Blue sky thinking: Robert Ashton visits Houghton Hall

‘Turrell has a lifelong fascination with light.’

I have a battered copy of Walton Hannah’s controversial exposé of freemasonry, Darkness Visible. Hannah was a clergyman, and was horrified at the strong religious undertones to some masonic rituals. He knew that many senior clergy were Masons and saw this as a conflict.

My late father read the book in 1968, the year in which he was initiated into his local masonic lodge. He must have found it interesting, because he never returned it to the library. I too found it a fascinating read, in part because I wanted to know what my father got up to with his friends on those winter evenings.

‘Darkness’ in the title of the book alludes to secrecy, not the lack of light, but it came to mind while sitting with strangers in the Skyspace at Houghton Hall in Norfolk, watching dusk turn to night. The Skyspace is just one of four in Britain, designed by Californian artist James Turrell.

A ‘birthright’ Quaker, Turrell has a lifelong fascination with light. The Skyspace itself bears more than a striking resemblance to a Meeting house: a simple, square room, with seating around the perimeter – plus an open roof through which you can watch the sky, hear the birds, and even see the rain fall on the floor in front of your feet.

I had been here many times, but never before as the light faded and the blue sky slowly darkened. Event curator Amanda Geitner set the scene, telling us a little about James Turrell as we began our evening with soup and sausage rolls in Houghton’s café. As perhaps the only Quaker in the group, I made the point that Turrell must have intended the experience to be a silent one, so that participants could fully immerse themselves in the stillness of the fading day.

The group quickly settled in the Skyspace and fell silent, sitting back and looking up at the sky for a full hour. I soon began to sense the stillness usually only experienced in a gathered Meeting for Worship. The next day my wife Belinda (who is not a Quaker) described it on Facebook as ‘a moving and almost spiritual experience’. I suspect others in the group were similarly touched: most were quiet and thoughtful when we returned to the café for strawberries and brownies. I was reminded of the way new attenders often find Quaker worship bewildering, and need time to process what has happened.

Just before we returned to the hall we were joined by David Cholmondeley, a descendant of Houghton’s first owner, Robert Walpole. He inherited the estate in 1990 after a career as a filmmaker, and his interest in the arts is evident. His enthusiasm for James Turrell’s work was clear and, for some, David dropping in would have made their evening.

Looking back on that night, I wonder how many of those who attended will now feel moved to now visit a Quaker Meeting. Glancing round from time to time, I could see that all were deep in thought, contemplating the wonder of fading light upon which all life on earth depends. Early Quakers were sometimes known as ‘children of the light’, and that description could certainly be applied to James Turrell. The Skyspaces he has created represent powerful ministry, and this one at Houghton Hall is well worth a visit.

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