Saturday 29 December 2018

DUNROSSNESS KIRK - SURPRISING SIDEWAYS MODESTY


For over twenty years we had driven past the building. The local shop, bottle shop, and petrol station stand opposite. These destinations took our attention; the kirk stood there as some spatial infill, an anachronistic aside. The building was obviously a church surrounded by its graveyard. It looked familiar, like an ordinary English church with its simple, cliche gable massing, and a front porch and bellcote - one more of thousands such structures, as seen before time and time again. It is the model used for every country church in Australia where timber was used instead of stone. In Britain, it is the form of the local village church that used local materials too. Only in larger towns and cities did the church form become grander, more decorative, more elaborate, but it was still generally the same model, with the same layout, the same geometry; the same typology, as architectural jargon likes to define it. The Dunrossness kirk had been dismissed as a 'run-of-the-mill' example, ignored in favour of others that intrigued, like the kirks at Lunna, Whalsay, and Tingwall. These were all discovered to be sideways kirks: see – https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2013/02/lunna-kirk.html; https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2013/02/whalsays-kirk.html; and https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2015/06/tingwall-kirk.html Even The Hillswick kirk, a traditionally planned space, drew attention that was never given to this place of worship in the southern Mainland of Shetland: see - https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2017/03/hillswick-kirk-architecture-time.html




In an overview of Shetland churches, (see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2017/04/shetlands-sideways-churches-creativity.html ), it was suggested, on the basis of the openings seen in other kirks, that the Dunrossness kirk might be a sideways kirk. This assessment was made from the photograph, and an associated image assumed to be its interior. Maybe the passerby gives less attention to details when busy shopping, ‘getting and spending’? The actual building never attracted attention; it never drew one closer or occupied one’s mind: was it the benign, weathered greyness of its exterior that made it easy to forget? One was happy with a cursory glimpse as one drove by, again and again. It was unimpressive; bland. It appeared commonplace, something one had seen time and time before; so it was neglected, in spite of the guess. The building was uninspirational. At least the traditionally-planned Hillswick kirk was grand in scale, bold in identity, and demanded attention as one entered the village.


This day, Tuesday 10 July 2018, was misty after the previous day's brilliant, warm sun. Low clouds had rolled in over the soft gradated hills, shrouding them with a fluffy haze that was becoming denser, whiter. The only thing that was clear was that there would be no flights coming in or leaving nearby Sumburgh Airport this morning. We had thought we might go and view the puffins on the cliffs of Sumburgh Head, just below the lighthouse, but the journey was aborted at the Scatness dig, just after having crossed the runway and noticing that one could not see far at all along the wide landing strip. The fringe lights faded into mist at only a few metres. We turned around.



Driving back north into Dunrossness, we noticed that we had an hour before the morning's appointment at Hoswick. As we passed the local shop, the decision was made. The car was swung left towards the Dunrossness kirk. After years of ignoring this building, it would be visited, just to confirm its ordinariness: we had time. One was not enthusiastic about this, even wondering if the building was still operating as a place of worship. Maybe it was closed, neglected? Church attendance is no longer a growth industry; occupancy was not clear. A large patch of render was missing from the eastern porch, but as one moved in through the gate, new gravestones - (nice typo - ‘gracestones’) - were noticed in the yard that seemed more than filled with a tall cluster of weather-beaten slabs that underscored the distant vistas of farmed slopes. Southern Shetland is far more fertile than the northern isles. It seemed that there had been some recent activity here.




A glimpse of a white panel through one of the southern windows reminded one of the Hillswick kirk that had a traditional layout with an end mezzanine over the axial nave entrance. At Hillswick, the stairs to the upper level push past the front windows as though the openings mean nothing, as in the Renaissance era when elevations took precedence over function – see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2012/05/corbusier-renaissance-man.html  Perhaps this place could be the doing likewise, with a traditional, axial basilica plan. The little church at Voe had proven to be this format, so one could expect others in Shetland to follow this pattern too.


The octagonal brass knob of the porch door was twisted: it did not move. It showed no signs of frequent polished use. There were few high hopes held for this ordinary place. The Whalsay kirk had been locked, as the Voe kirk had been, so this exclusion was nothing new. Being shut out was immediately put down to a lack of Christian charity: perhaps it said something about the community?

The glimpse through the window

The northern door
The only option to glimpse the interior seemed to be through the windows. Moving on to one of the clear glass panes at tiptoe eye height on the north, the gaze was shielded from the reflective glare: one saw the fuzzed shapes of a sideways kirk! The camera was raised as at Whalsay, the lens was shielded as best one could with the awkward stance of stretched leaning, camera holding, and some poor images were snapped for the record. Then some external photographs were taken. As one approached the door in what looked like the northern addition to the original building, (was it? - the sideways model did usually have a room here, the vestry), the hand tested the knob expecting only resistance - but it moved. The door opened. One's faith in church committees and communities was reinstated. It was discovered that all the doors in the kirk were unlocked, except the front porch door.

The doors leading into the place of worship


The pink panel with a brown knob on the left was opened. Did it open into the kirk interior? There was a second door in the thickness of the stone wall. This door was opened. One stood under a mezzanine on axis with the pulpit. It was a classic sideways plan: two large, 'special' windows either side of the pulpit in the centre of the southern, side wall; a 'U' shaped mezzanine along the east, north, and west walls; a stair up in the NE and NW corners.

Entry axis



Looking back to entrance on north


Moving in and turning left, the interior door opening into the front porch was swung aside to see how this eastern space was used. This was the formal approach, set up on the east-west axis, explicit externally, but only of notional significance internally. The porch came complete with plastic flowers in a vase in front of the Gothic-pointed, clear-glazed eastern window. This eastern entrance had the traditional open timbered ceiling. One thought of Horbury Hunt – see: https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2015/10/hunts-grafton-cathedral-master-class-in.html and https://voussoirs.blogspot.com/2015/11/a-church-in-ireland-recalling-john.html Turning back, one could see that this kirk was very much a well-used place. The declaratory, decorative hangings on the walls and the awkward new heating services installed in the stair corners, showed a continuing, active, recent involvement.




The eastern porch

Turning back into the central precinct, the character of the sideways church and all of its classic details became evident: the faux basilica aisle; the octagonal pulpit; the raking 'U' mezzanine; the supporting posts; the major and minor windows; the pulpit axis; the stairs: the stair was approached - the red-carpeted treads and risers led one up. The simple, diagrammatic balusters caught the eye: one thought of Venturi and his diagrammatical Classicism. This was a quaint, different touch, simple and creative. As one entered the upper seating space, the sense of a gathering around the preacher became evident: the mezzanine zones unfolded like petals. The seats, the divisions, the book rests - all surfaces - were all grained with the traditional painted technique giving an impressively uniform, buff glow to the space.

The faux 'basilica' axis looking west

Stair with classical profiled slat balusters

Lower level seating from eastern stair

The various planes of the surfaces intrigued: not only was the seating raked fan-like around the pivotal pulpit, but the combed ceiling kinked unusually, inventively, up at each end to accommodate the pair of rectangular windows on east and west. The scale and size of the place, and its functional intricacy, surprised. The windows were usual timber sashes, but the glazing was clear; all the glass was clear. There was no decoration here, just the graining on every surface, and white walls and ceiling. Only the classical dentils in the mezzanine edge, the grooved columns, and the silhouetted balusters suggested something more than basic, rudimentary forms. The colouring of glass appeared to be just too much of a display, to bold an expression.

Upper level seating from eastern entry


The central pulpit on the south wall


This was a splendid interior in excellent condition. Why was there ever any doubt? But what was the panel seen in the window that suggested a crassly careless mezzanine? One looked: the windows each side of the pulpit had white, diffusing blinds drawn over them. Were these meant to ease the glare of the southern sky, to shade the interior from the sun, or to conceal any external distraction from the congregation?

View of interior from upper level, west

The pulpit lacks the canopy seen in other 'sideways' kirks



The ancillary spaces were all inspected in order to get a feel for the arrangement of the adjacent functions. The small Gothic, pointed arch window of the toilet amused. One then moved outside. It was indeed a very bland, unpretentious exterior. Such was the spiritual message of the church and the Shetland character: inner truth, no outward public display. This kirk turned out to be a real rough diamond. It is a stunning interior in a shell that looks an ordinary, humble, local church. It is a true gem.

The western stair




The Orcadian poet, George Mackay Brown, in Rockpools & Daffodils, An Orcadian Diary 1979 - 1991, published by Gordon Wright Publishing, Edinburgh, 1992, wrote, in one of his weekly news articles, about the Orcadian character. It is the same as the character of the Shetlander, its neighbouring islanders:

Northern elevation

p.41
The Laconic Orcadians
20/11/80
It is always said that Orcadians are given to understatement, and I suppose that compared with certain classes further to the south, they are. 'Simply wonderful' . . . 'How gorgeous' . . . 'Super duper' . . . No Orcadian worth his salt would indulge in such spurious ecstasies, even if he was truly half out of his wits with delight.
'No bad,' he says: meaning that his health, or the weather, or the Douby Show, is in excellent shape . . . 'We're in wur usual,' a man will reply guardedly, when asked how his family does. Nothing is given away; the 'usual' may mean anything, but it generally signifies something between fair and good.
No doubt this parsimony with words is rooted deeply in our nature and history. The Orkneyinga Saga is a mine of understatement. This carefulness about words has, of course, nothing to do with other kinds of meanness. If it did, we would not have the descriptions of the bounteous feasts of Viking times; nor, indeed, would we be able to enjoy the splendid hospitality of modern Orkney houses.
It is rather the ingrained knowledge that (paradoxically) more can be said by means of understatement than by laying words on with a lavish trowel. The bare phrase is nearer the truth, always.




One can say that the Dunrossness kirk is truly expressive of the Shetland character, a bare 'phrase' with a rich heart. It is the antithesis of architecture today that is all full front and fancy . . . 'Super duper.' The kirk is a beautiful place that holds the essence of worship in its ordinary form, without any boasting or bold expletives: 'Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God,' comes to mind: Matthew 5:8 (KJV).


A touch of Arts & Crafts


The southern wall with the distinctive window arrangement


The graveyard is an integral part of the kirk


The 'ordinary' kirk

NOTE: The photographs have been selected from those taken during the visit and have been inserted in the text in the order in which they were taken.

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