Toulouse, Cathédral Saint-Étienne

It is believed that the first church built on the present site of the Cathedral of Toulouse was founded in the 3rd century, but it is not known when this church became a cathedral or when it was dedicated to Saint Stephen.  The first written mention of it dates from 844.  A larger edifice was built, starting in 1073, but what now stands dates from the 13th onward.  The 13th c. saw a burst of activity which bequeathed us essentially two connected but remarkably different structures.  The first was undertaken (or rebuilt?) by Bishop Foulques. Funding massive building projects is unbelievably difficult, and so, like many other such projects, this was built section by section, as funding permitted.  Clearly, funding never enabled the faithful of Toulouse to complete their cathedral as once envisioned.

By about 1270, when Toulouse was again safely within the influence of the King of France, Bertrand de l'Isle-Jourdain restarted construction, but on a more grand plan which echoed the style of cathedrals surrounding Paris.  The new choir was twice as large as the old.  The original idea was to tear down parts of the former cathedral in stages, as the building of the new building progressed, ending with a massive cathedral not unlike that at Amiens.  But as time passed, later workers then changed these plans, in part because of funding difficulties.  The plan was to leave appropriate parts of the original building standing until they were replaced by their counterparts in the new building.  Once the old part was no longer needed, it could be torn down.  But as reality finally hit, it was decided not to complete the much larger building, and instead, they would connect the two buildings as logically as their two different axises allowed.  This would incorporate two very different styles and different sizes.  A disastrous fire in 1609 destroyed much of the provisional wood construction and the elaborate choir stalls carved of wood.  This story is utterly complicated; hopefully the photos will help us.

We begin with several pictures showing both of the 'two interiors', which are obviously connected.  As we enter the cathedral from the western doors, we see that the first part that we meet is somewhat dark and quite modest with its vaults going only about 28m high, whereas the apse/choir (which appears more white in this photo) has vaults which soar to 40m.  You can enter from the back (main western) doors, and if you keep going down the central aisle in a straight line--and keep going, you will enter the southern aisle (right hand side) of the apse.  In order to enter the proper apse and its choir, you have to jog a bit to the left.  In my experience, this is a unique structure, utterly fascinating, and yet it must work.

This is essentially the same view as the first, but now we are looking through the final archway of the western nave while standing in the nave's center aisle.  We see that the white grand pillar at the corner of what was supposed to be the transept (crossing) is nearly dead center as far as the smaller western nave is concerned.  On the far right (of the 2nd photo below) we see the elevated pulpit with the obligatory canopy, whose inner flat roof focuses the speaker's voice, reflecting it back to the congregation.  Otherwise, voices really do get lost in the vaults.

 Just before turning left to enter the apse, there is an altar facing east on a marble platform surrounded by a wrought iron perimeter. 

Now (below) we see the magnificent choir, the area within the apse which followed the monastic and collegiate ideal of dividing the cathedral's monastic choir into two halves, the cantores and diacones, those sitting on the cantor's side and those on the deacon's side.  When chanting Psalms, the two sides of monks would take turns, verse by verse, which saved one's voice a bit.  After all, one would be singing for about 5 hours/day.  The choir stalls were beautifully carved of wood.  At the top of the wooden choir stalls you can see wooden railings.  These protect the walkways which were reached by beautiful spiral wooden staircases.  As a singer, I would love to position singers around these upper passages, but I have no idea what they were used for in the middle ages.  The rows of wooden chairs we see in the foreground are actually located under the transept.

The next photo shows the top half of one of the wooden spiral staircases leading to the special passageway above the choir stalls.  Even higher, you see the wonderful windows laced with stone and the passageway with smaller arches directly below the windows.  Workers needed to have access throughout the cathedral, both when building and when repairing it.  The passageway actually goes right through the upper stone columns.  My dream is to get into one of these, somewhere, with my camera.  I would imagine that the smaller doors in the upper passageway lead out to the roof--or possibly to the area between the lower vaulted ceiling (barely seen above the wooden choir) and its roof.

This gives a partial view of the choir stalls, but I could not get access to them (or the other side of the apse) because there was a wedding in progress.  Originally, each monk had his assigned seat and would sing from that stall for 9 services a day until someone older died.  Then every monk who had entered after the deceased brother would move one stall closer to the altar.  This was a way of honouring seniority and a powerful reminder that your turn will come.

I have now walked down the small nave's central aisle and gone straight ahead, coming to the large wooden doors which once prevented laity from entering the apse with this choir.  This is now open to the public except during Mass.  We see the much taller vaulted ceiling straight ahead.

I have passed the open wooden door and paused to turn around and look back at the newer and much smaller nave and its rose window.  You can hopefully just see the spiral wooden enclosed staircase on the right, just past the wooden doors, giving access to the top of the wooden structure enclosing the choir stalls.

Now I have turned around again and am looking east, from the wooden doors toward the eastern end of the apsidal southern aisle.  Some of the columns have been richly painted in red and gold.  It is thought that most cathedrals were originally intended to be painted throughout but that most of the paint disappeared ages ago.

You can see that painted plaster should be covering the original brick structure.

 

Toward the far eastern end of the apse one usually finds the most elaborate chapels, some of whose stained glass windows can be seen from the choir.

I mentioned that access to parts of the cathedral was closed, and rightly so, because a wedding was scheduled to take place in the apse.  I could not resist photographing these three young men, brimming with confidence.  Was one possibly the groom?  I had no programme and frankly hadn't a clue as to what was happening.

Here the Catholic priest and possibly the Protestant minister have gone all the way to the back of the church to greet the bridal party.  The cathedral's large doors have just been opened. In the good old days, this would be done only when the bishop or archbishop was present, so he may indeed have been there, I simply don't know, but colours were white rather than red.

Now more guests have entered the smaller nave.  Nobody is seated there, the upper lights are not brightly lit, but the center aisle has been nicely lined with lighted candles. Groom's parents?

The bride, her father and four children then made the long walk down the central aisle of the empty nave (see the rose window at the back).  They were beaming broadly in anticipation of seeing all their friends in the apse.

By this time, they have jogged to the left so they can approach the apse where most of their guests are seated.  You can see the beginning of the old wooden choir stalls on the right.

Now they are ready to pass the communion railing, where the faithful would normally have knelt when receiving the communion wafer. 

From the southern and hidden apsidal aisle, I found I could use my 135mm to get some photos of the wedding without being seen or in any way disturbing the religious ceremony.  Colours were wonderful.

I was stunned to see that the official wedding photographer was right up front, photographing and checking her camera during the singing of the hymns.  No class.

I wanted to go out to hear the service, particularly since it seemed to be a wedding joining a Protestant and Catholic in marriage.  On the way, I took another shot or two.

This is looking eastward, toward the high altar in the choir.  The empty chairs are in the transept/crossing.

High altar, in the ornate Baroque style.

Now (below) we are standing in the southern aisle of the apse, looking back toward the west.  The organ pipes are on the wall which marks where they stopped constructing the larger part of the cathedral.  You can see a complex series of ceiling vaults turned in various ways, holding up the ceiling at the crossing and abbreviated transept.  Again we see the wooden spiral staircase leading to the top of the choir stalls. If you enlarge the photo, you can just see a thin metal railing adding a bit of safety to any worker walking on the open stone passageway above the peak of the larges arch (seen just above the wooden choir stalls). 

The interplay of light and darkness in cathedrals is always intriguing, and a photographer's challenge.

Entering any cathedral is always a pleasure for me and a surprise as I make the transition from the outside noisy world to the quiet contemplative inner spaces of the sanctuary.  I am always filled with awe, no matter how many times I enter those doors.  Leaving is less pleasant as I reenter everyday life, its pressures and busy schedules.  

Black Bears at Thornton Creek Hatchery near Port Albion, B.C.

Janice happened to strike up a casual conversation with a friendly woman walking her dog at Long Beach on the west coast of Vancouver Island.  Seeing that I had camera equipment, she said that a friend was going to be photographing black bears trying to catch salmon that afternoon, and where.  This opened up a new world for me.

The Thornton Creek Hatchery is relatively new, off Highway 4 between Ucluelet and Port Albion.  After bumping along on a dirt road for 1 km, one is soon there.  Port Albion once referred to itself as the Salmon Capital of the World, but those prosperous days are now past.  To everybody's surprise, this year's run was the largest recorded since 1913, but the last several years had officials thinking the salmon might be nearing dangerously low levels.  The hatchery people have created this new place for hatching salmon by diverting a stream (which never could have supported salmon spawning because of the height of the water falls).

They have now built a short ladder and holding pens for various stages of development.  They capture salmon, collect and fertilize hundreds of thousands of eggs, and raise the tiny fish in the water diverted from the mountain stream.  Those fish then become implanted with the stream's unique combination of minerals and smells.  The fish are released after several months, and years later those that survive will return to this very same short ladder, their eggs will be collected and the whole process starts over again.

Not all survivors make it up the ladder, thanks to the local black bears.  Our two visits were both on very dark and rainy days, but the salmon apparently feel safer in shallow water when hearing rain, and salmon attract bears.  The bears have learned to come only at low tide, hoping that a fish or two will somehow be stranded in the shallow water while preparing to climb the ladder.  Fish in water even 3 feet deep are apparently safe.

The Society has constructed a ladder which the more healthy salmon can negotiate.  There is also a sturdy boardwalk letting visitors observe jumping salmon (I saw none, it was likely too late in the season).  They also kindly built a small roof to keep at least a few people dry.  This area was at times crowded with photographers.  I liked the cartoon on the donation box; showing one feasting bear explaining to another, "I finally figured it out . . . red with photographers, white with fishermen."

Signs remind visitors that these seemingly cuddly teddy bears are to be respected.  I was amazed at the difference between a black bear lumbering, slowly swaying, looking half asleep--and the very same black bear suddenly pouncing on a fish, faster than I could see.  They move incredibly quickly.  Fortunately, they seem to respect people, as long as one does not come between a mother and her cub, or surprise them, or neglect to leave them an escape route.

One our second visit, I did indeed see a black bear travel on this very boardwalk.  I'm told black bears have the right of way . . . I was on the road, ready to climb into my car.

At low tide, some salmon get trapped in more shallow tidal pools which are also fed by the stream having that special combination of minerals and plant life that has been somehow implanted on the salmon's mind.  Even after their exhausting trip, salmon can be swift swimmers.  But at a certain point, I understand that their beaks get hooked (they can no longer really feed), and they know they have to spawn.

 
One bear checked to see if any fish were hiding under a log creating low-tide pools.

 She then watched patiently by the fish ladder, but without success.

 These two bears were obviously not pals.  The smaller one is forcing the larger one to depart unceremoniously.

Standing on rocks gives bears better perspective of what might be moving in the water below.  I was told that their eyesight is not terrific but that they can detect movement superbly.

 Occasionally a bear would dry off a bit.

 One bear actually climbed into the covered fish ladder to see if there was anything to eat.  Intrepid Wayne got tired waiting for the bear to come back out, so he looked into the ladder to give us a progress report.  He comes here regularly to take photos (his link has quite a few informative shots taken this October).  He has named each bear, watched their relationships change, learned to know their behavioral patterns, and respects them.  He also likes to get down at eye level with his tripod and telephoto lens.  His pictures are far better than mine.  He very patiently explained what was happening and what to look for.

Finally the bear emerged, empty-handed.  He had clearly made this trip before.

Bear climbing toward the boardwalk . . . this is when I made my retreat.

Finally a bear found a dead, exhausted or possibly dying salmon in one of the pools.  I understand that these bears will eat all kinds of fish, fresh or "pickled".

Seeing how patient bears have to be for their meals, I waited with unusual patience for our restaurant meal that evening.

Official Opening of UBC's Old Aud

One of the first buildings constructed on the University of British Columbia campus is fondly known as "the Old Aud".  Built 85 years ago (1925), UBC was finally faced with a crucial decision:  either renovate or remove.  A generous grant from the provincial government provided about half of the funding required, the stimulus needed to help some courageous administrators decide to renovate, and the Faculty of Arts and President's Office both committed to raising the remaining millions.  The renovations capture the exuberance and aspirations of British Columbians as they set about creating their one and only university after WW I and before the depression (UVic, the province's second oldest university, would not be founded until 1963).  The auditorium's original large windows still flood the hall with natural light during the day in ways no other Vancouver auditorium enjoys.  Unfortunately, my sense is that their enormous curtains and the new ceiling absorb too much sound, but we at least have a solid building, whose acoustic can be addressed another day.

Guests were greeted by the most polite protesters I have seen on any campus.  They handed out an alternative 'programme' detailing the provincial government's failure to finance student aid and disinterest in funding education generally.  The brief pamphlet's information seemed quite accurate to me.  Interestingly, this was the only programme handed out for the entire event, so it was doubly powerful.

Being retired, it is always special to see former colleagues, if even only for a brief moment.

Prof. Nancy Hermiston was one of the profs most keen to get the Old Aud renovated, especially if it could then be partially used as a venue for UBC's opera productions.  Appropriately, Nancy chaired the grand opening.

As people gathered, I enjoyed seeing the Old Aud being filled once again with an audience.  My other visits these past several years have been photo shoots of the renovations.  The only people I saw in the darkened hall were tradesmen, architects and potential donors.  It was fun watching the skills of the tradesmen transform the hall into a shell, strengthen it, and then restore the hall to its former glory.  But it was also good to see the auditorium once again accommodate an audience, including a former Director of the School of Music.

The grand opening began with a Canzona by Giovanni Gabrieli, arranged for modern brass instruments.  This was performed from the back of the balcony, which let the focused sounds of the brass instruments follow the ceiling's contours and be dispersed throughout the auditorium.  The seated students patiently waiting their turn are from the Opera programme.
 

Of the many features of the Old Aud, my favourite (beside the tall windows) is the balcony railing, so clean, so simple, so willing to reflect colours, yet so useful.

Dr. Richard Kurth, Professor of Music Theory and Director of the School of Music, spoke eloquently when thanking others for their considerable efforts which made the renovations possible.

Musqueum First Nation Elder, Mary Charles brought warm greetings from her nation.

The official opening concluded with an Wagnerian excerpt featuring the UBC Orchestra in the new pit, the UBC Singers (standing on stage behind the speakers), and the UBC Opera Ensemble in the balcony.  (You can see the official media and university photographers standing in the right aisle.)

Attendees included students, faculty from various departments, administrators, friends of UBC, and alumni, many of whom have fond memories of the Old Aud from their student days.

A reception was held in the part of the basement which has been transformed into a sizable rehearsal room.  The Old Aud's 'basement' is only several feet below ground level, which enables large windows to provide excellent natural lighting even during Vancouver's darker rainy winter days.  

As the stage emptied, I wondered, "Where's the open mic when you most want it?"  I wished I could have overheard what West Vancouver-Capilano MLA, Dr. Ralph Sultan was saying to UBC's President, the Dean of Arts, and the Director of the School of Music. I decided to render this in black and white.

Opera majors in costume and 'in character' greeted guests coming and going.

Irving Guttman, founding artistic director of the Vancouver Opera, enjoyed reading a metal plaque honouring his contributions to opera across Canada.  The opening reception was held in the Guttman Rehearsal Hall.