Holiday in Transition # 9: An Epic Poem in Stone and Glass

I’ve mentioned several times in this blog the experience of meeting different periods of history face to face all at once.  European cities tend to do that to you, as buildings from different eras cluster cheek by jowl in the central districts.

Today’s experience is on a different level altogether: a single building which seems to coexist simultaneously in eras ranging from the 1200s to the 2000s and from here on into the future.  And that’s only one level of the experience.  The structure in and of itself can only be described as awe-inspiring. 

Not the least of it is the sheer genius of the man who imagined it all first, although he never lived to see more than a fraction of the work completed.

By now, since I’m cruising in the Mediterranean, some of my faithful readers have no doubt guessed which building I am describing.  For those who haven’t, here it is.

The portion to the left looks like the last and most elaborate period of Gothic cathedral building in the 1200s – although as you study it closely, you see that the shapes are often “not quite right” for that style.  The oval windows look distinctly eighteenth-century Palladian.  The interior certainly comes across as strikingly modern in effect.  The four tall spires – well, good luck trying to relate those to any other style of European architecture.

The church or “temple”, as its creator preferred, is the Basilica Sagrada Familia (Basilica of the Holy Family) in Barcelona, and the creator of this intensely powerful epic poem in stone was named Antoni Gaudi.  He was, at one and the same time, an architect, an artist, and a visionary with the soul of a poet – a very potent combination.  One single remark of his tells you almost all you need to know about the completely unique form of his church: “The forest is my cathedral.”  Now, take a look inside:

Those extraordinary columns and vaults are not just decorative.  Using nothing more than a pencil and paper, and an observant eye for nature, Gaudi evolved a solution to the problem which had bedevilled the builders of great churches ever since the time of the Romans: how to bridge the space with a roof while still freeing the walls from the load of the roof so they could be transformed into windows.

Of course, the great Gothic builders evolved the flying buttress on the outside of the building, to carry the load.  Some commentators, mistakenly in my opinion, have tried to define the design of Sagrada Familia as a modern adaptation of Gothic.  But to me it’s much more than that.  Gaudi’s slanting, branching and twisting columns make even the outside buttresses redundant and – in the process – create a style so unique that it can only be itself.  The result in the outer walls of the nave is a spectacle like no other.

The soaring height of the roof is the most startling feature.  The height is accentuated by the fact that the Sagrada Familia actually covers a smaller amount of land than many of the world’s other great religious structures.  Height is Gaudi’s essential dimension, and his design is nothing less than heaven-storming in its ambition. 

Light comes through in the most unexpected places – some areas are lit artificially, but some – like the symbols along the roofline of the nave – are actually lit by windows behind them.

Notice how the upper branches of the pillars in this picture change shape as they climb.  Some of the columns even twist around in a kind of spiral.  In accordance with Gaudi’s observation that nature rarely contains straight lines, the building is full of curves and angles from the main structure right down to the detail of this railing on a balcony.

Most of the decoration in fact is on the exterior – this by Gaudi’s intention.  He lived to see the near-completion of the Bethlehem Façade before his death in 1926.  It includes figures in fairly realistic styling, with each one portraying a different real person who worked on or lived near the church -- shown by this scene of the Adoration of the Shepherds.

But Gaudi knew that he would not live to see the work completed, and he expressed his wish that artists who came to work on it after him should express their own styles and feelings.  Gaudi did make clear that he wanted the Passion Façade, depicting the suffering and death of Christ, to strike awe and terror into the viewer.  The artist Josep Maria Subirachs who headed up the team of sculptors that began work on it in 1987 certainly achieved that objective – although the results have stirred controversy ever since.  

It’s going to be quite something to see how the third and largest façade, the Glory Façade (begun in 2002) will appear when it is completed and unveiled.  That’s only one of many parts of the Sagrada Familia that are still far from finished.  With the aid of modern technology and materials, and financed by admission fees and donations, the speed of the work is accelerating.  Consider this photo, taken later in the day from the heights of Montjuic.  Although it’s hazy, you have no trouble seeing the spires and the construction cranes in the distance.  When the church is completely finished (estimated for 2026) it will be just about twice as tall as what you now see.  

For a video preview of how the process will continue to completion, go to the church’s own website:  www.sagradafamilia.org/en 

My reaction to this extraordinary building is difficult to analyze as it affects me on so many levels at the same time.  I’m humbled by the faith of the man who began it, for it’s the same faith as that of the great Gothic cathedral builders of the Middle Ages.  I’m completely awed by the genius he displayed in solving the structural problems that have always bedevilled the builders of these huge churches.  And I am absolutely blown away by the sheer poetry of the space, the light, the shapes, the forms, that combine together – the total effect being far greater than the sum of its parts.  We had a guided tour of the Basilica, and afterwards were given 20 minutes of free time before returning to our bus.  Some people headed for the facilities, some for the gift shop.  I made a beeline back inside, and just sat for 20 minutes in the centre of the nave, letting the power and beauty and even elegance of the total structure soak in.  I could have easily stayed for 2 hours longer, right in the same spot.

Yes, I know there’s a great deal more to Barcelona which I missed.  I’ll get to some of those features on my next visit.