Laon Cathedral, France (part 2)

There are several things I enjoy when visiting cathedrals. First, I enjoy observing how the cathedral comes into view as I approach, both as a modern pilgrim and as a tourist. What catches my attention, how does the monumental edifice fit into its surroundings (which have changed considerably over the centuries). Then I slowly amble along one side of the building, taking in its incredible size and the care with which it has been constructed. As I enter the cathedral, I like to be aware of changes in light, the new smells, new sounds as quiet visitors or worshipers walk in the resonant nave. And I like to stop to think, admire, pray and give thanks that such a wonderful place exists and that people still work to keep the cathedral life vibrant and the building sound.

Sometimes it is nice to include an unknown person in a photograph, but generally I find a shot I want to take, determine the lighting, and then wait (and wait and wait) until nobody is in view. Sometimes this can take ten minutes, during which the light invariably changes, shifting as the sun moves. I also like to look through arches, doorways, through the frames the cathedral offers us century after century, but we usually rush by, unheeding. There are also the nooks and crannies, the less-noticed details which, as in any building, tell you something about the care with which things have been made. [You can also visit my earlier posting, Laon Cathedral, France (part 1).]

Laon Cathedral, France (part 1)

The magnificent Laon cathedral sits authoritatively on a considerable hill which rises unexpectedly out of a plain about 130 kms northeast of Paris and about 45 kms northeast of Reims. The present structure was begun c. 1160 (after the fire of 1111, a disastrous consequence of an insurrection). The cathedral was finished in 1230, but like buildings the world over, required work throughout its history. World War I fortunately did not touch the edifice (the Cathedral of Reims, however, was devasted by bombardments).

On each of my three visits over the decades, I take a day train trip from Paris, enjoying the countryside coming and going. Arriving at the station, one immediately sees the high hill rising from the base of the town. You can ascend by car, tram, or (my preferred method) by climbing the hundreds of steps which lead directly to the medieval city's outer wall.

It is thought that six towers were planned but only four were completed, and they are indeed wonderful. I keep returning to this somewhat remote cathedral just to enjoy one more time those airy towers. I especially enjoy the whimiscle oxen high in the tower, taking in the constantly changing scenery of the stretching plains below.

The gothic structure receives its unusual interior lightness from its light stone. Even though I was visiting on an overcast day offering a uniformly bland sky, the cathedral's interior colours were invitingly warm.

These pictures focus on details more than on traditional shots depicting the sweep of the majestic architecture. I admire the large spaces enclosed by such exquisitely crafted masonry, but I also appreciate the intricacies of a finely crafted spiderweb--one transient web protected by a seemingly permanent web of limestone. There are well-worn pavement stones polished by the feet of worshippers and tourists over the centuries, the worn wooden choir stalls where monks once sat eight times daily for Offices and once more for Mass, candles lit by the faithful believers on that June 5th, and plaques of thanksgiving for prayers answered. [For more pictures, please visit: Laon Cathedral, France (part 2).]