The lady chapel has a powerful feminine energy, focused by a human Goddess above the altar. I love it.
Elsewhere, though, the chapel shows signs of Reformation: the original pigment on the figures, and the way their heads have been struck off. Beware men with hammers who know the Will of God. They will pick up guns if they can.
These hundred glass feathers, Solace by Layne Rowe, are inspired by the pandemic.
Cathedrals should commission new art. Here is Mary Magdalene recognising the risen Christ:
and here is Christ in Majesty:
In the chantry chapel, endowed by someone for monks to say masses endlessly to get him out of Purgatory quicker- hope he’s not in Hell, chantry-magic does not work for the damned- there are other alcoves without a figure.
This is the Octogon, at the centre of the building, above the altar. The nave is visible.
If I had not photographed it, I would not have seen how enthusiastic these thurifers are. With a long chain, the censer would normally not reach a higher angle than a swing pushed by a careful nanny. With a short chain, held by a priest, it can reach the horizontal, but never this high. Mercy!
The nave ceiling was repainted in the 19th century. Here is Christ in Majesty:
Here is a far more conventional Mary, left holding the baby:
I don’t like tombs in cathedrals. Christianity should not be about death and the dead- we are not ancient Egyptians- but I have a soft spot for this reclining bishop. He looks comfy:
This is the West porch. All its alcoves are empty. I wonder if they always were. See also where part of the building has fallen or been demolished, taking away symmetry, and how even the doors dwarf that tiny human, and my bicycle:
The arches both sides of the nave show their age:
The face of this chap on the floor looks Mediaeval in style, but I don’t think he would be that well-preserved if so: