Skip to main content

The Gargoyle Speaks

 






The Gargoyle Speaks


Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.
My eyes protrude, quite an eye opener,
set wide apart, away from each other
they behold – down the gross of my nose
past lips that are parted – grotesques which are those
whose foreshortened bodies grow heads from their toes.
They pass to and fro, avoiding another
with similar slit eye – no more a beholder
of beauty than a gargoyle thought uglier.



Actually, not a gargoyle at all, as the gurgling, gargling gargoyle was designed to throw water clear of the stonework below. These heads are grotesques.

What does that mean?

I’m not convinced they were designed to represent ugliness, to remind us of our own ugliness, or even the transience of beauty, if only because they’re not easily seen.  If that was the intention, they’d have been placed more – to coin a phrase – in your face.  Very few passers-by will have noticed these downward gazing people, intent as they seem to be on us.

Nor that these fellows were placed there apotropaically – to frighten away evil spirits.  Their expressions are definitely not scary, let alone terrifying. Some grotesques have protruding tongues, bared teeth and angry brows, but the distinctive wide-eyed look here seems to be rather more curious than forbidding, bemused if not slightly surprised.

A face expressing such considerate emotions can hardly be linked to devils or demons.

Sometimes gargoyles and grotesques are deliberately humorous or even bawdy, as with misericords (another set of representations not readily visible) but I find the simple humanity of these concerned faces more subtle and thoughtful, as if they’ve seen something interesting that’s worthy of comment.

Their view of passing people would be strange: permanent transience, weird physiques, with head almost superimposed on feet, minimal legs, absent faces and hands virtually attached to shoulders… perhaps those old masons putting themselves in the gargoyles’ position, are inviting us to see ourselves as others might, and be, well, brought up short..

Having spent some time now studying and feeling attracted to this face, with its full sensitive lips and concentrated gaze, I can almost hear it speak.

And I’m left wondering, who is ugly and who is fair.


South Molton Church, photo by Sharon Bailey.







Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Rake Daddy Rake

  As with lots of good stories, there are many versions. Basically this one's about a pair of Wiltshire yokels raking a pond for kegs of smuggled brandy.  They feigned lunacy when surprised by the excise men, saying that they were trying to rake out the full moon which was reflected in the water.  Their ruse was successful. The officials had no trouble in deciding they were lunatics, so left them to their raking. Interestingly, the Lunacy Act of 1842 defined a lunatic as someone ‘afflicted with a period of fatuity in the period following a full moon’. I suppose any time falls into the category of a 'period following a full moon'.  As for fatuity, that might include all of us on certain occasions, not least since it's not stated how long 'a period' is.  Perhaps then we're all occasionally lunatic... Be all that as it may, on this occasion the lunatics (I've put inverted commas round the word and taken them out several times) outwitted the sober and sane, ...

A Concatenation of Catchwords

    My daughter’s cat has captivated her family. Even I – being more of a dog person (Timmy our Jack Russell hates cats) – found myself admiring his grace and beauty, and all those skills a cat deploys and enjoys.  Thinking about their cat, I realised how many words contain 'cat'; so it was that this poem took shape. Predictably, I then thought I should write a dog poem. I didn’t actually get very far, having identified only a few dog words: after dogma/dogmatic, dogged, lying doggo and Venetian doges I began to run out. So the dog poem had to wait, its tongue hanging out. But having just gone to my (big) dictionary and found a long list of dog words and phrases, ranging from a certain Shakespearian Dogberry through dog collars, dog days and dog-eared to a dog’s dinner, the Dogstar and dogwatch, I now feel like telling Timmy something can be found to be thrown, and he can wag his tail – even chase a cat.    A Concatenation of Catchwords   Where ...

Bear Necessities

  Coming back to an old work place can be startling, especially if it's been abandoned. Abandoned not just by you, but by those who might have followed. Forsaken for good, even if circumstances had made it impossible to continue. It might not help much to remind oneself that part of the reason for all this was that the work was inefficient, clumsy and had become outmoded. Maybe worst of all would be to find amongst the ruins and abandonment an entirely inappropriate new clueless set of incumbents who could never have understood how hard we'd tried? But perhaps after all, that might be consoling. A comforting realisation that all has not been wasted, that new uses have been found for what we've left behind – in short, that life goes on. We hope. The Forecaster   This was where we lived and worked – a weather station way up north – Wrangel Island, to be precise Kolyuchin – north of Chukotka.   We made observations, carefully measured the various meteorolo...