Modern Architecture

Dalle de Verre in Ireland

Last week I introduced you to the modernist stained glass practice known as dalle de verre, and its beautiful realisation in St Augustine’s in Cork. It was the work of the world famous Gabriel Loire. To see what made him so renowned, just take a look at this project, or google the Symphonic Sculpture installation in Japan.

We have three more examples of Loire’s dalle de verre work in Ireland. In a now largely-unused church attached to the Dominican Convent in Belfast (above), we have his earliest Irish windows (1962) – 5 lights titled Resurrection, Redemption, Prediction, Nativity and Annunciation. They are hard to photograph and even harder to interpret – the titles were supplied to me by the Ateliers Loire. 

For those used to traditional stained glass, dalle de verre represented a radical departure from their expectations and we must not underestimate the courage and vision of architects and congregations in embracing this avant-garde medium. Rather than a familiar depiction of a Resurrection, Annunciation, or St Patrick, what faced parishioners were swathes of deeply coloured glass sometimes with recognisable iconography, but often with difficult-to-interpret motifs, as in the Belfast windows. 

And sometimes with nothing but colour variation to encourage a prayerful or contemplative mood. Gabriel Loire adopted the maxim, Arrange it so that in what you do, there is nothing, but in that nothing, there is everything each person seeks. His philosophy can be seen in action in the Holy Redeemer Church in Dundalk (above) (1965-68), an extraordinary modernist building with work by the best artists of the day. The success of the design can be credited to the architects, Frank Corr and Oonagh Madden, and the breadth of the art to Michael Wynne, who acted as advisor on the project. Works by Oisin Kelly (rooftop crucifixion), Imogen Stuart (exterior stations), Ray Carroll, and Michael Biggs adorn the exterior and interior, while floor to ceiling expanses of dalle de verre by Gabriel Loire provide, in Michael Wynne’s words, one great abstract symphony of colour.

Wynne goes on to say that the windows lend a rich mystical light to the whole interior and to comment on the splendid harmony that exists between the building and all the necessary adornments. Such a unity lends a dignity, a calm and prayerful mood to the building. *

In the Andrew Devane-designed church in St Patrick’s Campus of DCU in Drumcondra, also built in the mid 60s, the curved walls are punctuated by tall panels and a clerestory of dalle de verre. See the lead photo on this post (the one under the title) and the one below. While mostly abstract, some iconography has been incorporated by Loire into the windows.

Because thick lines of concrete are used to outline the images, they are semi-abstract rather than refined. The hand and the dove are clearly discernible in the tall central window, but it cannot be said that the dove is entirely successful – it looks to my eyes like a cartoonish dicky-bird – showing the difficulties of smaller-scale iconography with this medium. 

But the Irish dalle de verre story goes beyond Gabriel Loire: other mid-century artists mastered it and were employed by Irish architects. I will show you two examples first by non-Irish artists. The Church of the Sacred Heart in Waterford – it also is my featured image (above the title) for this post – contains glass by the distinguished British artist Patrick Reyntiens. Here’s a detail, below of that window.

The second church is St Bernadette’s in Belfast, with glass by Dom Norris of Buckfast Abbey. This church is well worth a visit for its many artistic treasures.

Irish artists got in on the act too – George Walsh brought the techniques of dalle de verre back with him from America in the 60s and, working with Abbey studios, introduced it as an ecclesiastical art form into Irish architecture. Here is his Crown of Thorns for St Mary’s Westport, designed by George Campbell and executed by George.

Other studios, such as Murphy Devitt, also used it, and quite close to me I have this charming example in Lowertown church. It’s the Dove of Peace/Holy Spirit, of course, but it became known in the studio as the Holy Gannet.

Although for the most part the churches I have shown you have retained their dalle de verre windows, in at least two cases (the Sacred Heart in Waterford and St Bernadette’s in Belfast) this has come at the cost of enormously expensive conservation projects. In other cases, dalle de verre windows have failed and churches have even had to be demolished. 

For example, the original Edmund Rice chapel in Waterford (above) had to be replaced but George Walsh’s dalle de verre windows were partially saved and displayed in the new church (below). George had combined dalle de verre in these windows with the innovative use of painted glass panels, and even some painting on the dalles.

Dalle de verre windows failed because glass, concrete and steel (used to reinforce the concrete frames of the panels) expand at different rates, and external glazed walls are subject to all the effects of weather. Over time resin was substituted for concrete but this brought its own problems – the epoxy mix had to be just right (and this was all still experimental) or it could, and did, twist and crack as the building settled. The Irish climate – high humidity, temperature fluctuation, driving rain – exacerbated all of these mechanisms, both for cement and resin mixes.

I recently visited a church in Keenaught Co Derry (or Londonderry for my NI readers). It has a soaring wall of dalle de verre windows designed by George Walsh and executed in the Abbey Studios in 1973. The likeness to the work of Gabriel Loire is obvious and indeed George credits Loire as a significant influence on him. The church is enormous and the tall narrow windows lend a beautiful ambience to the interior. However, the windows are buckling at the top and will need conservation work at some point. 

On the same trip I visited a much smaller dalle de verre installation in Swanlinbar, also by George, still looking colourful and rock steady in a side chapel. 

I’d love to hear from readers who have come across other examples of dalle de verre work. As an architectural material it held such promise and it is a tragedy that much of it is no longer standing. The Gabriel Loire window below is from Vancouver, part of a series in St Andrew’s Wesley on Burrard St, viewed on a visit there. I had been in that church for events on numerous occasions when I lived in Vancouver, but knew nothing about these fabulous windows at that point.

By the way, Ateliers Loire is still going strong in Chartres, now run by Gabriel’s grandsons, Bruno and Hervé. Take a look at their recent work. And for anyone looking to learn more about Gabriel Loire I recommend this book which is in French and English. [Update – see comment below re the cost of this book!]

Finally, some of the text (now lightly edited) in this and the previous post on dalle de verre was originally written for a 2021 article on Dalle de Verre in Ireland in Glass Ireland, a publication of the Glass Society of Ireland. The full article is available here.


* Wynne, M, The Church of the Redeemer, Dundalk, THE FURROW, vol. 20, no. 8, August 1969, pp.411- 414

Dignity and Simplicity: Scott/Tallon in Knockanure

This week I fulfilled a long-held ambition – to visit Corpus Christi Church in Knockanure, Co Kerry.

This was one of Ireland first modern churches, built in 1964, and designed, depending on which authority you read, by Michael Scott or by his partner, Ronnie Tallon. At any rate, it was certainly the work of what is now, since 1975, the architectural practice of Scott Tallon Walker, still going strong. Michael Scott, according to Richard Hurley in his outstanding book Irish Church Architecture, was “the leading architect of his generation.” The black and white photos of Knockanure in this post are from that book. Meanwhile Ronnie Tallon was “one of the most influential Irish architects of the last century”. 

Hurley assigns the design to Michael Scott, while this piece from RTE (source of the second quote above) declares it to be the work of Ronnie Tallon. I am convinced by the latter, having read Stony Road Press’s artist description and statement by Ronnie Tallon, in which he talks about his obsession with the simplicity of the square and with the work of Mies van der Rohe.

But Scott (above), as the head of the practice was undoubtedly involved. Hurley tells the story of how the commission was won:

The whole project was a bold intervention by Michael Scott who, when he was asked to design the church, was required to seek approval from the people of the parish. This he succeeded in doing at a meeting which was held in the local school attended by the head of each family. Nobody before or since had dared to construct a church of such rigid discipline which, in spite of its small scale, raises itself above the surrounding countryside.

This is a profoundly rural area in North Kerry, and yet it is home to a number of modern, innovative churches. Knockanure was the first, indeed one of the first in Ireland. Is there something in the water, that produces such forward-thinking parishioners who can see beyond the confines of gothic arches and rose windows? I don’t know, but I made sure to drink lots of water during my visit to North Kerry.

Photo above by Amanda Clarke

Hurley describes Corpus Christi as a building of absolute dignity and simplicity, but one which at the same time had little or no sympathy with the Kerry landscape. I’m not sure I quite agree with the second part, since the area around Knockanure is flat and low-lying. The church appears to be built on a platform, with steps leading up to the front, so that it is clearly visible on the landscape. 

The church is indeed rigidly disciplined – a rectangle that gives the appearance of a light and airy open box. Two panels, one at the front and one at the back, delineate the worship space, while clerestory windows created by the roof beams allow light to pour down the side walls. The back panel conceals and makes space for the sacristy.

The church furniture, all part of the original 1960s design, enhance the simplicity and the unity of the design, from the black marble altar and fonts to the low, beautiful benches. 

In keeping with the directives of Vatican II, the church incorporated work by some of the finest artists of the time. The front panel is in fact a large-scale sculpture, in wood, of the Last Supper, by Oisín Kelly. It is the first thing you see when you enter, immediately heralding a devotional space. The back of the panel holds two confessionals. 

The cross is by Imogen Stuart, as is the carved wooden Madonna and child statue. Imogen died last year, aged 96.

The stations are unique – large tapestries designed by Leslie MacWeeney, an artist who has slipped from our consciousness in Ireland as she moved to the United states while still quite young. There’s a chapter about her in Brian Lalor’s Ink-Stained Hands – she was one of the original founders of the Graphics Studios – and a more recent interview with her here. 

This is a nationally important building and an early and striking example of the influence of modern architectural movements on Irish architects. The RTE piece was part of the 100 Buildings of Ireland series. (We visited another one, just up the road – but that’s a post for another day).

In the 100 Buildings piece, Tallon is quoted as taking inspiration from Irish Romanesque architecture. 

Irish Romanesque churches… were remarkable for their small size, extremely simple plan, rich and delicate decoration, giving a shrine effect which, at that time, had almost disappeared elsewhere. They were of single-chamber construction, with massive side walls projecting beyond the front and back façades the cross-walls including the façades were left as open as possible and were developed as a series of arched screens.

I am puzzled by this quote and I wonder if Tallon was even referring to this church, which owes nothing to Romanesque architecture. The projections he refers to (known as antae) actually predate the Romanesque style. Take a look at my two-part post on Cormac’s chapel to see if you can figure out why Romanesque architecture has been dragged into the story of this church, as if to somehow Hibernicise a building which belongs, triumphantly, to the International Modern style.

Vatican II and a new generation of Irish architects taking their cues from Europe dragged the Catholic Church I grew up in, into the 20th century. Corpus Christi in Knockanure is at the forefront of that breakthrough design revolution.