HIGH ALTAR FRAME
Church of St. Benedict, Stranje | 1949
Bergant's first collaboration with Plečnik.
". . . an anecdote which turned the collaboration between the two artists into a genuine friendship."
An excerpt from the book "WOODCARVER MAKS BERGANT, A LIFE DEDICATED TO BEAUTY"
Author:
Miklavž Komelj
Artwork Specifications:
High altar and altar frame details | Bergant's sculptures in ivory-coloured oval medallions | Limewood | Carved ornament | Gold leaf gilded | Matte finish | 1949
Photo:
Žiga Mihelčič
Bergant was recommended to Plečnik as the best woodcarver in Kamnik. . .
And then Plečnik came. Bergant was recommended to him as the best woodcarver in Kamnik by friar Martin Perc, who commissioned the architect in 1947 to redesign the church of St. Benedict in Stranje, which had been severely damaged during the war. It was Plečnik’s first post-war architectural assignment and one of the most significant works of his late creative period. The fact that the church was defiled by German soldiers during the war must have played a part in persuading the government, normally fiercely opposed to the Catholic Church, to go through with the renovation – and yet in that “devilishly deranged time,” as Plečnik exclaimed in one of his letters to Bergant, the work could often not be carried out in plain sight. In the Stranje project, Plečnik worked in close co-operation with the local people, and it grew on him because he enjoyed the intensity of working together with applied artists, craftsmen and villagers. Most of the work was done by the local masters from Kamnik and its surroundings. According to Damijan Prelovšek, Plečnik always “adapted [his designs] to the knowledge and skill of his associates.” Confident of his woodcarver’s outstanding ornamentation skills, he designed the high altar in Stranje as a “large-sized leaf motif ostensorium.”
Plecnik took great delight in crafted details. . .
. . . many of his designs are teeming with lyricism and playfulness. However, he expected the craftsmen working on these details to do more than just follow his designs: he wanted to spark up a creative dialogue. In his plans for the high altar in Stranje, Plecnik determined the structure of foliage ornament but left the medallion space blank. Bergant, who was supposed to fill the empty space with the heads of saints and angels, was given a free hand with the execution.
. . . an anecdote which turned the collaboration between the two artists into a genuine friendship.
Still, this does not mean that Plecnik had no concrete expectations, as can be seen from an anecdote which turned the collaboration between the two artists into a genuine friendship.
Bergant set off to work eagerly, starting with two angelic heads on the lower end of the altar. When they were finished and Plecnik saw them in the workshop, he said that they were “cute” but that he would have preferred them to be “more Italian.” Bergant said: “Alright.” And calmly, without any sign of distress or insult, he threw the heads on the ground beneath the counter.
Plečnik was amazed at Bergant’s reaction. The willingness to dispose of something already made and start again shows that Begrant was fully in control of his ego, which was even more interesting because he was very confident when it came to his work. But there was nothing personal in this confidence; it was humility in the face of beauty.
Two days later Plecnik sent Bergant a copy of his monograph Architectura perennis with a wonderfully witty inscription:
You are God: we praise you;
You are the Lord; we acclaim you;
You are the eternal Father: all creation worships you
as do Maks Bergant in Kamnik
and Jože Plecnik in Ljubljana
In memory of 7th July 1947
Having witnessed the symbolic gesture that signified Bergant’s humility before God, Plecnik recognised the woodcarver as his equal.
The inscription is a wonderful example of how Plecnik used his archaic sacral diction to the benefit of his sparkling wit.
The underlying point of the anecdote is initiation. Plecnik’s logic was not the logic of an intellectual but the logic of a spiritual master. He must have been impressed by Bergant’s act of subordination because there was something hagiographic about it; in saints in particular, such humility was a sign of authenticity.
St. Philip Neri, for example, once used a rather brutal method to verify the authenticity of a mystic’s miracles: he asked her to take off his muddy boots, which she flatly refused. (Goethe wrote a vivid account of the incident.)
Plecnik trusted Bergant’s mastery and power of invention. . .
After the incident, the relationship between the two grew even stronger. Plecnik trusted Bergant’s mastery and power of invention, and offered unobtrusive advice on the issues of execution. In one of his letters, he even sent Bergant a copy of St. Benedict’s face executed in the Beuron style. Besides, he considered the collaboration with the master carver as one of mutual consultation. In his letter of 27th August 1949, Plecnik informed Bergant that it was his choice whether the ceiling in the baptistery in Stranje should be gilded or not; he mentioned that he was not in favour of gilding but let Bergant make the final decision. He also wrote about capitals, saying he wished to consult Bergant on their design. On the other hand, Plecnik was able to advise the carver on various technical issues. Born into a family of carpenters, he knew wood well and took great pleasure in the finesse of the craft. In the above-mentioned letter, he shared with Bergant the subtleties of gilding, explaining to him how to ensure long-lasting gilding work. When openly sharing these “secrets of the trade,” Plecnik also made clear his disdain for intellectualism; his letter continues with: “I have done a lot of reading these days – reading dulls the creative spirit[.]” Bergant had developed immense admiration for Plecnik, but, being an avid reader with a particular passion for history books (in particular, the history of both World Wars), he might have disagreed with this statement.
The majority of the work in Stranje had been completed by 1949. . .
. . . but its adaptations continued in the 1950s. Plecnik remained in charge of the church’s renovation and equipment until his death, and Bergant made all the carved furnishings for the church. Particularly worth mentioning are the chandeliers in the presbytery, which show prophet Elijah in the fire chariot and Jewish spies returning from Canaan bearing an oversize grape cluster. Both works are based on Plecnik’s drawings, though freely interpreted; for example, Bergant changed the position of the spies’ hands.
