A young painter in Moulton Chapel

Rex Thorpe - Moulton Chapel (1904)

Fred Thorpe was born in Moulton Chapel in 1894 and attended the primary school there. He painted this picture at school, when he was about ten years old – so it dates from about 1904. It’s a bit the worse for wear, but its colours have remained beautifully vivid, and like many children’s drawings it’s full of attention to the detail of life. Children are often excellent at looking, though their technical control of paint and pencil may not yet be as strong.

After school, Fred went into farming, working as a cultivating and threshing contractor, initially with steam engines – probably like this one, lovingly maintained by the Dawson family of Bicker, and which you can see at the Steam Threshing event in aid of church funds, this coming weekend. Both his son and his grandson followed hi into the contracting business, working across lower South Holland.

Steam engine, Bicker

Fred must have been proud of his picture to hang on to it, and now it has become a treasure passed on in his family. I came across it thanks to Rebecca Lee, who is working on one of the other Transported commissions in the area: Outside Broadcast. Rebecca took the photo and I’m grateful to both her and Rex for permission to share it here. It’s left me wondering about the many small and unknown artistic treasures there may be on walls, in drawers and in people’s memories, about the places and people who matter to them in the villages of South Holland…

The original skyscrapers

Boston Stump

The train curved round and then I saw, for the first time, that astonishing church tower known as the ‘Boston Stump’. This tower is not quite three hundred feet high; but nevertheless, situated as it is, it looked to me more impressive, not as a piece of architecture, but simply as a skyscraper, than the Empire State Building in New York, with its eleven hundred feet. It is all a matter of contrast. Here the country is flat; you have seen nothing raised more than twenty or thirty feet from the ground, for miles and miles; and then suddenly this tower shoots up to nearly three hundred feet. The result is that at first it looks as high as a mountain. Your heart goes out to those old Bostonians who, weary of the Lincolnshire levels and the flat ocean, made up their minds to build and build into the blue. If God could not give them height, they would give it to him.

J. B. Priestley, English Journey, 1932

Apparently, the earliest appearance of the word ‘skyscraper’ relates to the topmost, triangular sail on a square-rigged sailing ship, in the late 18th century – something that must have been familiar in a port like Boston.

But church towers and spires have been stretching up to scratch the heavens for centuries. Competitive pride pushed communities to outdo each other, especially in wool-rich counties like Somerset and Lincolnshire. Travellers on the Great North Road seeing the distant spires of Grantham and Newark must have debated which was the finer. Lincoln Cathedral, visible for miles around on its cliff, once capped its towers with wooden spires, the tallest of which collapsed in 1549, not to be replaced.

Running like a thread through all these stories is the idea of humanity challenging the deity by daring to leave the earth and, like Icarus, falling to destruction.

Links

Boston Church, Lincolnshire," by James Harrison (1814-1866), watercolour. Dated 1821
Boston Church, Lincolnshire,” by James Harrison (1814-1866), watercolour. Dated 1821