St Andrew, Rushmere St Andrew |
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www.suffolkchurches.co.uk - a journey through the churches of Suffolk |
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Rushmere St Andrew
is the name of the parish, perhaps to differentiate it
from Suffolk's other Rushmere near Lowestoft, but that is
miles away. Here we are right on the edge of Ipswich's
urban sprawl, though this church has a village setting,
pleasingly rural and even genteel, the large houses set
back from the street and even a duck pond, quite unlike
neighbouring busy Kesgrave across the fields to the
south. But this is an illusion, for in fact this parish
is home to more than ten thousand people, most of them
living in the housing estates of north-east Ipswich. Even
so, despite its setting this church is fully equipped to
serve them all, as we will see inside for this is a
remarkable building. In any case, things have happened since Hakewill's day. Looking further east, the small church he rebuilt now dissolves into a cluster of intriguing yet discreet 20th Century structures that widen to south and north, giving little indication of what we will find inside. You step through the south doorway into the 1861 church. This is dim even on a bright day, but the north aisle and south nave walls glow with Lavers, Barraud & Westlake's glass, mainly of Old Testament scenes. The glass was installed through the 1860s up to 1872, the last being a memorial window to Edward Hakewill himself. There is an almost lapidary feel to them in the darkness, and they lead the eye through the gloom to the surprise beyond the east end. In Hakewill's day there was a stone screen here before a small chancel which must have been terribly claustrophobic, but this was all done away with in 1968 when the east end was opened up, and now beyond what has become a central altar is a magnificent extension by George Pace, the architect of Llandaff Cathedral. Perhaps it is wrong to call it an extension, because the new space is twice the size of Hakewill's surviving nave. The church opens out into a wide, light square space, with chairs turned to face the altar from the east and north. The windows are high, narrowly panelled with pine in the Scandinavian manner, with rugged concrete beams and undressed brickwork. The space opens upwards as well, echoing the 19th Century crossbeam roof of the former nave. It is all thrillingly modern, even at a distance of half a century. The potentially
awkward space at the east end of the north aisle is
successfully managed with a brick half-arch, and a piano
sits beyond it, as though on holiday from Kettles Yard or
Snape Maltings. The archway allows borrowed light to
enter the otherwise dim north aisle. The windows on this
side echo the high east window, narrowly panelled in
pine. On the south side, a doorway leads into the 1990s
parish hall. Large tiles pave the extension and central
sanctuary. The use of concrete, brick and wood is
reminiscent of Basil Spence's work at Sussex University.
All that is missing is the ripple of reflected water. |
Simon Knott, February 2021
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