Imagine a thousand years from now that our descendants find, several feet beneath the earth, a survival from our present times. This object, in near perfect condition, shouldered by a concrete enclosure, appears slowly under the archaeologists trowel and brush. It is largely burnt metal with curvilinear lines and manicured...
Mark but this fly, the place it sits, in this my world and yours exists. These finials, these smiling faces, these ironclad spikes that stand in stasis. A common mould, but time has rent such change with cause to reinvent each cusp with differing intent. Andy Marshall is an architectural...
Do you see the faces, do you hear the faint knock, of the lives of our forebears carved into the rock? Can you sense the elation, the chiselled filtration of blood coursing through the vermiculation? Through texture and pattern, the pulse and the rhyme our streets and our places tell...
I’ll never forget my first sighting of the building that is Cheesden Lumb. It rose from a deep cut valley forged by glacial meltwater several thousand years ago. Beyond the facade, a weave of moss and stone formed an outline of former times. To the front, a more considered...
Can I make a stand for your faithful to-and-fro?
From anxiety to incredulity at Ingleborough
A place that time forgot
A medieval marval at Avoncroft
As a child I was told my town was of little note. Some might say, and some do say, and what they said cast a blur upon my vision. Older and wiser and free of such things, ‘of little note’ became a chord and the chord grew. For long ago,...