Standardization in the Middle Ages Volume 2: Europe, 2024
Abstract: A wealth of churches were built throughout Europe in the Middle Ages, many of which are... more Abstract: A wealth of churches were built throughout Europe in the Middle Ages, many of which are still preserved and in use today. Undeniably, this is why churches appear to be the most conservative genre of Western European architecture – at least when looking back through centuries of church building and maintenance. One is hardly ever in doubt of the function when confronted with this “type” of architecture. Church buildings, thus, seem an excellent place to look for impulses of standardization. However, any perceived sameness” in the visual articulation of the medieval church building is lessened by a wealth of deviations and pragmatic solutions: the only “standard” is that which makes the church, namely the high altar. This chapter argues that architecture is essentially dynamic and dialectic, meaning any notion of “standardized architecture,” or efforts at “streamlining” the visual articulation, is detectable only at a macro-level and across a considerable time span. Specifically, any perceived overall sameness is governed by a medieval sense of decorum: an aesthetic category that is easily mistaken as a means of standardization in the post-Enlightenment sense of the word. In the medieval period, however, architectural decorum was, this chapter argues, characterized by a “creativity dispositive.”
The phrase SALOMON ME FECIT MONASTERIU(m) (Solomon made me, the church) is carved in majuscules o... more The phrase SALOMON ME FECIT MONASTERIU(m) (Solomon made me, the church) is carved in majuscules on the inner northern jamb of a portal in the rural Hunseby Church on the small island of Lolland, Denmark (Fig. 15.1a). 1 It evokes the metaphor of the Christian church as Solomon's Temple, effectively establishing the rural church as a local Jerusalem. 2 Hunseby Church, built during the long twelfth century, is part of the massive wave of stone churches built all over medieval Denmark in this period. The art of building in stone came in the wake of the late Christianization of the Danes and was exclusively used to erect churches; churches built in the style of the socalled Romanesque. However, the visual articulation of the "novel" architectural expression was more than mere play with forms and formats; it was visual rhetoric. As such, the "style" of the early stone churches carried with it a plethora of Christian metaphors and allusions intended to translate Jerusalem and the Christian storyworld onto Danish soil. Architecture relates to a concept of recognisabilitya point of reference. It remembers "something." The Hunseby inscription illustrates that the Medieval church buildingno matter size, or status, or geographical locationremembers the Temple of Jerusalem, the House of the Lord. Its inscription rejects the modernist dichotomy between "subject" and "object," "interpreter" and "interpreted," by giving voice to the physical building itself. This "animation" of the building calls to mind the medieval mass expositions and rhetorical practices, especially as the facing inner jamb reads
This article elicits statements about the medieval self from the Danish rural churches. It explor... more This article elicits statements about the medieval self from the Danish rural churches. It explores one ubiquitous style-making motif in Romanesque church architecture, namely the round arch. This "commonplace motif" is fused with practice theory to show how meaning-making arise in interplay between ritual practices, practitioners, and the churches' visual articulation. The article suggests that it is possible to explore aspects of perception by the participating self, but not the self as a traditional subject-based entity through this combined approach. The underlying objective of the article is to explore the twelfth-century churches from a non-conventional approach.
The research behind this book and the two others making up this mini-series was funded by the Nor... more The research behind this book and the two others making up this mini-series was funded by the Norwegian Research Council (RCN, project no. 240448/F10). The three books trace the reception of Jerusalem and the Holy Land in Scandinavia through a millienium. The geographical term Scandinavia originates from the classical Roman author Pliny (Naturalis historia, book IV), who applied it to an island beyond the Baltic, probably identifiable with the peninsula of Sweden and Norway. In modern usage, the term is conventionally understood as the three kingdoms Denmark, Norway, and Sweden; whereas the wider term Norden (the Nordic countries) also includes Finland, Iceland, the Faroes, Greenland, and the Baltic states. Historically, there are tight cultural connections between all these countries. Their borders and mutual political constellation have changed many times during the millennium that is covered by these three books. We therefore tend to have the horizon of Norden in mind, although most of the source material discussed is Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish, and we have chosen to apply the term Scandinavia consistently. For the Middle Ages (vol. 1), we have also chosen to include Iceland and Orkney in Scandinavia because of the very tight administrative, ecclesiastical, and cultural connections with Norway. The periodization of the three books is worth commenting on. The first volume covers the medieval period from the Christianization in the tenth and eleventh centuries, until the Protestant Reformation in the early sixteenth century. In Scandinavian historiography, the reformation (1536-37 in Denmark-Norway and 1527-1600 in Sweden) marks the watershed between the medieval and early modern periods. We have chosen to stick to this conventional periodization, as the introduction of Lutheranism significantly affected the understanding of Jerusalem. The second volume, then, covers the early modern period from the Reformation until around 1750, when Enlightenment ideas became widespread among key figures. Although it is difficult to draw a sharp line between the early modern and modern periods, Enlightenment thought, and subsequently Romanticism, engendered a second transformation of Christian cultures in general and the understanding of Jerusalem in particular. This is investigated in the third volume, which covers the period from c.1750 to c.1920. These dates are approximations, and the delimitation is further explained in the introduction to volume 3. For references to the spoken and written vernacular of Scandinavia in the medieval period, we have chosen the term Old Norse, regardless of the authors' land of origin. Old Norse names appear slightly modernized, except from in chapters written from a philological point of view. A note about the Norwegian capital Oslo, which is referred to in all three volumes: The city was moved a little westwards and renamed in 1624 after a great fire, and for almost three centuries its name remained Christiania (or Kristiania) after the Danish king Christian IV (r. 1588-1648). In 1925 the city's medieval name Oslo was introduced again. To avoid anachronistic uses of the city's name, we refer to Open Access.
Jerusalem imagery vanished from the Danish churches in the nineteenth century. The faith was losi... more Jerusalem imagery vanished from the Danish churches in the nineteenth century. The faith was losing its grip on the increasingly secularized population and the church buildings became more and more dilapidated and desolate. Since the early Church, throughout the Middle Ages, and across the Reformation(s), it has been commonplace to understand the church building-God's houseas an allegory of the New Jerusalem. The visualization of Jerusalem in the church buildings was altered along with changing religious attitudes, but it was always represented, one way or the other. These explicit visualizations or allusions to Jerusalem ceased in the late eighteenth and first half of the nineteenth century. Yet, according to the Danish theologian N.F.S. Grundtvig's (1783-1872) sermon of 1810 "Wherefore is the Word of the Lord disappeared from out of His House?" 1 the allegory itself, or at least the church building understood as God's house was still very much alive. This chapter explores how and what measures were taken in the last half of the century in an effort to "rebuild Jerusalem," as the state church was replaced by the so-called people's church.
Jerusalem imagery vanished from the Danish churches in the nineteenth century.The faith was losin... more Jerusalem imagery vanished from the Danish churches in the nineteenth century.The faith was losing its grip on the increasingly secularized population and thechurch buildings became more and more dilapidated and desolate. Since the earlyChurch, throughout the Middle Ages, and across the Reformation(s), it has been com-monplace to understand the church building–God’shouse–as an allegory of theNew Jerusalem. The visualization of Jerusalem in the church buildings was alteredalong with changing religious attitudes, but it was always represented, one way orthe other. These explicit visualizations or allusions to Jerusalem ceased in the lateeighteenth and first half of the nineteenth century. Yet, according to the Danish theo-logian N.F.S. Grundtvig’s(1783–1872) sermon of 1810“Wherefore is the Word of theLord disappeared from out of His House?”1the allegory itself, or at least the churchbuilding understood as God’s house was still very much alive. This chapter exploreshow and what measures were taken in the last half of the century in an effort to“re-build Jerusalem,”as the state church was replaced by the so-called people’s church
The phrase SALOMON ME FECIT MONASTERIU(m) (Solomon made me, the church) is carved in majuscules o... more The phrase SALOMON ME FECIT MONASTERIU(m) (Solomon made me, the church) is carved in majuscules on the inner northern jamb of a portal in the rural Hunseby Church on the small island of Lolland, Denmark (Fig. 15.1a). 1 It evokes the metaphor of the Christian church as Solomon's Temple, effectively establishing the rural church as a local Jerusalem. 2 Hunseby Church, built during the long twelfth century, is part of the massive wave of stone churches built all over medieval Denmark in this period. The art of building in stone came in the wake of the late Christianization of the Danes and was exclusively used to erect churches; churches built in the style of the so-called Romanesque. However, the visual articulation of the "novel" architectural expression was more than mere play with forms and formats; it was visual rhetoric. As such, the "style" of the early stone churches carried with it a plethora of Christian metaphors and allusions intended to translate Jerusalem and the Christian story-world onto Danish soil.
This article elicits statements about the medieval self from the Danish rural churches. It explor... more This article elicits statements about the medieval self from the Danish rural churches. It explores one ubiquitous style-making motif in Romanesque church architecture, namely the round arch. This "commonplace motif" is fused with practice theory to show how meaning-making arise in interplay between ritual practices, practitioners, and the churches' visual articulation. The article suggests that it is possible to explore aspects of perception by the participating self, but not the self as a traditional subject-based entity through this combined approach. The underlying objective of the article is to explore the twelfth-century churches from a non-conventional approach. This article is, in essence, a methodological and theoretical experiment. It explores the limits of what can reasonably be said about the medieval self 1 based on the rural churches of twelfth-century Denmark. Traditionally, these churches have been viewed as mute and thus redundant in relation to questions of medieval selfhood, cognition, and perception. The primary concern is, then, how we can get these buildings to talk, and to that, if and how they might testify to a notion of the medieval self. Conventional, discipline-specific approaches have proven to be insufficient in this regard. As such, the following article is an attempt at fusing different branches of current theories from the humanities and the social sciences in an effort to explore otherwise inaccessible information. More simply put: What did the visual articulation of twelfth-century churches intend? How were they used? And, might this intent and ritual usage inform us of aspects of the medieval self? In order to explore these questions, it will be useful to suggest a hypothesis to drive the discussion throughout the article. The working hypothesis to be tested on the material is thus: meaning-making
Standardization in the Middle Ages Volume 2: Europe, 2024
Abstract: A wealth of churches were built throughout Europe in the Middle Ages, many of which are... more Abstract: A wealth of churches were built throughout Europe in the Middle Ages, many of which are still preserved and in use today. Undeniably, this is why churches appear to be the most conservative genre of Western European architecture – at least when looking back through centuries of church building and maintenance. One is hardly ever in doubt of the function when confronted with this “type” of architecture. Church buildings, thus, seem an excellent place to look for impulses of standardization. However, any perceived sameness” in the visual articulation of the medieval church building is lessened by a wealth of deviations and pragmatic solutions: the only “standard” is that which makes the church, namely the high altar. This chapter argues that architecture is essentially dynamic and dialectic, meaning any notion of “standardized architecture,” or efforts at “streamlining” the visual articulation, is detectable only at a macro-level and across a considerable time span. Specifically, any perceived overall sameness is governed by a medieval sense of decorum: an aesthetic category that is easily mistaken as a means of standardization in the post-Enlightenment sense of the word. In the medieval period, however, architectural decorum was, this chapter argues, characterized by a “creativity dispositive.”
The phrase SALOMON ME FECIT MONASTERIU(m) (Solomon made me, the church) is carved in majuscules o... more The phrase SALOMON ME FECIT MONASTERIU(m) (Solomon made me, the church) is carved in majuscules on the inner northern jamb of a portal in the rural Hunseby Church on the small island of Lolland, Denmark (Fig. 15.1a). 1 It evokes the metaphor of the Christian church as Solomon's Temple, effectively establishing the rural church as a local Jerusalem. 2 Hunseby Church, built during the long twelfth century, is part of the massive wave of stone churches built all over medieval Denmark in this period. The art of building in stone came in the wake of the late Christianization of the Danes and was exclusively used to erect churches; churches built in the style of the socalled Romanesque. However, the visual articulation of the "novel" architectural expression was more than mere play with forms and formats; it was visual rhetoric. As such, the "style" of the early stone churches carried with it a plethora of Christian metaphors and allusions intended to translate Jerusalem and the Christian storyworld onto Danish soil. Architecture relates to a concept of recognisabilitya point of reference. It remembers "something." The Hunseby inscription illustrates that the Medieval church buildingno matter size, or status, or geographical locationremembers the Temple of Jerusalem, the House of the Lord. Its inscription rejects the modernist dichotomy between "subject" and "object," "interpreter" and "interpreted," by giving voice to the physical building itself. This "animation" of the building calls to mind the medieval mass expositions and rhetorical practices, especially as the facing inner jamb reads
This article elicits statements about the medieval self from the Danish rural churches. It explor... more This article elicits statements about the medieval self from the Danish rural churches. It explores one ubiquitous style-making motif in Romanesque church architecture, namely the round arch. This "commonplace motif" is fused with practice theory to show how meaning-making arise in interplay between ritual practices, practitioners, and the churches' visual articulation. The article suggests that it is possible to explore aspects of perception by the participating self, but not the self as a traditional subject-based entity through this combined approach. The underlying objective of the article is to explore the twelfth-century churches from a non-conventional approach.
The research behind this book and the two others making up this mini-series was funded by the Nor... more The research behind this book and the two others making up this mini-series was funded by the Norwegian Research Council (RCN, project no. 240448/F10). The three books trace the reception of Jerusalem and the Holy Land in Scandinavia through a millienium. The geographical term Scandinavia originates from the classical Roman author Pliny (Naturalis historia, book IV), who applied it to an island beyond the Baltic, probably identifiable with the peninsula of Sweden and Norway. In modern usage, the term is conventionally understood as the three kingdoms Denmark, Norway, and Sweden; whereas the wider term Norden (the Nordic countries) also includes Finland, Iceland, the Faroes, Greenland, and the Baltic states. Historically, there are tight cultural connections between all these countries. Their borders and mutual political constellation have changed many times during the millennium that is covered by these three books. We therefore tend to have the horizon of Norden in mind, although most of the source material discussed is Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish, and we have chosen to apply the term Scandinavia consistently. For the Middle Ages (vol. 1), we have also chosen to include Iceland and Orkney in Scandinavia because of the very tight administrative, ecclesiastical, and cultural connections with Norway. The periodization of the three books is worth commenting on. The first volume covers the medieval period from the Christianization in the tenth and eleventh centuries, until the Protestant Reformation in the early sixteenth century. In Scandinavian historiography, the reformation (1536-37 in Denmark-Norway and 1527-1600 in Sweden) marks the watershed between the medieval and early modern periods. We have chosen to stick to this conventional periodization, as the introduction of Lutheranism significantly affected the understanding of Jerusalem. The second volume, then, covers the early modern period from the Reformation until around 1750, when Enlightenment ideas became widespread among key figures. Although it is difficult to draw a sharp line between the early modern and modern periods, Enlightenment thought, and subsequently Romanticism, engendered a second transformation of Christian cultures in general and the understanding of Jerusalem in particular. This is investigated in the third volume, which covers the period from c.1750 to c.1920. These dates are approximations, and the delimitation is further explained in the introduction to volume 3. For references to the spoken and written vernacular of Scandinavia in the medieval period, we have chosen the term Old Norse, regardless of the authors' land of origin. Old Norse names appear slightly modernized, except from in chapters written from a philological point of view. A note about the Norwegian capital Oslo, which is referred to in all three volumes: The city was moved a little westwards and renamed in 1624 after a great fire, and for almost three centuries its name remained Christiania (or Kristiania) after the Danish king Christian IV (r. 1588-1648). In 1925 the city's medieval name Oslo was introduced again. To avoid anachronistic uses of the city's name, we refer to Open Access.
Jerusalem imagery vanished from the Danish churches in the nineteenth century. The faith was losi... more Jerusalem imagery vanished from the Danish churches in the nineteenth century. The faith was losing its grip on the increasingly secularized population and the church buildings became more and more dilapidated and desolate. Since the early Church, throughout the Middle Ages, and across the Reformation(s), it has been commonplace to understand the church building-God's houseas an allegory of the New Jerusalem. The visualization of Jerusalem in the church buildings was altered along with changing religious attitudes, but it was always represented, one way or the other. These explicit visualizations or allusions to Jerusalem ceased in the late eighteenth and first half of the nineteenth century. Yet, according to the Danish theologian N.F.S. Grundtvig's (1783-1872) sermon of 1810 "Wherefore is the Word of the Lord disappeared from out of His House?" 1 the allegory itself, or at least the church building understood as God's house was still very much alive. This chapter explores how and what measures were taken in the last half of the century in an effort to "rebuild Jerusalem," as the state church was replaced by the so-called people's church.
Jerusalem imagery vanished from the Danish churches in the nineteenth century.The faith was losin... more Jerusalem imagery vanished from the Danish churches in the nineteenth century.The faith was losing its grip on the increasingly secularized population and thechurch buildings became more and more dilapidated and desolate. Since the earlyChurch, throughout the Middle Ages, and across the Reformation(s), it has been com-monplace to understand the church building–God’shouse–as an allegory of theNew Jerusalem. The visualization of Jerusalem in the church buildings was alteredalong with changing religious attitudes, but it was always represented, one way orthe other. These explicit visualizations or allusions to Jerusalem ceased in the lateeighteenth and first half of the nineteenth century. Yet, according to the Danish theo-logian N.F.S. Grundtvig’s(1783–1872) sermon of 1810“Wherefore is the Word of theLord disappeared from out of His House?”1the allegory itself, or at least the churchbuilding understood as God’s house was still very much alive. This chapter exploreshow and what measures were taken in the last half of the century in an effort to“re-build Jerusalem,”as the state church was replaced by the so-called people’s church
The phrase SALOMON ME FECIT MONASTERIU(m) (Solomon made me, the church) is carved in majuscules o... more The phrase SALOMON ME FECIT MONASTERIU(m) (Solomon made me, the church) is carved in majuscules on the inner northern jamb of a portal in the rural Hunseby Church on the small island of Lolland, Denmark (Fig. 15.1a). 1 It evokes the metaphor of the Christian church as Solomon's Temple, effectively establishing the rural church as a local Jerusalem. 2 Hunseby Church, built during the long twelfth century, is part of the massive wave of stone churches built all over medieval Denmark in this period. The art of building in stone came in the wake of the late Christianization of the Danes and was exclusively used to erect churches; churches built in the style of the so-called Romanesque. However, the visual articulation of the "novel" architectural expression was more than mere play with forms and formats; it was visual rhetoric. As such, the "style" of the early stone churches carried with it a plethora of Christian metaphors and allusions intended to translate Jerusalem and the Christian story-world onto Danish soil.
This article elicits statements about the medieval self from the Danish rural churches. It explor... more This article elicits statements about the medieval self from the Danish rural churches. It explores one ubiquitous style-making motif in Romanesque church architecture, namely the round arch. This "commonplace motif" is fused with practice theory to show how meaning-making arise in interplay between ritual practices, practitioners, and the churches' visual articulation. The article suggests that it is possible to explore aspects of perception by the participating self, but not the self as a traditional subject-based entity through this combined approach. The underlying objective of the article is to explore the twelfth-century churches from a non-conventional approach. This article is, in essence, a methodological and theoretical experiment. It explores the limits of what can reasonably be said about the medieval self 1 based on the rural churches of twelfth-century Denmark. Traditionally, these churches have been viewed as mute and thus redundant in relation to questions of medieval selfhood, cognition, and perception. The primary concern is, then, how we can get these buildings to talk, and to that, if and how they might testify to a notion of the medieval self. Conventional, discipline-specific approaches have proven to be insufficient in this regard. As such, the following article is an attempt at fusing different branches of current theories from the humanities and the social sciences in an effort to explore otherwise inaccessible information. More simply put: What did the visual articulation of twelfth-century churches intend? How were they used? And, might this intent and ritual usage inform us of aspects of the medieval self? In order to explore these questions, it will be useful to suggest a hypothesis to drive the discussion throughout the article. The working hypothesis to be tested on the material is thus: meaning-making
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