The Latch

The village of Pennat Melangell is set within a glacial valley, surrounded by fir-topped mountains that bless the shrine church of St. Melangell with a spirit of sanctuary.

The church is a shrine to an Anglo-Saxon princess that, during a hunt by Prince Brockwel, saved a hare and, as a result, was gifted land in the Tanat valley, upon which she built a convent that eventually became the church we see today. The shrine to Saint Melangell, the patron saint of hares, was pieced together like a jig-saw, after the archaeological remains were found around the fabric of the church.

The shrine stands in sanctuary in the chancel of the church and the first view of it is filtered by the rood. The whole place is other-worldy, it has the atmosphere of a distant land. This space might have been ported from Rome.

During my visit, I enter the church via the porch which has an angel topped gate that houses a lock and latch that is a shrine in itself - a secular shrine to its maker. It is so telling of the hands that made it, that I feel a jolt every time I use it. Whereas the shrine of St. Melangell orchestrates a passage through the rood, the lock and latch initiate a carefully composed series of actions. The lock sits behind the gate - so that new visitors have to stop and think about how to enter. It kindles a deferential pause before entry into the church. The lock itself is a bolt and clasp - a form that harks back to Bronze Age artefacts I’ve seen in museums. Comfortingly hammered into rounded shapes, the final flourish is set higher up in a latch that captures the spurt of the Blacksmith’s hammer and anvil.

In my photographer’s time-lapse mind, I imagine the flow and ebb of pilgrims into the church and around the shrine. But before that occurs, I see them fast-paced-like-ants, streaming up to the porch, pausing at the gate, bowing over, then unleashing and entering. Each passage, each turn, in effect, a little concerto of movement composed by the Blacksmith’s hand. These things matter. The latch is hot-wired through a conduit of use, gifting us a palpable connection to the past and the people that inhabit it.