There are times when I marvel at the sheer strangeness of stained glass. There is so much in there, so much going on, so much to decode, to wonder at, to understand. I love the fact that to untutored eyes it can often appear quite barmy; stained glass artists were way ahead of the game when it came to surrealism. It can be so madly over-the-top, so richly detailed, so weird that I wonder if I'll ever make sense of it. A lot of the time I don't, I just enjoy it. That way I avoid unnecessary brain-ache.
Some of the stranger windows seen in Lichfield Cathedral earlier today include the brilliantly-attired apostles by Betton & Evans (1819, example above),
a fabulously bizarre and decorative devil by Harry Stammers (1951)
a rather fey hand-clasping angel with enormous eyes, peacock-feather wings, grapes, vine leaves and a lot of accessories by CE Kempe (1890s),
and an inordinately crowded Baroque scene with a fountainful of boys (date/provenance unknown, probably Flemish, C17/18).
It's full of stuff, including lots of enormous feet and unexpectedly casual poses. I just need to unpack it all, as they say.