Nice article - I visited a few churches during 'Noc Kostelů' (Night of Churches) earlier this year, which is a Czech event where churches are open to the public with special events, and so on. But I'm not really familiar with architecture. What surprised me was when I read 'it seems that nobody knows who the architect was.' Is this common with churches, even those built just a few hundred years ago (I'd assume they would be celebrities if this was in the Baroque era, religious sects and 'glory to God' aside)? For such grand constructions, I'd want to plaster my name everywhere, at least I've leave a post-it note, haha.
Thanks for your comment and for letting me know about Noc Kostelů. I can't say I have often come across buildings where the architect is unknown - in this case, the church was down a side-street and not one of the more prominent ones. It's much less showy than the others - more in a Northern European tradition. I'm not sure whether the architect modestly didn't promote themselves or whether the documentation has been lost - there were probably a lot of fires in those days!
After recently travelling us back to a fine land in which a literary confection of breath taking Carpathian proportions is set (to Transylvania and to turning Dracula's dark pages) this morning you have sent me spouting f-words.
"Form, function, fashion, fairy-tale" are amongst the words that reading your words sprang to mind in reading your first rate report on the sense data garnering experience of being parachuted into the active front line of cultural engagement that is, forever, Prague.
"Frivolity" is the fifth f-word that's firmed up its claim as I've been finger typing this reflective response, or is the better word riposte, to you Annette. I get what that era labelled 'The Baroque Period' has, culturally and artistically, left us living our '21st Century Lives'. Most salient, the utmost top f my personal desiderata is the music, so much music, so much sublime music. Descending to the dungeon depths in the deep dark dank of the flip downside of The Baroque is - while I cannot say all, there always being exceptions - its overblown architectural bequest in the still standing, not yet eaten or sugar-decayed away, churches and cathedrals of its hey days.
They certainly impress me but not so much as such as such edifices as that most local to you. You know, I'm sure, that I'm referring to that masterpiece first founded when Chad-the-Lad was quick and not so aeons since deceased. Lichfield Cathedral, descended in its present guise down unto us today, is such a physical rock as St Peter likely had in mind when, with matters spiritual more than physical in mind (at least so I've ever inclined to think), he said, reportedly, "Upon this Rock I will build my Church!"
So, for me, it is the meaningful magnificence of the Romanesque that always has it over the grotesque grandiloquence of the Baroque.
"So saying", doffing cap to the Beak and to Benchers sat opposite and alongside me, "I, having stated my unexpected case, now beg leave to leave it rest with you more than to merely read and reflect upon, but rather in anticipation that you will not just actively ruminate on but choose to react to?"
Nor could I ever deny, nor ever would if I had a reasonably reasoned could so to do, to enact, that the West Front of Lichfield Cathedral is other than an aesthete's wonder to behold.
What think you Annette, both of us being, presently quietly, resident voices of Middle England of that post-war phoenix arisen that goes by the naming label of Coventry Cathedral?
Masterpiece? Monstrosity? Or something, Marvellously, In-Between?
Nice article - I visited a few churches during 'Noc Kostelů' (Night of Churches) earlier this year, which is a Czech event where churches are open to the public with special events, and so on. But I'm not really familiar with architecture. What surprised me was when I read 'it seems that nobody knows who the architect was.' Is this common with churches, even those built just a few hundred years ago (I'd assume they would be celebrities if this was in the Baroque era, religious sects and 'glory to God' aside)? For such grand constructions, I'd want to plaster my name everywhere, at least I've leave a post-it note, haha.
Thanks for your comment and for letting me know about Noc Kostelů. I can't say I have often come across buildings where the architect is unknown - in this case, the church was down a side-street and not one of the more prominent ones. It's much less showy than the others - more in a Northern European tradition. I'm not sure whether the architect modestly didn't promote themselves or whether the documentation has been lost - there were probably a lot of fires in those days!
After recently travelling us back to a fine land in which a literary confection of breath taking Carpathian proportions is set (to Transylvania and to turning Dracula's dark pages) this morning you have sent me spouting f-words.
"Form, function, fashion, fairy-tale" are amongst the words that reading your words sprang to mind in reading your first rate report on the sense data garnering experience of being parachuted into the active front line of cultural engagement that is, forever, Prague.
"Frivolity" is the fifth f-word that's firmed up its claim as I've been finger typing this reflective response, or is the better word riposte, to you Annette. I get what that era labelled 'The Baroque Period' has, culturally and artistically, left us living our '21st Century Lives'. Most salient, the utmost top f my personal desiderata is the music, so much music, so much sublime music. Descending to the dungeon depths in the deep dark dank of the flip downside of The Baroque is - while I cannot say all, there always being exceptions - its overblown architectural bequest in the still standing, not yet eaten or sugar-decayed away, churches and cathedrals of its hey days.
They certainly impress me but not so much as such as such edifices as that most local to you. You know, I'm sure, that I'm referring to that masterpiece first founded when Chad-the-Lad was quick and not so aeons since deceased. Lichfield Cathedral, descended in its present guise down unto us today, is such a physical rock as St Peter likely had in mind when, with matters spiritual more than physical in mind (at least so I've ever inclined to think), he said, reportedly, "Upon this Rock I will build my Church!"
So, for me, it is the meaningful magnificence of the Romanesque that always has it over the grotesque grandiloquence of the Baroque.
"So saying", doffing cap to the Beak and to Benchers sat opposite and alongside me, "I, having stated my unexpected case, now beg leave to leave it rest with you more than to merely read and reflect upon, but rather in anticipation that you will not just actively ruminate on but choose to react to?"
Thanks Rob. I can’t deny that Lichfield Cathedral is a beautiful building.
Nor could I ever deny, nor ever would if I had a reasonably reasoned could so to do, to enact, that the West Front of Lichfield Cathedral is other than an aesthete's wonder to behold.
What think you Annette, both of us being, presently quietly, resident voices of Middle England of that post-war phoenix arisen that goes by the naming label of Coventry Cathedral?
Masterpiece? Monstrosity? Or something, Marvellously, In-Between?
Well, it's a bold statement and of its time. I think it's more valuable for what it stands by, than for its aesethetic qualities.