In the summer of 1810, Caspar David Friedrich and his friend the artist Georg Friedrich Kersting went hiking in the Giant Mountains. On their way, on July 4, the two of them climbed Oybin, which is embedded in a picturesque landscape in Upper Lusatia, southwest of Zittau. On its summit, they came across not only a fortress ruin and a cemetery but also the relicts of a Celestine monastery. The ruined sacred building immediately captivated Friedrich. Working on site, he produced a pencil drawing in watercolor of the view into the sacristy chapel of the monastery church. (1) Fascinated by the motif and its visual effect, the artist ultimately dedicated a painting to it. (2) Comparison with a preliminary study makes it clear how Friedrich modified the situation he had encountered.

By extending its height, the painter gave the building’s volume a decidedly vertical accent. This is clear from the openings of the three Gothic tracery windows, which look considerably narrower and emphasize the rising character of the chapel. Compared to the watercolor, Friedrich also enriched the painting with three meaningful details that underscore the Christian content of the motif: on the left, there is a crucifix on the wall; in the center stands the altar table; and to the right is a Gothic sculpture of a standing Virgin and Child. The latter is documented in a pencil study by Friedrich, (3) but we do not know which sculpture it is or where the artist saw it. By employing symbols from nature, Friedrich also emphasized the religious meaning of these elements: the lily assigned to the sculpture is a common symbol of the Virgin; the grain growing on the altar refers to the sacrament of the Eucharist; and the crucifix is reawakened to a new life by the vines.

The sky, with its richly nuanced gradations, transitioning from cold to warm colors, contributes crucially to the particular atmosphere that the painting radiates. We associate the warm shade of orange in the lower area of the windows with the rising or setting sun, though it remains out of sight. A good ten years later, in his politically programmatic painting Hutten’s Tomb, Friedrich once again worked with the view into the chapel of the monastery church from the present works, largely adopting their architectural elements.

Markus Bertsch, in: exh. cat. Hamburg 2023, p. 144

(1) Grummt 2011, vol. 2, pp. 587–89, no. 612.

(2) Börsch-Supan/Jähnig 1973, p. 325, no. 203; exh. cat. Hamburg 1983, p. 452, no. 338; exh. cat. Zittau 2019, pp. 41–43.

(3) Grummt 2011, vol. 2, p. 641, no. 668.