Great architecture does not need great cities

by Martina Soukupová (Czech Republic)

I didn't expect to find Czech Republic

I lean my back against one of 20 original massive oak pews. Although I am not used to this particular type of sitting and the pew does feel pressing, the presence of the centuries-old wood soothes me and I find myself moving slowly over the surface with my right hand. Even I am surprised to discover a small but deeply engraved year „1811.“ The heavy entrance door opens radiating a distinctive metallic sound into the absolute silence and than parameters its notorious route across the sandstone floor. I turn around. Mark is coming hastily. I get up, step out of the pew. We greet and shake hands. I feel very excited. It seemed that Mark would not finally come because of his busy schedule. Just yesterday, his architecture design studio opened its last project so far, a futuristic round-shaped church with a detached triangular tower in Brno. But today, he is here. Uncombed, tired but smiling MgA. Mark Stepan. The main designer of this unique church reconstruction of the Piarist Church of the Discovery of the Holy Cross. The biggest church in ten thousand Litomyšl, Eastern Bohemia. He unfastens his black coat and there we sit in the pew again. „You did not retouch that on purpose?“, I ask, pointing to the engraved number. „And not only that,“ Mark smiles. „ Upstairs, behind the organ, you will also see the names of the choir boys who sang here during the 19th century. You know, it was both the turbulent history of this cathedral in general but also these magic details that helped me forge the key to the architectonic concept of this reconstruction!” Four giant wooden carved sculptures of Holy Evangelists located in the crossing of the church scrutinise us when we pace on the floor. „I remember my first visit in 2006; it was a powerful experience. In many places there were traces of leaks, somewhere plaster fell, twenty centimeters of dead pigeons under the broken windows… It was clear that there once grew birch trees. The furnishings of the church were partly damaged, dismantled, some remained in the depository, but nobody had a complete overview of where they were.“ We now stand in front of a bronze floor cover. Mark uses a remote control to open it and so I can easily enter a crypt. The crypt usually houses seasonal exhibitions of artistic and sacral work of contemporary artists. But now, the place is empty, dark, silent and yet splendidly calm and clear. A few minutes later, I stand on a steel bridge in the transept, another contemporary article embedded in the baroque architecture. That gives me a unique opportunity to view the statues from a very close distance and brings an unexpected revelation. To my surprise, I see that the evangelists do not have their back side parts carved! Now I clearly understand. The Church turned to architects, painters and sculptors to turn temples into places of overwhelming beauty and splendour. The details were not as important as the whole. I close my eyes and imagine majestic statues as part of the framework of the magnificent baroque religious ritual, the Mass, with candles lit on the altar; when the nave is filled with incense scents, and when the organ tones carry us to „another world.“ I feel much closer to heaven again when I step out of a circular wooden staircase leading to a new vista on the platform between the church steeples. We walk through the building like through an open book for almost two hours, and my eyes loom through its densely described pages. I see the very fact that this unique church has been preserved as a miracle. The notion intensifies even more as I walk out the church door. The cobled stoned road rattles busy with dozens of rushing cars that seem to drag the whole world into their galloping pace. I look up with my eyes fixed on the sculpture of Faith and Hope just above the portal. It starts to rain. With a deep breath I unfurl my umbrella and firmly step out.