DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.41589#0034
Standing a little apart, these piers would have been salient features for anyone
approaching in the normal way from the west end of the church. After traversing the
narrow aisle, flanked by the double arcading, the open space would have suddenly
doubled, with the elaborate pier marking its centre. This prepares one for the following
bay in which the full width of transept and crossing becomes visible. The original apse
opened immediately out of the eastern transept, so the free-standing piers will have
formed a dramatic marker for the entrance to the sanctuary and the area in which the
proposed shrine of Remigius would have been placed.
The similar piers in the cathedral of Trondheim, although not freestanding as at
Lincoln, also mark the entrance to the presbytery15. There is a long tradition of the use
of special columns or piers to mark out important areas of a building. Charles Onians
has provided details of antique and early Christian examples and Eric Fernie has argued
for such an understanding of English Romanesque designs such as the spiral piers at
Norwich16. Both Isidore of Seville and Hrabanus Maurus write about the mearung of
columns and explain their mystical significance17.
Suger likewise interpreted the columns of the new apse of Saint-Denis in theological
terms18. There is also, of course, the biblical precedent of the twin columns Iachin and
Boaz which marked the entrance to Solomon’s Temple. The form of the Trondheim’
piers at Lincoln is eminently suitable to the task of marking out the sanctuary. The
crockets (Fig. 19) are very similar in shape to the sprouts which are portrayed on
depictions of the cross of Christ as the Lignum Vitae19. The Tree of Life is an eminently
fitting symbol to prepare the pilgrim for the altar on which Christ’s crucified and
resurrected body is offered.
It is also at this point where the aisles open in their first step that a small amount of
figurative carving is introduced: the spandrel angels and some corbels in the transepts.
So the free-standing piers form dramatic markers to the sacred space which is further
marked out by the introduction of angelic images. There was also a crucifix on or near
the altar, reinforcing the message of the architecture itself.
Dionysius the Areopagite
Abbot Suger explained his new building at Saint-Denis in terms of the metaphysics
of light in the thought of Pseudo-Dionysius. One need not accept at face value Suger’s
own description of his part in either the designing of the new choir or its interpretation.
He seems to have been an energetic organizer, a man of the world as well as of religion;
but he was probably not a scholar of any particular originality. The works of
Pseudo-Dionysius were widely read in monastic and in scholarly circles; many of his
ideas were also transmitted through the works of John Scot Eriugena, and he is such
a foundational figure in the Christian spiritual tradition that it is likely that his ideas
also had wider currency in a greatly simplified form20. So Suger may well have been
drawing on interpretations which were neither so very new nor unique to him. This
would not undermine the aptness of his interpretation of the newly emerging style of
architecture. Indeed, it may make it more plausible if Suger is drawing on ideas which
were known not merely to the scholarly elite but more widely still.
To some extent this understanding is appropriate for all subsequent Gothic
architecture. The luminosity of these buildings, the emphasis on historiated glass
through which the light passed thereby bringing to life the mysteries of the faith; these
became standard aspects of church architecture. Light as an image of the nature of God
is in any case traceable directly back to the Bible, to the beginning of St. John’s Gospel.
The view that the material may be a vehicle through which the human soul might move
to an experience of the transcendent (anagogy) was widely held. But there are two
ways in which this movement might take place; by affirmation of the material or by
negation of it.
32
approaching in the normal way from the west end of the church. After traversing the
narrow aisle, flanked by the double arcading, the open space would have suddenly
doubled, with the elaborate pier marking its centre. This prepares one for the following
bay in which the full width of transept and crossing becomes visible. The original apse
opened immediately out of the eastern transept, so the free-standing piers will have
formed a dramatic marker for the entrance to the sanctuary and the area in which the
proposed shrine of Remigius would have been placed.
The similar piers in the cathedral of Trondheim, although not freestanding as at
Lincoln, also mark the entrance to the presbytery15. There is a long tradition of the use
of special columns or piers to mark out important areas of a building. Charles Onians
has provided details of antique and early Christian examples and Eric Fernie has argued
for such an understanding of English Romanesque designs such as the spiral piers at
Norwich16. Both Isidore of Seville and Hrabanus Maurus write about the mearung of
columns and explain their mystical significance17.
Suger likewise interpreted the columns of the new apse of Saint-Denis in theological
terms18. There is also, of course, the biblical precedent of the twin columns Iachin and
Boaz which marked the entrance to Solomon’s Temple. The form of the Trondheim’
piers at Lincoln is eminently suitable to the task of marking out the sanctuary. The
crockets (Fig. 19) are very similar in shape to the sprouts which are portrayed on
depictions of the cross of Christ as the Lignum Vitae19. The Tree of Life is an eminently
fitting symbol to prepare the pilgrim for the altar on which Christ’s crucified and
resurrected body is offered.
It is also at this point where the aisles open in their first step that a small amount of
figurative carving is introduced: the spandrel angels and some corbels in the transepts.
So the free-standing piers form dramatic markers to the sacred space which is further
marked out by the introduction of angelic images. There was also a crucifix on or near
the altar, reinforcing the message of the architecture itself.
Dionysius the Areopagite
Abbot Suger explained his new building at Saint-Denis in terms of the metaphysics
of light in the thought of Pseudo-Dionysius. One need not accept at face value Suger’s
own description of his part in either the designing of the new choir or its interpretation.
He seems to have been an energetic organizer, a man of the world as well as of religion;
but he was probably not a scholar of any particular originality. The works of
Pseudo-Dionysius were widely read in monastic and in scholarly circles; many of his
ideas were also transmitted through the works of John Scot Eriugena, and he is such
a foundational figure in the Christian spiritual tradition that it is likely that his ideas
also had wider currency in a greatly simplified form20. So Suger may well have been
drawing on interpretations which were neither so very new nor unique to him. This
would not undermine the aptness of his interpretation of the newly emerging style of
architecture. Indeed, it may make it more plausible if Suger is drawing on ideas which
were known not merely to the scholarly elite but more widely still.
To some extent this understanding is appropriate for all subsequent Gothic
architecture. The luminosity of these buildings, the emphasis on historiated glass
through which the light passed thereby bringing to life the mysteries of the faith; these
became standard aspects of church architecture. Light as an image of the nature of God
is in any case traceable directly back to the Bible, to the beginning of St. John’s Gospel.
The view that the material may be a vehicle through which the human soul might move
to an experience of the transcendent (anagogy) was widely held. But there are two
ways in which this movement might take place; by affirmation of the material or by
negation of it.
32