: St Teilo’s Church

Right, I needed that! After a marathon of Easter activities, two days in sunny Paris were just what the doctor ordered. How I ended up back in the Musée Cluny is anybody's guess.

A busman's holiday, of course, is better than no holiday at all, and I was very happy to revisit a place which has been a source of inspiration for many years. The Cluny (not to be confused with The Clooney, a very different, and possibly imagined museum specialising in the disappearing art of commedia dell'eyebrow) has an unrivalled collection of Medieval artefacts. From eerie headless sculptures, bawdy stained glass and keepsakes dredged from the river Seine, to lush tapestries, bejewelled crowns and priceless manuscripts: it's the kind of place geeks like me go to get goosebumps.

St Teilo's Church seemed to serve a similar role over Easter, as we welcomed visitors old and new to experience 'that feeling' and talk about all things churchy. I was running guided tours focussing on Easter Week in 1520: what would be happening, how things would look (and smell!), and how the paintings and sculptures would have played a role in all this activity. At the last count, over 800 people attended and I was left with a very fuzzy feeling that I'd actually done something to earn my chocolate egg this year.

Later, the south aisle was transformed into a mini-workshop, where budding artists of all ages came to try their hand at traditional painting. Using stencils, ochre, pouncers and some eggy paint, over three hundred Holbeins-in-waiting had a go at making a Tudor portrait, using the same techniques and materials as we used when reconstructing the Church murals. As you will see on Sian's Oriel 1 blog below, there was also a chance to create your own Tudor frame, to display the portrait in all its glory. I think it's safe to say that it was a very enjoyable workshop for all involved, even though I got ochre pigment all over myself, and ended up looking like I'd had an accident with some heavy-duty fake tan.

Thoroughly exfoliated and with my head in the back-to-work position, the cycle starts again: conceiving of events, researching, evaluating, preparing and then waiting, waiting, waiting for you lovely people to ring up and book a place! And since I am in the habit of ending my posts with a shameless plug: here's a roundup of events for adults, taking place around St Teilo's Church in the months ahead.

Art Day for Adults over 50 on 6 May, which includes a traditional pigment workshop, free lunch and materialsand much more! Places are limited, so do ring up in advance to avoid disappointment.

Science and the Medieval Church, 29-31 May: a thought-provoking talk held in St Teilo's Church.

Y Gwr Kadarn, 26 June: the first performance in over 400 years of this rediscovered Welsh gem.

St Teilo's Church was featured on the BBC's 'Wales and the History of the World' last night, and is now available to view on the iplayer. The programme will be available to watch here until the 31st of March.

Original mural fragment, showing a Tudor rose and a throne, from St Teilo's Church. Copyright RCAHMW/Coflein.

Presented by rugby lej Eddie Butler, the show presents a refreshing view on what I mentioned in my last post: what makes us, 'us'. You'll see many unusual, interesting and iconic objects from your national collection on display throughout the programme.

Of course, I'm a bit biased but St Teilo's was beautifully shot, and the team was fun to work with. I only wish I'd brought a crate to stand on for my interview, as Mr Butler is a giant! You can see my grinning mug at the 9 minute mark. Hope you enjoy.

I was just visiting the St Fagans library, looking to do a little reading up before the Easter tours of St Teilo's Church. A chance encounter and a fleeting chain of thoughts later, I'm here on the blog.

It begins when I bump into a colleague clutching a hefty old book, in the reference section of our research library. Rather cryptically, he tells me "It exists! And it's in here!". Taking the book to one side, he lets it fall open - and rightly it does, on the very page he was looking for.

In my experience, old dictionaries and manuscripts that fall open like that usually contain something very juicy. Finding a page in this way always makes me think of the people who read the book before me. I feel almost as if I am joining a secret club, where generations of readers have sought out and read the same pages carefully. My old art history professor had a story about illuminated Biblical manuscripts, painstakingly drawn and handled by monks. Almost without fail, they will all fall open at the same page: where Bathsheba is described in the bath. Thankfully, I wasn't confronted with anything as lascivious - but certainly something scandalous.

"WALES, see ENGLAND", Encyclopaedia Britannica.

The near-apocryphal entry in the Encyclopaedia Britannica: 'Wales, See England'. I had always thought of it as an idiom, muttered under my breath at Jeremy Clarkson's use of 'us'; defensively invoked on seeing corporate maps which leave out Anglesey, and, most recently, when Google decided to celebrate St David's day by putting one of Kind Edward's castles on their homepage. I suppose it isa lot of history to squeeze into so few words.

That's just my reaction, of course. Debates about Britishness, Welshness, and other -nesses will continue as long as there are people on this island, and in the darker corners of the internet. Whatever your take on the matter, whichever 'ness'-ness you subscribe to, the museum's job is to take a reading every now and then; keep an eye on what makes us, inexplicably, 'us'.

I optimistically dropped by the updated Encyclopaedia Britannica. I was hoping to tie up this post with a point about Wales' growing confidence and international profile using a pithy, concise definition. By now, britannica.com, as it's known, refers to Wales as a 'constituent unit'. I must admit I was disappointed. Over a 150 years since the phrase "Wales: see England" was first published, even as new law-making powers are invested to our Assembly Government: it's strange that 'Country' still does not describe what some people see, when they look at Wales.

Having filmed, unwrapped and admired the thurible I mentioned in my last post, it's time now to edit the video!

While you wait (with baited breath, I hope), I'd like to share some new pictures with you.

The Chancel of St Teilo's Church, as it looks today.

Angels, shown playing the Crwth and Harp. Painted by Fleur Kelly.

Verdigris pigment, used to make green paint in St Teilo's Church

If you feel inspired after seeing those, why not hop over to the events page to book a place on our Tudor Guided Walk. The walk, lasting around an hour, will take place next weekend, the 20th of March. As well as a tour of our Tudor buildings, you'll get a chance to handle replica objects, and explore Tudor smells - good and bad! Places are limited, so booking is essential.

I hope to see you there!

I received the call on Monday. "It's in the post. Should be with you in three-to-five working days". The words put me in a geeky flutter: finally, the Thurible was on its way here!

Now, for those of you wondering, a thurible is basically a very nice incense burner indeed. It comes attached to a chain, meaning the incense can be swung at arm's length.

Still used in many churches, temples and shrines across the world, incense can play a very important role in a worshipper's experience of a sacred place. Smell, we are often reminded, is a short-circuit to our memories. The mixture of Frankinsence, Myrrh, and citrus oils usually favoured by the Catholic Church - though perhaps not as evocative as mothballs or freshly-baked bread - is a heavy mix which can transport you to some quite fantastical places. Some of these smells have been used in ceremonies and perfumes since the age of the ancient Egyptians and beyond. It is no surprise, then, that one's imagination can wander quite far off its leash when this stuff is burning.

Now, before i get too Herbal Essences, I should probably 'fess up - i'm an incense fiend. Not just any incense either. I'll snobbishly breeze past the day-glo, wood based tendrils and cones, and go straight for the resin. Usually made from sap collected from trees, each kind has its own history and associations. Frankinsence comes in rounded, amber-coloured blobs. Myrrh looks a bit more like the discarded pupae of a creepy-crawly. Damar looks like pear drops, and smells like a delicate, citrussy nectar...

Anyway, back to the thurible. Ours is replica, to be used in St Teilo's Church. Past experiments (using a thurible kindly loaned from St David's College) have yielded mixed results. Some enjoyed the experience, saying it gave an air of religious calm to the building. Others took two huffs and turned on their heels, coughing. Some just felt uncomfortable, perhaps due to their own religious instruction or beliefs about worship. We propose to use the thurible during re-enactments at first (more on those later...), along with period music and liturgy, to see whether we can really re-create the atmosphere of a Mass in 1500.

Only problem is that the Curator who commissioned the replica is on holiday. The parcel sits tantalisingly intact in the strong room. I'm trying my best not to take a peek - though, it would take considerable effort, seeing as I don't have the keys. We will have to wait, then, until Monday, when we'll have a very different unboxing video to show you!