Madonna & Child (larger image)
(inscribed February 14th 1944)
Height: 2.26m [7ft 5in]

Henry Moore's Madonna and Child is a work of international significance. The sculpture is in Hornton stone and was carved for the church by him in 1943-44. It is the gift of the first Vicar, The Rev'd Canon J. Rowden Hussey, and stands in the north transept near the Lady Chapel. Three years ago the Madonna and Child formed the centre-piece of an exhibition celebrating the work of Henry Moore at Tate Modern in London. The display included a painted background exactly replicating the wall of St Matthew's north transept against which the sculpture is positioned. The base contains a time capsule with newspaper cuttings of the installation, and most recently details of the present incumbent's institution and induction in 2003.

The artist respects his medium, not trying to make it look like anything else. Moore has kept within the best traditions of sculpture and especially that of the ancient Gothic and Catalan carvings, and at the same time displayed his own technical mastery of form and rhythm. The longer and more often the statue is studied the more vividly and unforgettably is the sculptor's conception realized.

The artist has sought to express what we know Christ and his mother to be, rather than what they may have looked like to those who saw them in Palestine. One is struck by the solidity of form. The Holy Child is the central feature of the composition; a small prince, Christ the King enthroned on his mother's lap and nestled down between her thighs.

The Blessed Virgin is depicted as a mother would appear to her child - the one great secure background to life. Notice the relative proportions of her face and feet. Her being chosen to be the Mother of the Son of God makes hers the highest achievement of humankind; therefore, she expresses all the possible dignity and majesty of humanity. She is a strong 'earth' mother, yet at the same time there is tenderness and humility here. Her touch is gentle, understanding, loving, as she holds and protects her divine Son without any suggestion of restraint. Her gaze, also that of the child's, points forward into the distance, envisioning perhaps what this child is to become. She offers him to all ages and to all people who shall come to him. He is her gift to the world.

Everyone wants to touch sculpture, to interact with it, and make sure its real. The Madonna's knees have over the years become darkened and shiny where visitors have done just that.

Henry Moore has entered into the spirit of this place and with fundamental simplicity created a great and beautiful work of art which tells us of the beauty of God and leads us into a relationship of prayer with him.

The statue is best seen, at any rate for the first few minutes, from close beside the pulpit or beyond, to appreciate the work as a whole and its setting.

And now God says to us what he has already said to the world as a whole through his grace-filled birth: "I am there. I am with you. I am your life. I am the gloom of your daily routine. Why will you not bear it? I weep your tears - pour out yours to me, my child. 1 am your joy. Do not be afraid to be happy, for ever since I wept, joy is the standard of living that is really more suitable than the anxiety and grief of those who think they have no hope … This reality - incomprehensible wonder of my almighty love - I have sheltered safely in the cold stable of your world. I am there. I no longer go away from this world, even if you do not see me now. I am there. It is Christmas. Light the candles. They have more right to exist than all the darkness."

John Shea, Starlight: Beholding the Christmas Miracle All Year Long
(New York: Crossroad, 1992)

The Henry Moore Foundation

O my people, what have I done unto thee; and wherein have I wearied thee? (Micah 6. v3.)

Having converted to Catholicism in 1926, from the time of this painting until his death, Sutherland was deeply involved in religion. Also, from 1940 Sutherland was employed as an official artist in World War II, as part of the War Artists' Scheme. He worked on the Home Front, depicting mining, industry, and bomb damage. These two elements combine to produced this painting.

Graham Sutherland's depiction of the Crucifixion of Christ hangs in the south transept of the church. It was the gift of The Rev'd. Walter Hussey. It is painted of boards as canvas of the requisite quality was not available at the time.

Many representations of the Crucifixion in recent centuries fail to convey the true nature of the event to anyone not already familiar with the story. (Compare, for example, the painting with the figure in the top right-hand window above). Sutherland seeks to bring home what human sin has done, and still does, to God and his plan for the salvation of humanity.

The Crucifixion is not just an event which took place two thousand years ago. It is still true now (the very constructional Cross suggests the present day.) But for the greater part the background is simply of time and space - not tied to any particular country or age. The same idea is suggested by the shape contrast between the high relief of the Figure and the flatness of the rest, producing almost the effect of a Greek or Russian icon. At the foot of the Cross, the suggestion of a brick wall emphasizes the background of civilization against which Christ is crucified. The little railing serves the double purpose of stressing the sacredness of the event and, at the same time, associating the spectator with what is going on.

Many of the old German painters produced pictures of enormous power, but were at the same time obsessed with the physical details (of wounds, of blood and flesh.) Here, the artist has sought to avoid the physical obsession and yet to bring home to his generation what the Crucifixion involves. This he has done by making the figure, to some extent, formal and not naturistic.

The picture is best seen, for a start, from the centre nave, or from the north transept opposite. The scale of the picture, set within it cavernous space, powerfully draws the viewer in. The design and colouring of the picture suggest, particularly on increasing acquaintance, something of the dignity and majesty of the event. This would not be the first impression on being confronted with Calvary, but would spring from closer insight and longer meditation.

The figure is alone, without family or friends, like so many prisoners who die alone through intimidation, torture, through violence in political circumstances. The head is bowed, in death, perhaps, though blood still drains from his hands evoking the crimson of Isaiah, chapter 63. To either side are two pockets of blackness suggesting the two thieves who died beside Christ.

The colour of the background is most satisfying, and enables us to move away when the contorted agony of Christ's body when it becomes too much for us. In the blue we find a sense of hope and a hint that there is something more, and that our own darknessess may be overcome.

The painting was removed from church for the first time to Olympia, London, in 2003 to be the focal point for the exhibition commemorating the centenary of the artist's birth. From there it was exhibited at Tate Modern for the duration of works necessitating the closure of the church. During the process of removal it became apparent that the picture was too large to leave the building in tact, and that it had originally been framed in church presumably without regard for it ever being taken out.

Mass is celebrated under this picture on weekdays during Passiontide, and it is a feature of other liturgical forms on Palm Sunday and Good Friday in particular as a focus from prayer and devotion.

It is only because I can see God entering the darkness of human suffering and evil in creation, recognizing it for what it really is, meeting it and conquering it, that I can accept a religious view of the world. Without the religious dimension, life would be senseless, and endurance of its cruelty pointless; yet without the cross it would be impossible to believe in God.

Frances Young, The Myth of God Incarnate

The fourteen reliefs were modelled in clay by David Thomas and subsequently cast by Mr. D.C. Giles of the British Museum, who has used a resin-based composition to simulate the colour and texture of terracotta. He had hoped to work in terracotta, but found this material unusable for the scale of the design he felt St Matthew's proportions required. They were commissioned in 1987.

Mr. Thomas studied at Croydon School of Art. After war service with the Royal Navy (Coastal Forces), he took a degree at the Courtauld Institute, studying the Art of the Renaissance under the late Professor Johannes Wilde, and made prolonged visits to Italy. He was offered a lectureship there which he held until the mid-1950's. After some years in art administration he returned to sculpture in 1963.

The Stations of the Cross were introduced into St. Matthew's Church in April 1987, and are his first major religious work. He was engaged on them from 1984 when his designs were selected by competition.

The 14 Stations of the Cross, which depict the events of the final journey of Christ from trial before Pilate to burial, warm considerably the appearance of the nave.

David Thomas subsequently designed and modelled the scene of Christ's Resurrection cast in bronze for the tympanum of the Romanesque church in West Sussex.

This was fashioned by local artist Malcolm Pollard in 1992 from laminated layers of Jelutong wood, which. like sycamore, is closely and evenly grained and very pale. The figure is suspended over the chancel arch in front of a filigree ironwork cross which was made by G.R. deWilde, a friend of the architect, in 1895.