Not so “cool” impersonation of chimneys by Gaudi
The stone forest of La Sagrada Família’s interior
The Nativity Façade
Detail of La Sagrada Família’s main door
Me—a “living stone” in the mosaic of God’s Church
Travel Book
Where I've Been
April, 2007
BARCELONA, SPAIN
I was annoyed with myself for feeling nervous. It wasn’t as though I was a novice when it came to international travel, but Spain was terra incognita, unknown territory. Though close to my old stomping ground of Italy, it wasn’t close enough.
My few attempts at Spanish collided with my Italian, resulting in my speaking Italianish. The food was unfamiliar and seemed to involve lots of fried fish and cured ham, of which I was not a fan. Then there were the famous tapas. I had to admit that the one time I’d been to a tapas bar in the States, I’d loved sampling the little tidbits of this and that, as long as I had no idea what I was eating. Afterwards, when I called my husband to tell him I’d tried something new and visited a tapas bar, he interpreted it “topless” bar. That sparked quite the animated conversation. But here I was, ready to go tapas once more…
However, it took less than 24 hours before I deemed Barcelona my new favorite big city. Paris had amazing museums. New York had great theater. Rome had jaw-dropping architecture. Florence… well, after living in Florence it would always feel like home, so it really didn’t count in the “favorite big city” competition.
But Barcelona, it had everything—including that illusive “cool” factor. People walking down the streets of Barcelona, no matter what their age, profession, or nationality, just seemed to ooze “cool.” And when I walked along with them, it felt as though a little “cool” rubbed off on me. (Regardless of the fact that the word “cool” dates me as a child of the sixties who matured in the seventies, I can’t use the word “hip” or “bad” or “sweet” or whatever synonym is used for “cool” these days with any authenticity. At least I refrained from using “groovy.”)
The fashionably funky couture and artsy accessories the locales wore were “cool.” Lingering long into the evening at sidewalk cafés where dinner began at 9 pm was “cool.” Celebrating Sant Jordi Day, where men give their mothers and sweethearts roses, and women reciprocate with the gift of books, was “cool.” And any city that showcased the architecture of Antoni Gaudí couldn’t help but be anything other than “cool.”
Long on my “must see” list, Gaudí’s La Sagrada Família is an art nouveau fairy tale written in stone. The Passion Façade of “The Church of the Holy Family” tells the story of Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection through sharp angles, expressionless faces, and a cast of soldiers who resemble the Storm Troopers from Star Wars. Around the corner, the equally impressive Nativity Façade tells of Christ’s childhood. Here, solid stone appears to drip like candle wax, forming almost indecipherable scenes (and inspiring me to rename this the “Toxic Waste Façade.”).
Inside the quirky cathedral, a forest of tree-trunk columns reach skyward toward a ceiling of gargantuan stone leaves. Stained glass in a predominance of blue tinges the air with kaleidoscope brilliance. An elevator to the roof exposes clumps of fruit-like mosaics clinging to spindly towers, invoking images of Carmen Miranda’s produce-filled headgear. Add the gargoyle-inspired lizards, snakes, frogs, dragons, and salamanders that crawl the exterior as waterspouts and your imagination can’t help but begin writing its own surrealistic tale—and questioning what your life would be like if God had given you a brain like Gaudí’s.
It was 1883 when Gaudí inherited the job of building the church begun a year earlier by Francisco Villar. For the next 46 years, Gaudí’s work on La Sagrada Família progressed from genius toward the brink of obsession. From 1914 until his death in 1926, Gaudí lived like a hermit on-site, begging door-to-door for donations for the funds to complete his architectural masterpiece.
But Gaudí’s masterwork remains far from complete. Intertwined with the fruit-topped towers and tree-trunk pillars, I surveyed scaffolding, cranes, and other assorted construction materials and equipment. Since Gaudí’s death, construction has continued, interpreted from Gaudí’s models and drawings and paid for solely by private donation. But it’s estimated that another 30 to 80 years could pass before the final stone of La Sagrada Família is set in place.
Gaudí didn’t live long enough to see La Sagrada Família in its entirety, except in his mind. Chances are, neither will I. But a dedication carved into the Nativity Façade reminded me that the stones of La Sagrada Família and I have something in common. With my spotty Italian I pieced together the Latin words which dedicated Gaudí’s masterpiece to the “living stones” who make up God’s masterwork—His Church.
Together we are building a uniquely quirky spiritual temple; one pieced together with individuals more varied than the architectural elements that adorn La Sagrada Família; one under construction until the day that final trumpet sounds.
1 Peter 2:5 NLT