Like a gothic or renaissance church, there was a clear separation between worshiper and visitor, with clear circulation patterns outlined for both - as I processed around the perimeter of the building, I could observe what was happening inside without disrupting it. Both create the separation of circulation using ceiling heights and columns: in the Christian churches, the side aisles' ceiling is lower then the central nave; at this mosque, the visitor's circulation path was not covered, whereas the prayer areas were. Similarly, the use of columns in both to create a permeable, yet clear boundary between uses is elegant and effective. Looks like I need to look more into mosque design to see if I'm just making all this up - ARH 101 was a long time ago...
I couldn't help but think, however, that the contemporary occupants of the mosque ought to rely more heavily on the clear architectural clues that the original designers and builders employed, rather than sullying the place up with a bunch of impermanent and shouting signs.
In any case, it was a much-needed respite from the city, complete with palm trees, fountains, and cool white marble - and my visit was only cut short by the fact that, in 100 degree heat, I was clad head to toe in polyester.
Mosque-ready attire. |
Masjid Jamek, built in 1907, KL. |
The building stands on a point of land where two rivers come together in KL. If ever there was a place of tranquility in this crazy city, this would be one of them. |
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