I recently moved to Kensal Rise in West Kilburn, an area of London with a historically high density of Irish Catholics. Around here it is not uncommon to see Infant Jesus of Prague statues waving on window sills, or palm crosses from last Easter propped up in doorways. A 5-minute walk from me there is a convent of the same order as Mother Teresa, the two terrace houses it occupies bedecked with Virgin Mary and Jesus statues like gargoyles. Through the window, a life-size crucifix is visible in the front room.
These objects – even one of a semi-naked man being tortured – make me feel at home. Raised a Catholic, I am pretty used to seeing religious paraphernalia, not only in church, but as forms of domestic decoration. My parents have a Sacred Heart of Jesus poster in the kitchen, an Our Lady of Lourdes holy water bottle in the bathroom and a collection of Pope-themed Russian dolls on the mantelpiece. Many of these items have been inherited from my Irish grandparents, who, at their house in Manchester, kept a framed photo of John Paul II in the hallway, next to one of Princess Diana.
But beyond this kind of iconography, can (and should) churches have more to teach us about interior design? As I ponder this, House & Garden Decoration Editor Ruth Sleighthome leads me to Antique Church Furnishings, a Surrey-based company selling furniture, upholstery and statues – from altars and hassocks to prie deux and psalm boards – salvaged from churches. It was set up by Lawrence Skilling in the 1980s, when he and his former business partner saw a church being gutted in Fulham. ‘We bought it all for £10,’ he recounts. Whilst initially making money selling props for film and TV, they realized that ‘churches were full of fascinating stuff.’
Catholic gleanings in particular are ‘pretty groovy,’ says Lawrence: ‘big, spectacular, flamboyant.’ Standout sales include a late Gothic altarpiece bought for a client’s Scottish castle, as well as fonts converted into bird baths, sinks and even fruit bowls (‘a horn of plenty filled with Jerusalem artichokes,’ says Lawrence). Many pieces have convenance restrictions that keep them from being sold to non-clerical clients – and Lawrence agrees it is important to respect an item’s religiosity: ‘Once we had a buyer announce himself as a Satanist who needed an altar for ceremonies… We just said no.’
The ecclesiastical style is not for everyone. ‘A common criticism is that it’s creepy… whereas other folks are like “yeah – give me a crucifix!"’ Lawrence tells me. Antique Church Furnishings had their boom era in the noughties, when ‘English Church’ was a trend in Buddhist Japanese weddings. ‘We were kitting out venues in Japan as facsimiles of English churches – shipping them over brick by brick,’ he tells me. For those who couldn’t afford the whole whack (or who weren’t married), then a single church chair with a chrysanthemum would do.
Beyond pews and chairs, which have been consistent bestsellers – largely due to pubs – Lawrence says that one item comes out on top: ‘Mary – with or without child – is the gold standard of church antiques… It’s more comforting to have a representation of motherhood than an image of sacrifice.’ His ecclesiastical antiques, whether an organ light reclaimed as a reading lamp, or a rustic communion table repurposed for a family kitchen are ‘quiet signifiers of good taste,’ believes Lawrence: ‘a low impact way to inject spirituality into a home.’
Patrick Williams, co-founder of interiors company Berdoulat agrees. At his former east London flat, he decorated the bedroom with a statue of Mary. ‘My father always joked that I had a virgin in my bedroom,’ he tells me. Yet the Madonna and Child does feel appropriate. ‘That’s where my wife and I first lived together and had our first child,’ explains Patrick (there was also a quilt created by his grandmother on the bed). In the kitchen, Patrick adapted a pew to go around the table. Today he thinks the style as too pub-adjacent for him to repeat, but that at the time ‘it was an affordable way of buying good quality banquette seating – pitch pine.’ The Madonna meanwhile, was brought along when Patrick’s family moved to Bath. But she wasn’t easy to shift: ‘We needed 5 removal men. There were a lot of “Jesus” expletives,' he recounts.
Despite their ornate, built-to-last quality (largely due to the historic wealth of the Church, whether Anglican or Catholic), it has taken a while for its antiques to be taken seriously. Paris-born antiques dealer Carole Suety, was almost laughed out of Old Spitalfields when she started selling ecclesiastical antiques 13 years ago. ‘I was young, I was French. All the old traders said I didn’t know what I was doing,’ she tells me from Lyon with a conglomeration of crucifixes on the wall behind her: ‘They said the first rule in business was no religion.’ Carole’s company, Cabinet de Merveilles, focuses on decorative pieces – from prayer cards and chalice palls to embroidered flaming hearts and even relics – inspired by the post-Renaissance trend for cabinets of curiosity. The beauty of these ecumenical antiques, believes Carole, is in the small miracle of finding them. A diagnosable case of Catholic guilt prevents Carole buying directly from convents, monasteries or churches. ‘I feel like I’m stealing,’ she confesses.
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There are a growing number of new brands creating contemporary iterations of Catholica. Carole cites French companies J’ai vu la vierge and Boncoeurs, who sell candy-coloured Mary figurines and XL ex votos respectively. In the UK, Bettina Ceramica, has become a much-lusted after interiors brand, inspired by founder Natalie Sytner’s Italian Catholic mother. ‘We work with family-owned factories and artisans in Italy to recommission designs that aren’t fashionable anymore,’ says Natalie. Bettina Ceramica’s wall hangings include Santa Croce (crosses), Sacre Cuore (Sacred Hearts) as well as Acquasantiera (wall fonts): ‘My mum kept one in our bathroom and would keep little keepsakes in it, a polaroid or a milk tooth,’ Natalie recalls.
A loving tribute to her family history, Bettina Ceramica’s products feel at once classic and contemporary. ‘I wanted them to work for everyone – whether it's a maximalist house with wallpaper, or my best friend’s kitchen which is super white and stainless steel,’ Natalie explains. The glazed ceramics, either plain or hand-painted, certainly forsake the aesthetics of kitsch. Bettina Ceramica's customers include Italophiles, Christians from Utah and just ‘people who think it’s a beautiful piece and want to mix one in with their paintings.’ ‘It’s about giving these objects a new audience and keeping a beautiful tradition going,’ says Natalie. ‘They’re a special thing, designed to be bought and kept – not a trend, but a beautiful piece to pass down.’
