Legliz ak monastè

Armenia, like Georgia, is full of churches and monasteries, but they are significantly different from each other. In Georgia, they are very similar to Russian Orthodox churches. Mostly painted from top to bottom with colorful frescoes, lots of gold and shine for the worship of God.

In Armenia, it's the opposite. Large and powerful, mostly quite dark and completely sober. Except for an image of the Virgin Mary and possibly one of a saint, there is nothing.

At first, I was quite affected by so much austerity. But a guide informed me that the churches were intentionally built in such a completely plain manner in early Christianity so that nothing would distract from the worship of God. The church was intended as the place where nothing else had a place except God Himself, and the space was created for the encounter between man and God. Alive, deep, and pure. Only God and man, nothing else.

Against this background, I saw the churches differently, and although I found this simplicity unusual, it was also very soothing. If you spend a longer time in such a space, you are quickly thrown back onto yourself, and existential questions arise automatically.

Absolutely overwhelming in the Armenian monasteries are the stone crosses. I have never seen them in this form anywhere else. They come in all variations and no two are alike.

They have been donated by more or less affluent people. Out of gratitude, special occasions, expressions of worship, or whatever reasons there were. They have an incredible power of attraction, each in its own way. At the same time, they are an ornamental element that connects so wonderfully with these simple spaces that everything appears as one piece. One is inconceivable without the other. A harmony of place and stone created with spirit and hand.