La Tourette, France
Located on the outskirts of the town of L’Arbresle, just 29 km north-west of Lyon, the convent of Saint-Marie de la Tourette is not only a religious centre for Dominican monks, but today is also a place of pilgrimage for many architects from around the world. Designed by the famous French modernist architect Le Corbusier in the late 1950s, La Tourette is an inspiring example of modern religious architecture, with its concrete structure and contrasting elements. But when I make my way there in the early French summer, what I am most amazed to find is not just an incredible building, but rather an aura of peace and calm that surrounds me from the moment I enter.
As my train pulls in to Arbresle train station, I am thankful for having made it that far, given the calamity of train delays from Lyon that sees me arriving three hours late. In a panic, I jump into a taxi and quickly find myself being driven down the tree-lined entrance to La Tourette, hoping desperately that I can still get in despite arriving more than one hour after it has closed for the day.
This is when my magical time at La Tourette begins. On the entrance, I find a lovely note from the host for my stay, Frere Marc, asking me to call him so that he can let me in. He quickly arrives to open the door for me into this wonderful place, and explains that the brothers are in the middle of eating dinner, so we head straight to the refectory.
There I am greeted by five other brothers and a separate table already set for me with cold meats, fresh vegetables, bread and wine. It is simple home food, but it is incredibly delicious. Listening to the brothers chat amongst themselves, it really feels like being in a family home. They generously share their pasta and homemade olive oil with me, but the true treat reveals itself when they rise to open the curtains. Unveiled before me is a beautiful view of fields and the town below, as the sun sets over the scene that fills the west-facing glass wall running the length of the refectory. I drink my wine with the sun on my face, and marvel at how amazing the world is.
After dinner, Frere Marc offers to take me on a quick tour. Despite the fact that the courtyard is full of scaffolding due to restorations now into their fourth year, La Tourette is a breathtaking example of modern architectural genius mixed with the religious symbolism that marks many of the world’s great buildings.
Naturally, this potent mix is at its best in the church at La Tourette. As I enter the holy sanctuary, a single ray of light streams through a slit at the top of the highest concrete wall, lighting up the ceiling three storeys above, as though the heavens were breaking through into the dark, near-windowless space.
Below this light, set against the stark concrete wall, sits a magnificent organ – a centrepiece of its own in a cantilevered square concrete frame. A thin brass cross at the other end of the church is positioned so that the light from another slit in a window hits it as the sun sets, giving it a fire-like glow burning brightly to light the room. Other windows frame the edges of the church, filtering light in through coloured shafts and making the space feel joyous in the simplest way.
I am overwhelmed with a sense of peace and happiness as I make my way out into the fields surrounding La Tourette. The wind is cold, but as I watch the sun drop behind the hills in the distance, swallows sing their final songs for the day whilst dancing about in the air around me, and I take a moment to fully appreciate just how lucky I am to be here.
I spend the night in one of the cells that were originally designed for the Dominican students to stay in, but are now used to house the many tourists who flock to La Tourette every year. The rooms are small and are furnished with only a single bed, desk and chair, small wardrobe and a wash basin. But the added pleasure to each room is a little balcony with picturesque views out over a field laced with wildgrass and flowers.
After a cold night, I awaken early to join the brothers in the church for morning prayer. Alone in the church with the six of them, I listen as their simple songs resonate in this amazing space, remarking at what a wonderful way it is to awaken the mind and spirit. After morning prayers, I am shown the crypts, another awe-inspiring space that is hidden from the view of the main church area. Marc explains to me the religious symbolism beautifully translated into the physical structure of La Tourette by Le Corbusier. The building is raised above the ground on pylons ensuring the brothers live their lives on a higher plain between Earth and heaven. The crypt, however, is positioned on the ground, following the slope of the land beneath it, ensuring that the brothers are grounded and sit with the people on the earth when they pray. As Le Corbusier commented during his design of La Tourette: “The lowest place becomes the highest, the highest the lowest.”
Finally, I settle down for a quiet breakfast alone in the refectory, basking in the morning sunlight, this time streaming in through the windows on the eastern side. I then head back to my room to prepare to leave for my onward journey.
As I wander slowly down the tree-lined driveway and along sun-lit country roads for the half-hour stroll to the train station, I am thankful for my time in the presence of the calm souls of the brothers. But mostly I am grateful for the opportunity to experience the majesty that can only be felt in such a grand building when you stand within its walls, and simply breathe with it for a while.
Photography by James Du Plessis