lane Water Treatment Works, Bushey

On a visit to Reveley Lodge gardens I drove by this fantastic modernist structure on Clay Lane in Bushey and had to double-back for another look. Officially called the Three Valleys Water treatment works, the site is owned by Affinity Water and also houses its education centre.

The structure resembles an art deco swimming pool from the outside, but a web search yields next to nothing about its history, or any interior images. If you know more, please get in touch ….

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The Archaeology of Buildings by Richard K. Morriss (2000)

A few years ago some web searches on reading a building/vernacular architecture suggested The Archaeology of Buildings by Richard K. Morriss as a key title. The book’s long been out of print, and every time it cropped up second-hand it was prohibitively expensive. Over the summer I finally managed to snap-up a copy at a reasonable price.

Fans of Time Time may remember Mr Morriss as one of the experts brought in to advise on buildings’ histories. The book introduces ‘buildings archaeology’ as a distinct branch of archaeology, and gives some of the background as to why this has been controversial in the archaeological community.

This is not a chronological, period-by-period take on architectural history. Instead the chapters explores the materials and methods used in the construction of each essential parts of any building: walls, roofs, floors. The emphasis is on the development of British, principally English, vernacular architecture, and why building styles and approaches changed in response to economics, changes in buildings’ uses, and the raw materials available.

The section on brickwork was particularly interesting. The author explains the development of brick sizes, the difference between bonds and how bond popularity changed. He also stresses that the front wall of a building is frequently not indicative of what is behind it, with lower-quality materials often used behind a more impressive brick or ashlar façade.

The sections on how to draw plans and evaluations are particularly detailed, with an emphasis on best-practice surveying techniques, eg how to use triangulation to establish accurate distances between points when recording a building.

The chapter on using digital technology is pretty out-of-date now, but Mr Morriss understands the pace that digital record-keeping, storage, formats etc. mores, are that hardware and software recommendations are unlikely to be future-proof. Good record-keeping practice is suggested, rather than individual technologies.

Despite the depth of detail, the tone is never lecturing, with the author keen to advise on best-practice, though with a sensible flexibility for different types and sizes of project: there are things you must do, but feel free to present or deliver them in a format that work’s best for the audience/client.

Not being fluent in all of the vocabulary, I found myself wanting more illustrations to visualise specific architectural details, though a book like this can’t be expected to provide photos or diagrams for every description. As you can see from the pics above, all the diagrams and most other photos are black-and-white, with a central section of coloured plates.

A book for anyone that wants a good introduction into how to read vernacular architecture and translate that knowledge into a written report.

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