Death Dan Cruickshank's Adventures in Architecture

This programme contains some scenes which some viewers may find upsetting

'I'm on a journey to explore the architecture of death.'

'The Bohemian chapel where human bones are made into works of art.'

'An Italian cemetery where death is a sensual experience.'

'An Indian city where you come to die.'

'An Egyptian temple to immortalise the soul of a pharaoh.'

'And Mayan pyramids for human sacrifice.'

'The sacred River Nile in Egypt.'

I'm crossing the River Nile at Luxor, moving from the land of the living on the east bank,

where life is proclaimed each morning with the rising sun,

to the land of the dead on the west bank where the sun sets

and where the dead were commemorated, were sustained by awe-inspiring architecture,

architecture intended to last for eternity.

I've come here to see a woman who's always intrigued me.

A woman who died nearly three-and-a-half thousand years ago.

Her name is Hatshepsut and for nearly 20 years she ruled Egypt as a man, as a pharaoh.

'This is Hatshepsut's tomb -

'a strangely neglected and crumbling place,

'never open to the public.'

Golly, this is a challenge!

The shaft stinks of ammonia, bats I suppose,

and I mustn't touch the sides in case I bring the whole thing down.

This flaking limestone...

This shaft's been descending rather steeply for over 200 metres

and now I have to get on my hands and knees

to get below the lintel here, all cut from the limestone.

I've never been in a tomb like this in Egypt before.

It's rough, it's treacherous.

Ah, at last!

What I've been looking for.

The burial chamber!

It's very rough.

No sign of plaster or paintings.

There's no body of Hatshepsut down here.

But, never mind, I'll look for her somewhere else.

This is Hatshepsut's magnificent mortuary temple.

Not a tomb, but a palace to house her spirit and soul.

'Mortuary temples were a means of obtaining immortality,

'where the living made offerings to the dead

'to sustain them in the underworld.'

Temples were called the Houses of the Millions of Years.

This temple is architecturally stunning.

It seems, in its symmetry and its powerful simplicity,

to represent Maat, that is the Egyptian idea of truth and order.

Maat prevailing over chaos, represented by the rough, rude cliff face behind.

An incredible piece of work.

And imagine in the past all you could see, approaching from afar,

these rows of statues of Osiris, the god of the underworld.

The images on these walls proclaim that Hatshepsut

not only had a pharaoh as a father and as a husband

but that she was the child of a god, Amun-Ra.

The story is that Amun-Ra crept into the bed-chamber of Hatshepsut's mother, Ahmose.

The mother woke up and smelt incense, the sign of the presence of a god, and laughed in pleasure.

And here it says that the god did with her as he liked,

and here you see the mother pregnant, a lovely image -

a little tummy - and gave birth to Hatshepsut.

So, Hatshepsut had a divine origin and that gave her the right to rule as a pharaoh of Egypt.

These walls record what Hatshepsut regarded as her greatest worldly achievement -

a trade mission to the exotic land of Punt.

No-one quite knows where Punt was.

Probably in modern Somalia or Ethiopia.

But certainly it was strange enough for the Egyptians to record Punt's everyday architecture.

Here we see it, a little huts on sticks approached with ladders,

palm trees everywhere.

But what she really wanted was incense, incense to nourish the gods, the food of the gods,

and here we see Egyptians carrying incense trees, myrrh trees,

whole trees in baskets

with the roots being carried onto ships to be brought back here.

What she wanted was to plant these trees at this temple

to please her divine father, Amun-Ra.

'The building was once rich in images of Hatshepsut.

'She would've been a strinking presence.

'The queen was always depicted as a man, with a ceremonial beard.'

'But most of these images were aggressively erased by her rival for power, Thutmosis III.'

'The temple is made up of lower and upper terraces

'connected by giant ramps,

'each level becoming more sacred as you ascend.'

This is Hatshepsut's chapel within her mortuary temple.

Here priests would have come to make offerings to sustain her soul in the underworld

and here you see ranks and ranks of priests making offerings,

marching forward carrying fowls and fruits, I think, and liquids,

all going, I suppose, towards where her image would have been.

Now gone. What does survive is this wonderful thing,

this false door that allowed her spirit and soul to travel between this world and the next,

to enter her temple and leave it for the underworld.

What is striking though is that all the images of Hatshepsut

and her cartouche, her name, they've been removed, brutally cut away.

That is a frightful fate.

She has been, I suppose, consigned to oblivion,

her name removed from memory.

The intention is that that would give her a second, permanent death.

'The route through the building ends by taking me into the mountain itself.'

This is the sacred epicentre of the temple.

Only the highest in the land could enter here.

It's the sanctuary of Amun-Ra,

who was Hatshepsut's divine father, the great god of Thebes.

The sanctuary is cut into the mountainside

of the mountain that defines the Valley of the Kings.

The tombs lie just over there.

Now, I'm going into the inner parts of the sanctuary.

It gets smaller, darker, more intimate, more holy.

Only the high priests and the Pharaoh, I guess, could penetrate this far.

And here is something I've dreamed of finding.

It's incredible.

Here is an image of Hatshepsut not destroyed by Thutmosis.

Hatshepsut, of course, in the image of a powerful man.

I know it's her because her cartouche, her name, survives.

Here it is.

It doesn't say Hatshepsut, but it's her birth name...

Maat Ka Ra.

There it is.

Her fantastic image.

Hatshepsut wanted to obtain immortality through architecture,

through art, and despite all the attacks upon her,

her temple and this image of her, her name here, survives!

So she's not consigned to memory, obliterated. She lives!

I can utter her name. Hatshepsut.

Wonderful to see her.

And if her soul is still alive, then it must need nourishment, offerings.

After all these centuries, she must be starving!

So, I want to give her what she gave her divine father, Amun-Ra -

magical myrrh from the land of Punt.

Here it is.

Incense that feeds the soul.

That purifies.

And I hope this reaches her in the other world.

'Kutna Hora, one of the richest cities of old Bohemia.

'Now in the Czech Republic.'

'From the Middle Ages onwards, the city poured money into fantastic religious architecture,

'celebrating in stone the triumph of resurrection over death.'

'But on the outskirts of Kutna Hora

'is a chapel where actual human remains

'have been transformed into art and architecture.'

In the heart of Bohemia is an astonishing and architecturally evocative shrine

that reveals much about Western, Christian attitudes to death and burial.

'Just three miles from the centre of Kutna Hora is the town of Sedlec,

'where the human body has been elevated into an altarpiece.'

Christians, of course, believe that we humans are made in the image of God.

The body is sacred, it's a temple, and must be treated with great respect after death.

Also, of course, Christians believe in resurrection.

Where Christ rose after three days,

we, on the day of judgement, will rise to be judged.

And I'm going to a place now

where the Christian preservation of the body

has reached bizarre extremes.

'In the Middle Ages, Sedlec possessed one of central Europe's most popular burial grounds.

'It contained soil brought from Jerusalem, making this holy land.

'Graves would be cleared and the remains housed in this ossuary -

'a chapel for bones.'

This is the realm of death.

Here, the earthly remains of the dead were gathered together

to await the last judgement, to await resurrection.

This is the underworld.

'This grisly spectacle reminded the living of their inevitable death,

'when they would be judged for their actions in life.

'In the 18th century these bell shapes were created,

'symbolising the bells that would toll on the day of judgement.'

These are the bones of people who died between 500 and 600 years ago.

I can't resist picking up this skull.

Golly! I wonder who this person was, how they died, when exactly.

It's incredible! One feels so strangely intimate with these people

when one handles their earthly remains.

'But it was in the late 19th century

'that the Christian fascination with the dead body

'found its ultimate expression.'

'The chapel had been acquired by a rich family, the Schwarzenbergs.'

'They employed a woodcarver to clean up the ossuary,

'and the results are extraordinary.'

And here's the Schwarzenberg coat of arms,

varied heraldic devices made from different bones.

Here is a bird pecking out the eye of a Muslim Turk,

his hair represented by rib bones.

All very macabre.

'The display in this ossuary might seem grotesque,'

'but these bones, fashioned into ornaments,

'occupy sacred ground and celebrate the wonder of God's creation.'

In the centre of the ossuary hangs this rather monstrous chandelier.

A specimen of every bone in the human body is used in its construction. Incredible.

I can spot vertebrae there,

base of spine,

and up there, jawbones.

All this hangs from a festoon of skull and crossbones.

'But with any delicate decoration, there's always the problem of keeping it clean.'

VACUUM CLEANER STARTS

'It's been estimated that there are around 40,000 skeletons in the ossuary.

'One man has been tending these bones for 15 years.'

Does it feel like living with the dead,

working day after day with the mortal remains of thousands of human beings?

HE SPEAKS CZECH

TRANSLATION:

'This uncanny place is a reminder of a time in the Christian West

'when death was part of life and the living learned from the dead.'

'This is Guatemala.

'Once a land of the Maya, an ancient civilisation

'whose influence can still be felt in this land.

'I'm arriving on a day when the souls of the dead

'are said to return to earth to commune with the living.

'The Day of the Dead.'

VILLAGERS SING

'Once a year, the tiny village of San Jose gathers in its church

'to venerate three skulls.

'Some say they belonged to Catholic missionaries,

'others that they're the remains of Mayan chiefs or holy men.'

'The festival is a strange marriage of Catholicism,

'imposed by the Spanish conquistadors, and indigenous Mayan beliefs.'

BELL RINGS

The Catholic Church doesn't recognise the festival of the Day of the Dead,

at least officially, so this is a most intriguing church service.

It's held on All Saints Day,

so I suppose one can say it's celebrating that, but I'm not sure.

The skull itself is a very powerful Mayan symbol.

Mayans would keep the skulls of their ancestors

and once a year present them, venerate them, really,

and paint between the eyes. Where the cross is painted on these skulls,

they'd paint the name of the dead person, and they'd collect the skulls of vanquished enemies.

The skull's a very ancient and important relic image in this part of the world.

BELL RINGS

After the service, there's a procession

in which one of the skulls is taken from house to house.

CHANTING

WOMAN PRAYS

All of it? Oh! Gracias.

This is extremely interesting.

Over there is the offering altar,

but around the skull are bowls of food and even a bottle of beer.

They're there to attract the souls of the dead ancestors, to nourish them.

So, on that offering table, we have Christian ritual,

and ritual objects of the Day of the Dead, combined.

BELL RINGS

'Throughout the village, people are waiting for their ancestors to return.'

Oh. Hola.

'Old friends, living and dead, are meeting again this night.'

MAN SPEAKS SPANISH

TRANSLATION:

In most societies death is feared, but here, it seems death is not so alarming

because you continue to have a relationship with the dead, the dead with the living.

'The atmosphere surrounding the procession is not morbid but joyful,

'because here the spirit of the Maya is very much alive.

'But tomorrow, I'm going to explore the darker side of the Mayan cult of death.'

'Deep in the rainforest lie the remains of the great lost Maya city of Yaxha,

'discovered by the explorer Teobert Maler.'

He was a headstrong, cantankerous fellow, but with a love of the Maya.

He described arriving here in 1904.

He'd been travelling for some time, and his men were rather restless,

and he was also clearly a bit fed up because he said

that they didn't want to work and could only think of guzzling.

'But what Maler found silenced their grumbling.'

'Yaxha was constructed about 1,200 years ago

'and the temples are very precisely built,

'even though the Maya didn't have metal tools or the wheel.'

'These step pyramids served as platforms for temples.

'Staircases to the gods.'

This was a vast city,

but now only the elite buildings survive above ground level -

the palaces, the temples.

The more humble buildings, well, they're lost, buried in the rainforest.

The Maya was a very sophisticated civilisation.

There was a written language, there was mathematics.

They were great astronomers, they charted the movements of the planets and stars

to create a very accurate calendar, and all of this civilisation,

all of these ideas lie here, locked in the buildings.

'The ancient Maya saw the worlds of the living and of the dead as one and the same.'

'Everywhere there are monuments to communicate between this life and the next.'

In front of me are the fragmentary remains of an altar,

and around altars such as this a ritual took place

that we would find absolutely extraordinary.

Here, the King and Queen came to spill their own blood.

The Queen would take a bit of cord with thorns and run it through her tongue,

and the blood that would explode out she'd throw on the images of the gods standing on the altar here.

The King would take his penis and run a spine through it

and the blood from that, he'd throw on the images of the gods.

For Mayans, blood was the most precious substance.

It contained the sacred life essence they called Ku'ul,

and only blood could nourish, could appease the gods.

'But it wasn't just their own blood that was spilled.

'On the top of pyramids like this, Yaxha's tallest, they performed human sacrifice.'

The victim would have been brought up the staircase on the front of the pyramid,

led to the altar. The altar would have had a convex top,

so the victim would have been stretched over it on their back,

with the chest sticking up.

They'd have been held down by four men, and a fifth man with a great stone knife

would have inserted the knife into the stomach just below the chest,

ripped open the wound and thrust a hand into the chest cavity

and pulled out the still-living heart,

the heart pumping gushes of precious sacred blood.

Then the corpse of the victim would have been held up,

and it would have been painted blue, the colour of sacrifice,

and this body would have been thrown down the stairs

to the base of the pyramid,

and there the victim would have been skinned,

and the skin,

this awful-looking garment

would have been wrapped on and around the officiating priest,

and he'd have danced in a solemn manner down there

with the people who'd gathered to watch the sacrifice.

The Maya are a problem, a paradox.

They believed in utter desolation,

yet they built to last for eternity.

They were a very sophisticated civilisation,

yet steeped in blood and murder.

What is one to make of them?

I suppose the obvious point is that, for them,

life was not held cheap. It was the most precious of things,

and blood had to be given to the gods to allow the gods to do their job,

which was to ensure that creation would go on, that the sun would rise each day.

So, really, out of love, the Maya killed,

the Maya took life to ensure that life would continue.

'I've come to Genoa, on the Italian Riviera.

'The largest port in all Italy.'

Genoa's an ancient trading city that, through the centuries, survived many tribulations.

But in the early 19th century, it faced a potentially catastrophic threat.

A threat that came not from the living, but from the dead!

'This is Staglieno cemetery, a vast city of the dead

'with monuments, chapels, streets and a triumphal gateway.'

'It saved the city from disaster.

'Genoa was blighted by disease

'caused by ill-buried rotting bodies crowded into church vaults and graveyards.'

'So Staglieno was opened on January 1st, 1851

'and this city of the dead, like cities of the living,

'had its own social hierarchies.

'Your status in life would determine your position in death.'

The rotunda is the main chapel in the cemetery and it's a splendid piece of architecture.

It's inspired by the ancient Pantheon in Rome, the Temple of all the Gods,

and therefore it's rather appropriate

that the great of Genoa are commemorated in this building.

Wealth and fame secured you the best locations here.

But the middle class of Genoa also loved this cemetery.

They brought their dead here

and they honoured them with spectacular monuments

that were intended to grant immortality.

'In these arcades, middle-class families

'created elaborate shrines to honour their dead.'

'And to make their memorials truly impressive,

'the families commissioned the best artists in Italy.'

Walking here, you feel that you're meeting these long-dead people,

getting to meet them and their mourners, to share in the mourners' grief.

This young lady is a widow, and she's leaving the tomb of her husband.

A cross around her neck,

bible in her hand,

and an expression on her face of pure sorrow.

Most beautiful.

'Over the decades Staglieno's collection of sculpture grew

'to make it one of the most awe-inspiring

'and imitated cemeteries in world.'

'And one statue, more than any other,

'came to define the values and aspirations of Staglieno.'

This is one of the most famous monuments in the cemetery.

It shows Caterina Campodonico.

And she was a hawker at local fairs and feasts.

And during her lifetime, she paid for this spectacular monument

to be made using her savings, her meagre savings, for this spectacular object.

It shows how she made her money.

She sold nuts and bread at these fairs.

These objects, these tools of her trade, are proudly shown -

she's not ashamed of how she made her money.

And I love the face.

She's staring defiantly in the face of death.

This statue gives her a foothold on eternity.

And also shows that, in death, she at last gained some middle-class respectability.

'Artists grew in ambition, introducing increasingly inventive ways of approaching death.'

'The cemetery became more famous for the quality of its art than the people buried there.'

Ah, here's a very charming, solid, middle-class couple.

Wealthy tradespeople, I should think.

Very realistically rendered.

Lovely.

But above them, an extraordinary scene is being enacted.

Here is a skeleton, on its back.

It's Death, the Grim Reaper.

Here's his scythe.

And flames are bursting through the rib cage here.

He's being struck by a bolt of lightning.

All of this is being orchestrated by this very charming angel.

The personification of eternal life promised by Christ.

So here we see the values of this couple.

They achieve immortality through commissioning art and through their Christian belief.

Death itself is being destroyed.

'By the turn of the 19th century,

'old Christian certainties about resurrection and the afterlife began to be questioned.

'The symbolism became more outlandish.

'Artists explored their darkest fantasies,

'producing statues that were disturbing, sensuous, erotic.'

This is one of the most strangely, darkly thrilling tombs in the entire cemetery.

It was made for a local rich businessman,

but most of the imagery here has very little to do with him in particular.

It's more elemental, more primal.

It's to do with the dance of death.

And here you see the image above me.

Life is represented by this beautiful young woman,

and she's writhing in the grip of death,

his skeleton, his bony hand around her wrist.

She's turning away, but she's tiring of the struggle.

It's futile. Inevitable - death will come, death will claim her.

In this tomb, there is no promise of eternal life.

Death is triumphant.

'The less well-off also have their place in the cemetery.

'All Genoese citizens have a right to be buried in Staglieno...'

'..but if you can't afford an elaborate tomb,

'then you can't expect to remain in the ground for too long.'

'The people here are buried on a ten-year lease.

'When the lease runs out, their bones will be removed from the ground,

'and their tombstones destroyed!'

Well, I see you're digging a grave,

and I can see in the grave bits of coffin there.

And here's a bit of a headstone, so someone's been buried here before.

HE SPEAKS ITALIAN

TRANSLATION:

Will you be dug up after ten years?

TRANSLATION:

'In Staglieno, the mysteries of death remain.

'But in these picturesque surroundings,

'the beauty of the art makes death seem more noble,

'more familiar.

'An almost blissful experience.'

This is the most sacred site in India -

Varanasi on the river Ganges.

Hindus believe that India is the spiritual centre,

the navel of the world,

and that Varanasi is the centre of the centre, the holy of holies.

This is a very, very ancient city.

They say it's where creation started

and where the world and time will end.

'More than a million pilgrims come to Varanasi every year to bathe at dawn and to pray.'

They congregate on the ghats, the stone terraces that lead down to the sacred water,

'and believe this ritual bathing will purify them and wash away their sins.'

'Bodies of the dead are brought here for cremation,

'for this is the city of the Hindu god Shiva,

'known as the "Conqueror of Death". '

'And the Ganges is the watery body of the great goddess Ganga,

'the river of Heaven that carries souls to eternity.'

'Varanasi has been a place of pilgrimage for thousands of years,

'and the narrow alleyways are full of wonderful sights.'

'A journey through this city

'is a journey to the sacred heart of Hindu India.'

DRUMMING AND CLANGING

HOOTING

All these people are progressing to and from the great Shiva Temple over there.

One of the most important Shiva temples in India.

This is a sacred terrain.

Here's a sacred cow.

Get a blessing from her.

And little temples each side, and more cows here.

You really do get the sense this is a great holy city.

Despite their pain and suffering,

many very ill people make their way to Varanasi

or are brought here by their families

because Hindus believe if you die here,

you are granted the great gift of Moksha by Shiva.

Moksha is the release from eternal and often painful

birth, death and rebirth on the earth.

And while the families wait for the end,

many of them stay in dying houses such as this one.

'The Muktibhavan is one of the two major dying houses in Varanasi

'that accommodate families while they await the death of a relative.

'Thousands have come here to die.'

'This is not a place for the sick.

'It's only for families to bring relatives who are very close to death.'

'As a non-family member, I'm incredibly privileged

'to have been allowed inside this dying house.'

I'm going to meet a gentlemen who very kindly has invited me to his mother's dying room.

Thank you.

Thank you.

-Hello.

-Please.

-Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you very much for inviting me here on this...

I suppose in the West one would say, on this sombre occasion,

but maybe not the case.

Can you tell me, how is your mother now, is she comfortable?

TRANSLATION:

Can you tell me why you have brought her to the dying house?

What is the purpose of being here

and what do you think... Well, what is going to happen?

'During my visit the family conduct the most important ritual

'to prepare for the death of their relative.'

'This calf, sacred in India, has been brought in

'to help the dying woman on her journey to Heaven.'

THEY CONVERSE

'The calf and the woman are anointed,

'and this ritual is to ensure

'that the calf will guide and safeguard her soul on its way to God.'

THEY CHANT

'The mood is relaxed.

'People are even laughing,

'because the family believe that at this moment,

'the god Shiva has entered the room to promise Moksha to the woman,

'that her soul will be released after she dies.'

Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you.

The family have just given me some prasad, a sweet,

so that I can get the sweetness of the whole event that I've been witnessing.

A sacred sweet.

Very generous.

Thank you very much. Thank you.

I hope it all goes very well for your mother.

Thank you very much. Thank you.

I feel incredibly honoured to have been allowed in

to see that ceremony, to have met the mother.

The Hindus believe that the nearly dead and the newly dead

are spiritually very powerful.

They're a bridge between this world and the next,

and I really felt that there.

They told me that it was auspicious for me to be there.

I was a lucky man.

Many lives have led me here, he said, to Varanasi at this moment,

and I sort of feel it.

Death is big business in Varanasi -

it's inspired and indeed funded much of the architecture,

and of course is a way of life.

There are lots of shops that specialise in selling articles needed for funerals, for cremations.

Here's one. I'll just see what's available.

Hello. Hello.

Um, now I see you sell... Ooh, ah.

-Even now the body's coming, I see.

-CHANTING

-You said that was an old holy man, an important man.

-Yeah, old man.

Very, very old man died.

They have much decoration on his body.

End of life. He died end of life.

Well, tell me the sort of things that you sell which were used in that particular...

We sell so many things for body.

So first of all the body's wrapped in a white shroud. I guess that's this?

Yeah. In the beginning they're wrapped in white,

and after that we give this on the top.

So this sparkling cloth, this beautiful...

It's for on the top of the body.

That's to beautify the body.

What else do you have here?

We have stuff to put on the fire, on the body. Sandalwood.

I thought it was. So this is expensive wood, isn't it?

Yeah, expensive wood.

Fine water buffaloes.

You put this like symbolic on top of the body to have a good smell in the body fire.

It smells lovely - I'll close the top because I know the smell must be caught in there.

Many, many people following that particular body.

Lot of family come with dead body.

I love the way the bodies are so beautiful and the whole atmosphere, it's quite joyful, isn't it?

Yeah. Most holy place. This is why families are coming very happy.

They feel very lucky to come into this place.

THEY SING

'Mountains of wood are stored near the river to feed the cremation pyres.'

'Around 40,000 people are burned here every year.

'Most didn't die in Varanasi,

'but just to be cremated here is a blessing.'

'Cremations take place at two ghats on the river.

'This is the most popular one, Manikarnika.'

'A specific caste of funeral attendants called Doms oversee all the cremations.'

'It's all so public and open.'

It's an extraordinary feeling, being here.

In the West, of course, we associate death,

almost like something embarrassing,

something to be denied, not to be confronted,

but here it's the opposite, of course.

This public ceremony where people come and gather and say their farewells in a joyous way

is altogether extraordinary, uplifting.

And another body's arriving.

You hear people chanting and bells ringing,

carried by the family members.

The great last journey.

Holy Ganges water being poured over it...

..and, um, in a moment now

it'll be taken to its pile of logs and be cremated.

The soul liberated, the soul sent on its way.

And because it's happening here, of course, in Varanasi,

the soul won't have to be reborn -

it will return to God, unity with the Almighty.

So this is a glorious moment, and you see the people, they're not sombre in particular.

People watching, chatting, laughing.

A terrific celebration, this.

A public celebration of death.

'This last stage in the journey of the dead may be shocking to Western eyes,

'but to Hindus it is the joyful moment of the release of the soul.'

Varanasi's an astonishing explosion of emotion

within a thrilling architectural setting

that's transformed my perception of death.

Before coming here I saw death as something mysterious, terrifying,

almost divine aberration,

but having wandered round, it's all now very different.

Here, death is a thing of... visual, sensuous beauty.

It's a journey of liberation, a journey to be embraced.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd

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