This is the kind of thing that comes to mind for everyone.
Statically, other solutions already existed at that time, but still, it was the 'ogee arch', the 'camelback arch' geometry that spread all over the world, probably having migrated from Arab architecture.
Decorative? And beautiful? Well, the situation is much more complicated than that, so much so that you could walk into an entire maze.
At the dams of hydroelectric power plants, it often happens that a lot of water needs to be released or let through very quickly. If this 'spillway' were straight, like you might first think, letting the water go wherever, the sudden change in flow would cause cavitation. This means air bubbles appear irregularly, 'drumming' on the riverbed walls, and dangerously strong vortices pull at parts of the dam, causing serious problems in the concrete structure.
If water flows out in a nice 'S'-shaped double curve, interestingly, there’s hardly any swirling, no cavitation, and 25% more water can pass through. That curve, yes, it’s exactly the 'ogee curve'.
The Concorde was the only supersonic passenger plane.
When designing it, they had to meet conflicting principles: at supersonic speeds, it needed a sharply swept, low-drag wing profile; at low speeds, during takeoff and landing, it would have needed a 'conventional' profile that could generate enough lift. The adjustable flaps of normal, still-used passenger planes, which sort of solve this problem, would have torn off at Mach 2.
The solution: the ogee curve, again. In supersonic flight, the double 'S' profile prevented vortex formation, and thanks to the swept-back design, the drag was very low—the plane almost 'sliced' through the air. During landing, at low speed, the maneuver involved a very strong 'pitch-up' [the plane leaning back intensely]—which was really quite spectacular, or rather downright extravagant; pilot colleagues used to say there was always an ovation upon arrival, and even the cleaning staff would watch through the glass, hardly believing that this was routine. Here, the ogee curve prevented the wing from stalling, as the 'mini-tornadoes' caused by the huge angle of attack controlled the plane with their vacuum, and at the soft end of the 'S' shape they left the profile smoothly.
England wasn't always Protestant; before Henry VIII's great love, around 1500, when Anne Boleyn was born, there was a Catholic 'golden age,' with beautiful cathedrals splashing their splendor across the country. Take Ely Cathedral, for example—its ornate design, ogee arches, and interior spaces were far more than just architectural solutions.
Because by then there were already other techniques for creating high spaces, and besides, the ogee arch can’t be used as a load-bearing element, so this shape wasn’t driven by physical reasons, but rather aesthetic ones, though mostly some kind of strong sacred intent can be discerned.
Intent? Yes, the effect that worshippers felt when entering the cathedral was deliberately intended. The 'S'-shaped convex/concave transition gently 'absorbed' and lifted the spirits without any swirling. Looking at it, the lower, softly curving part of the arch represented the earthly world, while the narrowing of the upper, concave section was a kind of meditative 'guidance', focusing attention toward the Heavenly Gate (Porta Coeli), the pinnacle, the 'Apex', the Divine Absolute.
Then, the 'flamboyant' mystique, the 'flame effect' achieved by multiplying ogee arches — because the physical shape of a flame is actually a combination of ogee arches — is really the wonderful earthly counterpart of the Holy Spirit.
Music.
Björn Schmelzer, the leader of Graindelavoix, believes that the music that was played back then is a complete and total match to the above. Not only did he think so, but he also gifted posterity with a dazzling album.
He tried to interpret the extremely complex weaving pattern of early English polyphony; to match the fluid plasticity of the polyphonic works heard in Ely Cathedral with the intricate matrix of architectural decorations.
The main work, Thomas Ashwell's breathtaking Missa Ave Maria, is, according to B. S., probably one of the most exciting milestones in polyphony, connected to a few motets from the Eton Choirbook by John Browne.
In the mass, the Ave Maria antiphon keeps appearing in different voices, with increasingly shorter note values, so much so that they almost become 'fractalized' echoes. Moreover, the degree of abbreviations always changes, and the simultaneous syncopations give a spiral-like motion and pulse. The over-ornamentation becomes so 'flamboyant' that sometimes the composition 'loses itself'.
A strange and irrational infinite term enters musical mathematics, and the strictly edited counterpoint set from just a few moments ago will start to resemble more of a labyrinth... The decorative lines will become indistinguishable from the structural ones, down to the tiniest detail, just like in the decorations of a cathedral.
Protestant image and statue destruction didn’t spare Ely Cathedral either; the main figures and symbols were distorted. But interestingly, in the Lady Chapel, the 'secondary' decorations that convey deeper messages—foliate designs, ogee arches, leaves and seaweeds (?) and all kinds of 'fleshy', even sometimes erotic, intertwining patterns—remained untouched.
So, what is this 'secondary message'? According to Binski [Paul Binski, a renowned medieval scholar], it was actually the material language used to evoke the Virgin Mary—not the person, but the event, the Immaculate Conception—and it subliminally made people aware of Mary's femininity. Back then, people entered this building to heal themselves, to 'sweeten' themselves through the Virgin Mary, and to keep their souls in the right balance.
Both composers share the idea that music is a tool not just for being understandable, but also for being tangible, and even fluid, so it can move the audience directly. 'Musical' fluidity existed as a real concept in this context, in today's language. Back then — it was completely different. It wasn't today's metaphor, like 'fluid, like…', but fluidity itself. Not abstractly, but concretely. Understanding this from here is impossible. We can only navigate among guesses.
The Concorde burned 25,000 liters of jet fuel per hour, four times as much as a normal plane, and with a quarter of the passengers/luggage. Freedom, yes, that obviously comes up here, flying itself is freedom, but it was still a bit of a hedonistic way to travel.
By studying the flow of water, you can get closer to the real essence. The ogee curve is exactly the line that a water jet would trace if we let it flow freely.
When we don’t touch it.
When things 'go according to their own nature'.
Without compulsion, independently, out of inner conviction. Not because someone said so. When the source of faith is free will. A free will that isn’t chaotic and isn’t anarchic and isn’t random and isn’t disorder, but a 'divine,' or even natural/organic metaphysical approach facilitated by a double arc.
Maybe this is the liberation and the true freedom of Gothic.
When the movement or action is such that it could even become a universal law, or already is one.
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| Immanuel Kant |
And here you can catch a glimpse of the concept of the categorical imperative, 250 years later, which has faced a lot of legitimate criticism for its rigidity, but still carries a very strong sense of clarity.
Listening to the album, when the circumstances allow for a bit more focused attention, you can really feel the lift and elevation in many places. Just as the controlled micro-tornado under Concord's wing keeps the aircraft-monster in the Air, this music sustains our spirit amid the turning of the Spheres.
The performance is above class. Voices so varied in range and tone that they practically fall into the category of 'magic.' They pull you into the music, into its very core, into singularity itself.
You rarely hear anything like this.
Many Gothic cathedrals still stand, but in architectural use, the 'Gothic' window no longer exists today. The Concorde was retired from service in 2003. In the history of aviation, perhaps only the Graf Zeppelin had such prestige, which flew regularly until 1937.
None of them came back into the air, and they never will fly again.
The square windows stay, along with the standard Boeing 737s with their clunky thick fuselages... And a few videos of the Zeppelin have survived, digitized from some really old film reel.
But this record is here.
And seriously, it's really, really good.
In the article, I relied heavily on Björn Schmelzer's ideas.
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Thank you for the images
1: Novák Fanni -2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12-13-14-15-16-17-18-19-20-21-22
