The Old Källa Church – week 29 of „One Year – One Island“
Bright sunshine, a gentle breeze, and a whole day off to capture my next picture. Life can be so wonderful. Now I have arrived in Källa – a place that is familiar to me, as this project is taking me closer to the place where I have lived for the last 17 years. Källa translates as “well” and according to legend, its water was said to have healing powers. My subject today, the old church in Källa, has been painted often; too often, some colleagues say, it is not a subject that should be painted. On the other hand, I know an artist who has depicted this church over and over again from every possible angle. Elisabeth Hall (I put a link to her HERE) paints her objects with a minimum of details, using strong colors. She seems unable to get enough of the contrast between the sunlit surfaces and the shapes of the shadows on this churchwalls. I was more interested in the mood and feeling that this place radiates, the weight of history that seems to press the gravestones into the mossy ground. When I arrived, it took me half an hour to take in the calmness and spiriality, to absorb the tranquility of this place. An old song came to my mind, which lyrics are beautiful and inspired me as soon as I here the first lines:
In a country churchyard there’s a preacher with his people,
Gathered all around to join a man and woman,
Spring is here and turtledoves are singing from the steeple,
Bees are in the flowers, growing in the graveyard,
And over the hill, where the river meets the mill,
A lovely girl is coming down,
To give her hand upon her wedding day…
(In a Country Churchyard by Chris de Burgh)
The temperature fluctuations strucked me when I walked from the warm, sunny south side around the corner of the thick walls and into the shade. It felt like a 10 degree difference! When you walk through the arched gate from the parking lot – the old wooden door alone would be a motif – you are hit by the heavy scent of the blooming lilac bushes. The building is truly impressive, both in its simplicity and its massive height. Not a bit of ornamentation, nothing pleasing, a forbidding block of stone with heavy oak doors – very repellent. And that was precisely its original purpose: to fend off! The so-called Ödekyrkan – in this case, Öde does not mean fate (in Swedish fate = öde) but actually comes from the desolate church (desolate = ödslig) – was mentioned as early as 1050 and at that time it was much closer to the water’s edge to the east and thus directly on the border of the empire. It was built as a refuge and defensive bastion: on the ground floor was the church interior, decorated with paintings on the stonewalls; above it was a storehouse for grain and other provisions needed in the event of a siege, as well as a roof truss with loopholes. Today, little of this remains in the church’s interior. The suspended ceiling rotted, collapsed, and was dismantled centuries ago. Only fragments of the paintings remain, and yet, if you take the time to sit in the cool, bare room, you can still feel the sacred aura. Some years ago I was in there and I remember, I couldn’t help thinking of all the people who walked on the paving stones long, long ago; so many generations of feet—barefoot, in rags, or shoes—have smoothed these stone slabs. How many tears, how much suffering, how much fear and despair have these walls seen? These days, they are more likely to be tears of joy, for the Old Källa Church is one of the most popular wedding venues. In the summer, there are also classical concerts (the acoustics are terrific), exhibitions with musical accompaniment, and lectures and sermons are arranged. You can read a detailed article on Wikipedia and a lot of pictures on Wikipedia Common also find pictures of the interior. I couldn’t take any, as the church is only opened on special occasions.
After careful consideration, I chose a spot under the overhanging lilac bushes with a view over some gravestones directly to the main entrance.
The graveyard’s overgrown, the church lies in ruins,
Ivy on the walls and ravens wheeling round above me,
As I made my way towards the last remaining headstone,
I fell to my knees, read the lines beneath the leaves,
And suddenly it seemed to me,
I heard the words like singing in the trees…
As I sat there for a few hours, tourists kept coming and circling the church, taking photos and trying to decipher the gravestone inscriptions.
When I finally packed up, I was frozen, but inspired by the atmosphere of this place. On the short drive, I stopped by the farmer in Källa, who sells freshly harvested vegetables from his barn – he has a potato variety that we particularly like.
So here are a few pictures and my finished watercolor:
See you soon!
