“For the first time since I had been in Barcelona I went to look at the cathedral – a modern cathedral, and one of the most hideous buildings in the world. It has four crenellated spires exactly the shape of hock bottles. Unlike most of the churches in Barcelona, it was not damaged during the Revolution–it was spared because of its ‘Artistic value’, people said. I think the anarchists showed bad taste in not blowing it up when they had the chance….”
That’s George Orwell, in Homage to Catalonia, writing about El Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Familia (The Expiatory Temple of the Holy Family). It is, contrary to what Orwell says, not a cathedral: it’s a Catholic Christian temple built independently of the Catholic Church. Expiate means to atone for; make amends or reparation for: to expiate one’s crimes. This reveals the motivation behind its design. It’s an exuberantly reactionary death throe of orthodox Christianity, built so that we could all atone for the sins of modern life.
Spending Christmas in Barcelona was wonderful, and this building is a must-see, whatever your persuasion. It is certainly awesome: I gasped when I glimpsed it from the top of the tourist bus over the intervening apartment block. The intensive craftsmanship went against the architectural mood of the early 20th century, which celebrated mass production; maybe that’s what makes it so interesting: its eccentricity. It’s a building out of time, and in more than one sense: it’s still being built, many decades after Gaudi’s death, even though it’s already a relic. An eccentric, fascinating, inspired and masterful relic, but a relic nonetheless. But I suppose all churches are relics, and yet I like them. This has got me to thinking: a building is more than just beautiful or ugly. For example, it can be awe-inspiring, and one can be awed by a work of ugliness.
It’s not a stretch to see this building as ugly. The nativity facade, shown above, is in a sense gross, meaning vulgar and flagrant. But don’t get me wrong. The guy was an immense talent, perhaps a genius, and I can’t help but like him and his ideas. But somehow the fundamentalism of this building is offensive, unlike older churches. Perhaps it’s just that: it’s of the modern era and not easily consigned to the distant past. But, come to think of it, it’s not only the older churches I’m fond of and which I feel are relatively benign: a few years ago I went to the Metrolpolitan Cathedral in Liverpool, built in the mid 20th century, and there was none of the aggression and frenzy of the Sagrada Familia.
But do I like it? It’s truly amazing, but I like some parts of it more than others. I can’t see it making much sense as a whole, but I should hold off judging it until it’s finished. I was very taken with the interior, shown above, looking like some kind of ossified jungle.
There are two of Gaudi’s buildings on the same street, just a few block apart on Passeig de Gracia. The reason for my preferring Casa Mila was that it was fully Gaudi’s design, right down to its deepest structure, whereas Casa Batllo was a conversion, still utilizing the bones of the original house. (the top two are Casa Mila, the bottom two are Casa Batllo, and it’s worth following those links because my photos aren’t too hot in this instance).
The fundamental difference can be clearly seen, although Casa Batllo is superficially more wild and radical inside, because of the striking use of colour and the exuberant variety of shapes. Casa Mila is an organic whole, in a way more restrained and conventional – at least to 21st century eyes – but at the same time more profoundly original. Or maybe that’s wrong. It is more that Casa Mila represents the synthesis of his ideas, and Batllo represents an indiscriminate showy youthfulness. I loved them both. There’s an excellent article on the interior of Casa Batllo here at ArchitectureWeek.com
The drawing – of some kind of warrior perhaps – was in the museum in the crypt of the Sagrada Familia, and look what I find on the roof of Casa Mila. George Lucas allegedly said that these chimneys inspired his design for the stormtrooper helmets in Star Wars.
More on Barcelona soon.
In my quiet moments
I wonder how you are;
Although we are apart
In my thoughts your never far.
What tomorrow holds
Through my tears I cannot see;
I will get through today the best I can
Happy that you once loved me.
I remember once you shared with me
A portion of your life;
Memories are mine forever
And help me make it through till light
Now I must try to live my life alone
Make it fresh and new
Still do the things I always wanted to
While always loving you.
stumbles accross this whilst looking for something else, but you’ve hit the nail on the head with regards the wackiness of Gaudi, and there are some great photos, there, too.
Good blog, keep it up.