Glorious Glass - Sainte-Chapelle...

Having visited Sainte-Chapelle a few months ago, I keep gazing at the glorious stained-glass windows that seem to make up most of the structure and space of its upper chapel. There seems to be so much modern-day ugliness on every possible level today, be that socially, culturally, or politically speaking, that I want to retreat from it all and find solace, peace and pleasure in pure beauty.

How is it possible that such a beautiful jewel could have been created and consecrated centuries ago - around 1248 - and indeed survived to the present day?

Ascending the narrow, time-worn stone steps up from the lower chapel below, which once served as a parish church for those living in the Palais de la Cité, visitors have little idea of just how magnificent this vast glass vessel will prove to be. What must this sensorial experience have been in centuries past, well before eyes and spirits were jaded through an incessant glut of 21st century screen-induced stimulation?

Commissioned by Louis IX to provide a palatine chapel in the Medieval royal residence, to house the sacred Holy relics in the most venerable manner, the upper level of Sainte-Chapelle stands on the lower chapel, in a two-storey design also found in Noyon Cathedral. Constructed in the Rayonnant Gothic style, the architectural design is staggeringly lofty; a tower of light, twice as high as it is wide, sending out a myriad of colour, even under darkening skies.

No supporting pillar obscures the long expanse that leads to the apse at the far east end, where the Holy relics were held in the grand châsse - an imposing reliquary casket - beneath the ornate baldaquin and surrounded by seven bays of towering stained-glass windows.

The west end of the chapel, is dominated by the vast rose window that was created in the Flamboyant Gothic style in the 15th century, with a flame-like design in the stone-work details and enamel-painted glass. The ceiling that runs from east to west above is divided into vaulted sections adorned with dark blue paint-work with rich gold stars...

The apparent weighlessness of the curtains of glass, without the use of masonry walls inside or buttresses outside, is reliant on bar tracery and iron rods and chains that provide tension and support. Furthermore, the pillars employed are cleverly 'disguised' by a series of slender stem-like structures that soar above, thus emphasizing the height as opposed to the thickness of the whole.

At the base of these ribbed columns stand apostles, and you cannot help but wonder what and who they have seen over the centuries! Having witnessed damage and destruction by the fire and flooding visited on Sainte-Chapelle, its desecration during the French Revolution and then disolution in the aftermath, these silent witnesses have also observed the pre-emptive measures taken in WW2, with the windows removed and later returned to avoid damage. Incredibly, two-thirds of the stained glass that we see in Sainte-Chapelle today are the original pieces from the Medieval period, whilst the spire is, in fact, the fifth to have adorned the monument!

Although Sainte-Chapelle managed to survive the social and political turmoil of the Revolution years, by the early decades of the 19th century there were plans to destroy it completely in order to make way for a new palais de justice. Fortunately, Victor Hugo swayed public opinion and Sainte-Chapelle was the object of a vast restoration project that went on from 1840-1863.

Much of the paint-work had to be recreated or restored, along with the sculptures, but models were taken from other monuments of the period in order to respect the original design. Typically, the fleur-de-lys image figures significantly, in reference to the royal heritage of Louis IX to the Capetian dynasty and then the castle of the kingdom of Castile in reference to his mother, Blanche de Castile.

A visit to Sainte-Chapelle is an immersion into an exquisite golden chamber of light, colour and weightlessness that is the perfect antidote to the dark, bland, heavy void we seem to have thrust upon us nowadays, whether we like it or not...

Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose...

On a recent early visit to Hyde Park, I admired the beautiful lilies and roses all still in bloom, gradually coming to life as the morning sun gathered height in the summer sky. This is one of my perfect images of England and 'Englishness' and one that I seek out everytime I return and this time was no exception. I was immediately reminded of the twisted, silhouetted forms of those same flowers that play an integral part in the painting Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose painted in 1885/6 by John Singer Sargent (1856–1925). This painting is often considered to be quintessentially English and having met great acclaim when exhibited in the Royal Academy in 1887, today is often taken to be the artist's most notable work, displayed in the Tate Britain.

The glow radiating out from the delicate Chinese paper lanterns, the play of light and colour across the girls' white dresses, the flowers and their stark forms and outlines, all captured as twilight gives way to night, ensured Sargent's renown as the 'English Impressionist'. Indeed, up close the delicate rendering of flowers, fabric or flesh reveals itself to be achieved through remarkably bold yet deftly applied brushstrokes, with the artist said to have resembled a fencer, darting repeatedly towards the canvas with precision and skill. The fact that the work took two years to accomplish has also added a certain intrigue to the painting - with the children - Holly and Polly - caught at a particular, fleeting moment of the day that lasted mere minutes. Apparently Sargent played tennis whilst waiting for the instant when he could tackle his work, and had to adapt to changing circumstances accordingly, exchanging the real flowers for artificial ones when the season was over, for example.

Sargent's artistic output does, however, go far beyond this one painting and ultimately the crisp prettiness of Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose has perhaps done Sargent a disservice and lead to a number of misconceptions over the years. Firstly, although John Singer Sargent spent a large part of his adult life in England, he was in fact born to expatriate American parents in Florence, Italy, and travelled from one European city and country to another during his formative years.

Despite being an American national, he was consequently more cosmopolitan by nature, and his itinerant lifestyle meant that he felt forever the foreigner, and sometimes the outsider, reputedly feeling shy in large social settings in spite of his ability to speak five languages. Furthermore, his work encompassed other mediums than simply oil paint, and his truly prolific production throughout his career included countless charcoal and watercolour works and vast murals. Likewise, although he was lauded as an unparalleled, highly sought-after portrait painter and that a considerable part of his career was devoted to this field, he covered many other areas of subject material - landscapes, architecture, sculpture etc - and relished the opportunity to escape oil portraiture and the creation of pretty pictures for wealthy figures. In addition - and linked to the previous point - Sargent's work has often been mispresented - reproached for being superficial and lacking true substance; I certainly remember being taught to view his paintings as clever representations of frills and frocks but with no real 'message'. However, surely that is to miss the intention of Sargent as an artist and to fail to set him in an artistic context.

Having trained in Paris in the atelier of the realist portrait painter Carolus-Duran - and enrolled in the Ecole des Beaux-Arts - Sargent learnt to paint au premier coup and acquired a swiftness in approach that must surely be unmatched. Like Velázquez, he developed an ability to reproduce incredible detail with deceptively broad, visible strokes, apparently weilding large brushes rather like those of an artisan rather than an artist, to recreate an unbelievable degree of realism and accuracy with minimal detail. Influenced by French impressionism (he was friends with Monet) but still rooted in concrete reality, Sargent did not merely explore impressions from light and shadow but seemed to seek the physical and material sustance of the subject, not primarily their soul.

His portraits capture the essence of the individual in that moment, but do not attempt to offer a narrative or reveal social background; little or none is proposed. Sargent is said to have selected the two girls for Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose for their hair colour and not solely direct sentiment and likewise was fascinated with the famously pale luminosity of Madame Gautreau's skin, as opposed to being infatuated with this grand figure from Parisian society. How ironic that the scandal that followed Sargent's presentation of Madame X at the Salon of 1884 in Paris , ultimately led to his leaving France and his success in England with Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose just two years later.

For a public fed on 'meaningful' paintings with heavy references to historical events or offering some kind of insight into the nature of the sitter or subject, this would pass for a sorry lack of depth. His work could thus entrance and intrigue due its technical skill but would not haunt the viewer, and no amount of talent in execution could compensate the perceived spiritual emptiness. This could perhaps explain why Sargent's art fell out of favour shortly after his death in 1925, yet when you look at the skill and breadth of his artistic production, it seems a shocking error of judgement or reputation. The quality and incredible quantity of his outcome is utterly breath-taking and Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose is just one of many, many works...

Vanishing Beauty in the Woods...

Just over a hundred years ago, this long alleyway led to the grand Château de Toussicourt, set behind a majestic central pond and looking down over the sweeping landscape that is now indistinct agricultural land. I had learnt of Toussicourt a number of years ago, when looking into the history of the area of Hermonville and its unwitting involvement in the Great World - 1914-1918.

Finding itself at the heart of hostilities from the very beginning of the war, the region around Hermonville and further beyond was the focus of many brutal - yet ultimately futile military missions - with lives, land and livelihood literally obliterated. The village itself was employed as army training base in espionnage and the numerous châteaux (of which there were initially seven), served as encampment grounds.

These impressive domains were cruelly damaged during the war years and some were left in ruins - as was the case for Toussicourt. Having belonged to the Krafft family in the final chapter of its life, the château was abandonned to the wilderness as Hugues Krafft dedicated himself to the preservation of the architectural heritage of Reims with the foundation of the Société des Amis du Vieux Reims (SAVR) and the purchase of the Hôtel Le Vergeur.

I managed to track down Toussicourt a few years ago, in winter months, just weeks before global lockdown made such walks in the countryside seem illusory... The visit of the final remains of this once-grand residence was dreamlike in itself and now in the summer months, years on, there was a similar feeling of halted or suspended reality, as if you could somehow conjure up the past if only you find the correct opening.

The stark branches, stripped foliage and visible stonework of the winter have now been clothed in shrouds of vivid green with darts of sunlight breaking through the leafy canopies above whilst dense undergrowth carpet and conceal paths underfoot...

Moss and ivy are draped everywhere, as is lichen, whilst Nature takes its claim on these traces of human history...

No indentifiable structural vestiges remain of the château itself, apart from the odd turret-shaped form that originally stood near the pond, and is now sumberged by the trees and saplings that stand where once the main building rose up. The stonework of this final construction is gradually being carved up by inclement weather that drives in cracks and crevaces where the war hostilities had failed...

Although hidden from view in summer months, the pond still offers a peaceful glimpse of what once was; past elegance and tranquility. I couldn't help but reflect on that loss in the present too as we have entered unchartered territory in almost every aspect of life since my last visit.

As I left, feeling a little wistful, I caught a glimpse of this strangely faded Peacock butterfly; vanishing beauty indeed!