From Then To Now, The Boundaries Of Yorkshire That Stand The Test Of Time.

In wintertime, sheep use them as shelter from the prevailing wind, but when that brings snow, it can also bring trouble.

Like stone chameleons, the field walls around here sink into the ground, take on the toned hues of the earth, and morph against the hills. Dry stone walls are quite a feature of the Yorkshire scenery, especially here in West Yorkshire, where thousands of miles of stacked sheet stone criss-cross the landscape in patterns that seemingly stretch to eternity. Stone wasn’t just used for walling though. From the 18^th Century, it was cut, dressed, and shaped in this region for use on roads, pavements and buildings, not just in West Yorkshire, but as far away as London's streets. At one time, just about every building and monument in Yorkshire was made from the golden rock hewn from the sandstone beds that are so prevalent here. The material was exploited in abundance and throughout the last two centuries, quarries, mines, pits, and delphs appeared everywhere. Stone getters, quarrymen, dressers, masons, and delvers, are all job descriptions for those working with the material in different ways.

Image of an early 20th Century quarry works which was gifted to me by the late Chris Helme, local historian of Brighouse.

The sandstone would be graded for different uses – some of it called freestone, which was thick beds that could be worked in any direction, some for flagstones, and some for building stones. York stone or Flag rock, found in the hilltop village of Southowram, could be split into consistent thicknesses, and was used for paving and building steps due to its non-slip properties. The silica surface was also known as Silex Stone and was exported as far away as London for pedestrian paving. It was so well prized that stone mines were also dug specifically to extract this geological layer. Sandstone is heavy. Its mass weight is approximately 2400 kilos per cubic metre, meaning a cube of stone one foot square will weigh about 65kg. I remember having to move some garden steps and though they didn’t look big, each one weighed approximately 210kg, or 463lbs. Start to consider the mass extraction of stone, the dressing process, the construction of buildings using manual labour, horses, and later, steam cranes, and you get a picture of how hard and dangerous this work might have been. The men would also be handling stones by the tonne, not mere kilograms. It bore a hardened workforce, who, at the end of a day’s graft, would visit the many ale houses that were around at the time. There are still pubs dotted about the region with names such as ‘the delvers’, and the ‘mason’s arms’ and you can imagine back in the days of busy quarry works, a rowdy bar full of dusty men replenishing their thirst at the end of a hard shift of sweaty labour.

Now a private residence but at one time, this was the Delvers Inn. The painted sign is still just discernible. This onetime beer house is situated right at the edge of the largest quarry in Southowram and probably refreshed many hundreds of quarry workers in it's time,

You can imagine back in the days of busy quarry works, a rowdy bar full of dusty men replenishing their thirst at the end of a hard shift of sweaty labour.

Dry stone walls seem like a gentler affair, but they’re no poor cousin to the monumental stone buildings found around the towns of West Yorkshire. They feature a lot in my paintings because they form a strong design element, but it's more than just that. They're tributes to past times. They are refuges and boundaries, hotels for small creatures, and an art form in themselves. In wintertime, sheep use them as cover from the prevailing wind, but when that brings snow, it can also bring trouble, as the wall will deflect the wind to form a snow drift over the sheltering flock. In these conditions the sheep remain insulated but can easily suffocate and in times of blizzard, upland farmers often had to go around probing the deep snow with sticks to try and rescue any stragglers that hadn’t made it back to the safety of the lower fields.

Most of the walls in the South Pennine region date back to the 1700 and 1800s when ‘Parliamentary Enclosure Acts’ divided up the land into smaller enclosed fields, transforming common land into privately owned land. During the economic hardships of the 1930s, the government initiated the building of roadside boundary walls to create employment in Yorkshire. There are literally thousands of miles of dry stone walls that cross the Pennine landscape from West Yorkshire and Lancashire, into North Yorkshire, the lake District, and South to Derbyshire and the Peaks. Although some styles of walling differ in appearance, the building methods follow a general agreeable sequence consisting first of footings or foundation, then two sides are built and slightly battered inwards. Wider at the bottom, narrower at the top, the stones are laid to the middle of the wall and locked in place with ‘hearting’ or broken and chipped pieces of stone. No cement or bonding is used hence the term ‘dry stone’.

New wall footings. Image courtesy of drystonepaul.co.uk

The broken pieces form wedges that adjust the level of the laid stone and lock it in place, keeping the build even and solid. The wall is then topped with copestones, which can vary in style but are normally stones placed vertically that give the wall an aesthetic appearance, help to add weight, and keep out the weather. Wallers who patch up and repair field walls often find old bottles and clay pipes in the hearting, left by the walling gangs of the 19^th and early 20^th centuries.

When repairing old field walls, it’s a sobering thought that each stone removed from a wall gives an insight into the decisions made by the person who built it 200 years ago.

Dry stone walling is a craft that has a professional stance at its heart. Wallers repair gaps and collapses of original structures but they also build brand new walls, either for modern boundaries, garden projects or as part of bigger house building sites. I’ve done some walling myself and it’s an incredibly satisfying process. I’ve also had the privilege to work alongside my friend and craftsman, Paul Clough. He’s a passionate artist and advocate for keeping the walling tradition alive. Paul initially learned wall building for a hobby with the Dry stone Walling Association, but after the Pandemic of 2020, he took the incredibly brave decision to turn his passion into a full-time business and he’s not looked back. I’m not surprised. He has an exceptional talent for it! You can sense Paul’s drive when he says: "Most days start the same for me - out in the fresh air, hands on Yorkshire stone, feeling the weight of something that’s been around for 300–350 million years. That still blows my mind a bit. This Carboniferous sandstone and gritstone I’m working with has seen more history than any of us, and I get to shape it into something useful again."

Walling has turned into his everyday life over the past five years, and he still gets the same buzz when a structure takes on its proper form. Paul’s passion for walling is reflected in his views for the craft: "When repairing old field walls, it’s a sobering thought that each stone removed from a wall gives an insight into the decisions made by the person who built it 200 years ago. I then get to decide where that stone will live again, hopefully for the next 200 years. Building a dry stone wall is one of the few jobs where techniques haven’t changed for hundreds of years and the end result is a legacy that could stand for many generations."

Examples of dry stone walling by craftsman, Paul Clough. You can see more examples of his work on his instagram account.

For Paul, it’s not just about building a wall—it’s about being part of something that’s been going on for centuries and he says he’s still learning all the time, whether that’s from the history or from working alongside other local craftspeople who have their own styles. Every job teaches him something new and every wall and stone is different.

Paul says: "The best part is that it’s not just me in it. My family get involved and support me whenever they can, and that means a lot. I’d love to see it continue through them in some way. It’s hard work, but it’s honest—and I wouldn’t swap it. No matter where I am in Yorkshire there’s nothing better than standing back at the end of the day and seeing a wall that will be there long after I’m gone."

The abutted walls in my painting ‘Boundaries’ appear to be original and untouched from the early 1800s. Moss and lichen add touches of texture. I like how the colour of sandstone echoes through the landscape, into the farm over on the right, and even in the posts and poles and the dry winter grass of the field beyond. We can almost take these structures for granted but given the fact that a skilled waller can build around six metres per day, we are probably looking at over three or four weeks of solid graft in this image alone. I like to think of my painting as a watercolour record of a structure that was erected over 200 years ago, a snapshot of hard labour, and of time. A stone chameleon hiding against the earth.

'Boundaries' is now available as a fine art print in 2 sizes. Printed using lightfast inks on German Etching paper, it is a high quality product guaranteed to last. Printing facilities in UK, USA and Germany ensure delivery is fast and efficient wherever you are.

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Paul Talbot-Greaves RI, Artist, Author, Tutor

Paul Talbot-Greaves is a member of the Royal Institute Of Painters In Watercolours, and has been painting and writing for 30 years. He writes many articles for The Artist magazine (UK), has four practical art books published and has contributed to various others. He is represented by numerous galleries based around the North of England. He can be found on Instagram and Facebook where he regularly posts up to date pieces and inspirational stories.