Except it butts up against the Castle wall, so it's down to me to sort that one out. On the top detail, you can see the glass beams and glass roof sloping up to the Bigod Tower walls, but they're not high enough to support it at the intermediate level.
So, as the Bigod Tower is built of stone ashlar on a brick and flint-rubble base, I used the same construction to extend it upwards. I then had to come up with a semi-random coursing for setting out the stone ashlar blocks - fortunately they won't be coloured like that; the drawing was just for the stonemasons to put the right pieces in the right places.
This is the bit we're talking about; I've highlighted it in yellow. Just to the north of the new glass bridge.
So anyhoo … the stonemasons have cut the stone blocks, peeled back the lead from the Victorian stair roof (we'll be re-cladding that and putting a glass roof on it so people will look up in wonder at the keep wall and fall down the stairs) and installed their annoying pop radio. Sheesh! Next time I'm there I'll bring a shoulder-mounted ghetto-blaster and hit 'em with Beethoven's Fifth.
4 comments:
Well now ... for the past couple of years, whenever I thought about the Castle, I've been wondering how you'll combine your work with the Castle. Is the process anything like restoring a painting where the restoration has to be clearly different from the original? And reversible?
I saw a picture of the Bigod Arch. It looks a mess. How is that white-painted brick on the left going to be fixed? Will it get one of your new doors?
"Bigod" to my Hoosier eyes, looks like it's part of a curse, as in "If you don't stop yer bawlin' by-god I'll give ya sumthin' to bawl about!" So now I know it's a family name, is it "By-god" or "Big-od"?
Hi, Speedway. Yes, the new work has to look new and to be totally removable with no damage to the original structure should the museum decided to change things again a hundred years down the line. That's been my toughest task.
That "white painted brick on the left" is an 1830 infill of a Norman window. We're using it to form a new door for the glass bridge (just removing nineteenth-century crap and not touching the Norman original) to allow for level wheelchair access directly to the Great Hall.
Believe me, the amount of research we did before setting pen to paper was phenomenal. We had to find which parts had been disturbed later without actually digging in to the walls. Lots of ground penetrating radar stuff going on back then.
Good old Roger Bigod (one of a round dozen Roger and Hugh Bigods, begetting one another). The original Bigod was a Bigot but the word was developing negative connotations so the family changed it to Bigod (pron. By God), which fooled nobody.
Our next door neighbor is having his house painted. John texted him yesterday to thank him because his crew doesn't play a radio, as so many do. They work quietly, and it's a relief.
I hadn't understood the concept until now about adding things that are clearly modern so they can be removed later if desired. That's brilliant.
Wow! Silent decorators! Let's hope the idea catches on, Petrea.
There's been a huge debate going on since the 1960s on the modern v. pastiche restoration of period buildings. If I'm repairing, for instance, a 1790s brick facade I'll make sure it blends in perfectly, including sooting the lime mortar to match the existing, but for something like a Norman Castle, the new works should stand out to emphasise what's left of the original and to be completely removable at a future date without damaging the Norman structure.
It's a fun part of my job, getting endless sample panels of brick or stone made up on site until it's precisely how I want it.
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