“From the very beginning, I wanted to build that one building which already existed in the world before the dawn of humanity – in the world of beginnings – as a radiant, real image: the true home, the Living House of the Golden Age. At times, in certain places, perhaps something of it has been realised, but I have had to experience that the reality of my own life is, sadly, but partial. And while the ancient image burns ever more fiercely before my eyes, I drift ever farther from the centre, ever more human, abandoned to the powers of darkness. Only the love of my students and friends illuminates this condition enough for God’s silence to be bearable. Everything I have done, aimed at the formulation of the Living House: the observation of movement forms, the search for minimal environments, the structural analysis of folk motifs; everything I have dealt with – the primordial words of architecture, the continuity of space and time, the drama element of building, and questioning women about life. I would like to believe that the Lord has humour, and forgiveness, for this life I have lived. He has given me strength for it.”
(Imre Makovecz)
Imre Makovecz’s oeuvre – both in scope and significance – is unique in its kind. In Hungary, only the great masters of classicism produced a comparably vast body of work. His creative periods can be traced chronologically, but whether his work is yet fully understood is another matter. The exploration and organisation of his legacy is far from complete; any newly discovered plan or writing may still add information to grasp it better.
Makovecz’s early works are difficult to comprehend without understanding the architecture of Rudolf Steiner. The designs for the restaurant in Berhida (1963) and the department store in Nagykálló (1963) clearly illustrate this connection. The expressive shaping, and concrete as a living material, both demonstrate that inner force which already foreshadows the tectonic interpretation of Makovecz’s later buildings. The presentation of the living building as a surreal imagination recurs throughout his life’s work. It is also important to note that Steiner’s influence extended beyond architecture to his philosophy of anthroposophy, which deeply affected Makovecz. For him, as for Steiner, the starting point was the experience of nature’s creative forces and the creation of new forms based on the patterns of nature. Steiner’s formal influence is apparent in the restaurant at Velence (1963), the tavern in Szekszárd (1964), and the wine bar at Balatonszepezd (1965). The anthropomorphic shaping of these three buildings is well illustrated by three Makovecz drawings placed side by side. In the formation of interior spaces, the mapping of eurythmic movements and the first spatial results of “movement experiments” also played a role. This spatial-temporal condition is symmetrical, or almost symmetrical, when viewed from the front or rear, and asymmetrical from the side.
Most of Makovecz’s later buildings can be understood as architectural fixations of this temporal and spatial movement – frozen frames from the drama of building itself. Even in these works, one can already discern the Makoveczian understanding of tectonics (a term he consistently preferred to “statics”). The use of heavier, monolithic materials below gradually lightens toward the sky, increasingly resembling the structural logic of the plant world. The slanted supports, trusses, and central columns serve simultaneously as structural and spatial-forming elements. In his early houses, one can observe nearly every morphological transformation of plant life as a structural metaphor. This includes the Gulya csárda (Herd’s Inn) at the Agricultural Exhibition (1966) and the Csákányosi csárda in Tatabánya (1966). In the Bodrog Department Store in Sárospatak (1969), the organic supporting frame becomes a monumental concrete sculpture, with external “leaves” enclosing the interior spaces. The movement formula employed in his earlier works now transforms into a façade surface. According to Makovecz, it was around this time that he realised that the concrete technology then available in Hungary – both structural and surface techniques – could not achieve the expressive results he envisioned.
The shift in structure from plant-based metaphors to human metaphors can be clearly observed. From the column-supported systems, Makovecz turned toward rib-like frameworks. The first example of this was the Gyulavár Restaurant. The anthropomorphic, rib-evoking structural system appears most clearly in the buildings of the Velence Youth Camp, where the outer and inner spatial delimitations also serve as the building’s supporting structure. Here, the façade itself becomes a section. The long sides, lacking openings or windows, emphasise this method of construction even more strongly. The fundamental “movement experiment” concepts are visible in the designs and buildings of this period – including his Minimal Space competition project, which depicted a double shell. The use of the inner shell is most clearly crystallised in the interior of the funeral hall at the Farkasrét Cemetery in Budapest (1975). The most refined outcome of this structural concept would later be realised in the Hungarian Pavilion in Seville (1990).
Sárospataki művelődési ház (Sárospatak Cultural Centre)
With the Sárospatak Cultural Centre (1972), we reach one of the most outstanding buildings in Imre Makovecz’s career – a synthesis of the tectonic systems visible in his earlier works. The monolithic lower level and the single-mass roof structure above are sharply divided by a recessed window band, clearly revealing the layered hierarchy of the building’s structural system. The curved reinforced-concrete balcony slabs of his early restaurants, which appear both on the façade and in the interior spaces here, foreshadow later works of similar or larger scale (Szigetvár, Witten-Annen, Makó). The arched laminated beams springing from reinforced concrete columns with anthropomorphic capitals, and the spatially slanted supports, would also reappear in his later designs. Despite its size, the building fits organically into its urban environment thanks to its articulated plan and U-shaped layout.
During the design process, the analysis of the mock battle from Tápé [2] served as a source of inspiration. In the symbolic system of Hungarian folk art, Makovecz discerned traces of an ancient high culture, which he extended from two to three dimensions – turning them into spatial form. In doing so, he succeeded in expanding the spirit of place into something universal. His Napló I. and II. (Journal I and II) [3] embody the totality of his research and reflection. Through his exploration of omnipresent dualities, he arrived at his concept of “the centre”. This duality – East and West, light and shadow, pagan and Christian, good and evil, male and female, folk and high art – finds its meaning in the centre. For Makovecz, the centre signifies Central Europe, the Carpathian Basin. In his conception, the centre possesses both temporal and spatial dimensions. The reconciliation of the world’s duality, he believed, can only be achieved through an understanding of the centre. The solution lies in the integration of organic thought and style-creating art within the inner spiritual world of the creative individual.
Visegrádi kiránduló központ (Visegrád Excursion Centre)
Returning to Makovecz’s architecture, his next creative period coincides with the Visegrád years and the Faluház (Village Hall) movement. It was here that he finally broke free from the state-controlled design institutions’ environment, which he deemed unacceptable. It was also during this period that he began building the circle of young architects that would later, through the Visegrád summer camps, lead to the founding of the MAKONA Cooperative, and eventually to the creation of the Károly Kós Association and the Vándoriskola (Itinerant School).
A new level of architectural quality emerged with the buildings of the Visegrád Excursion Centre (1978) – especially the rest-room buildings. Both in plan and in section, these follow the same compositional logic: how to unfold a surface enclosing a sphere onto a plane. The result is two interlocking S-shaped runes, which, when mirrored, form a pattern reminiscent of a primal motif of Hungarian or even more ancient folk art – strikingly similar to the yin-yang symbol. When these two mirrored shapes are projected onto the ground plan, they generate the building’s layout; their vertical projection defines the section and the massing.
Interestingly, the other buildings of the excursion centre are far more rigid and geometrically strict in their design. The starting point here is the isosceles triangle, from which the design progresses toward the hexagon. While curved forms and surfaces begin to appear, they remain mathematically describable. The architect’s intent in these spaces is clear – to bring people into greater harmony with their environment. The façades are uniformly made of wood, clad in slatted boarding from base to roof, with the pattern of the cladding following the geometric precision of the floor plan.
This approach evolves in later works such as the Tokaji közösségi épület (Tokaj Community Building), the Dobogókői síház (Dobogókő Ski Lodge), and the Baki faluház (Baki Village Hall), where the wooden cladding transforms into a more organic “feathered” surface, resembling plumage. The culmination of this Visegrád period is the Erdei művelődési ház (Forest Cultural Centre, 1984), a semi-subterranean “earth house” that seems to grow out of the ground. Two interlocking domes are supported by twelve columns, each topped with the signs of the Zodiac.
Community and Village Houses
The Tokaj Community House (1977) marked the beginning of a process of community-oriented building that played an increasingly central role in Imre Makovecz’s life. As his students and followers emphasize, Makovecz described building as a drama – a long and complex process during which, throughout both design and construction, decision-makers, local residents, and experts work together to find the optimal solution to a shared task. During this period of dialogue and negotiation, they influence and even shape one another. Through these often strenuous debates, Makovecz came to realize that everyone must be involved according to their own area of expertise, and he also recognized that in planning processes aimed at renewing settlements, facilitation and participation require a particular kind of knowledge – a complex activity that often calls for external community specialists.
His encounters with Pál Beke and Tamás Varga led to several decades of joint work. They focused on villages that had lost their autonomy, trying to save whatever could still be saved. Morally and artistically, they aimed to revive the devastated village houses. One after another, Makovecz designed village halls, extensions, and additions. This period coincided with the social disintegration of Hungarian rural life – the years of slow depopulation of the countryside. It was during this time that the first village houses were built. Among them, the Zalaszentlászló Village House (1981) holds a special place in Makovecz’s oeuvre: although he was here most constrained by external circumstances, and the building is relatively “minimalist” compared to many of his other works, it possesses extraordinary expressive power precisely through its simplicity.
From this period onward, remembrance and personal memory – as opposed to official history – played an increasingly important role in Makovecz’s design method. His buildings each have their own story, which appears in the architectural elements and forms of his houses. In his work, the process of the drama of building cannot be separated from remembrance – or from descending, through memory, to the realm of origins. It is about giving architectural form to the idea of “what could have been.” Among his village houses, the Kakasd Village House (1986) is an outstanding example of this. The building commemorates the history of the Székely and Swabian ethnic communities living in the village. The two expressive towers representing these distinct cultures and the connecting wing between them emerged from a dialogue based on the shared will of both Makovecz and the villagers. The Szigetvár Vigadó (1985) was among the last projects for which Makovecz himself drew the detailed construction and junction plans by hand. Its two wings facing the street were modeled after the cour d’honneur of Sárospatak, while the sloping façades and yet-unfinished towers already hinted at the coming transition to a new creative period.
Churches
In the years immediately preceding the regime change, Makovecz received simultaneous commissions to design two churches: the Evangelical Church of Siófok (1986) and the Roman Catholic Church of Paks (1987). These two projects perfectly illustrate his ecumenical approach to faith. Throughout his career – especially in later years – he received numerous ecclesiastical commissions, many from across the borders, yet his conception of sacred architecture remained consistent. The architectural roots of the Siófok church lie in his strictly geometric, hexagonal-based designs, while the Paks church draws from S-shaped runic forms derived from Hungarian folk motifs. This principle extends beyond the church itself, appearing nine times in sequence in the landscape design of the church park. It was here that Makovecz first used natural slate roofing, a feature that would reappear in later works such as the Seville Pavilion, the Roman Catholic Church of Százhalombatta, and the Bath and Cultural Center of Makó.
Both churches also introduced one of Makovecz’s characteristic motifs – his depictions of angels. Here, for the first time, they appear tangibly as architectural elements, as sculptures forming integral parts of the buildings. Their precedents can be traced to István Medgyaszay’s church at Rárósmulyad and to Wim Wenders’ film Wings of Desire. These angels move through the world as observers; they cannot intervene in human life, and humans do not see them – yet they can inspire people and renew their vitality. Even when their faces are unseen (as in the Paks church), their depiction and clothing are entirely human, as if they lived among us.
Seville Pavilion
International recognition came to Imre Makovecz with the Seville Pavilion (Spain). Through its extraordinary communicative and symbolic power, the building stands as a unique example of how an architect can present both a self-portrait of his inner world and of his homeland within an exhibition pavilion. Architecturally, the pavilion represents a synthesis of Makovecz’s creative work up to that point. The rib-like supporting structure, the monolithic surfaces rising from earthen embankments, the row of towers standing on the border between East and West – defining the “center” through a dual façade composition – all embody essential elements of Makovecz’s architectural philosophy.
At the heart of the building stands an oak tree beneath a glass dome, symbolizing the unity of the subterranean and the celestial worlds – a reference to the Atlantean age. Below the glass roof, an inverted dome was constructed and illuminated in such a way that it evokes the impression of infinite space, allowing visitors approaching the glass ceiling to feel the relationship between above and below, heaven and earth.
The Seville Pavilion simultaneously summarizes the architectural principles of the Farkasrét Mortuary, the Evangelical Church of Siófok, the Roman Catholic Church of Paks, and the Kakasd Village House, while foreshadowing later masterpieces such as the Lendva Theatre (1991) and the Stephaneum in Piliscsaba (1995). In Piliscsaba, once again, time and space are interwoven as the central theme. Architecture there sketches both “what has been” and “what might have been.” Through architectural means, it seeks to express time itself. The Piranesi-like visions, the frozen canopies, and the interplay of collapsing and rising spaces together form an architectural drama – a theatrical event that the building’s users subconsciously experience each day.
Drawings, Sketches, Writings
Makovecz perfected the art of freehand drawing to such a degree that each of his sketches and drafts can be considered an autonomous work of art. His mastery of proportion, sense of space, and intuitive perception of structure were exceptional among architects. The same could be said of his tireless work ethic – he was always driven to give more of himself, to pass more on to his students. Physical decline never deterred him; he approached each new project with the renewed strength of a phoenix. Plants, angels, unrealized designs – these are the starting points of his album Rajzok 2003 (Drawings 2003), though the work represents far more than that. Makovecz began creating the drawings for the album in 1999, inspired by his enduring fascination with the symbiosis of landscape, vegetation, and architecture – an interplay suggesting the presence of a creative force greater than human will. In his drawings, he envisioned the architecture of both past and future, moving backward and forward in time and landscape, within the “world of what could have been.”
Certain recurring motifs appear throughout Makovecz’s oeuvre – elements not directly tied to architectural function but which, in his understanding, form part of a total act of communication. His buildings often contain fragments of their own precedents, echoes of long-vanished environments. The subterranean realm manifests not only as morphological formations but also as memories of submerged cultures. In his drawings, the boundaries between interior and exterior dissolve; houses are clothed in the anthropomorphic language of architecture and thereby made real.
The buds, unfolding leaves, and blossoms in his sketches most powerfully and vividly express the formative forces of nature – their strength and beauty. The Atlantis Series magnifies these natural forms, transforming them into architectural-scale elements.
For Makovecz, the relationship between mind, hand, pencil, and paper was a sacred act of initiation – something irreplaceable by the virtual world of computers. He possessed this ancient knowledge. For him, one of the synonyms of Time itself was Agelessness.
Final Years
In the final years of his life, most of Imre Makovecz’s completed and planned buildings were sacred structures. He continued experimenting with new spatial models, moving between simplicity and complex simplicity. By this point, architectural design no longer presented him with structural or material challenges, and he would often create only the simplest of sketches. Yet the buildings he lived to see completed stand among the most refined and fully realized works of his immense oeuvre: the Roman Catholic Church of Százhalombatta (1995), the Roman Catholic Church of Petőhenye (1999), the Roman Catholic Church of Csíkszereda (2001), the Reformed Church of Vargyas (1995), the Greek Catholic Church of Csenger (1999), and the Reformed Church of Kolozsvár (1994). The first phase of the Makó Thermal Bath (2007) was inaugurated after Makovecz’s death. When speaking of sacred buildings, one naturally thinks of houses of God. Yet in Makovecz’s architecture, even when the function was secular, the resulting space invariably bore a sacred quality. Thus, the Makó Bath becomes a temple of water and purity. Throughout history, both Roman and Ottoman bathing cultures left their imprint on this region, a memory preserved in Hungarian cultural consciousness. The Makó complex serves as the architectural embodiment of this collective remembrance. The building’s central, domed spaces, the anthropomorphic columns rising from the pools, and the plant-like central “air tower” all contribute to an atmosphere of purification and renewal for both body and spirit.
From 2005 until his death, Makovecz’s thoughts were increasingly occupied by the design and destiny of the Felső-Krisztinaváros Church in Budapest. Construction on the site had begun during his childhood but was halted by World War II. From this physically and spiritually crippled fragment, he was tasked with creating a new church, reusing the original foundations. He repeatedly reworked his first sketches, all drawn by hand. Every detail of this visionary world was carefully considered. It can be said without exaggeration that this design represents one of the most important parts – if not the most important part – of his spiritual legacy. Those of us who follow in his footsteps, as his students and successors, strive to bring forth the fullest realization of his drawings, though now without the Master’s presence.
A parallel may be drawn between the Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí and Imre Makovecz: both left their life’s masterwork unfinished. Gaudí departed this world while his Sagrada Família was still under construction; Makovecz, meanwhile, crossed into the celestial homeland of the Hungarians while still in the planning stage. Yet just as the Sagrada Família will one day be completed, so too will the bells of the St. Michael’s Church of Felső-Krisztinaváros in Budapest eventually ring out.
[Written in 2016]
[1] The years indicate the period of design. For completed buildings, the date of inauguration can be found in the catalogue of works.
[2] Tápé was a Migration Period settlement, now a district of Szeged. During archaeological excavations, a silver mock buckle was discovered in one of the graves. (Gyula László: A népvándorláskor művészete Magyarországon, Corvina, Budapest, 1974)
[3] Imre Makovecz: Napló I. – Meditations on Artistic Patterns and Structural Analyses, 1974–78; Napló II. – On Symbols and Buildings