Part Four
Crowning Glory
by Toby West*
By the early 1990s, Auckland’s Anglican cathedral had been sitting in an embarrassing half-completed state for around three decades. So far, only the neo-gothic chancel designed by Charles Towle (1898–1960) had been built. The chancel contained space for the altar and choir, but without a nave there was no room for the congregation to sit. The building also lacked a chapel, another crucial feature of any cathedral. A plan for the nave had been selected decades ago – a modern design by Dr. Richard Toy, by now an emeritus professor at Auckland University’s School of Architecture. But Toy’s design had been controversial back when it was chosen in 1963 (two members of the cathedral committee had resigned in protest over the dean’s insistence on pursuing it) and it remained controversial 30 years later. This final article in a series of four will cover the completion of the cathedral, from the 1990s to the 2010s.
The feuding architects in their old age: Malcolm Mckenzie (left) and Richard Toy (right).
The most vocal critic of the design was Malcolm Mckenzie, the man who had preceded Professor Toy as the lead architect of the project. McKenzie had offered a more traditional solution to completing the cathedral which he felt retained the basic character of Towle’s original. It was this design which had been rejected in favour of Toy’s. In an impassioned screed published in Architecture New Zealand in the early 90s, McKenzie characterised Toy’s nave design as “positively pagan,” describing the structure as “inhuman and much too angular in its forms.” For McKenzie, the proposed nave was more than a mere architectural eyesore; he saw it as a microcosm of the moral degeneration of society. McKenzie lamented the fact that, as he saw it, Toy’s design was being “imposed from above” in an authoritarian manner. He felt that the design reflected the radical vision of a single-minded auteur, rather than the general will of the people who would be using the building as their place of worship. McKenzie summarised his thoughts by saying:
“This whole cathedral debacle is symbolic of the sickness of our times. As a people we are rapidly becoming godless, materialistic, self-sufficient, selfish, uncaring, and filled with pride and arrogance and, to a degree, Dr. Toy’s nave is an expression of such times.”
Well into the 1980s, Mckenzie expressed doubt that Toy’s “uncompromisingly modern” nave would ever materialise. In a letter to the editor of the New Zealand Herald, he pointed out that there had been approximately 50 proposed designs for the cathedral throughout its long history, and that Toy’s design was still “only a model and may fare no better than the rest.” McKenzie’s vociferous protests, though, proved to be in vain. In 1992, construction finally began on Dr. Toy’s nave design. It was finally completed in 1995, shortly after Toy himself passed away at the age of 84.
Left: Boys from King’s School outside the new nave under construction, 1993. Right: The completed nave, 1997.
When the nave was finished, The Dean of Auckland commented that “this building makes a significant statement about the creativity of the human spirit and is built to serve many generations.” Toy would be posthumously honoured for his contribution to the cathedral, being awarded an Auckland Architecture Award in 2024. Arguably though, the most iconic aspect of the nave is not the building itself, but its stained-glass windows – a traditional feature of European cathedrals. A team of artists led by Elam-graduate Nigel Brown were tasked with producing a series of windows which would capture the awe and majesty of the traditional European designs, while at the same time embodying a distinctly local aesthetic. Over the course of three years, the stained-glass windows were designed, painstakingly manufactured, and installed – just in time for the millennium.
The main windows, located on the Northern facade of the building, are composed of three pictorial sections, with two geometric sections separating them. At the time they were finished, they were “the largest expanse of stained-glass in the southern hemisphere.” The three pictorial windows come together to create an awe-inspiring triptych that illustrates the creation story and the resurrection of Christ, while simultaneously paying tribute to the mix of cultures who have played a role in the history of the Auckland diocese.
On the left-hand side (when viewed from indoors), is the “European window.” This window tells the story of Auckland’s modern founding and development in an intentionally anachronistic manner. In the foreground is a European-style sailing ship anchored in the bay – reminiscent of the kind of ship that would have transported Bishop Selwyn to these shores nearly two centuries ago. Behind the ship, a road chock-a-block with traffic snakes its way around the coast, and in the far distance the modern city centre is visible, complete with motorways and silver sky-scrapers. On the opposite side is the “Polynesian window,” which depicts the ocean, teeming with marine life. In the foreground is a basket of taro and kūmara – the staple foods which sustained the indigenous populations in the centuries prior to European arrival. Additionally, a tapa cloth and frangipani tree serve to represent the large number of Pacific islanders who have migrated to New Zealand in modern times.
Left: The front windows of Holy Trinity Cathedral. From left to right: the European window, the resurrection scene, and the Polynesian Window. Right: Detail from the signature window, featuring Horton, Toy, and Selwyn in the bottom pane.
In the centre is the largest window, which displays Christ after the resurrection, being observed by Mary Magdalene. This traditional scene from the gospels is reimagined as taking place in Tāmaki Makaurau, with native plants such as nikau and harakeke featuring prominently, and the unmistakable silhouette of Rangitoto island in the background. Breaking with the European tradition, Christ is shown as brown-skinned and ethnically ambiguous. Above him is a dazzling design which represents God’s creative power. In the centre is a prism, refracting the colours of the rainbow in all directions, and this is surrounded by a “flower” of seven petals, representing the seven days of creation. Each of these “petals” curl at the tip, reminiscent of the koru shape of young fern fronds. In Māori art, the koru typically symbolises new life – a fitting motif to accompany the resurrection scene as well as an apt symbol for the new cathedral itself.
The “signature” window, virtually hidden halfway up a staircase leading to the mezzanine, pays homage to several individuals whose contributions made the construction of the cathedral possible. In the bottom panel of the window, Dr. Richard Toy stands alongside the benefactor Miss Horton, and just below them is Bishop Selwyn.
Throughout the 2010s, a number of finishing touches were added both inside the cathedral and on the grounds surrounding it. Firstly, in 2010, a sculpture by Terry Stringer called Mountain Fountain arrived on the site. The massive bronze sculpture, which is an abstract representation of a volcano, previously sat in Aotea square between 1981 and 2008. There it had been used as a ramp by skateboarders, before it had to be removed to make way for redevelopment of the square. In 2016, the last and smallest section of the cathedral building was completed. Bishop Selwyn chapel, a modern multi-purpose function room with glass walls and a concave golden ceiling, sits in the rear of the building. Outside in the garden is an 8.4-metre tall golden cross, designed by New Zealand sculptor Neil Dawson. Engraved into the stone benches outside are Selwyn’s dying words: “ka mārama ngā mea katoa” – “it is all light.”
Left: Terry Stringer’s ‘Mountain Fountain’ in Aotea Square, 1989. Right: The sculpture in its present location.
The Bishop Selwyn Chapel, with Neil Dawson’s cross sculpture.
The following year, the church completed the arduous, multi-year process of replacing the cathedral’s old pipe organ. The original organ, which had been installed in the late 1960s, was already New Zealand’s largest musical instrument. The new organ became the largest church organ in the entire southern hemisphere, with a total of 5,432 bespoke pipes which had to be shipped from England. With the chapel completed and the brand new organ installed, Holy Trinity Cathedral was finally consecrated in October 2017 – 175 years after Bishop Selwyn acquired the plot of land.
When the nave had been completed, Dean Rymer proclaimed that “the completion of the cathedral has been an act of faith,” and that it had been built “the way cathedrals were built in the past – with community involvement.” In some ways, the long and drawn-out process by which the cathedral came to be built is nothing unusual within the broader history of cathedrals. The Notre Dame in Paris took roughly 180 years to be built. And many famous cathedrals took far longer than that; Milan Cathedral took 579 years from start to finish, and Cologne cathedral took 632!
There is an important difference though. The aforementioned cathedrals were all begun in the Middle Ages, and while many design changes were made in the ensuing centuries, great care was taken to make sure that the new sections of the building would match (or at least harmonise with) the original gothic style. For a more contemporary example, the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona is still under construction after 140 years, and yet the cathedral is still being completed according to the original groundbreaking design of Antoni Gaudí, despite Gaudí having passed away nearly a century ago. In this sense, it is not entirely true to say that Holy Trinity Cathedral was completed “the way cathedrals were built in the past,” as Richard Toy’s extension was obviously meant to contrast with the existing structure rather than blend with it. His intention was to bring together starkly different structures in what he referred to as a “cluster concept.” It was for this reason that, in 1982, the 19th century St. Mary’s church was relocated from the other side of Parnell Road to sit alongside the cathedral, further deepening the sense of contrast.
In his history of the Anglican Diocese of Auckland, Allan K. Davidson defends the modern state of the cathedral:
The three contrasting styles of architecture – Benjamin Mountfort’s superb example of colonial wooden Gothic, Charles Towle’s English red brick choir and chancel, and Richard Toy’s sweeping roofline nave and its welcoming forecourt – reflect the different strands of Anglican identity in the Diocese of Auckland. […] While some are critical that the buildings represent contrasting and even clashing styles of architecture, there is a historical honesty in the complex which reflects where the church has come from and its vision for the future.
Davidson argues that St. Mary’s perfectly illustrates the colonial stage of Auckland’s history. In the 19th century, Auckland’s population consisted largely of British-born settlers who were yet to develop a distinct sense of nationhood. At this time, New Zealand was peripheral and underdeveloped from the British perspective. As such, St. Mary’s is built on a very traditional model, emulating the gothic style typically found in England, yet using the materials that were available to them as pioneers in a far-flung colony – namely wood. This phenomenon can be observed in other 19th century New Zealand buildings, such as the former Government House in Auckland or the Old Government Buildings in Wellington, which are likewise built on traditional European models using locally-sourced timber.
The 20th century neo-Gothic chancel represents a transition in identity, pointing to “a church and people in the 1950s that still thought of England as home,” but who had gained a sense of self-confidence in their city. The building is still British in style (bearing a strong resemblance to Guildford Cathedral in Surrey), yet its magnitude and material composition made the statement New Zealand had grown up from a small colony into a respectable nation in its own right.
Finally, Toy’s modernist nave represents a modern New Zealand, now eager to assert its own unique national identity. The building certainly is unlike anything in Britain, and the nave’s triple-pointed roof is intentionally built “in sympathy with the Auckland landscape,” known for its many rugged volcanic peaks. Its pitched timber ceiling has even drawn comparisons to a marae, the traditional meeting-house in Māori and Polynesian cultures which, like the cathedral itself, serves a variety of both spiritual and secular functions.
The jagged mountainous peaks of Holy Trinity Cathedral.
One cannot deny that Holy Trinity Cathedral brings together a peculiar mix of architectural styles. Yet this is precisely what makes it a quintessential Auckland building – after all, what is Auckland city if not a diverse, disjointed “cluster concept” of a city? Rather than a single, coherent building, the modern Holy Trinity Cathedral is like a monumental museum exhibit which bears witness to various stages of the history of the diocese, and, in a broader sense, to the history of the country itself. The three buildings come together to form a trinity of their own. Just as the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are all distinct entities which together make up God according to Christian doctrine, the three main components of the cathedral are all distinct entities with their own history and identity – yet together, they are all the cathedral.