Back in the day, oldgreytravel recalls going to Latin-infused salsa nights at a pop-up club in the basement of a church just off Leicester Square in central London. It was one of those occasions that can only occur in a multi-cultural city, when you suddenly find yourself a minority in your own country. The clientele and staff were all Latin, the beer was Spanish and Mexican, the canteen food Latin and the music, red hot salsa.
In all that time though, I had no understanding of the significance of the building that I was in. It was only subsequently, when working in central London, that I decided to venture inside the church itself. For a start, the entrance, despite the imposing statue of Our Lady of Mercy by the French sculptor Georges-Laurent Saupique, is underwhelming. It looks less like a church and more like a rather dull 1950’s brick, office block. It is sandwiched and, to some extent, overwhelmed by its more flamboyant neighbours in the tiny pedestrianized, Leicester Place. Once inside, though, the uniqueness of the church becomes apparent. The front façade is just that and behind, completely hidden from street view, is the church, set within a huge Victorian rotunda supported on elegant cast iron columns.
It also has a fascinating history as the principal church for the local French community for the last 160 years. The building form, itself, reflects its original use as Burford’s Panorama, an early diorama and tourist attraction dating from the 1800’s. By the middle of the century, the French architect Louis-Auguste Boileau had converted the building into a church for the surrounding French community, retaining the rotunda as the principal space. The church was consecrated in 1861 and had the distinction of being the first cast iron church in London.
However, in 1940 extensive damage was caused by bombing during the London Blitz and it was rebuilt post-war between 1953-60. In the spirit of modernity, it was decided to furnish the building with works designed by contemporary French designers. Rene Varin, the French Cultural Attache at the time took a particular interest and it was through him that an approach was made to one of the most significant French artists of the century, Jean Cocteau, artist, writer, poet and film maker.
He was commissioned to decorate the Lady Chapel. He chose to cover its three walls with murals depicting scenes in the life of the Virgin Mary. To the left, the Annunciation, in the centre, the Crucifixion and to the right, the Assumption. The style is uncompromisingly modern with the figures almost cartoon-like in their depiction. Cocteau decides not to portray Jesus on the cross, but merely his nailed feet, dripping blood. His gaze is upon others, Mary, her tears echoing the blood of Jesus, two Roman soldiers gambling and a self-portrait of himself, looking away. The work was painted between 3 and 11 November 1959 and conspicuously signed by the artist. Cocteau was a hugely popular artist at the time and his presence was quite a media event from which he had to be protected while at work.
He also painted a wooden board that covered the front of the altar in the Lady Chapel, but this was removed in the 2012 renovation of the church to reveal a mosaic of the Nativity, executed by Boris Anrep in 1954. The church has many other artefacts designed specifically for this space by other contemporary French artists, including the impressive tapestry behind the main altar, but it is the enduring fame and legacy of Jean Cocteau that casts its presence so strongly over this remarkable space and it remains the only such work by Cocteau in this country and one strangely unknown.
