To visit the embroiderers of Christ Church is like being sent on a quest set out in the pages of Alice in Wonderland; not surprising, I suppose, as this is the college where the story’s great author Charles Dodgson (aka Lewis Carroll) once lived and worked. For first you must find them. Past the gatekeepers at Tom Tower, around (not across) Oxford’s largest quadrangle, and then into the Cathedral, unique in the world as it doubles as the college chapel. After asking for directions from a kindly lady on the door, I am sent to the south transept, down several uneven steps and through a low arched gothic shaped door marked ‘Private’. Here at length, I find our nimble-fingered needlewomen making ready for the day.
They are ensconced in what is called the slype.
“It literally means an alleyway between the cloisters and the garth,” says Suellen Pedley, who heads up the group she founded over 40 years ago and which continues to meet every Wednesday. The garth, in case you were wondering, is a church garden. I can see it through the glass at the other end of the narrow room (once open, now covered). It’s where you will find a grinning stone grotesque of a cat high up on the church wall, thought to be the inspiration for Carroll’s Cheshire Cat. As well as the tree in which it sat. It’s all a touch magical. I half expect to see the White Rabbit hurry by.
The team are busy positioning their slate frames, checking the textiles stretched across them are properly taut, extracting coloured threads and appropriate needles from hidden drawers – the scissors and thimbles are their own. They offer tea, check in with each other, ask about recent holidays. They laugh and smile. They are a lovely lot.
“We like to have a good chit chat,” says Denise, who after Suellen, is the longest serving embroiderer here. “We put the world to rights. We support each other.”
But the work is serious. Don’t make the mistake I made, and call it tapestry. That is woven on a loom. This is canvas work, beautifully designed, meticulously hand stitched on to church furnishings, vestments, banners and the like. There’s a lot of gold. The old stuff: real gold leaf wrapped around a central thread, its modern equivalent synthetic, shinier, a touch more bling maybe but just as handsome.
Kath is using it to represent the scales of the fish she is embroidering in couched gold on to a silk stole. “it’s like a scarf worn around the neck,” she explains. “I’m making it to replace the one stolen by a visiting priest.” It’s not unusual apparently – kneelers, prayer books, even rope barriers all hidden under flowing robes and made away with. Inspector Morse should be called.
Fish was the secret symbol used to represent Christianity, Suellen tells me, after it was outlawed by the Romans. A pictorial representation of the word ‘ichthys’, an acronym which translates from the Greek as ‘Jesus Christ, God’s Son, Saviour.’ All the work is shot with meaning. Religious symbolism that conveyed a message before the days when literacy became widespread.
Across from Kath, Jan is putting the finishing touches to a Victorian motif, lifted off its dilapidated linen base and sewn on to a new panel of red brocade. Probably dating from the 1880’s it was found in the Christ Church archives and will form part of a new altar frontal in the Cathedral’s Lucy Chapel. The design is of a fruit, possibly a pomegranate, a symbol of hope, immortality and resurrection, the tiny seeds representing the congregation.
“it’s lovely being part of this team,” Jan tells me in answer to why she comes here. “Dealing with old things and bringing them back to life is rather exciting. Women made this over 100 years ago and here we are still working on their same piece. It’s wonderful to know their creations continue to live.”
I am in awe of the concentration, the skill and devotion of these women, all volunteers, sharing in a tradition that has remained unchanged for thousands of years. The oldest piece of embroidery that remains extant in this country is a stole and maniple commissioned by Queen Aelflaed back in the 10th century – we know this because it’s got her designer label on the back. It was found in the coffin of St Cuthbert, along with the head of St Oswald, put there for safe keeping and taken to Durham Cathedral (where the vestments are now on display) to escape the clutches of invading Danes. The dark, dry and airtight conditions were ideal for their preservation.
In the early medieval period English ecclesiastical embroidery was so famous it had its own name, Opus Anglicanum, (Latin for English work) sumptuous creations using silver and gold thread with elaborate imagery. Some pieces took over 30 years to complete. The Reformation did away with all that. And although embroidery was still used in domestic settings, it wasn’t until the 19th century, that the Oxford Movement argued for a return to high church practices. The skills had to be relearned, sisters from the newly formed Anglican convents sent abroad to the Catholic continent to get back up to speed. Victorian designers like William Morris loved it, his wife Jane and daughter May leading a revival of traditional, fine, hand-crafted pieces to their own arts and crafts designs.
Upstairs in the Latin chapel on the north side of the cathedral, another group of embroiderers are working together on long cushion pads for the stone steps around the St Frideswide shrine. It was far too big a project to be completed in the slype. Tricia tells me they’ve been at it for two years already and it will probably take another six. Suellen’s design is made up of intertwining oak, ivy and vine leaves, and reflects the part of the Frideswide legend where the Mercian princess hides in a wood to escape the unwanted attentions of her pursuer. They are using ten different shades of green, three for each leaf shape, and I watch in amazement as they check their patterns again and again to ensure what they are stitching matches correctly. Edith must keep count of the 14 needles she has on the go. The technique they are using is called Trammed Gobelin. You can see where Lewis Carroll got his ideas from.
It’s not a bad place to be. Here under the coloured glass of the Burne-Jones window, the organ practising in the background pausing only for the cathedral’s hourly prayers.
“Decorated textiles were first created when churches were filled with bright colours,” says Suellen as I take my leave. “The highly ornate interiors and vestments lifted people’s spirits.”
As they continue to do so today. They are things of great beauty. Long may the embroiderers of Christ Church keep the tradition alive.
Main image: Working next to the shrine of St Frideswide under the Burne-Jones window in the Latin Chapel.
From left to right: Sue, Caro, Maria, Pam and Tricia.
The embroiderers in the Slype, their current home. When Suellen started the group they met in the gallery above the Verger’s office in the South transept, and then in the Bethel, the small chapel in the garden. “When I was first called in the vestments were in an appalling state,” says Suellen. “It took me two years to repair everything they had.”
From left to right: Kath, Jan, Suellen, Denise and Gina
Jan working on the altar frontal for the Lucy Chapel. The church use a different colour scheme for different occasions. White or gold for festivals (Christmas and Easter), red for martyrs and pentecost, purple for Lent and Advent and green for everyday. Some dioceses still use their own unique colours.
Kath is gold couching the scales on the fish to decorate a replacement for a stolen stole. The lady who embroidered the original died, so this is being made in her honour. The group are always looking for new recruits. “People grow old, die or do other things,” says Suellen. “What’s useful is when people are willing to learn. We are mostly women. Once a man came on an embroidery retreat – he couldn’t even thread a needle. But he took to it like a duck to water.”
A stole made by Suellen.
The entrance to the slype from the cloisters.
The St Frideswide banner in the main cathedral was made by the group.
The restored altar frontal for the Lucy Chapel. It was designed by the Victorian architect George Bodley (not to be confused with Thomas Bodley the founder of the famous library). It took the embroiderers thirteen years to finish.
Felix and Edith working on the cushion pads for St Frideswide shrine in the Latin Chapel. Head torches are needed to see the detail in the dim light.
Pam
From left to right: Tricia, Sue, Caro, Maria and Pam
Detail on the St Frideswide banner
The group embroidered the gowns for the Chancellor and Vice Chancellor of the University to Suellen’s design.
Image courtesy of Stephanie Jenkins
5 Comments
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A lovely piece! So enjoyed it
Beautiful work from the ladies in the Slype.
As a very long time embroiderer, how I would love to join this group! The closure of the Botley road to through buses has made it impossible; maybe if the promised reopening comes while I still have the eyes and the hands to do it…. D V
Beautiful work. Thanks for wonderful read.
What a lovely piece- and what beautiful embroidery!