In Search Of Grinling Gibbons
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At St Mary Abchurch, Hugh climbs up to take a closer look
Master wood carver Hugh Wedderburn took me on a quest in search of Grinling Gibbons in the City of London. Gibbons was born in Rotterdam in 1648, where he trained as wood carver and was exposed to the art of Dutch still life painting before he came to Britain in 1667.
John Evelyn wrote in his diary in 1671, ‘I this day first acquainted with a young man Gibson [sic] whom I had lately found in an obscure place & that by mere accident, as I was walking neere a poor solitary thatched house in a field in our parish neere Says Court. I found him shut in but looking through the window I perceiv’d him carving that large cartoone or Crucifix of Tintoretto.’
John Evelyn arranged introductions for Grinling Gibbons to King Charles II and Christopher Wren, enabling him to set up his workshop on Ludgate Hill – an auspicious and opportune location for a wood carver, beside the ruins of Old St Paul’s.
It is significant that Evelyn described Gibbons carving from a two-dimensional image, transforming it into physical form. Today Gibbons is recognised for his extraordinarily lifelike carvings of flowers, fruit and foliage, which bear a relationship to still life painting yet upon close examination are less naturalistic than they may at first appear.
From Hugh Wedderburn’s workshop in Southwark, we undertook our quest westward across the City, commencing at the Tower of London to visit the Parade of Kings – a sequence of monarchs in armour on horseback – where a wooden horse is attributed to Gibbons and a portrait head of Charles I is by the same hand. While the other horses are lifeless merry-go-round figures, more mounts for armour than sculptures in their own right, it is easy to appreciate why this one particular horse might earn its attribution, with its lifelike flared nostrils and bulging veins visible through the skin. The accompanying head of Charles I possesses a soulful melancholy and presence, in stark contrast to the workmanlike nature of the others.
Just up the hill at All Hallows By The Tower, we admired the elaborate font lid of foliage with two putti gesturing to the large bird atop the construction. When the lid is suspended up above the font for ceremonies and seen from below, it has proportion and balance with everything in place. Yet when it is lowered, the sculpture appears distorted and the putti’s anatomy bulges curiously. This is an example of carving in perspective and evidence of Gibbons’ sense of theatre, creating a visual effect that works from a single view point and is deliberately non-naturalistic.
Just five minutes walk away at St Mary Abchurch, Hugh and I climbed up ladders to admire the swags on the reredos closely. When these swags were first installed the pale lime wood stood in contrast to the dark oak background, throwing them into even more dramatic relief. This is what we imagine when we think of Grinling Gibbons – lush garlands of fruit, flowers and foliage that he carved in a manner which appeared more lifelike than had been seen before.Yet on close examination, it became evident that the definition of the leaves and fruit was only carved where it was visible, with the forms merging into abstraction away from view.
At St Paul’s, we admired Grinling Gibbons majestic quire stalls and epic organ case before climbing up into the roof where trays of bits and pieces that have fallen off over the centuries are preserved. Like the most fascinating jigsaw in the world, here are thousands of fragments that all belong somewhere. Examining them closely revealed the breathtaking detail of the carving by Gibbons and his studio who were responsible for all the architectural decoration in the cathedral. Even the wings on the angels can be identified as derived from different species of birds, revealing the minute observation of the natural world that informs these bravura carvings.
As we left the cathedral, Hugh and I paused to look back at the west front and admire Gibbons’ lavish foliate adornments that provide such a successful counterpoint to the austerity of Wren’s geometry. Somehow the palm leaves on the Corinthian columns are more luxuriant that you might expect. Garlands of leaves and fruit have been hung directly across structural elements of the design, disrupting its formality.
The legend that Gibbons and Wren had a tense working relationship comes as no surprise because the conflict is evident in the dynamic between the two visual languages at play. Yet it is this dynamic between the classical geometry and the presence of organic forms that makes this architecture so compelling and alive. This is Gibbons’ contribution and one of many reasons why we should celebrate his genius.
Head of Charles I attributed to Grinling Gibbons
Horse in the Parade of Kings in the White Tower
Font cover at Allhallows by the Tower
Reredos at St Mary Abchurch
St Mary Abchurch
St Mary Abchurch
St Mary Abchurch
St Mary Abchurch
St Mary Abchurch
St Mary Abchurch
St Mary Abchurch
St Mary Abchurch
Missing pieces from Grinling Gibbons’ quire at St Paul’s
Missing wings from putti at St Paul’s
Different designs of cornicing at St Paul’s
Grinling Gibbons quire stalls at St Paul’s
Canopy over the Bishop’s Throne at St Paul’s
Note the repairs to the quire in new lime wood that is still pale in tone
Bishop’s Throne by Grinling Gibbons at St Paul’s
Repairs at St Paul’s
Grinling Gibbons epic organ case at St Paul’s
In Hugh Wedderburn’s Southwark workshop, a frame for designer Marianna Kennedy
Hugh’s collection of chestnuts and acorns to plant trees for generations of wood carvers to come
Hugh plants his acorns and chestnuts
Hugh’s saplings that will be his legacy to future wood carvers
Visit THE GRINLING GIBBONS SOCIETY to learn more
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Wonderful artist with great name – he carved the magnificent frame for the portrait of Elias Ashmole in The Ashmolean. I always stop to wonder at it when I visit.
Wonderful! Especially love the tray of wings in St Pauls, thank you for this
The remnants of putti wings made me gasp. Actually — gasp.
Although the human figures and horse are magnificent, I was especially captivated by the carvings of flora. The leaves are so languid, fluid, graceful. One can almost sense how soft-to-the-touch
and pliable they are — yet these began as blocks of wood. Astounding.
Am very grateful for the discoveries I’ve made through Spitalfields Life. Today’s post was a reminder of how we, the Readers, are enriched every day. In our current world, the stories I find here give me much-needed optimism. Thank you, GA!
But, what about the pea pods? I learned about those when a Yeoman Warder showed me the one on the carving on the organ at the Chapel Royal at the Tower. We got into an argument about then Prince Charles after that, but I remember the pea pods. Supposedly, Gibbons always included a closed pea pod in his work. When it was paid for, he “opened” the pod, at least according to the Yeoman Warder. True? False? I’m still curious after many years.
I did a course on English Architecture and Furniture from 1603 – 1750 when I was at university 30 years ago. Our tutor took us on a visit to Oxford University and we saw a lot of Gibbons carvings there, absolutely beautiful. This was a man with amazing skill, I love the story of him carving pea pods then opening them when he was paid even though it’s said to be a myth.