številka / volume 151-152
junij / june 2001
letnik / anno XXXI

svetost
sacredness

vsebina številke
table of contents

Miha Dešman Uvodnik
Editorial
Andrej Hrausky Rudolf Schwarz, o gradnji cerkva
Rudolf Schwarz, the Church Incarnate
Petra Čeferin V bran tišine
In Defence of Silence
Mateja Gale Sakralni arhitekturni prostor
Nataša Koselj Gozd, park in pokopališče
A Forest, Park and Cemetery
Nataša Koselj Prenova
Renovation
Ira Zorko Varuh kraja
The Guardian of Place
Andrej Hrausky Parlament
The Parliament
Vlatka Ljubanović Cerkev sv. Nikolaja na Reki
Petra Čeferin Zamišljanje arhitekture
Imagining Architecture
Petra Čeferin Kapela izgubljenih predmetov
A Chapel of Lost Objects
Sandi Pirš Belo-črno
Black and White
Toni Bešlić Trnje
Alan Kostrenčić Cerkev Marije zavetnice
Alan Kostrenčić Iluminatorji prostorskega kolaža
Janez Koželj Študije drugačnega sakralnega prostora
Dimitrij Omersa Sveti - posvečeni kraji in objekti
  abforum
Nataša Pavlin, Aleksander S. Ostan Sveže novice z oddaljenega otoka
Fresh News from a Distant Island
Miha Dešman Less is More
Less is More
Miha Dešman Picasso ali Zappa?
Picasso or Zappa?
Irénée Scalbert Lepota neba

uvodnik

“Arhitektura poje, govori ali molči.” P. Valery

Urbani prostor, ki ga oblikuje zven cerkvenih zvonov, ne sledi urbanističnim teorijam niti arhitektovi domišljiji. Izmika se celo neposrednemu institucionalnemu nadzoru cerkve. Je nekaj drugega, dotika se svetega. Beseda sveto kljub deklariranima “koncu zgodovine in smrti Boga” noče zlahka iz obtoka, ostala je filozofom in pesnikom, umetnikom in zdravnikom. Kaj pa arhitektom?

Kaj je sveto? To, kar združuje mnoge duše, poklicane v skupnost. To, kar predstavlja središče in luč. To, kar sije smisel. Da bi razumeli konotacije svetega, ki so povezane s prostorom, arhitekturo in mestom, se moramo torej zavedati, da je njegov pomen vezan na kolektivno, da je nekakšen garant skupnosti. Čemu služijo kamni? Gradnji cerkve. Gradnja cerkve ni preprosto rokodelstvo, je dejanje duha. Je najvišja arhitekturna naloga, prostor dialoga ljudi z Bogom, privilegirani prostor svetega.

Templja ne more biti brez domovine in brez korenin, hkrati pa mora izraziti najvišje, kar zmoreta človek in skupnost. Arhitekt je zastopnik, pooblaščenec skupnosti, da gradi za Boga, da ustvarja posodo Božjemu. Torej je arhitektura cerkve umetniški dosežek, namenjen Bogu, ljudem pa toliko, kolikor jih napotuje k transcendenci.

Danes v glavnem ne živimo več v farni skupnosti, ki jo je določal zvon. Socialne identitete so se razpršile in individualizirale, hkrati soobstajajo ekstremno različni načini življenja. Še vedno pa tudi nas, urbane prebivalce informacijskega časa, notranje bolj izpolni večer v družbi duhovitih sogovornikov kot samotne ure na spletnih straneh. Tako je tudi doživetje prostora mnogo bolj substancialno v resničnem prostoru, ambientu, arhitekturi, naravi, napolnjenih s spiritualno energijo, kot v anemičnem okolju brez transcendentalne dimenzije.

Ni naključje, da so najboljše arhitekture moderne dobe cerkvene stavbe. Miesova kapela IIT, Corbusierova Ronchamp in La Tourette, Aaltove Imatra, Vuoksenniska in Riola, Zumthorjev Sogn Benedegt, Plečnikova Bogojina… To so dela arhitektov, ki so najbolj poglobljeno in dosledno interpretirali dvoumnost sodobnosti. Sodobnosti, kot jo uteleša Kleejev angel; stopa naprej, s pogledom, obrnjenim v preteklost. Iz fragmenta in odsotnosti so ustvarjali poglobljene refleksije o celoti in polnosti smisla.

Za sodobno arhitekturo ne more obstajati nikakršen čvrsti fundament, nikakršen stabilni temelj, graditi mora v praznem in v praznino: “Kraji današnje arhitekture ne morejo ponavljati permanentnosti, ki jih je proizvedla vitruvijska firmitas. Efekti trajnostnega, stabilnega, čas presegajočega so zdaj irelevantni. V dobi agnosticizma ideja kraja kot kultiviranja in ohranjanja bistvenega in utemeljitvenega ni več prepričljiva; postane reakcionarna. Ni pa nujno, da izguba teh iluzij konča v nihilistični arhitekturi negacije. Porajanje kraja ostaja mogoče na najraznoterejše načine, a vseeno ne kot razodevanje česa obstojnega, ampak kot porajanje dogodja”, pravi nedavno umrli katalonski arhitekt Ignacio de Sola Morales v svojem komentarju k Heideggrovi filozofiji.

Najbrž ni modno govoriti o svetem. Religija in celo spiritualnost sta v razvitem svetu v nemilosti. Materialne dobrine so prevzele mesto transcendentalnih vrednot. Sveto pa ni ulovljivo v mreže človekovega dogodja, še manj ugodja. Je okvir in hkrati grožnja. Opominja na bližino niča, ne-smisla, horrorja vacui. Čeprav naj bi bil Bog mrtev, potreba po transcendentalnosti ostaja človekova temeljna, pa hkrati tudi nikoli povsem izpolnljiva želja. Šele sublimno, tisto, kar je onkraj vsakdanjega, koristnega, uporabnega, pa tudi nedosegljivo in neizpolnljivo, producira smisel. Smisla ni brez svetega. Sveto je tako žrtev kot tudi odrešitev, obstaja za nas in mimo nas.

Sveti prostor in sveti čas se poenotitita v templju. V dobi, kot je naša, se le redko zavedamo pomena, ki ga je prostor, namenjen kultu, imel v zgodovini arhitekture. Od prvih arhitektur, kot je Stonehenge, prek egipčanskih in grških templjev, japonskih, kitajskih, muslimanskih, bizantinskih cerkva, prek gotike, renesanse in baroka do sodobnosti - vsem je skupen smisel za skladnost in lepoto. Danes Cerkev v želji, da bi ugajala, zapušča radikalnost Absolutnega in se priklanja populizmu. V sakralni arhitekturi, ki je umetnost po definiciji, je tak kompromis vprašljiv. Cerkev pač ni s sakralnimi simboli okrašena funkcionalna stavba.

V zgodovini so bili cerkveni dostojanstveniki tisti, ki so si zamišljali fantazijske podobe cerkva, in so jih stavbarji potem prizemljevali in umirjali v meje možnega za izvedbo. V sodobnosti so arhitekti tisti, ki fantazirajo, in kleriki tisti, ki jim nadevajo uzde. Če je, denimo, še Plečnik raziskoval meje iz klasične sakralne tradicije navzven, je pozneje situacija obrnjena in moderno arhitekturo poskušajo uvesti v sakralno gradnjo od zunaj, kot stil časa.

Gradnja cerkve je še vedno prestižna arhitekturna naloga. Vendar za kvaliteto nove cerkve ni pogoj arhitektova religioznost, ampak predvsem njegovo znanje in sposobnost. Čudeči se agnostik ima več možnosti kot filister. Napetosti med željo po praktičnosti in uporabnosti ter zahtevo po sublimaciji prostora niti Cerkev niti arhitekt ne moreta rešiti s pometanjem konflikta pod preprogo, saj nerazrešeni problemi iz preteklosti sedanjost praviloma postavljajo v krizo.

“Kristus, ali si res moral tako trpeti, ko pa je ljudem dovolj tako banalna podoba tebe?” H. Hesse, Stepni volk

Pričujoča številka revije ab ima več sklopov. V prvem govorimo o genezi sakralnega prostora. V drugem so predstavljeni nekateri slovenski primeri, v katerih je dimenzija svetega obravnavana kreativno in spoštljivo. Ker smo na tem področju izrazito šibki - ne sicer po številu realizacij, pač pa predvsem po njihovi kvaliteti - je dodanih nekaj primerov iz sosednjih okolij, Hrvaške, Avstrije, Finske, ki kažejo večji posluh za sodobno sakralno arhitekturo. Razpon sega od sodobne metropolitanske cerkvene stavbe kot socialnega in kulturnega kondenzatorja do cerkve kot izraza še žive tradicionalne vere v ruralnem okolju. Da je sakralnost lahko izziv tudi za avantgardno arhitekturo, nam kažejo študentske raziskave sakralnega prostora, na dragocenost dediščine svetih prostorov pa opozarja prispevek o vojaških pokopališčih iz prve svetovne vojne.

editorial

Architecture either sings, speaks or remains silent. P. Valéry

Urban space formed by the sound of church bells follows neither urban design theories nor the architect's imagination. It even avoids the direct institutionalised control of the Church. It is something else, it enters the realm of the sacred. Despite the declared “end of history and death of God”, the term “sacred” is somehow refusing to go out of usage; it is left to philosophers and poets, artists and doctors. But what about architects?

What is sacred? That which is common to many souls, called into a community. That which represents the centre and light. That which gives sense. To understand the spatial, architectural and civic connotations of the sacred, we need to be aware that its importance is linked to the collective, that it is a kind of warrant of the community.

What are stones for? To build a church. Building a church is not a mere craft, it is a deed of the spirit. It is the highest architectural task, a space for people to engage in dialogue with God, a privileged space of the sacred.

A temple cannot exist without a homeland and without roots, and at the same time it needs to express the highest thing that a man and a community can achieve. The architect is a representative of the community, authorised to build for God, to create a vessel to the Divine. The architecture of a church is therefore the highest artistic achievement, intended for God, and for people, in as much as it directs them towards transcendence.

Today we generally no longer live in parish communities, defined by the sound of the bell. Social identities are dispersed and individualised, while extremely different ways of life co-exist simultaneously. But we, the urban inhabitants of the information era, still feel more fulfilled by a vernissage in the company of witty collocutors than by a lonely evening in spent surfing the internet. The experience of space too is much more substantial in a real ambience, filled with spiritual energy, in an ambient architecture, in the open air, than in an anaemic environment lacking any transcendent dimension.

It is no coincidence that the best architectures of the modern era are church buildings. The IIT chapel by Mies, Ronchamp and La Tourette by Le Corbusier, Imatra, Vuoksenniska and Riola by Aalto, Sogn Benedegt by Zumthor, Bogojina by Plečnik, etc.: these are the works of architects who have, with the greatest deal of insight and consistency, interpreted the essential ambiguity of contemporaneity. Contemporaneity as personified by Klee's angel: he steps forward, but his eyes are turned back into the past. They have created reflections about the whole and the fullness of meaning out of fragmentation and absence.

Contemporary architecture cannot have a solid foundation, it needs to construct in the void and for the void: “The places of today's architecture cannot repeat the permanence produced by Vitruvian firmitas. The effects of the sustainable, the stable, the transcendent, are now irrelevant. In this era of agnosticism, the idea of place as a cultivation or preservation of what is most essential and founding is no longer convincing, it becomes reactionary. It does not follow, though, that the loss of these illusions should result in a nihilistic architecture of negation. The generation of space remains possible in many different ways, and yet not as a revelation of something durable, but as the generation of an event”, said the recently deceased Catalan architect Ignacio de Sola Morales in his commentary on Heidegger's philosophy.

It is perhaps not very fashionable to speak about the sacred. In the developed world, religion and even spirituality are not granted any mercy. Material values have taken the place of transcendental ones. The sacred, however, cannot be caught up in the nets of human events, and even less of human comfort. It is a frame and at the same time a threat. It reminds us of the proximity of nothingness, of non-sense, of the horror vacui. Although God is supposedly dead, the need for transcendence remains man's basic, and yet essentially unfulfilled, desire. Only the sublime, that which stands in opposition to the everyday, the useful, the applicable, but is at the same time unattainable and unrealisable, produces the meaning. There is no meaning without the sacred. The sacred is at the same time a victim and a revelation, it exists for us and passes us by.

Sacred space and sacred time become one in a temple. In such times as ours, we only seldom become aware of the meaning that space, indented to the cult, has had in the history of architecture: from the first architectures, such as Stonehenge, to Egyptian and Greek temples, to the Japanese, Chinese, Muslim, and Byzantine churches, to the Gothic, Renaissance and Baroque, to the contemporary. All of them, however, share a feeling for harmony and beauty. Today, the Church is in crisis. In its desire to please, it leaves the radical character of the Absolute and bows to populism. In sacred architecture, which is art by definition, compromise is open to question. The church is not simply a functional building, decorated with sacred symbols. Historically, the church officials were those who designed the fantastical images of the churches, which were then brought down to earth by the builders, and measured to fit the limits of possible realisation. In our times, those who fantasise are the architects, and the clerks are the ones who set the limits. If, for instance, Plečnik continued to research the limits of classical sacred tradition towards the outside, the situation later became reversed, and modern architecture tries to penetrate the sacred building from the outside, as a style of the times.

Building a church is still a prestigious architectural task. But in order to ensure the quality of a new church, the architect’s religiousness is not enough, if it is not accompanied by his or her knowledge and capabilities. The wondering agnostic has more chance than a philistine. The tensions between a wish for practicality and applicability on the one hand, and a demand for sublimation of space on the other, cannot be solved, either by the Church or by the architect, by merely sweeping the conflict under the carpet; for, as a rule, unsolved problems from the past send the present into crisis.

“O Christ, did you really have to suffer so much, when people are satisfied with such a banal image of you?” H. Hesse, The Steppe Wolf.

The current issue of ab has several sections. The first one deals with the genesis of sacred space. The second presents certain Slovene examples which deal with the dimension of the sacred in a creative and respectful way. Because we are relatively weak in this field – not in the number of realisations, but by their quality – we have added certain examples from Croatia, Austria and Finland, which demonstrate a greater understanding of contemporary sacred architecture. It spans from the contemporary metropolitan church building as a social and cultural condenser, to the church as an expression of the still vivid traditional religion in rural areas. The fact that sacredness can also be a challenge for avant-garde architecture is proved by student exhibitions of sacred space, while we are reminded of how precious the heritage of sacred places is in an article about military cemeteries from World War I.