[240213] || In the Beginning: Níall McLaughlin’s Carmelite Monastery. 1/3.
[Read: Part 2 // Part 3]
It seems absurd to find a monastery between Kensington High Street and Notting Hill Gate, but nothing is inconceivable in London. Such a remarkable place also possesses one of the most exceptional interiors of the 1990s. Sited next to Giles Gilbert Scott’s Carmelite Church, the modest gates of the Carmelite monastery shield the monks’ spiritual world from the glitzy realm beyond. Thankfully, the boundary is not unnegotiable; armed with persistence and passion – bolstered by a helpful personal link – I made my pilgrimage to the beginning.
Upon entering, the seemingly endless corridor gives a taster of what is to come. The reception was coded in the architectural and material languages that are by now so familiar to me. Even here one could discern tropes and motifs that would evolve into future signatures. Reading them instantly was comforting, as was the warm timber. From afar it looked radiant.
The monks’ private chapel was intimate and human. It nurtured relationships between man and the holy as well as between men. My agnostic self felt a twinge of guilt intruding into this space of domesticated sacredness. The piety of its users was evident in the myriad of religious belongings, from bibles and brass candlesticks to the statue of the Virgin and the ornate handheld cross I dared not touch.
A quiet spirituality permeated the room; it practised that Modernist tendency of evocation by architectural devices over literal representation. This was a gentle place. Perhaps it took after its architect.
In this small space, all is lightness. Architectural purity flowed forth from stable platonic forms fashioned from a luxurious but not garish material palette: oak, brass, limestone, hand-blown glass, and so on. The consistent tones of gold and amber sustain a hallowed sense of serenity.
From the lush garden beyond drifted in the joyful ambience of nursery children; within there was only peace and calm. A candle gently flickered upon the reredos. The world is a wall apart.
[➡️ Continued in part 2.]
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