Converted

When it comes to cathedrals, I’ve always been a Gothic kind of guy. Addicted to the vertical high of a soaring Gothic nave, I have dragged LSP* across half of Europe in search of spidery stone buttresses, jewelled rose windows, fan-vaulted cloisters and flamboyantly filigreed facades. (Phew. Alliteration overload. Sorry.)
Howsomever.
Eight days in Burgundy have opened my eyes to a different style of architecture: the Romanesque. Older, simpler and sturdier, this precursor to the flashy frippery of the Gothic has a particularly strong presence in Burgundy, with every village seeming to have an older, more steadfast example. And there are of course the stirring masterpieces of Fontenay, Vézelay and (what’s left of) Cluny which anchor this region so robustly in the Romanesque.
So what is it about this style which has converted me? Compare the following images:

The first is the gloriously Gothic crossing and transept of the Eglise St. Ouen in Rouen. Delicate, dizzying perfection. The second is the aisle of the Romanesque Abbaye de St-Philibert in Tournus. Rough, massive and uneven; and yet, to me, so much warmer and more eloquently moving. Because I realise that what captivates me about Cathedrals is not so much the genius of the architecture itself, or the beauty of the buildings. Rather, it is the people who built them, and the subsequent generations of men and women who came to worship and marvel, who leave such a powerful imprint on the place.
Somehow I feel closer to the countless artisans and pilgrims before me when I can see the flawed humanity of their creation – the rough-hewn chisel marks forming an infinitely more immediate connection than the exquisite coolness of smooth stone.That’s not to say I’ll never go Gothic again in my historical ramble through religious architecture… but for true resonance, it’s (good, old) Romanesque for me.

* Long-Suffering Partner