As part of a week exploring the charm of the Vendée, we spent an afternoon in the small village of Nieul-sur-l’Autise — a stop that turned out to be an unexpected highlight of the trip. Tucked away on the edge of the Marais Poitevin, Nieul is a place steeped in history. The village is best known for its former royal abbey, a remarkably well-preserved Romanesque site that has stood here since the 11th century.
Founded in 1069 by Airaud Gassedenier, a follower of William VIII of Aquitaine, the abbey was established to house a community of Augustinian canons tasked with draining and reclaiming the surrounding marshlands. It was later elevated to royal status in 1141 by King Louis VII, then married to Eleanor of Aquitaine.
The abbey took a beating during the Wars of Religion, but was partly rescued in the 19th century by Prosper Mérimée— novelist, heritage enthusiast, and all-round saver of old buildings. What remains today is a quietly impressive ensemble of Poitevin Romanesque architecture.
The abbey church itself is an impressive space — barrel vaulting, paired columns, and two bell towers that seem to be doing their best to outlast everything else. And while the light wasn’t exactly flattering, we did our best to embrace the high contrast and call it “creative interpretation.”
While the church, with its two bell towers and powerful stone arches, is certainly worth a visit — it’s the exceptionally well-preserved romanesque cloister that will capture the attention of every photographer. A few years ago I did a project on the ruined abbeys of the Scottish borders, where no romanesque cloisters have survived so it was inspiring to be able to finally photograph one.
We’d arrived just after lunch, and the light was, let’s say, challenging but there was enough light filtering through the cloister’s arches creating an ever-shifting tapestry of shadows on the worn stone floor. There was a hushed quality to it all — as though time had slowed to allow us to really see the details: the subtle textures, the soft decay of centuries, the warm texture of the stone.
For anyone drawn to black and white photography, this space is a gift. The geometry, the light, the silence — all combine into something deeply meditative. We spent a long time here, simply watching the light change, framing compositions, and trying to capture something of the stillness.
Nieul-sur-l’Autise may not appear in every tourist guide, but for anyone with a love of history, architecture, or quiet moments of light and shadow, it’s a place well worth seeking out. A gentle reminder, midway through our Vendée travels, of how such spaces can offer photographic rewards even in the June sunshine.
