Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de Loreto Brutalism by the Mediterranean

When you think about Brutalist architecture, Spain's Costa Blanca probably isn't the first place that immediately comes to mind.

Sunshine, beaches, fishing boats and whitewashed Mediterranean buildings perhaps.

But tucked away in the old fishing district of Duanes de la Mar in Jávea – or Xàbia in Valencian – is one of the most unusual Brutalist buildings I have come across.

The Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de Loreto, better known locally as the Parroquia del Mar, is extraordinary.

From the street it doesn't immediately look like a church.

There is no traditional stone façade, no Gothic tower and certainly no attempt to imitate the religious architecture of the past.

Instead, you are confronted by enormous curved pieces of reinforced concrete rising towards the sky.

It looks more like a sculpture than a building.

And that is what makes it so interesting.

A Brutalist Church Beside the Sea

The church stands in Duanes de la Mar, the traditional maritime quarter of Xàbia, only a short distance from the port and La Grava beach.

That location is important because almost everything about the building has some connection with the sea.

The present church was designed by the architectural studio GO-DB, associated with Fernando García Ordóñez, Juan María Dexeus Beatty, José Bellot Porta and José María Herrero Cuesta, working with engineer Claudio Gómez Perretta. It was built during the 1960s and consecrated in 1967.

For the time, it must have looked incredible.

Actually, it still does.

Imagine seeing this enormous piece of experimental concrete architecture appearing amongst the modest houses of a Mediterranean fishing neighbourhood during the 1960s.

It must have looked as though something had landed there.

Twelve Enormous Concrete Supports

The first thing that grabbed my attention was the structure.

Twelve huge reinforced-concrete supports surround the church.

They lean and curve upwards, supporting the walls and roof while giving the entire building its unmistakable appearance. The twelve supports have become associated symbolically with the Twelve Apostles, although structurally they have the very practical job of supporting the inclined enclosure and roof structure.

This is Brutalism at its best.

Nothing is hidden.

The structure becomes the architecture.

The concrete isn't simply being used to hold up a more conventional church. It is the church.

Stand close to one of these supports and they are enormous.

From certain angles they almost resemble fingers reaching upwards.

From another they look like waves.

And from somewhere else entirely, the building begins to resemble the hull of a ship.

That isn't accidental.

An Upside-Down Boat

The maritime connection becomes even more obvious when you enter.

Look upwards.

The roof has been designed to resemble the keel of a boat.

Constructed using red pine timber, it appears almost like an enormous overturned vessel floating above the congregation. The official Valencian tourism description specifically identifies the roof as being shaped like a ship's keel.

I think this is one of the cleverest parts of the entire building.

Xàbia has a long relationship with fishing and the sea, and the church takes that history and turns it into architecture.

You don't need a sign explaining it.

Once you look upwards, it becomes obvious.

There is also the Christian symbolism of the boat itself – something that appears repeatedly throughout Christian history and the story of the fishermen who became disciples.

Here, however, that symbolism has been translated into concrete, timber and light.

A Church Without Corners

Another thing that makes Nuestra Señora de Loreto so unusual is the shape.

The plan is oval rather than rectangular.

There are effectively no conventional corners.

The walls curve continuously around the interior before opening outwards towards the top. Reinforced concrete and iron form the principal structure, while small openings around the upper sections allow daylight to enter from above.

The architects wanted to create a religious space that felt soft and almost without physical boundaries.

That might sound rather strange when discussing a building constructed from tonnes of reinforced concrete.

But surprisingly, it works.

From outside the church appears heavy.

Inside it feels completely different.

The Light

This is where the building really surprised me.

Light enters from above rather than through enormous traditional stained-glass windows.

It falls down the curved concrete walls.

Because the walls aren't flat, the light constantly changes as it travels across the surface.

One section can be brightly illuminated while another disappears into shadow.

The architects deliberately treated natural light as an important part of the religious experience, using the openings around the roof to produce a more contemplative interior.

And it gives the church an atmosphere that is difficult to explain until you stand inside it.

For something constructed almost entirely around concrete, it doesn't feel particularly cold.

It feels calm.

Brutalism With a Mediterranean Twist

This is where I think the Parroquia del Mar becomes particularly interesting.

It is unquestionably Brutalist.

There is exposed reinforced concrete, enormous structural elements and very little unnecessary decoration.

But it doesn't feel like British Brutalism.

Compare it with Trellick Tower, the Barbican or the National Theatre in London and the difference is enormous.

Those buildings can feel heavy and urban.

Nuestra Señora de Loreto feels almost organic.

The concrete curves.

The building seems to move.

There are hardly any straightforward rectangular forms.

Instead you have something that looks as though it has been shaped by water.

For me, it demonstrates just how varied Brutalist architecture can actually be.

Brutalism doesn't have to mean a square concrete box.

The Fishing Quarter

The location makes the building even better.

Duanes de la Mar has strong connections with Xàbia's fishing community, and an earlier chapel dedicated to Our Lady of Loreto existed before the present church was constructed. The modern building emerged at a time when the town was expanding and tourism was beginning to transform this part of the Costa Blanca.

Yet the new church didn't abandon the area's maritime identity.

It embraced it.

The boat.

The waves.

The Apostles.

The relationship with the sea.

Even if you removed every religious symbol from the building, you would still know that this architecture belongs somewhere beside the Mediterranean.

A Remarkable Piece of Engineering

It is also worth remembering that this was built during the 1960s.

The engineering is impressive even today.

Reinforced concrete allowed the designers to create those extraordinary curved walls and supporting structures, producing something that would have been extremely difficult using traditional masonry.

Local accounts of its construction describe each of the characteristic pillars as containing around 80 reinforcing rods.

This wasn't simply architecture.

It was serious engineering.

And all of this was being achieved in what was then a comparatively small Mediterranean fishing community rather than Madrid, Barcelona or another major European city.

That makes the building even more remarkable.

Photographing the Parroquia del Mar

From a photographic point of view, this church is wonderful.

There isn't really one obvious angle.

Walk around it and the shape constantly changes.

One minute you are looking at a huge wall of concrete.

Move several metres and suddenly two of the supports overlap.

Move again and the roof appears.

The strong Spanish sunshine also works brilliantly with the building.

Deep shadows form between the concrete supports while the exposed surfaces become almost white in the sunlight.

Against a clear Mediterranean blue sky, it can look spectacular.

Then there are the details.

The texture of the concrete.

The narrow gaps.

The curves.

The points where the supports meet the roof.

You could spend quite some time photographing this building without taking the same picture twice.

Not Your Typical Spanish Church

Spain has some of the greatest historic churches and cathedrals anywhere in Europe.

Many are filled with elaborate decoration, paintings, gold, stone carving and centuries of history.

Nuestra Señora de Loreto couldn't be more different.

It is almost the complete opposite.

There is very little unnecessary decoration.

The architecture does most of the work.

Concrete provides the drama.

Natural light provides the atmosphere.

And the roof provides the symbolism.

I like that simplicity.

Nothing is competing for your attention.

More Than Just Brutalism

I wouldn't describe this simply as an interesting Brutalist building.

It is much better than that.

It is an example of architects taking the principles of modern architecture and adapting them to a very particular place.

Put this building in central London and it wouldn't mean quite the same thing.

Here, beside the Mediterranean and within Xàbia's old maritime district, the architecture makes sense.

The sea is part of the building.

The history of fishing is part of the building.

Even the light feels like part of the building.

That is clever architecture.

Final Thoughts

The Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de Loreto is one of those buildings that proves why it is worth looking beyond the famous names when exploring Brutalist architecture.

It isn't the Barbican.

It isn't Trellick Tower.

It isn't the National Theatre.

And that is precisely the point.

Here in Xàbia is a completely different interpretation of Brutalism.

A church built from reinforced concrete that somehow manages to feel connected to the sea.

From outside it is bold, sculptural and slightly strange.

Inside it becomes calm, surprisingly delicate and filled with natural light.

Then you look upwards and discover a wooden boat apparently floating above your head.

It shouldn't really work.

But it does.

For anyone visiting Xàbia with even the slightest interest in architecture, I think the Parroquia del Mar is well worth seeking out.

It is strange.

It is beautiful.

It is unmistakably Mediterranean.

And it is one of the most fascinating pieces of Brutalist religious architecture in Spain.

By Daren Frankish

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