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Early word installation
Castle Ashby in Northamptonshire, GB, seems to be an interesting building--with a balustrade made of words. There are a lot of photos around which show the whole castle, and at Flickr.com there are even some with a sports car in front. Surprisingly I only found photos with details of this early word installation in a book from the mid seventies: Lettering on Architecture by Alan Bartram (who wrote several books on typography and design). In his book he also gives details about the architecture.
»The most extreme example of balustrade lettering is at Castle Ashby, Northamptonshire, where an extract from Psalm 127 runs round the building. The result is perhaps more interesting than beautiful. The original building was erected in 1574, and the connecting wing—possibly by Inigo Jones—was added in 1625-35. Shortly before 1624, a third storey was added to the Elizabethan part of the house, at which time the balustrade and its lettering were put up. So building in both Elizabethan style and Jones’s Renaissance style was going on simultaneously; and the lettering, relating more to the former, was run across the latter. The forms seem to vary slightly, but generally are nearly identical to those at Felbrigg Hall: a strong almost even-weight stroke with minimal serifs. The stair turrets were heightened in 1635, and the north and west ranges had the lettering added in 1827; but the same form was used.
As at Felbrigg, the lettering integrates well with the architecture; but the enormous quantity of it gives a somewhat bizarre effect.
In 1865 Sir Matthew Digby Wyatt laid out the terraces of Castle Ashby, and at that time was erected perhaps the most amazing group of lettering to be seen anywhere. Continuing the theme of openwork balustrades, but using a more condensed letterform—in terracotta—resonant messages thunder out from the roses and the honeysuckle. 'The Grass Withereth And The Flower Fadeth But The Word Of God Endureth For Ever. Consider The Lilies Of The Field How They Grow They Toil Not Neither Do They Spin And Yet I Say Unto You That Solomon In All His Glory Was Not Arrayed Like One Of Them'. The pronouncements and with a reference to the death of the third marchioness in 1865.
The effect is surrealist: as if the landscape itself had begun to speak. Wherever you stand, these splendid phrases are shouting at you. One trains to ignore the screaming poster hoardings in the streets—visual Musak; but here, the scale, the isolation, the third dimension, and the sheer unexpectedness of it all—not forgetting the beauty and the aptness of the quotation—make one feel that there are amazing possibilities which have never been exploited before or since.
Cows wander behind the words; while in the distance, hot-air balloons rise up from somewhere near Northampton and drift above the trees.«
--Text and photos from: Alan Bartram, Lettering on Architecture, New York 1976 (1st 1975, Great Britain)
A Wikipedia article quotes the Latin text around the top of the building, NISI DOMINUS CUSTOS CUSTODIVERIT DOMUM FRUSTRA VIGILAT QUI CUSTODIT EAM: NISI DOMINUS AEDIFICAVERIT DOMUM IN VANUM LABORAVERUNT QUI AEDIFICANT EAM with this translation »Except the Lord build the house they labour but in vain they who build it; except the Lord keep the house the watchman waketh but in vain«. The words in the garden are extracts from Isaiah 40:8 and Matthew 6:28.