Asamkirche

Once upon a time in Bavaria there were two brothers, named Egid and Cosmas. Egid and Cosmas were not the only children in their household – they had another seven brothers and sisters. Their parents were named Hans and Maria.

Cosmas, Egid and Hans (early portrait, artist unknown)

Hans and Maria’s principal concerns in life were feeding and clothing their many children (and themselves), and keeping their many children from killing each other. It soon became obvious that both of these tasks would become easier if the number of children in the house could be reduced, ideally by turning some of them into responsible adults, presumably with households of their own. One day after school, Hans was talking with Egid and Cosmas about their future, which so far was anything but certain.

 
            Hans: So – is there anything you like to do, that you
                  think you could become good at?

            Cosmas: I like to draw things, and to make them pretty
                    colors.

            Hans: Splendid!  But you will need to observe people
                  better.  Most of them have two eyes.

            Egid: I like to make ash trays from Play-doh.

            Hans: Play-doh?

            Egid: I mean clay.

            Hans: Yes, they’re lovely.  But I don’t smoke.  You’ll
                  need to learn to make more things.

            (thoughtful pause)

            Hans: I know!  The fashionable style these days is
                  called Baroque. I will send you to study
                  the work of the King of Baroque.  He lived in
                  Italy.

            Egid: I like pizza!

            Cosmas: Who made him King?

            Hans: The Pope, among others.  His name was Gian
                  Lorenzo Bernini.  I will send you to Rome.

The brothers traveled to Italy and studied all they found there. They turned out to be quite talented. Cosmas, the elder of the two, gravitated toward painting, while Egid, who was six years younger, was drawn more to sculpture and stucco work. After extensive studies, they returned to Bavaria and continued studying, soon finding work. Their talents grew with experience, and they eventually became recognized as the Asam brothers, masters of late German Baroque. They worked both together and separately, mainly across southern Germany, and were particularly drawn to Benedictine monasteries.

Cosmas Damian Asam (self portrait)

Egid Quirin Asam (painting by Cosmas Asam)

Ceiling Fresco, Weingarten Basilica, Cosmas Asam

High Altar, Rohr Monastery Church, Egid Asam

Though the work paid well and the brothers were widely acclaimed, they found their labors somewhat unsatisfying. They didn’t know why at first, but as time went on, the reason became apparent – they were not able to act on many of the ideas they thought to be their best. Their patrons, who after all paid the bills, were able to reject any ideas they found to be unsuitable for any reason, and they frequently did so. One day during a discussion of this dilemma, Cosmas and Egid decided to build a church for themselves, in which they could make all of the decisions. They had been saving a portion of their earnings for several years and thought they might have enough to fund the task. But before they could begin work, they needed to consult another professional.

            Realtor: So you’re looking for a parcel in Munich on
                     which you can build this church of yours.
                     I’m sure we can come up with something.
                     What did you have in mind?

            Cosmas: Kind of a medium-sized church, with angels,
                    saints, gargoyles, flying
                     buttresses – all of the usual things.  And
                     there should be a square in front of the
                     church, from which passers-by can admire it.

            Egid: We can call it Asamplatz!

            Realtor: It sounds magnificent.  What kind of
                     resources were you thinking of investing in
                     this project?

            Cosmas: (proudly)  We’ve saved up … 1,355
                    gnüdlstücks!

            Realtor: Phthmpffft.

            Cosmas: Are you all right?

            Realtor: Apologies.  A stifled guffaw.

            Cosmas: Did I say something funny?

            Realtor: Oh, yes!  Do you have any idea what real
                     estate prices are like in central Munich?
                     And they’ve been going up!  Have you
                     priced a dozen eggs lately?

            Cosmas: I prefer weißwurst and beer. And one of
                    those big pretzels.

            Realtor: For breakfast?

            Egid: I like pizza.

            Realtor: Uh … right.  Maybe you could find a
                     property in a backwater like Bad
                     Schnitzelverkünft, but Munich…

            Egid: What about the platz?

            Realtor: I’m afraid not.  Look, if you’re
                     determined to do Munich, maybe there’s
                     something, but you’ll have to scale it
                     down.  Let’s see…

            (Realtor produces a three-ring binder and
             starts flipping through it)

            Realtor: No, no, no, mmm … no, maybe but no, no,
                     ha-ha-ha no, … wait …

            (The dejected Asams look up with something
             like hope)

            Realtor: Here’s ... something.  But I can only
                     get you 72 feet.

            Cosmas: That’s an awfully narrow church.

            Realtor: That would be the length.  The width
                     would be … 26 feet.  It’s actually
                     more of a storefront.

            Cosmas and Egid: (in unison) A storefront?

            (The Asams are ready to explode in indignation,
             but then they look at each other. And wheels start to
             turn, and light bulbs which haven’t been invented yet
             begin to glow…)

            Cosmas: Maybe … this could work …

And the Asam brothers purchased the storefront, and ideas flowed upon ideas, and none of them were rejected except the extra goofy ones, and the tiny church began to take shape with construction ultimately extending from 1733 until 1746, when the church was finally completed. And everyone lived happily ever after. Except for those who ran into misfortune. Like the realtor, who couldn’t sell anything because everything had gotten too expensive, so he went out of business and took up poaching. And everybody eventually died. The End.

At this point you might be wondering how much of this really happened. All of it! Except the made-up parts. As there were no stenographers in the 18th Century, the dialog cannot be considered exact, but is based on informed speculation. The brothers were apprenticed under their father Hans (an artist in his own right) before receiving additional education and experience (including some in Italy). The family portrait above might have to be considered questionable, as nothing about its relationship to the Asams has been verified. But they do seem to be speaking German. Additionally, the financial situation of Cosmas and Egid wasn’t quite as dire as implied, as Egid already owned the property adjoining the future church at the time it was acquired. This adjoining property was used as a private residence and was also decorated by the Asam brothers. It’s now known as the Asamhaus (not a platz, but maybe the next-best thing).

Asamhaus

The breakfast described by Cosmas is pure speculation, but is widely enjoyed in Bavaria. Egid’s dietary preference is also conjecture, but it couldn’t be considered unlikely (after all, who doesn’t love pizza?).

The church was first intended to be a private family chapel, but was opened up to the public due to popular insistence. The church was opened as a confessional church for young people (there are seven confessionals crammed in among the other decorations) and was dedicated to St. John Nepomuk, who had been martyred in 1393 in Prague (he was thrown from the Charles Bridge into the Vltava River and drowned; see the Prague pages for more information). Cosmas, the older Asam brother, didn’t live to see the church completed, dying in 1739. Egid made it to 1750. Instead of the wished-for Asamplatz, the church looks out on Sendlinger Straße (at address 32). The façade gives a taste of the splendor to be found inside.

Church Façade

Upper Façade

Just inside the front door of the church is a small foyer with many statues, some gilded, some not, presumably Egid’s work. Two of the church’s confessionals can also be found in this small space. The foyer is separated from the rest of the church by an elaborate iron gate, which was closed and locked when we arrived.

Nella, St. Peter and Front Door

St. Peter and Ceiling

St. Hieronymus

Zech Epitaph (Ignaz Günther), Death Cutting Thread of Life

Foyer Ceiling

Gate Into Church

Shortly after our arrival, a man arrived and muttered something apologetic-sounding in German. He produced some keys and used one of them to open the gate. We walked into the church, along with a few other people who had also been waiting. Due to its size, there wasn’t a lot of walking around to be done in the church, but there was plenty to look at.

Inside the Church

Window and Crucifix Above Main Altar

Main Altar

Main Altar and Window

Ceiling Fresco - The Life of Saint Nepomuk

Inside the Church

Pulpit

Painting of St. John Nepomuk

Warning Sculpture Above Confessional

Crucifix and Virgin Group

Sculpture Group Above Confessional

Organ Loft and Church Entrance

All of the baroqueness eventually had the effect of stimulating our appetites, and we departed in search of lunch. Not far from the Asamkirche, and a little south of the Marienplatz, there is an outdoor shopping area called the Viktualienmarkt. As one would probably guess from the name, victuals (food) can be found here. There is also a certain amount of Bavarian atmosphere.

Viktualienmarkt

Connie and Nella and Signpost

Flower Stall

Nella and Flowers (Blumen)

Viktualienmarkt

Seafood

Porks

We found an area with many picnic tables and some places selling food and beer, and we treated ourselves to a traditional midday meal.

Lunch Food

Nella and Lunch

Connie with Pretzel and Beer

Connie and Beer

Under the Trees at Viktualienmarkt

After lunch, we explored the Viktualienmarkt a bit and came across a building calling itself “Eataly”. We deduced that it probably had something to do with Italian food. We entered and found that we were correct – the place was full of vendors selling authentic Italian food, both prepared for consumption onsite and packaged for taking home. It smelled very Italian. But having just eaten, we didn’t buy anything.

Bob and Eataly

Dangling Ham

Nella at Eataly

Connie and Packaged Meat

Nutella Kiosk

It turns out that there are several Eatalies around the world, including some in the U.S., and since our visit in Munich we’ve eaten at Eatalies in Los Angeles and Las Vegas. Apparently there are several in Italy itself, which is a little surprising, considering that authentic Italian food is already pretty easy to find in Italy. But they seem to be reasonably successful, so they must have something unique going for them.

From the Viktualienmarkt, we headed northward to the Marienplatz. We’d seen it the previous evening, but we were interested in seeing it in the daylight, when shops would be open and visitors would be out in force.

Return to
Introduction to Munich

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Marienplatz