Wiggaton Church of St Edward the Confessor Description
- A charming Arts and Crafts church
- Red brick, red clay, green frames… delicious
- Beautifully detailed and a careful design
- A very special atmosphere
- Lovely timberwork on the inside roof
- A delicate bellcote
Wiggaton Church of St Edward the Confessor
Wiggaton Church of St Edward the Confessor, a big name for a little church that promises much and delivers more.
Back in 1893 when it first opened the road outside would have been a slow journey, travellers pausing for a chat or a touch of wild flower beauty, horses clip clopping, birds singing…
Well, we know that ‘nostalgia ain’t what it used to be’, but then again it never was what it used to be, imagined pleasures glow while their opposites fade in rosy visions of the past.
But if there ever was a cosy, cottage chapel, care and cake in green meadows and sunlit woodlands, then Wiggaton St Edward is it.
Regardless of the now busy road.
The careful design
And it is not just a bit of cottage-core cosplay, it really is a sweetly designed and well thought through building; there is a lot to love.
The varied rednesses of the brick for one, contrasting so elegantly with the surrounding green lushness, the red matching the colour of Devon soil into the bargain.
Then the details, like here at the west end.
Take that roof edging, the cornice, and look close, from the outside in…
The framing
Going from the outside, the roof line, there is a flat row of bricks, then that crenelated moulding like castle battlements but downwards, set a tad further back than the first bricks; the bricks in between the ‘battlements’ are not cut straight but angled inwards. After that another row of bricks set back again, then the wall, another step back.
Minor details? Nope. The whole edging gives shape and form to the end wall, which might otherwise end with blank bricks, and just as importantly it acts as a deep frame, not deep by sticking the bricks outwards a long way but by creating an interplay of shadow and light with angles and planes, an illusion of more depth than there is.
On each side the framing is carried downwards by the buttresses with their limestone tops, triangular shaped like the roof, giving a somewhat upward movement and thus increasing the height and presence of this west face.
Oh, and choosing to highlight those triangular tops with a different stone, not a coincidence.
The west window
Then the windows, just windows… Seriously, a Victorian church architect settling for ‘just windows’… so not a thing.
The brickwork arches very nice, the chamfered (angled inwards) window edges even better. Then, above the arches, the hoodmoulds, those sticky out things, brick again. The sills limestone, bringing a full stop to those windows as well as acting as a plinth to display them, again not smooth but angled into a sharp edge.
All this, the same as the roof edging, giving depth and interest to the elegant simplicity of the actual window forms.
Plus the green of the window frames blowing a kiss at the bushes, no idea if that is the original colour but it sure works for me.
And of course the leading in the glass, another layer of interest, another layer of reflection and depth.
The bellcote
Now the bellcote wants in on the party, most very deservedly so. The roof edging is clearer here, we can see how the light and shade makes that depth, and the the brickwork is up to all its usual tricks going upwards.
The lead flashing though, that is most interesting… Whoever designed it, whoever crafted the roof, none of them would dream of having the internet gawp wondrously over a century later, but we do and it deserves it.
The outside points are diagonals, as they should be to keep that triangular motif going (look at the bellcote roof) but the horizontals are a very elegant design feature that end in a flat base for the bell space, a plinth that displays that space for our attention, unconscious as that attention might be.
Looking back at the whole west face image will show this working, though the plinth-like design of the flashing is has now got competition with the lichen on the brickwork.
More fancy design
And if anyone thinks all my witterings about depth and light and planes is highfalutin guff, take a butcher’s at the same window design in slanted sunlight and how does that feel?
The whole purpose of all this is charm and beauty… I obviously find it so, some might not and all power to them.
A fairy house
Though who could remain unseduced by this decorated vent I am not sure.
I say vent, but if this is not the charming abode of the church’s resident fairy then I do not know what it is.
Inside Wiggaton church
Mind you, when the chapel was consecrated in March 1893 folk were probably more interested in getting out of the chill rather than gushing over chamfers and fairies.
The vicar of the mother church, Ottery St Mary, had started holding services in the local schoolrooms here in 1890; presumably the population had grown and they desired worship in their hood.
Things moved swiftly, the foundation stone was laid in November 1892 so the whole was built within six months, all the bricks carefully hand laid, the glass ordered and installed and the gorgeous timber roof crafted.
Here, have a closer look.
The lovely timber roof
A lovely roughness to the work that fits the Arts and Craftsy style of the whole, very cottage, very cosy.
The apse at the end, the curved bit, the roofing of that is very finely done.
Brick and glass and light
Everything on display too, the raw brick, the honest wood, those simple benches, the bare stone…
Then there is the light, something addressed for the exterior but inside more subtle, the chapel well-windowed with those narrow lancets to allow the sun and shade to whisper and caress around the interior… sometimes bursting into exuberant song when strong sunbeams come dancing down the aisle.
Light softly
But many a punter would have dashed a bit of splashy bejewelled Victorian glass around the place, myself included because I really am that shallow and spangly bling is an addiction.
But the Exeter architect Edward Warren, who I have failed to find anything about, was much smarter than that, continuing the rust-red-brown theme of the interior yet also keeping interest by changing the shape of the glass panes.
Which also allows the sunlight to create multiple patterns as it washes the outside in, gentling the interior with browns and golds, softly highlighting and shadowing as we gasp with delight at the unfolding enchantments.
The sanctuary
With its simple sanctuary, the altar is the only real splash of colour and the straightforward cross in the window. I do love the little splashes of stylish foliage at the top most surely.
Entrancing delight
Its the sheer delight of this church that I adore, its playfulness; no deep history, just cutely petite which is a hard trick to pull off but it does with flair.
Look at the way it rhymes too, this glass with its subtle, rich colours and…
Rhyming with the brick
Its somewhat brasher cousin, carrying those exact same rich colours outside with just the right amount of variation.
What this church lacks in antiquity, both historical and style-wise, it makes up of it in rich genius, wonderfully so.
A charming church to treasure
So make a trip to Wiggaton if you will, it really is a little church to treasure.
