A Guide to Romania’s Spectacular Painted Monasteries of Bucovina

A Guide to Romania’s Spectacular Painted Monasteries of Bucovina On the eastern side of Romania sits a region forgotten by time. Moldavia is a land of endless, rolling plains stretching out to dusky horizons. In Romania itself, the region is known for being underdeveloped and relatively-poor. But Moldavia has something nowhere else in Balkans has. It’s here, in this vast and lonely world, that you can find Romania’s spectacular Painted Monasteries of Bucovina. Built for orthodox worship in the dying days and immediate aftermath of the Byzantine Empire, these small buildings have stood, virtually unchanged, for five long centuries. Their outsides decorated with spectacular Christian frescoes, each rendered in unique colours, the churches have survived hostile Habsburg Emperors, invading Ottoman forces, and decades of neglect under Communism. Utterly beguiling, almost hypnotic, these neglected masterpieces represent some of the most-haunting works of total art you will ever likely lay eyes on. Church of the Beheading of St John the Baptist (Arbore) When the foundation stone of the small church of Arbore was laid in 1503, it was in a land scarred by poverty and relentless conflict. Vicious raids by Ottoman troops had marred Moldavian life for centuries, and squalor and illiteracy were deeply entrenched. So when it came time to paint the churches, the artists weren’t looking to merely decorate plain walls. They wanted to create a kind of living, breathing Christianity that could be understood by the local peasants. Nowhere is this perhaps clearer than at the painted church at Arbore. Dedicated to the Beheading of John the Baptist, the painted church’s frescoes tell a truncated story leading all the way from the book of Genesis to the death of the Saint. Inside and out, expertly-detailed pictures give the sense of a vast narrative unfolding over centuries. While many images have been lost due to centuries of weathering, enough still survive to make visiting Arbore church feel like flicking through a picture book by some forgotten old master. Church of the Assumption of the Virgin (Humor) In a corner of the frescoed porch at Humor Monastery sits one of the most-fascinating of all Byzantine artworks. Etched in red, black, and white, three separate images show the medieval viewer exactly what to expect if they sin in this life: the fires (red), the darkness (black), and the never ending cold (white) of Hell itself. But this triptych isn’t the only artwork unique to Humor. Founded in 1530 and painted in 1535, the painted monastery’s distinctive red-and-brown hues hold all manner of strange and disturbing images. Among these is an unusual work that depicts Satan as female, a slice of gender-equality that seems incongruous for the time. Others feature sinners being cast into hell at the Last Judgement; the dragon-slaying exploits of St George; and the devastating Siege of Constantinople. Everywhere you look, deranged, expertly-crafted images stare back at you with painted eyes, almost as if you’ve been placed in the very middle of a carnival fun house. The work on Humor may have finished 500 years ago, but its power to shock remains undiminished. Church of the Annunciation (Moldovita) Nowhere else in Romania looks like Moldovita Monastery. The dazzling golds and deep blues of the exterior frescoes are unique in this region, possibly the world. Like visions emerging from the depths of a cloudless sky they mesmerise the casual viewer. For a medieval peasant, seeing the awe-inspiring works at Moldovita was likely close to coming face to face with God himself. Interestingly, the monastery as we see it today is merely a copy of what came before. The original painted monastery was destroyed by ferocious mudslides in the 15th century, and not rebuilt until 1532 (it was repainted five years later). It’s hard to imagine the previous version being anywhere near so spectacular. Adorned with an intricate family tree of Jesus himself, and taking in battle scenes and sieges, everything about Moldovita’s frescoes is sublime. Interestingly, the preserved paintings also include graffiti scratched on by Habsburg troops in the mid-19th century, still visible today. Church of the Holy Rood (Pătrăuți) Parauti Monastery today is little more than a sad reminder of the destructive powers of time. The oldest of the painted monasteries of Bucovina, Parauti was built in 1487 and founded by Stephen the Great. When it was first built, the Byzantine Empire still existed, Shakespeare was yet to be born, and the Holy Roman Empire was still over 315 years away from its dissolution. Yet all those decades have taken their toll on the glorious painted monastery. Today, the frescoes which once covered its exterior are all but gone. Only a fragment remains around the main doorway, a last holdout against the relentless assault of Romania’s harsh winters. From what little remains, we can tell that Parauti was once one of the great painted monasteries of Bucovina. Images of divine judgement and souls awaiting hell contrast with significantly more-surreal pictures, like the saint sitting astride an enormous fish (a reference to the legend of Jonah, perhaps?). While the colours are mostly-faded, its deep reds must have once been a spectacular sight. Sadly, little now remains of the grand fresco that once was. Church of St Nicholas (Probota) The Monastery of Probota holds a unique accolade in Romanian history. It was here, in 1532, that the practice of painting frescoes on church exteriors first took shape. While other churches featured on this list were built earlier, they all stood unadorned until Petru Rares ordered Probota’s church to be decorated. The resulting frescoes inspired others across Moldovia to follow suit. Within less than a decade, a unique Orthodox tradition had been born. Despite their longevity, Probota’s frescoes have been better preserved than those on other painted monasteries of Bucovina. While those on the exterior are bleached and faded, they are crucially still visible, even after centuries of enforced neglect. In the 19th century, the Catholic Habsburg rulers ordered large parts of the frescoes to be torn down and replaced; perhaps despairing of the Orthodox heresies depicted there. Although many survived, it was not without acute damage. Yet Probota Monastery still retains a sense of what it originally must have looked like; a pioneering church that changed the way an entire region worshipped. Church of St George (Suceava) The grand church of St George at the Monastery of St John the New was completed not as a show of piety, but rather as an expression of raw power. Finished by Prince Stefăniţă in 1522 after his father died during construction, it was intended to reassure the world that, despite the loss of lands and influence, authority still flowed from the prince. As a result, the church towers, fortress-like, over the surrounding landscape, its high tower keeping solemn watch over everything – and everyone – surrounding it. As with Parauti Monastery, the frescoes at Suceava Monastery have sadly been ill-treated by time and the climate. While still visible, many have been faded by the burning sun and howling winds of the wild Moldovian plain. Despite this, enough luckily still remains here to get a sense of the majesty this church must once have had. Church of St George (Voronet) This is it. The grandest monastery in the whole of Romania. Known as the “Sistine Chapel of the East”, Voronet Monastery (today actually a nunnery) is beauty and divine judgement on an epic scale. The entire exterior wall is given over to an enormous blue fresco depicting humanity’s journey from the Garden of Eden, to its spectacular end at the Last Judgement. The only monastery to have a world-famous colour associated with it (Voronet Blue), Voronet Monastery is the quintessential Romanian Orthodox experience. Everything about the building is impressive. Despite its size, it took a mere three months and three weeks to build, hastily thrown up to commemorate a 1488 victory over the Ottomans. When it came time to paint the building, only the greatest of fresco makers were brought in to work on it, as can be seen from the stunning level of detail. Christians rise from their graves at the sounding of the last trumpet. Cain kills his brother in a spectacular display of light and shadow. St Paul escorts the believers to heaven below a choir of angels. Voronet Monastery is arguably Orthodox Christian design at its very best, and the finest of all the painted monasteries of Bucovina. Church of the Resurrection (Sucevița) The last of Moldovia’s painted monasteries of Bucovina to be afforded UNESCO World Heritage status, the Church of the Resurrection at Sucevița was also one of the very last to be built. Constructed over 20 long years beginning in 1582, it was only finally finished at the end of 1601. Fittingly, the artists chose to decorate Romania’s last great church with images from the final book of the Bible. The south side is a vast, doom-laden retelling of the Book of Revelation, depicting the Apocalypse in full, disturbing swing. Famous at home for its hypnotic, green-red hues, Sucevita Monastery is also notable for having an entirely bare western wall. This isn’t due to exposure or damage inflicted by some passing army. In 1590, as artists worked on the exterior frescoes, the head painter took to the roof to survey part of the western wall. He slipped and fell to earth with a fatal crash, leading the other painters to believe the westward-facing section of the church was cursed. To this day, no-one dares inscribe anything on this forbidding blank section of wall.