Symbols & Secrets

Walking the City of London

A Hawksmoor Church and a riverside walk.

A few weeks ago, a sunny day that wasn’t too hot tempted me to visit Greenwich, one of my favourite places.

First on the list to visit was a Nicholas Hawksmoor masterpiece, the church of St Alfege

Alfege, Archbishop of Canterbury, was taken hostage by Danish invaders who took him to Greenwich, hoping to raise a large ransom. St Alfege refused to be ransomed, as it would mean starvation for many of his people. As a result he was martyred in 1012 …

During a drunken Easter feast the frustrated Vikings pelted him with the leftover meat and bones of cattle and oxen. He was eventually put out of his misery with a fatal blow from an axe, hence the animal skull and the axe in the stained glass image.

This is the third building on the site and was designed by Hawksmoor in 1711. Unfortunately, on 19 March 1941, two incendiary devices hit the church causing huge damage and little of the original interior now remains. After the war the leading British architect, Albert Richardson, restored the church in a way which combines both traditional and modern approaches. The work was completed in 1953.

There is some beautiful stained glass.

The east window, above the altar, was installed in 1953. It shows the risen Christ and beneath, St Alfege and Cardinal Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury under Henry VII …

There is also a series of post-war stained glass windows by Francis Spear depicting famous historical figures associated with the church, including General Wolfe …

Wolfe died aged 32, leading his troops to victory at Quebec, a turning point in the struggle between Britain and France for control of Canada. Wolfe, who worshipped here, is buried in a family vault in the crypt.

Some more important people and events …

Finally, ‘the father of English church music’ …

From 1540 t0 1585, the church was lucky enough to have Thomas Tallis as church organist …

Engraving by Niccolò Haym after a portrait by Gerard van der Gucht.

Tallis is considered one of England’s greatest composers and parts of this old keyboard may date from his period with the church …

The Chandelier was installed in 1998 and has 58 electric candle lights …

The dove at the top symbolises the Holy Spirit …

Bell Ringing boast …

Some generous benefactors including, in 1577: ‘William Riplar, Fisherman gave his house called the Peter boat to the poor for ever‘ and in 1605, Joyce Whitehead gave 5 shillings to repair the church every year. All fascinating local tales of charity….

There are cherubs in the bottom corners of the benefactors’ board …

The ironwork in the galleries (and the altar rails) survived the bombing and are from the workshop of the French Huguenot Jean Tijou, who also produced work for St Paul’s Cathedral and Hampton Court …

You’ll find more cherubs outside …

Some extremely informative, and beautifully worded, memorials …

Major Dinwiddy was a very talented man …

Here he is as pictured in the Western Front Association Magazine along with a fascinating article about the rangefinder …

Conrad Dinwiddy was born in Greenwich in 1881, and was the son of London architect and surveyor, Thomas Dinwiddy who had an architectural practice based in Greenwich.

Like his father, Conrad was also a surveyor, and initially developed a rangefinder to make it easier for ground batteries to hit the Zeppelins that were attacking British cities. He joined the Royal Garrison Artillery in 1916, where he was posted to the Western Front in charge of a six inch howitzer battery. He would continue inventing improvements to how guns were aimed, firing from barges, and the methods for transporting ammunition.

He was wounded by German battery fire on the 26th of September, 1917, and died the following day. He is buried in a military cemetery in Belgium. The memorial in St. Alfege has the wrong date, as he died a day earlier on the 27th of September. You can read more about him, the church, and Greenwich in general in the excellent London Inheritance blog.

The ‘South African War’ …

Despite the destruction meted out in 1941, it remains a lovely, atmospheric church (Photos by David Iliff 2015 – Creative Commons) …

There is, of course, another Hawksmoor masterpiece in the City of London, St Mary Woolnoth, which you can read about here.

Still in Greenwich, a few yards away and dated 1814 …

The inclusion of Education and Industry in its title reflects the standard early 19th-century curriculum for lower-class girls. Alongside reading, writing, and religious catechism, the students were taught practical industrial/domestic skills (such as needlework, spinning, and straw-plaiting) to prepare them for future employment as domestic servants or textile workers.

I headed for the river as the day got warmer and then encountered this monster …

You can just see the masts of the Cutty Sark in the distance on the right …

Two vessels, 150 years of history between them.

Looking towards the City …

The Scalpel, The Cheesegrater, 22 Bishopsgate and The Gherkin all lined up …

Looking towards Canary Wharf …

This extraordinary monument to Peter the Great (unveiled in 2001) is a short walk along the river path from the centre of Greenwich, overlooking Deptford Creek. According to the Russian/English dedication it is ‘a gift of the Russian people and commemorates the visit of Peter the Great to this country in search of knowledge and experience’. For a few months in 1698, as part of his ‘Grand Embassy’, Peter stayed in the area to study shipbuilding in the famous Deptford dockyards, which had been built in 1513 by Henry VIII. Visitors to the statue often remark on its odd setting, in a modern housing development, and on the smallness of Peter’s head …

A tall, rangy Peter holds a pipe and a telescope and looks out over the Thames, his expression unreadable. He is flanked by a dwarf (he brought one with him to England), a throne, and parapets featuring Russian and English inscriptions, cannon, sea-monster heads, a mysterious triangle filled with balls, and depictions of food and drink. The singular look is the work of two Russians, architect Viacheslav Bikhaev and sculptor Mihail Chemiakin. Some of the unusual style of the work can be put down to Chemiakin’s interests in the playful and the grotesque …

Greenwich never disappoints.

I didn’t get to the Fan Museum as planned …

… maybe next time.

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‘Project a Black Planet’ at the Barbican.

In this exhibition the Barbican invites you to explore the impact of Pan-Africanism on artistic and cultural production from the 1920s to the present, through over 300 works – from paintings and installations to posters, journals and film.

The term Pan-Africanism refers to a broad spectrum of political and philosophical movements advocating anti-colonial resistance and transnational solidarity amongst peoples of African descent. While it has long been recognised as a galvanising force in 20th-century global history, Project a Black Planet is the first major exhibition to consider both its influence on visual art and culture, and the critical role of artists in shaping Pan-African visions.

You will find a very informative review of the exhibition here – it might be useful to read this first since my blog consists of many untitled images.

In Jamaica, a “bling funeral” is a lavish, extravagant ceremony that many poor Jamaicans plan for several years to leave in style an existence that would otherwise remain unnoticed. In 2014, Ebony G. Patterson created 50 splendidly decorated coffins on pedestals to celebrate the lives of working class people and, with the help of art students, she marched the coffins along the streets of Kingston during the Carnival parade …

Standing in front of the coffins, Kader Attia’s installation Asesinos! Asesinos! (Assassins! Assassins!) evokes another collective humble presence: the political protesters whose voices have been suppressed.

The doors, sawn in half and hinged together into A-frame formations, bear silent megaphones that fail to amplify the crowd’s demands. The title itself is deliberately ambiguous: “Murderers! Murderers!” could be the cry of the people—or Attia’s condemnation of the repression that has silenced them …

One of the recurring themes running through the exhibition is the use of collective symbols such as the Pan-African flag—red, black and green—created by Marcus Garvey’s Universal Negro Improvement Association. Red represents the blood of the African diaspora, black the sovereignty of peoples of African descent and green the fertility of the African soil. These flags evoke a globally dispersed people, a community without borders, united by memory and the struggle for self-determination.

Hanging in the exhibition are David Hammons’ African-American Flag 1990 and Chris Ofili’s Union Black 2003 …

I really liked these random, found pieces of wood turned into faces by El Anatsui

Some more images from the exhibition …

Some reviewers were very critical as to whether the exhibition achieved its objective, but I loved it just for the work on display. Highly recommended (and the gallery is air conditioned!).

In other news.

Tower 42 and 22 Bishopsgate at sunset …

I saw this sign on a train last week …

A man got on wearing a three-piece suit, a bow tie, a bowler hat and was carrying a briefcase. If that’s not unusual nowadays I don’t know what is but when I texted that number they weren’t interested!

RIP the wonderful David Hockney, CH, 1937-2026. Almost every day I walk past this poster in the Barbican reception area. It was designed by David for the opening of the Barbican Arts Centre on 3rd March 1982 and was signed by the artist for the Director Henry Wong, CBE …

Next week I’ll be writing about my recent excursion to Greenwich …

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Queen Elizabeth the First at the Philip Mould Gallery, including the tragic story of Mary Queen of Scots.

Once again I have enthusiastically ventured west, this time to visit a stunning exhibition at the Philip Mould Gallery on Pall Mall …

Running from 14 May to 10 July 2026, this display highlights the way court painting became a true instrument of political power, propaganda and the construction of the image of the ‘Virgin Queen’.

The Catalogue states: Elizabeth I: Queen and Court explores how portraiture shaped one of Britain’s most iconic reigns. Featuring outstanding Tudor works drawn from private collections, the exhibition includes the earliest surviving life-size, full-length portrait of Queen Elizabeth I, alongside portraits of some of the key figures from her close circle of courtiers and confidantes. These rarely seen paintings reveal how portraiture functioned as a tool of power and was used to project authority, secure allegiance, and, in rare cases, register dissent.

I was delighted to see that the exhibition also included a picture of Mary Queen of Scots, whose death warrant was signed by Elizabeth herself. Later in the blog I shall write about their relationship.

Firstly, however, I am going to include some images of pictures in the exhibition along with the descriptive labelling.

And now the tragic story of Mary Queen of Scots, starting with a rare portrait painted in France shortly after her execution …

‘Tonight, after dinner, I have been advised of my sentence: I am to be executed like a criminal at eight in the morning’.

So wrote Mary Queen of Scots to Henry III, King of France, at two in the morning on 8th February 1587 from her place of imprisonment, Fotheringhay Castle. You can find an image of the letter and a translation here.

Mary was determined to die a Catholic martyr’s death and conducted herself accordingly. She entered the hall dressed in black with a white veil carrying her ivory crucifix and Latin prayer book. Her ladies then disrobed her to reveal her satin petticoat and bodice of deep crimson – the liturgical colour of Catholic martyrdom. It took three strokes of the axe to sever her head and, according to some accounts, her last words were those of her motto ‘In my end is my beginning’.

None of the three further images of Mary are part of the Mould Gallery exhibition, but I am using them to help tell her story.

A Victorian painter’s view of her being led to her execution …

An illustration of the event itself (National Gallery of Scotland) …

Her life shouldn’t have ended like this.

Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots were cousins, both descended from Henry VII and his wife, Elizabeth of York. Born in 1533, Elizabeth was their grandchild, the daughter of Henry VIII by his second marriage to Anne Boleyn. Nine years younger, Mary was Henry VII and Elizabeth of York’s great grandchild, the granddaughter of their elder daughter Margaret by her first marriage to James IV of Scotland. Mary was the only surviving child of James V and Mary of Guise.

After a tortuous time, militarily, politically and personally, Mary had fled to England from Scotland in 1568, asking for her cousin Elizabeth’s protection. Initially their relationship was cordial with Elizabeth writing to her as follows: “Madam, I treat you as my daughter, and assure you that if I had one, I could wish for her nothing better than I desire for you… the one for whom one wishes the greatest good that may be possible in this world.”

However, as a focus for Catholic rebellion in England, with a claim to the English throne, she was to spend the next nineteen years effectively under house arrest and would never see Scotland again. Subsequent plotting and deceptions would lead her to the executioner’s block. Although found guilty of complicity in plots to assassinate Elizabeth, Mary saw herself as dying for her faith rather than politics.

Mary in captivity by Nicholas Hilliard circa 1578 …

Imprisonment took its toll on Mary and ultimately, and fatally, she became associated with ‘The Babington Plot’, a plan to free her and murder Elizabeth, which meant she was guilty of treason. The plot was discovered by Elizabeth’s spymaster Sir Francis Walsingham, whose portrait is on display in the Gallery …

Even before then, Elizabeth wanted her dead in such a way that she was not personally implicated and so was reluctant to issue a death warrant. Her hesitation in executing Mary was partly informed by a horror of taking direct responsibility for killing a fellow queen and a close relative but there were also potentially disastrous political implications. Despite eventually signing the death warrant she decided not to issue it until she had first put pressure on Mary’s gaoler to take Mary’s life.

The next development involved another member of Elizabeth’s court, William Cecil, Lord Burghley, her chief adviser for most of her reign. She saw him as a kindred spirit and consequently gave him the nickname ‘Sir Spirit’. His portrait in the exhibition emanates authority …

Burghley and his fellow councillors issued the warrant without the Queen’s knowledge and Mary was duly executed on 8 February. Elizabeth was livid, because Mary’s death would now, inevitably, be laid at her door. Burghley was temporarily banished from the royal presence, and William Davison, another councillor, was deprived of office, tried, imprisoned and fined. However, for Elizabeth the matter had worked out rather well. By acting independently, Burghley and his colleagues had given the Queen what she wanted. Not only had they succeeded in ridding her of the threat posed by Mary, but they had also ensured that she could deny direct responsibility for Mary’s death.

The expected massive Catholic military retaliation from Europe failed to materialise. The court slowly returned to normal, and Elizabeth recognised that Burghley and the Council had acted logically to secure the realm. She allowed him to return to his duties at court and the Privy Council and he went on to remain Elizabeth’s closest and most influential minister for another decade, shaping English policy right up until his death in 1598

Burghley’s son Robert‘s portrait is also part of the exhibition. He had obviously inherited his father’s wiliness and political acumen …

I have only written about a small part of this fantastic free exhibition. You can read more here in the beautifully illustrated and informative exhibition catalogue.

You can also do what I did and mooch around the rest of the gallery. I liked this endearing 1832 portrait of a young boy by Margaret Sarah Carpenter

In other news, I took this picture of the King’s Birthday flypast from my balcony …

And here’s an image taken from one of the planes when they were almost directly over my head. My flat is in the block at the bottom left hand corner of the picture and the building with the green roof is the church of St Giles’ without Cripplegate …

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