St Malachy's ceiling

I feel quite an affection for St Malachy. He was the first native-born Irish saint to be canonised (though plenty followed him: I found a list of 331 Irish saints at Catholic Online). 

Many of his achievements were in what we might now call ecclesiastical management. But he also had the lovely idea of planting apple trees throughout the country when famine threatened during the twelfth century. Healing miracles were ascribed to him. He enjoyed travelling, including across Europe. I think he'd be a welcome guest in anyone's living room. 

Here in Belfast it made sense to build a beautiful church in his name, and a foundation stone was laid in 1841, on 3 November, his official feast day. It was intended that this would be the Cathedral Church of Down and Connor. But just around then the Irish famine took hold. Funds which were due to be spent on making the church the biggest and most glorious ever were diverted to assist the starving. St Malachy would have understood and approved. 

The church that resulted, though, is still an amazing sight. It's most famous for its superb fan vaulted ceiling. CEB Brett, my favourite author on Belfast architecture, compares it to a wedding cake. It's unclear whether he intends this as a compliment.

St Malachy's narrowly avoided destruction during the Blitz of 1941, though many of the windows were shattered. This damage, as well as changes in the Markets area in which it's situated, caused gradual deterioration, and it was recently closed for over a year for restoration.

It's beautiful again now - pristine, Gothic, lacy, yet accessible. I suspect that St Malachy might raise an eyebrow, but would stride to the pulpit, eating an apple, to exhort us all to be kinder to the poor.

Cathedral fix: St Edmundsbury

I couldn't let my Christmas break in the south-east of England go by without another fix for my cathedral habit. So during a shopping trip to Bury St Edmund's I abandoned my family for an hour and went to visit the cathedral of St Edmundsbury. I hadn't seen this cathedral before, and my first impressions were of vivid colours and complex, almost Moorish patterns. The low afternoon sun created beautiful highlights and shadows. 

St Edmund must have been an animal lover. Possibly an imaginative one? This is his throne.

The ceilings here are particularly lovely, and I appreciated the clever hinged mirror, below, which allows visitors to see them clearly, without lying on their backs on the floor (...which I have done in other places, but which tends to attract a lot of concerned attention...)

And so, back to H&M to spectate at my nieces' fashion parade, as they decided how to spend their Christmas vouchers...

Ely Cathedral

The quieter you become, the more you can hear.

Sometimes that's most the case in very old places. The voices are still there. Look quietly and listen.

Last week I spent a morning in Ely Cathedral, which dates back to the seventh century. It was time out with my dad, also a keen photographer, and a welcome chance to borrow his tripod and create some effective longer exposures.

It's a remarkable building. The grandeur of its scale is balanced by the intricate detail of its surface decorations. The marks of its makers are everywhere and it's humbling to imagine their stories.

My favourite part is Bishop Alcock's chapel, with its royal icing stalactites, battered and broken by time.

At Ely, I'm constantly looking upwards. I'm sure that was part of the original plan.

The face of Christ breaks the symmetry and forms the central point of the octagon tower's ceiling.

The angels are painted on huge wooden "doors" which allow closer access to the ceiling.

Textures and perspectives, combinations to draw the eye for hours.....

....and a sense of being very small, yet a part of something very big.