Podcast
Culture
S&U interviews
5 min read

My conversation with... Marilynne Robinson

Re-Enchanting the human story. Belle Tindall reflects on the nature of her conversation with Pulitzer Prize winning author Marilynne Robinson for Seen and Unseen’s ‘Re-Enchanting’ podcast.

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

A woman talks while tilting her head to one side.

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Professor Marilynne Robinson was a guest that I felt utterly underqualified to interview. And with Barack Obama among her list of previous interviewers, I don’t think such a feeling was unjustified. But, nevertheless, there I was - talking to a Pulitzer Prize winning force of nature - all the while, hoping she could neither sense my terror, nor hear my neighbours rowing through the thin walls of my tiny, terraced house.  

It was a surreal moment, to say the least.  

Marilynne Robinson, if you are not yet acquainted, is the author of best-selling novels such as Housekeeping, Gilead, Home, and Lila and Jack. Each one a masterpiece. She has also written plenty of non-fiction, continuing to be generous with her genius.  

Just before we began recording our episode over Zoom, my co-host, Justin, asked Marilynne whether she was able to somehow block the light streaming in from the windows behind her (needless to say he is the practical maestro behind Re-Enchanting), to which Marilynne simply replied: ‘many windows, no curtains.’ Oh gosh, I thought. This lady oozes philosophy.  

How would I ever keep up?  

I was always three steps behind Marilynne; partly because I imagine most people are, but mostly because it is a truly enchanting place to find oneself. 

Well, if I’m being honest, I didn’t. When the conversation turned to the quantum realm, I was indescribably glad that Justin was there. My mind was still pondering the possible analogous depths of curtain-less windows. But I have since decided that I’m not ashamed to admit that I was always three steps behind Marilynne; partly because I imagine most people are, but mostly because it is a truly enchanting place to find oneself.  

To trail behind someone so thoughtful means that while they may be onto their next thought or point of conversation, you are able to savour what has already been said, free to pick up and ponder the magnificent breadcrumbs that they have left in their wake. And when it comes to Marilynne Robinson, there are an awful lot of breadcrumbs. If you have ever read a line of a book that has struck you to the point of not being able to read on, even if only for a moment, then you are familiar with the sensation to which I am referring.  

When you come to listen to the episode of Re-Enchanting, I do hope that you’ll hit the pause button as often as you need to in order to truly soak Marilynne in. I only wish that my real-time conversation with her had that on offer. 

Nevertheless, here is what the view looks like from three steps behind Marilynne Robinson: it resembles a mysterious and wholistic fascination with, and (if I may be so romantic) a love for humanity. That is, both my own humanity and humanity in general. Mind, body, and soul (terms which, in themselves, are full of mystery and nuance) – the whole thing.  

Marilynne defines herself as a Christian Humanist. What may sound like somewhat of an oxymoron at first, begins to make profound sense when humanism is stripped of its (rather recent) atheist connotations. Afterall, the intrinsic value every person holds just because they are a person is a profoundly spiritual and biblical concept. As Tom Holland suggests, humanism, whether one likes it or not, is rooted in, and therefore utterly dependent upon, Christian perceptions of reality. When engaging with Marilynne, whether that be through conversation or through her work, it becomes clear that her Christianity enchants her view of humanity, which in turn, has re-enchanted my own.  

It is evident in the care and complexity with which she creates her characters, giving notable time and space to the intricate inner-workings of their consciousness, amplifying their inner-monologue, and focusing attention on their interior rejuvenations, how their sense of self responds to their shifting exterior contexts. It is just as obvious when you are privileged enough to observe her gently marvel over the beautiful capacities of the human mind, the innate mysteries of the human soul; the endless nuances of all that is seen and unseen when it comes to the human-being.  

Goodness seems to be Marilynne’s preferred start-line. Undergirding any humanism that she may adhere to is the notion that human beings were designed and created... 

It should be noted that such an admiration is not born out of an avoidance of the brokenness that human-beings are so prone to displaying. Indeed, this world does not offer any of us such a luxury. The evidence of the imperfection of humanity is easier to find than the evidence of any innate goodness. And yet, that goodness seems to be Marilynne’s preferred start-line. Undergirding any humanism that she may adhere to is the notion that human beings were designed and created, that there is an intimate creator / creation dynamic at play in the cosmos; one that is ultimately fuelled by the care of the creator for the created. There is, to borrow a phrase, a ‘givenness’ to all things.  

If we, like Marilynne, choose to use the givenness of things as a lens through which we perceive reality, there is utter delight to be found. 

It is an admittedly cosmic-sized enchantment, but the implications of it trickle all the way down to the detail of the every-day, the ordinary, the (so-called) mundane. If we, like Marilynne, choose to use the givenness of things as a lens through which we perceive reality, there is utter delight to be found in our streams of thought, in our capacity to collaborate with what is beyond our control. There is a deep enchantment to be found in our very existence, our presence in both space and time.  

As a disclaimer, I feel that I must admit to merely scratching the surface of the conversation that we had with Marilynne Robinson here, to read this piece and not listen to her episode (or read her work, for that matter) is to settle for a minute fraction of her thoughts. Trust me when I say - you want the whole thing.  

Here I am, three days on and still admittedly three steps behind Marilynne as I mentally re-trace the trajectory of our conversation. But that is quite alright with me, I’m still enjoying picking up each of the breadcrumbs that she left along the way.

Article
Art
Awe and wonder
Culture
5 min read

The late Pope Francis was right – Antoni Gaudi truly was God’s architect

Sanctity can indeed be found amongst scaffolding, as Gaudi’s Barcelona beauties amply demonstrate.

Jonathan is Team Rector for Wickford and Runwell. He is co-author of The Secret Chord, and writes on the arts.

Looking up at the front of Gaudi's cathedra; as the sun comes out from behind the spires.
Sagrada Familia cathedral, Barcelona.
Csaba Veres on Unsplash.

Barcelona is a magnet for tourists and art lovers because of the sense of exuberance and abundance created by the sinuous, sensuous curves and colours of Antoni Gaudí i Cornet’s amazing buildings. Whether we are encountering the shifting sea-like blues of the Casa Batlló, the abstract collage of the wave-like trencadis mosaic bench at Park Güell, the whirlpool-like undulations on the ceiling at Casa Milà, the columns in the Crypt of Colònia Güell which form a wood of trees, or the sunflower forms on the ceiling of the Sagrada Familia, Gaudí's work possesses an ecstatic sense of natural beauty. The Sagrada Familia, his still unfinished magnum opus, attracts over 4.5 million visitors a year, 85 per cent of whom come from outside Spain. 

Known as ‘God’s Architect,’ Gaudí, in one of the last acts by the late Pope Francis, was declared Venerable, a step on the path to sainthood. He was recognised for the heroic virtues which encompass faith, hope, and charity, with Divine charity being paramount. The Vatican’s announcement noted that when Gaudí  accepted the task of directing the project of the Basilica of the Sagrada Familia in 1883, his focus was “making art a hymn of praise to the Lord” and “he considered it his mission to make God known and bring people closer to Him”. Also noted was the humility of his death after being struck a tram on June 7, 1926. Unrecognized, the architect was taken to the Hospital de la Santa Creu, the city’s hospital for the poor and, after receiving the last sacraments, he died three days later, on June 10. Around 30,000 people then attended his funeral. 

The Sagrada Familia is primarily experienced as a forest of columns through which light falls in glowing colours. As in medieval cathedrals the eye is drawn upwards towards the light and glory of God, here by means of slender trunk-like columns, which branch (for reasons of form and function) before the ceiling of the basilica, where natural and artificial light mingle in star-like shapes resembling sunflower heads. Lower down, the abstract stained glass of Joan Vila-Grau filters the blazing natural light of the Catalan sun through primary colours to create a sense of mystery even among the thousands of tourists crowding the space for the best camera angles. 

Among the columnar forest and stained light (if one ignores the baldachin, which is an example of the gaudy Gaudí), there is an almost total absence of explicit Christian iconography, creating a special interior sense of spiritual space. Unlike a medieval cathedral where the Christian story is told inside in stained glass, Gaudí placed the narrative element on the exterior of the building to form a Bible written in stone through three facades: Nativity, Passion and Glory. 

Much of Gaudí's work was marked by his big passions in life: architecture, nature and his Catholic faith. He integrated into his architecture a series of crafts in which he was skilled - ceramics, stained glass, wrought ironwork and carpentry - and introduced new techniques in the treatment of materials, such as trencadis, a special type of mosaic made of waste ceramic pieces. 

After a few years under the influence of neo-Gothic art and Oriental techniques, Gaudí became part of the Modernista movement which was reaching its peak in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. His work transcended mainstream Modernism, culminating in an organic style inspired by nature. He was the great sculptor, utilising natural form in his work both for utilitarian and aesthetic reasons. He described nature as “the Great Book, always open, that we should force ourselves to read” and, as the art critic Robert Hughes recognised, thought that “everything structural or ornamental that an architect might imagine was already prefigured in natural form, in limestone grottoes or dry bones, in a beetle's shining wing case or the thrust of an ancient olive trunk.” 

It is said that Gaudí’s aim at the Sagrada Familia was to bring heaven and earth together. 

Although driven, single and celibate Gaudí was not an ascetic loner. He surrounded himself with work colleagues to whom he gave significant responsibility. He was also well aware that work on the Sagrada Familia could only be completed by the architects, sculptors and craftspeople who would follow his team and plans. Gaudí and his primary patron, Eusebi Güell, were men of great vision and vast ambition, resulting, among other accomplishments, in the Crypt of Colònia Güell, which consists only of the lower nave of what was intended to be a larger building. Their example suggests that to reach for the impossible and fail can nevertheless result in significant achievement. 

The Crypt of Colònia Güell is a culminating point in Gaudi's work, where he included for the first time practically all of his architectural innovations. He said that without the large-scale experiments he undertook there, he would not have dared apply those same geometries to the Sagrada Familia. It is the place where, according to Japanese architect, Arata Isozaki, he “overcame all established limits regarding shapes.” 

This church of Colònia Güell was blessed by the Bishop of Barcelona in 1915 and today functions both as parish church and tourist attraction. Like the Sagrada Familia, albeit on a smaller more intimate scale, its varied columns form a wood of trees. Flower-like, cross-shaped stained glass in primary colours creates a warmth to the space which is complemented by the red brick forming the walls and catenary arches of this cave-like space.  

This is a warm, womb-like enclosure; intimate yet archetypal. It is real and usable communal space while also being of great architectural worth, innovation and beauty. Here the ‘heaven in ordinarie’ of the Eucharist is celebrated in the surround of natural forms recreated by man-made means. It is said that Gaudí’s aim at the Sagrada Familia was to bring heaven and earth together. It may well be that this aim is more fully realised in the earthy intimacy of the Colònia Güell’s wooded Crypt than in the soaring grandeur of the Sagrada Familia. 

In welcoming the news that Gaudí had been declared Venerable, Cardinal Juan José Omella, Archbishop of Barcelona, said “It is a recognition not only of his architectural work but something more important.” He continued: “He is saying you... amid life's difficulties, amid work, amid pain, amid suffering, are destined to be saints.” Ultimately, he notes, “Gaudí’s life and work show us how beauty and holiness can transform the world” as they include the “recognition that sanctity can be found amid scaffolding, suffering, sublime obsession.”

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