More Than Wood and Stone: Reimagining the Doors of St Mary’s Through Accessibility
By Barry Richardson
Not all doors are carved in oak or framed in stone. Some glow quietly on screens, others open in the heart. At St Mary’s, every door—visible or unseen—is being opened anew through the lens of accessibility.
Crossing the Threshold
In a recent chat with a Project Team colleague, we agreed that ‘accessibility’ is often read narrowly. At St. Mary's, and in the spirit of Re-Awakening, accessibility is reimagined as a multi-dimensional welcome—physical, sensory, emotional, and educational.
My recent visits show that the church remains a hive of renewal—with trenches, cabling, construction, repairs and scaffolding shaping transformation - and through this disruption, the spirit of welcome is being quietly reimagined.
Before the Closure
Before the doors were sealed, I’d often visit for quiet reflection—usually with a cup of tea in hand. St Mary’s was one of the few places in Newark where my mobile couldn’t reach me. I’d sit in the stillness, wondering who had crossed these thresholds before me, and why. Then I’d wander, think, and listen to the silence.
What Lies Behind the Doors
I suspect every first-time visitor shares a curiosity about what lies beyond. Spoiler alert: a majestic medieval space, steeped thoroughly in history.
This is why accessibility matters. There’s a story here for everyone, regardless of how—or why—they arrive.
The Doors of St Mary’s
Traditionally, we enter buildings through open doors, and at St Mary’s, each entrance—whether grand or modest—holds its own legacy and its own invitation.
Six entrances hold particular significance. Currently, many doors remain obscured by scaffolding and hoardings, yet each doorway carries its own story, symbolism, and welcome—and each will soon offer not just passage, but possibility.
The West Door
The West Door is the grand statement—the open arms to the town. Tall and ornate, it has long hosted processions, weddings, and civic gatherings. Dating to the 13th century, it boasts bold Gothic mouldings and dogtooth ornamentation. For me, it was always the door nearest the café.
Though some future visitors may enter from other doors, the West Door remains the ceremonial heart. As part of the accessibility improvements, it will be reimagined not just as grand, but as gracious—its dignity softened by ramps, lighting, automatic doors and signage that say: you are welcome, however you arrive.
2. The South Porch
With its pinnacles and sheltering arch, the Perpendicular-style South Porch has long offered a graceful welcome. Once used for meetings and a schoolroom, it invites pause—shelter, then entry.
It will remain a step-free, well-lit, inclusive entrance to the Church. Whether you arrive with wheels, a guide dog, a buggy, or a quiet need for sanctuary, this door will say: come in. Accessibility here is not just practical—it is pastoral.
Reproduced from the Southwell & Nottingham Church History Project
3. The North Porch
This door retained a sense of mystery until I asked for some info about it.
It is currently used as storage, but will be re-purposed as a further entrance when St Mary’s reopens shortly. Likely dating from the 16th-century Gothic building works, it feels like a blank canvas for a future ‘yet-to-be-imagined’ project…
Photo taken after scaffolding removal showing the repairs to stonework.
4. The Vicar’s Door
My favourite door—quirky yet practical—is set in the North transept. It once allowed swift access from the former vicarage site, linking secular life to sacred rhythm. I can imagine a curate crashing through it, late for robing, shattering the stillness of St Mary’s with a flurry of purpose.
That reminds me of the time I overslept for a wedding - uncharacteristically late, flustered, and grateful that the bride was even more fashionably delayed than I was!
Quietly dignified, the Vicar’s Door has long whispered of service and vocation. Now, it steps into a renewed chapter—reopening for large gatherings and serving as an Emergency Fire Exit. In this dual role, it finds fresh pastoral and practical purpose, adding a new layer of meaning to its delightfully eccentric past.
The Vicar’s Door - now visible again following the removal of scaffolding.
5. The Vestry Door
Often unnoticed, the Vestry Door leads to quiet purpose. During the Re-Awakening, it has become a refuge—bypassing disruption and offering continuity for the Church’s work.
Historically, the vestry is where the heartbeat of the church is orchestrated. This modest door leads to a space of unseen labour and care. It reminds us that sacred spaces are sustained not just by ceremony, but by quiet industry. And in terms of accessibility, it shows that behind every welcome is work—planning, listening, adapting, and reimagining what welcome truly means.
6. The Digital Door
Not all thresholds are carved in stone. Some glow quietly on screens, offering entry through pixels and prose. This blog, our Facebook posts, and the Church website are doors too—digital thresholds that remain open even while the building sleeps beneath scaffolding. They whisper of progress, of prayers continuing, of festivals unfolding in step with the turning of the liturgical year—and of gatherings that celebrate the skills and crafts of those who shape the life of the Church.
Through these screens, the heartbeat of St Mary’s is felt beyond its walls—steady, sacred, and still welcoming.
Closing Reflection
When St Mary’s reopens, accessibility will no longer be a bolt-on. It will draw from what is already there—leveraging the building’s inherited structure to become the architecture of welcome. Step-free paths, ramps, automatic doors, sensory-friendly spaces, interpretation panels with Braille and QR codes, and a digital presence that reaches beyond the walls: each element will honour every kind of arrival.
Most doors will swing wide again. The enigmatic Vicar’s Door and the stately North Porch—long part of the church’s medieval and later fabric—will return to quiet service. Not rediscovered, but re-engaged. They remain what they have always been: thresholds of vocation, imagination, and inclusion.
And through every doorway—wooden, pixelated, symbolic—St Mary’s will whisper its invitation: come as you are. Because the work of welcome is never finished. It is lived, renewed, and held open for whoever comes next…