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Help Support Member Powered PhotographyA Georgian time capsule—St. John the Baptist, Pilling, Lancashire, England.
One might expect Jane Austen herself to step through the door, bonnet askew, pausing to take in the quiet dignity of this space.
"There's no art to find the mind’s construction in the face."
— Macbeth (Act 1, Scene 4). William Shakespeare.
I walk through the door into the Narthex at Ely and I’m greeted by one of the most awe-inspiring sights of any building: the Romanesque Nave. Here, the might and sheer weight of this behemoth speaks of the impossible made possible - a vision turned into reality. It gifts me the same overview effect that an astronaut might experience whilst looking through his portal at the tiny speck that is Earth.
For a glorious few minutes, Ely elevates a normal bloke like me to the status of an astronaut.
But as I walk through the nave into the macrocosm, I am drawn into the microcosm - a portal in the side aisle. The Prior’s Door, once the monastic community’s entry from the cloister, is framed by a complex weave of stone carvings. They speak of the Final Judgment, the ascent to heaven, the weight of eternity
The filigree interlacing of natural forms is a reminder that there are things beyond our understanding, beyond our imagining.
Moving from the nave’s grandeur to the intricate detail of the Prior’s Door is a jarring shift of the senses - especially when caught in the gaze of the corbel heads that look down upon all who enter.
One particular corbel draws me in. It would once have been painted, pupils gazing out with intensity, but even now, stripped of colour, it exerts a magnetic pull. Carved around 1120, the face is otherworldly and yet deeply familiar. The fluted Beany-like cap (or is it an extension of his hair?), the spiralling locks spilling from beneath - something about it feels startlingly contemporary. The sculptor, long gone, has left a trace of something undeniably familiar and human. Every now and then, when we visit these ancient places, we glimpse our own reflection.
As well as appealing to my pareidolia, this face - this worn and weathered fragment of the past - embodies the words of St. Jerome: ‘the face is the mirror of the mind and confesses the secrets of the heart.’ The face is the interface of our vitality. It holds the echoes of laughter, the ghosts of grief. It is the fulcrum of the living spirit, a silent storyteller whispering across the centuries.
And this, I think, is why the corbel on the Prior’s Door is so powerful. Through it, I feel a deep and undeniable connection to the people of the past. This face is, for me, the Mona Lisa of Ely - a window into the soul. Unlike the sanitised or idealised faces we often see in ancient sculpture, this one feels real and relatable - a bridge between generations, a fragment of a living culture that still speaks.
I sense its gaze trailing me as I weave between the carvings around the spandrels of the door. Then, once again, I look up - and it catches my eye. The connection flares across time. It doesn’t offer lost wisdom or divine revelation. Instead, it plants a single thought in my mind: capture me.
And so I do. I sketch it. I trace its contours, map its imperfections. I bring it into my own world, into my art. The sculpture is no longer just an ancient face set in stone - it lives now in my mind, my hand, my brush. And as I brush in the colour, I get a powerful sense of the hand that shaped it, nearly a millennium ago, reaching forward through time. And in some small way, as my hand moves across the canvas, as the image takes shape beneath my fingers, I reach back and touch it.
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Ely Cathedral Interior
Ely Cathedral holds far more than I can show here but I'd love to share with you the areas that impact me the most.
After visiting the Prior's Door I headed back into the magnificent nave and couldn't help but get the feeling of it rising to a crescendo - the visual culmination, of which - was confirmed as I walked about two thirds along the nave.
The Octagon Tower at Ely Cathedral,was built in the 14th century, replacing the original Norman crossing tower, which collapsed in 1322. Designed by Alan of Walsingham, it is a masterpiece of medieval engineering, featuring a vast wooden lantern. Its purpose was both structural and symbolic, flooding the cathedral with divine light.
And there it is again - that sense of moving from the macrocosm to the microcosm as we move our eyes closer to the tower from the nave..
...and focus on the kaleidoscope..
...we get to glimpse the central boss - another face - a Christ in Majesty that was carved generations ago.
And we know the carver's name - John of Burwell - a village near to Ely.
And if that isn't enough to whet the appetite - take another look at the lantern in the centre. See the arrow? You can actually go up there and see the tower at close hand.
The Lady Chapel
The Lady Chapel at Ely Cathedral, completed in 1349, is the largest of its kind in England. Its delicate tracery and star-like vaulting create a celestial effect, resembling a constellation. It would have been painted back in the day with stained glass in the windows. The decoration was stripped back (including the statuary in the niches) during the Reformation.
The delightfully intricate carving still remains.
As does some of the original paint scheme.
Bishop Alcock's Chantry Chapel
The chapel is from the C15th. John Alcock was was Bishop of Ely from 1486-1500. He served under both Edward IV and Henry VII. The vaulting rises behind the screen like the fingers of a waiter holding a tray.
Bishop West's Chantry Chapel
It is in this remarkably beautiful early 15th-century chapel with faceted vaulting that seven Anglo-Saxon benefactors of the church were interred in the 18th century. The pendants in the ceiling hold the arms of the bishop and, ironically, those of Henry VIII.
I lodged at Ferry Meadows CAMC in Peterborough which has direct access to Nene Park’s lakes, woodlands, and walking trails. Have stayed here many times - wonderful access to Ely, Peterborough and Cambridge.
Another face peeping out from behind the limewash takes me by surprise.
And another occasion I have a momentary communion with a Romanesque carver.
Members can see the face on the Prior's Door in glorious augmented reality here:
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Photographs and words by Andy Marshall (unless otherwise stated). Most photographs are taken with Iphone 14 Pro and DJI Mini 3 Pro.
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