Скачать или смотреть Rare glimpse into hidden parts of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem using the 1862 model

Many thanks to Dr. Anastasia Keshman and the staff of Immanuel Church (Christ Church), near Jaffa Gate, Jerusalem. There you can visit and be impressed by additional models

The aforementioned first model of the Holy Sepulchre, made in 1862, still survives in Jerusalem providing us with detailed evidence of how Schick used his craft skills to represent the architectural and territorial complexity of this building complex. The model is made entirely of wood, on a scale of 1:96, and measures 1.32 x 1.75 m.29 It is painted in different colors representing the Christian denominations owning its sections: Blue for Greek Orthodox, brown for Latins, yellow for Armenians, green for Copts, and white for the parts that were the common property of all. The model gives an elaborate image of the architecture of the complex and fulfills its basic purpose of illustrating the property division. But its level of detailing is not particularly refined for its scale. The pieces are rather thick, and certain surfaces are rough. This might seem odd, given that Schick was considered a skilled craftsman. In fact, if compared to the refined architectural models made at that same time by other craftsmen in Schick’s homeland of Germany and the neighboring regions,30 his model of the Holy Sepulchre appears crude and unsophisticated.
This roughness could partly be explained through the difference in available materials: Schick was trained in southern Germany and Switzerland, where the soft, damp wood of local coniferous trees (such as fir or spruce) allowed local craftsmen to attain the fine detailing that can be seen in Central European folk-craft objects (think of the traditional cuckoo clocks whose outer cases are often miniature imitations of building forms). The hard, dry olivewood Schick had to work within Jerusalem (and which was presumably used for the Holy Sepulchre model)31 did not allow for such intricate detailing. But by the time he made this model, Schick had been working in Jerusalem for about two decades. Certainly, he had experience in carving the local olive wood.32 The roughness of his model should thus not be attributed solely to a lack of mastery over local timber or the limitations of the material itself. It should be examined in light of the purpose for which the model was intended. Schick’s miniature of the Holy Sepulchre was not made to be displayed in an exhibition and to impress crowds with its craftsmanship; it was built to be placed on a negotiation table so that the ownership of its different parts could be discussed. The model was not an artwork; it was a tool–and as such, its flexibility and usability mattered more than polished surfaces or fine detailing.
The aim of a conventional archeological or architectural model is to give a figurative impression of the original form of a monument; usually a construction that no longer exists or is partly ruined, or one that is far away and therefore unfamiliar to the intended audience. Schick, however, was making a model that was to be viewed by a select group of local religious leaders who were well acquainted with the site it represented; detail, therefore, was redundant. What’s more, Schick’s model of the Holy Sepulchre was made to demonstrate how the building’s different parts (the main church and all the buildings built around it, and their different ownership) fit together in three dimensions. To deal with this spatial and territorial complexity, Schick constructed the model as a three-dimensional puzzle of interlocking, movable parts. It can be taken apart, so that the pieces can be examined individually and the interior spaces of the labyrinthine complex can be viewed. Schick was able to design such a complicated model because he had thorough knowledge of the Holy Sepulchre complex (through on-site visits and measurements). But constructing this tightly-fitted puzzle of interlocking parts would have been almost impossible without his prior training in the calculation and construction of clock mechanisms in Germany. The failure of his clock-selling venture had prevented Schick from constructing these precision mechanisms in Jerusalem, but he still possessed the watchmaker’s experience and technical knowledge, and it seems to have resurfaced through the challenge of making this peculiar object. When pieced together, the form of Schick’s Holy Sepulchre model certainly bears little resemblance to the traditional forms of Black Forest cuckoo clocks with their decorated outer cases. But when taken apart, its inner structure of interlocking parts looks a lot like the complicated mechanisms that can be found inside such clocks. The big dome, when removed, reveals the famous cylindrical rotunda of the Holy Sepulchre, miniaturized and tightly interlocked with other parts of the building–as if it were a big cog in a clock mechanism