From the high halls of Asgard we’re happy to bring you two new Pins!
Thor the Thunderer and the All-Father Odin are available for a limited time at our Crowdmade
shop, and Thor’s lightning glows in the dark.
Link below!
“Scandinavian Design” is a home décor trend from the 1900s characterized by simplicity,
function, and elegant minimalism.
It’s the reason everything at IKEA looks like that, and why it’s spelled like that.
But it is hardly the only design aesthetic native to the far northern edge of Europe.
Look through cities like Stockholm or Copenhagen and you may be struck by the swirly renaissance
whimsy of all the bronze-coated spires and delightfully bubbly rooflines.
Yet part of the charm in Scandinavian style is how all these disparate elements are able
to fit comfortably next to hypermodern performance venues and abundant green spaces.
All that variety becomes a strength, and harmonizes together in all these cities.
Both times I visited Copenhagen, I found myself surprised at how much I liked the look of
something I, on paper, would not have cared for.
I mean barely any marble, only two domes – yet still I’m a fan!
That’s not to say they’re all winners, but simply that the Scandinavians are good
at this stuff, and I shouldn’t be surprised by the times when I’m surprised – You
know?
Among the Scandinavian countries, this leaves Iceland as the odd one out.
It is absolutely renowned for its beauty, but specifically and almost exclusively its
natural beauty.
Granted, that’s for good reason!
Volcanoes sprung out from the ground tens of thousands of years ago yet still to this
day are constantly erupting, while glaciers carved out huge masses of land to leave behind
winding riverbeds and dramatic glacial waterfalls, creating an otherworldly landscape of mountains,
valleys, water, lava, and, oh yeah, sometimes the sky GLOWS.
So the practical answer for why Iceland didn’t put as many skill-points into architecture
as the others is that Iceland had always been sparsely populated and only really started
urbanizing in the 1800s, which just doesn’t leave a lot of time for that kind of stylistic
development, but the aesthetically-thematic answer is that Iceland didn’t need to bother
when the sheer spectacle of the land itself puts the rest of the world to shame.
So when the OSP crew and friends took a big group vacation up north earlier this year,
we were astounded again and again by the simple fact that Iceland is just gorgeous.
And I failed to learn my lesson about being surprised at my own surprise, because while
there are only a handful of major architectural landmarks in the city of Reykjavik, this church
right here is an all-time classic.
To see how, let’s do some history.
The beginning of settlement in Iceland takes us back all the way to the late 800s AD, when
Scandinavian seafarers happened upon this gigantic island in the middle of the Atlantic.
Whether they intentionally set out 700 miles northwest of the mainland or just stumbled
into it accidentally as they overshot the Faroe islands is anyone’s guess, but others
soon joined them, and by 930 they had enough settlers to formalize a commonwealth on the
island, with the medieval world’s first representative assembly: the Althing.
Yet they couldn’t escape those darn nasty kings back in Scandinavia for long, as Norway’s
king sent Christian missionaries to Iceland at the end of the century, and then after
two entire centuries of meddling, it got glomped into the Kingdom of Norway in the 1260s.
In the 1300s, it variously united under Sweden and then under Denmark, and then finally they
achieved Peak-Scandinavia by snowballing together into the Kalmar Union.
This lasted up to 1523 when Sweden left, but the politics of mainland Europe had limited
impact out in Iceland.
What did make a splash was the Protestant Reformation, when newly-Lutheran Danes forcibly
converted Iceland out of Catholicism and closed all the monasteries.
And this was not the only thing Denmark forcibly did, as they later imposed a strict trading
monopoly on Iceland, with the specific purpose of siphoning out all of Iceland’s wealth
and then hideously upcharging them for basic goods in return.
Denmark got Iceland’s best on the cheap which they could turn around and sell for
huge profits, while Iceland had to pay name-brand prices for Denmark’s bottom-shelf products.
Not exactly fair, but that’s empires for you.
The joy of being a distant corner of someone else’s kingdom continued through 1786, when
the monopoly was partially abolished, so all Danes but still only Danes could trade with
Iceland.
This coincided with the founding of a port city at Reykjavik, at the supposed site of
Iceland’s first settlement by the Vikings.
Iceland’s ancient assembly the Althing was briefly suspended but restored in 1844, now
in Reykjavik, which granted it a status as the economic and political capital.
Iceland got its own flag in 1915, with its colors representing the mountains, glaciers,
and volcanoes that characterize the land.
In 1918 they were granted sovereignty, but remained part of the Danish crown because
monarchy is weird like that.
In the second world war Denmark was occupied by the Nazis, so Iceland figured now was as
good a time as ever to bail, and declared independence as a republic in 1944, one millennium
and change after the original founding of the Althing.
So despite the abundantly long history of Iceland overall, its modern shape is remarkably
new, and that of course includes the architecture.
The typical Lutheran churches were plain, made of wood, usually with one allotted accent
color, all in keeping with the protestant taste for simple and unfussy churches.
But with Iceland’s new sovereignty in the 1900s, there was an appetite for a showcase
of distinctly Icelandic architecture, and State Architect Guðjón Samúelsson was more
than up to the task – He worked on Reykjavik’s urban planning and designed buildings around
Iceland, including the Héraðsskólinn schoolhouse in the style of traditional turf houses and
the inventively art-deco-ish Akureyrarkirkja, as well as the main University of Iceland
building and National Theater which both reflect the starkness of Iceland’s natural landscape
while incorporating various modernist elements.
It’s nothing too out there, but it all helped to develop a style of Iceland for Iceland.
Then, in 1937 the state commissioned what would become his centerpiece project for Reykjavik:
a Lutheran church in honor of the Icelandic clergyman and poet Hallgrímur Pétursson.
His Passíusálmar or Passion Hymns had been a central fixture in Icelandic faith and literature
since their composition in the 1600s, making him arguably the most prominent Icelandic
poet this side of the Eddas.
And in his honor, Hallgrímskirkja would become the grandest church in all of Iceland.
So, how did the talented Mr Samúelsson pull it off?
Essentially, he looked to Iceland itself for inspiration, much as he had done in his previous
work.
And here that meant designing the church to echo the volcanic basalt columns that appear
across the country because of Iceland’s bonkers geothermal properties.
The basalt is almost perfectly hexagonal despite occurring naturally, and it makes for a fantastic
design motif on the church.
The entire exterior here is made of a very rough white concrete to mimic the ruggedness
of uncut stone, and the wings and tower are shaped to look just like the basalt columns.
The effect is striking, and Hallgrimskirkja seems like a mountain standing right in the
center of the city.
The back of the church follows a more traditional basilica structure with some gothic detailing
in the windows, but it continues that geometric texture and crisp aesthetic which make it
so distinct.
And, as is right and just, there is a dome.
Yet even Hallgrimskirkja does not exist apart from nature, and the ever-temperamental Icelandic
weather makes the surface of the church into a canvas for light – It’s imposing in
the fog and snow, shines bright white on a clear day, and takes on a golden glow in the
sunset.
And it might be in this particular lighting that you realize where Marvel’s Asgard got
its inspiration.
It’s extra charming if you look to the church from Reykjavik’s rainbow road, which was
added as a lovely display of LGBT pride, but also doubles as a cute reference to Bifrost,
the rainbow bridge that leads to Asgard.
Now stepping through the big bronze doors and into the church itself, it is a thoroughly
Lutheran space, lacking in frills and described by my esteemed colleague Red as “the textures
haven’t popped in yet”.
And while that acerbic assessment may be accurate, the space is no less impressive for it.
If anything, the pure simplicity lets the interior become as a dedicated spectacle of
light.
Much like the outside, the space is stark, but that minimalism connects you to that pure
sense of Iceland.
To me, it felt like stepping into a mountain or a glacier, the main difference being most
mountains don’t have a 25-ton, 5000-pipe organ in the back – it’s incredible for
concerts, and also lets the church serve as a place of community as well as worship.
Down at human-level there’s also plenty to appreciate, from the quintessentially-Scandinavian
seating which impressively incorporates the basalt motif, to the small selection of religious
artwork around the church, to the crystal baptismal font that refracts rainbows when
it catches the light.
Many churches manage to feel like empty rooms, but Hallgrimskirkja, which objectively has
a lot less stuff in it, feels complete and rich because the light perfectly fills what
the church leaves open.
It’s in constant interaction with the natural landscape, echoing what it can while acting
as a mirror for the rest.
Having been commissioned 7 years after the millennial anniversary of the Althing and
finished on Reykjavik’s bicentennial, Hallgrimskirkja is true to Samúelsson’s intent: every inch
of the place celebrates what makes Iceland Iceland, and DAMN it is pretty.
Thank you so much for watching!
Myself, Red, Cyan, Indigo, the Greens and all our friends who went to Iceland had an
absolutely fantastic time, and as soon as I looked at that big ol’ church again I
knew I needed to make a video on it.
I’d like to thank all the people of Iceland who were so kind and hospitable to us, as
well as Midgard Adventure, which is the excellent tour company we booked with.
If you find yourself compelled to visit Iceland, and I hope you do, we highly recommend them.