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“So that with much ado I was corrupted, and made to learn the dirty devices of this world. Which now I unlearn, and become, as it were, a little child again.”
Thomas Traherne’s Centuries of Meditations
Ways of Seeing
I’ve made it to St. John the Baptist in Tisbury, Wiltshire. I’m here to close a loop that began almost two years ago with me standing behind a tripod in a darkened studio observing the silhouetted form of artist Tom Denny paint, scratch and thumb colour and texture onto a fragment of backlit glass.
He told me at the time that the work was all about ways of seeing. During the process of observing Tom I saw how he modulated the light through his work like a conductor orchestrates music.
Whilst working on the glass he was thinking through the overall design: the colour, line, and translucency, the curtilage of the window, the viewer’s perspective, the arc of the sun, the form of nearby stonework, obstructions, refractors, and reflectors that might harbour unwelcome glints. All ways of reducing the worldly inhibitors that stop us from truly seeing.
The glass has now been installed, and I’m here to see it for the first time. There’s a morning service, which gives me the chance to stop, sit, and settle into the window as it gathers light.
And so it begins - a slow absorption into the work, suspended within the cadence of the service. I’m not a believer, but there’s comfort for me in the rhythm of the creed and the simple act of sitting amongst others.
Gradually, the hum of voices recedes and I start to observe the window. I notice how it imbues and informs the space around it - colour, shape, and light arrive in small, patient increments akin to little bursts of revelation.
The window seems complex at first, so I squint and find a way into its meaning through its hue and contrast. I can see vibrant and uplifting swatches of complementary colours. The colour, combined with the deliberate and dynamic arc of the lead cames, takes me to the detail, and it’s from there that the narrative begins to form.
Within the glass there are people who observe Christ transfigured, while others look away into the landscape - into nature - at the wonder of an aged yew tree, birds in flight, translucent moths and vibrant, textured surfaces.
The window not only exalts the glory of God, or the wonder of nature, but also the beauty we can find in the so called mundane. In the booklet about the Tisbury window, Denny talks about the details:
“In a central light we’re looking at cobbles. This is an image that stems from a project I did at Hereford Cathedral, about the poet and priest Thomas Traherne. One of the things Traherne said was “the dust and the stones in the street are as precious as gold”, which has remained in my mind as a token of valuing such things. As the artist, I have given as much attention to the dust in the stones in the streets as to the hands and the faces of the figures.”
And in observing the ordinary, Denny extends the concept further through one of his mentors:
“Thomas Hardy wished to be remembered as ‘one who noticed things’, that those were the only words he wanted to have as his epitaph. He…notices the value of…the handle of a chair that has absorbed generations of people holding it and rubbing it. And I suppose noticing in the sense of valuing is a lovely idea isn’t it?”
And what that means to me, as a person who has had his ups and downs, who suffers from a particularly curious and sometimes debilitating form of low self esteem, is transformative. For this glass, this work of art, is not just for the believer, the in-crowd, the participant - but it’s also for ordinary people like me.
Faded and jaded, the world on my back, the notifications pinging in my pocket, the shortened attention span, the commodification and the gamification - this work of art feels like an evolved response to the device-driven cataracts that get in the way of truly seeing.
And that is the crux of why art like this is so powerful - it offers fresh perspectives that allow us to value each other and the world we live in, and, through that process, opens up untold possibilities for navigating our way through it.
This way of seeing restores weight to the everyday; deepens time into a sense of continuity; resists the pull of distraction; and builds attachment, where people, places, and objects become companions rather than backdrops.
About a year ago, I spent twenty minutes stood beneath the backdrop of the great St. William Window at York Minster and marvelled at its size - a work that invoked a sense of awe more for its age rather than its meaning.
This week I went back to York and, after visiting Tisbury, I saw the work in a new light - revitalised - a narrative about all that is human. Denny’s work has not only re-invented the genre and restored its purpose, but has also re-ignited my relationship with a medium that stands among our greatest artistic traditions.
Whilst walking back through the nave at York Minster, I became aware of the parade of stained glass windows in the aisles - and, in the wake of Tisbury, thought of all those visual cues waiting patiently to be released - cues that, when stripped back, mirror all our greatest works of art, both religious and secular, and offer glimpses of what it is to be human - hope, fear, the search for meaning, and our place in the world.
Back at Tisbury the service is now coming to an end. I can tell by the rhythm and the tone of the minister’s voice rather than the words. I look at the strangers sat around me and ask myself, ‘where do I fit in with all of this?’
Communion ensues and I’m the only person left behind in the pews. Awkwardly, I stand and walk over to the queue in front of the altar rail, then opt for an empty space where there is a kneeler, but then it is taken up by somebody else, so I linger self-consciously, waiting for my time. As a child I was taught to cross my arms if I didn’t feel ready for communion - and so when I eventually do find a place, I bring my arms together and wait.
The minister comes along and offers up a blessing - but, for me, as I hover uncomfortably between standing and kneeling, there is no blessing greater than the burgeoning burst of colour and meaning that silhouettes her hand as she signs the cross above my head.
A short video I took of Tom at work on the Tisbury window:
To think that the key to opening up a new world is down to cultivating curiosity and the way we see - even the cobbles beneath our feet can offer up a sense of wonder. There’s something at stake in the way we look at the world and what we perceive to hold value.
Work like this asks us to slow down and see differently. To find meaning and value in the overlooked, the worn and the ordinary - a counter-narrative that provides solutions to the vagaries of modernity. We need to pass this on as if our lives depend upon it.
Can you help support me and keep Woody on the road?
"What each of us must do is cleave to what we find most beautiful in our human heritage - and pass it on……And to pass these precious fragments on is our mission." Michael Ventura The Age of Endarkenment
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St. John the Baptist, Tisbury (Pure scroll, no words)
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Nadeem Badshah
"The day after photographing Tom, I visit the 'Denny glass' at Tewkesbury Abbey. As I stand there, absorbing the glass, the space, and the light, I experience a brief disconnect from the world. It’s a strange sensation where seconds stretch into minutes and minutes into hours.
Tom Denny, through his glass, has not only taught me how to see but also bought me more time on this earth."
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Andy Marshall
For Members - The stained glass and an aerial view of St. John's, Tisbury in glorious VR
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Kind words from a subscriber:
Andy your work is becoming wonderful, remarkable. A so-called breakdown has been milled into its constituent parts, becoming profound construction: through perception, architecture, the lens and the pen. In your Repton crypt essay a deep description of our social anxiety - and our reason to be....
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Andy Marshall
Photographing Tom Denny was supported by Member Powered Photography. Thank you to all Members. The MPP Page for this project can now be seen by members and includes access to professional photography of Tom in his studio. Click the box below for access:
Andy Marshall
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Photographs and words by Andy Marshall (unless otherwise stated). Most photographs are taken with iPhone 17 Pro and DJI Mini 5 Pro.
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