Reading between the lines

photo by Carlo Prearo – text by Filippo Gagliardi

The little town of Borgloon, located a few kilometers south of Hasselt, rests amid a web of fields and orchards, a testament to a countryside seemingly resistant to change and exuding only peace and quiet. The pastoral landscape appears destined to remain unaltered if it weren’t for a rather unexpected landmark that breaks its pattern.

Nestled among layers of fruit trees, the “Reading between the lines” church (“Doorkijkkerk”) stands on a small hill overlooking the town. Its enigmatic profile vanishes into the sky or silhouettes against it when viewed from the right angle. Composed of 100 horizontal steel sheets and weighing 30 tons, the church is not a place of worship but rather a unique work of art, designed to merge with its landscape thanks to the separation of its components, allowing light, shadow, and shapes to travel freely.

This work, modelled on local churches, is part of the Z-OUT project, a series of installations developed under the supervision of Hasselt’s Z33 art museum to encourage visitors to view the Borgloon-Heers region differently. And this, after all, is what art does best: it gives new meaning to what our minds perceive as ordinary and predictable.

The “Reading between the lines” church was built in 2011 by architects Pieterjan Gijs and Arnout Van Vaerenbergh, both born in Leuven in 1983. Upon completing their studies, they founded the Gijs Van Vaerenbergh collaborative practice in 2007 and began working not only on architectural assignments but also on artistic projects that combine the rigorous approach of their profession with pronounced experimentation. Their production aims to challenge the utilitarian side of architecture by transforming it into a tool capable of redefining space and the interaction of objects with their environment.

From their studio in BAC ART LAB, the University of Leuven’s workspace for contemporary art, the duo has developed several works of art over the years, such as “The Upside Dome,” a temporary, hanging dome in Leuven’s St. Michael’s Church (2010), the “Labyrinth” a steel labyrinth in C-Mine, an art centre built over an old coal mine in Genk (2015), the “Bridge,” a temporary pedestrian bridge over the Brussels-Charleroi Canal (2018), and the “Colonnade” a hybrid between a forest and a Roman column gallery developed for the Bruges Triennale (2021).

Much has been said about the meaning of the “Doorkijkkerk,” especially considering that its creators never clarified it. For some, it is a metaphor for the dwindling number of churchgoers in today’s Belgium, which is leaving places of worship progressively empty and abandoned. For others, it is precisely the opposite: a statement about the permanence of religious institutions, stubbornly holding on to their role in our societies. For those less concerned with religion, it is a more subtle invitation to view our surroundings with new eyes by reflecting on the relationship between what appears to be real and what actually is.

But in a world where fake news plays a pervasive role in our public discourse and drawing a sharp line between truth and lies is increasingly difficult, perhaps the “Doorkijkkerk” simply stands for something that is increasingly hard to find and that we desperately long for: the ability to be clear. And the courage to be transparent.