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
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