Doors : Penarth knockers

During this pandemic, while we’ve been under local area restrictions, I’ve used some of my daily exercise walks to get to know my town a little better. When I was checking out local houses last December for my post on Christmas wreaths and then again in January for the street numbers (House numbers, 1 to 10 and House numbers, 11 to 20), I couldn’t help admiring the knockers some house owners have adorning their front doors.

Some are old but still stylish – lions have long been a favourite of mine ...

Many are very similar to each other, the same overall size, shape and design, and were perhaps attached when the houses were first built ...

Others are simple geometric shapes, functional, practical ...

The best to my eyes – the ones I would love to have on my front door, if I had one – are the more creative designs, perhaps reflecting the house’s location – the anchor a nod to the adjacent marina, or a personal interest – the nature-lovers who chose the fox, the bee and that stunning snail.

With these delightful door knockers, the home owners have added a touch of their own personality and more than a little panache to their front doors. And what an impressive statement they make to the world.

Doors: Christmas wreaths

As I’ve been meandering around the local streets in recent days, I’ve been delighted to see how many people have decorated their front doors with lovely Christmas wreaths, some the more traditional arrangements of woven greenery adorned with ribbons and natural objects like cones and seedheads, others presenting a more modern take on these ancient twistings.

 

The word wreath comes from the Old English words writha, meaning ‘to writhe’, and wrīthan, meaning ‘to make into coils, plait’, which, over time, has become the circle of twisted materials we now recognise. However, the concept of a wreath goes back long before the Old English words, perhaps as far as our pagan ancestors, though the earliest historical references come from Ancient Greece. Green crowns of laurel feature in Greek mythology and, in both Ancient Greece and Rome, wreaths of laurel, oak, olive and other leaves were awarded to the heroic and to victors in athletic contests and in battle, as well as being worn by priests officiating at sacrifices and by brides during their weddings.

 

The idea of a Christmas wreath seems to have developed around the same time as that of the Christmas tree, perhaps as a way to make use of the excess trimmings of those trees. The tradition of having a Christmas tree in the house is believed to have originated with the Germans in the sixteenth century and to have been introduced to Britain by Prince Albert after his marriage to Queen Victoria in 1840, though at least one historian disputes that account. Alison Barnes writes on the History Today website that it was ‘“good Queen Charlotte”, the German wife of George III, who set up the first known English tree at Queen’s Lodge, Windsor, in December, 1800.’ (Barnes’s article also gives more information about the first German Christmas trees.) 

 

Returning to the Christmas wreath, its circular shape is thought to have a Christian meaning, the never-ending circle a  symbol of eternal life (though it’s also an easy shape to create and to hang). And the use of evergreen foliage is thought to have been equally important, symbolic also of immortality and, during the harshest days of winter, of hope for the spring to come.

 

Whatever the meaning we each choose to attribute to the Christmas wreath, there can be no doubt that they are an important, often colourful, always welcoming addition to our doorways during the festive season and, in these dark, depressing and devastating days of global pandemic, they are a feast for the eyes and a welcome source of good cheer.

Christmas doors of Dorset

Not for me this modern trend for oversized flashing Santas on the front lawn or houses bedecked with dazzling lights that annoy the neighbours and drain the power grid. I much prefer the simplicity of a wonderfully wrought wreath, like these I spotted in Dorset during my Christmas holiday.

Cardiff: Welcoming doors

One of the loveliest aspects of Cardiff’s old Victorian and Edwardian houses is their entranceways.

The doors are frequently painted in vibrant reds, blues and greens, and they often have unusual-shaped windows inset into their upper sections, some of which are filled with plain glass, others with prettily patterned stained glass designs. It is also common to see panels of decorated tiles on either side of the doors, often with Art Deco-style patterns fired into them. Many doors feature rectangular or arched windows above and at the sides, to allow light to filter into the hallway beyond, and some of the older entranceways still retain the charming wrought-iron and glass porches that help protect those entering and exiting the house from inclement weather.

Where they have survived the ravages of time and foot traffic, some of the pavements leading up to the doorways are tiled in colourful geometric designs. Many of these tiles and designs were from the factory of J. C. Edwards & Co of Ruabon, a town in North Wales famous for its clay and terracotta ware, and you can see a page of tessellated and encaustic tile designs from an Edwards catalogue to the right here. Ruabon’s clay manufacturing was so well esteemed that the town was, at one time, affectionately known as ‘Terracottapolis’. (There will be more on J. C. Edwards and his terracotta products in a future blog.)

Sadly, not every entranceway looks as lovely as those shown here. Some house-owners have removed the lovely old doors and replaced them with double-glazed plastic monstrosities, practical perhaps but often exceedingly ugly. Wrought-iron porches have crumbled and been dismantled, tile panels have been painted over, and pavements have been replaced with dreary grey paving slabs.

This blog is intended as a pictorial celebration of how beautiful these architectural features can be, and a shout out to all those wonderful home-owners who value and care for these historic treasures.

Unhinged?

Elaborate floral design on chapel door at Cathays Cemetery

The hinge is a bit like the wheel or the zip – it’s one of those everyday objects we take for granted yet where would we be without it? Unhinged?

The origin of the hinge is obscured by the mists of time. Archaeologists have uncovered metal hinges from cultures that flourished between 4000 and 5000 years ago, and it’s likely there were even earlier ones, made from perishable materials like animal leather and wood, that simply haven’t survived.

The Romans even had a goddess of the hinge, Cardea or Carda, one of the three gods who attended to all doorway matters, though this was more to do with the Roman rituals surrounding the definition of boundaries and sacred spaces than with the physical hinge itself. 

Interestingly, the goddess’s name survives in modern language: it is the origin of the word cardinal (think pivotal member of the church hierarchy) and in the geographical term cardinal point (the cardo was the main north-south road in a Roman settlement, the road that served to align their terrestrial and celestial spaces).

Simple, yet elegant hinge design at Cardiff Castle

In the earliest days of metal production, all items were expensive and labour-intensive to produce, so only the rich and powerful could afford elaborate hinges on their doors and gates. As metal alloys were developed and knowledge of metalworking spread, the more basic hinge designs were adopted for use by ordinary people, though the most ornamental hinges remained a privilege of the wealthy through to modern times.

Another simple design, on the rear door of the yet-to-be-restored belltower at Cathays Cemetery

Lots of metal, yet a simple hinge, on this old door at the Bishop's Palace, in Llandaff

Many of the hinges that survive today from medieval through to Victorian times are on public buildings like city halls, museums and churches, and on the manor houses, mansions and castles of the very well-off. They are works of art, fashioned by skilled craftsmen – usually blacksmiths – into wonderfully ornate designs, embellished with scrolls and curlicues, and nature-inspired branches, leaves and flowers.

St Andrew's Church, Cardiff, with an ornate design for the front door and a more simple hinge for the side door

You might think I’m ‘unhinged’ for even noticing the door hinge but how could I not when there are so many beautiful examples on the buildings here in Cardiff. Even the more simple designs are noteworthy for the very fact that they were almost certainly handmade, while the most sophisticated designs deserve to be celebrated in art galleries and museums for their exquisite artistry.

I give you the hinge!

On the front doors of the Trevithick Building at Cardiff University (with beautiful wooden carving above)

Two old churches in Cardiff city

On the entrance gate to the West Lodge at Cardiff Castle

The main entrance door to Llandaff Cathedral

Llandaff Cathedral: left, a close-up on the main entrance door, and, right, a side door

The side and front doors of St Margaret's Church in Roath