Corvin Castle, view from the noble’s main kitchen and its arched door towards the White Tower. If you look closely you can see the stone wall at the bottom, and the later built wall above, consisting of bricks and even plaster.
Next you can admire another access door into the kitchen with more building timeline easy to notice on the wall. First stones were brought from Zlaști River nearby in 1299. Construction and repairs went on till the 17th century, with more renovations afterwards.
Next is the Corvin Castle – bolted door of its renaissance lapidarium, guarding more secrets. It was locked, believe me 😉 A lapidarium is a place where stone (Latin: lapis) monuments and fragments of archaeological interest are exhibited. Bones too, but this is a story for another time.
More historical doors opening from the outside Gothic gallery of Corvin Castle, facing the main courtyard:
Corvin Castle a well courtyard stone door and looking from the cellar into the Inner Courtyard:
I will leave with one of Corvin Castle’s secret doors, one well hidden. But is it out of use? and… the door to the torture tower:
Corvin Castle, Kinda Historical Doors, is a contribution to Becky’s incredible October Squares#KindaSquare blog feature.
Also for Thursday Doors Norm’s weekly feature, allowing door lovers to come together to admire and share their favorite door photos from around the world. Create post and share your link anytime between Thursday morning and Saturday noon (North American eastern time).
I discovered this picture I took looking out of the Kinda Old, Corvin Castle, and remembered the question that haunted me, what story do these old stones tell?
‘Follow the main tunnel,’ he’d said, ‘the widest one. Do not set foot into any of the side shafts,’ and he’d let the trap door fall. Blindness shrouding them.
She smelled wet earth, almost agricultural, the freezing temperatures blocking any other foul odors. Her stomach recoiled, a physical sign that her hippocampus, the primitive region of her brain and mother-nature’s GPS system, the same one that helped Homo sapiens navigate and orientate in space by collecting data and building a cognitive map, was protesting. She remembered reading about it, about the human brain’s natural fear of being lost, of losing all receptive signals from the sun, the moon, the stars, even from one’s shadow or the wind. Period. Of not being able to tell ahead from behind, up from down. No horizon. Only gravity to rely on.
She knew her body was telling her she was neurologically ill-equipped to be here. In an underground tunnel. Without a map to navigate by. Without cellphone reception. Only eerie silence. And darkness beyond the flashlight’s shaft. Her field of view blinkered, never reaching beyond the next twist or kink. Down here there was no way to tell time and she did not want to check her wrist watch and discover that time stood still.
No one could tell exactly what these tunnels had been used for. Nor did anyone know for sure how many such tunnels were, scattered underfoot the town. And those who did know, were long reduced to bone. Meanwhile, for centuries the tunnels had been buried. Their gaping mouths filled in after locals complained of smell, their caverns used as underground landfills. But before human junk touched them, no one knew what they’ve been used for. Oh, artifacts had been found and there were plenty of legends too. Legends told by ghosts.
The next step she took, darkness sealed her in. She shook the flashlight, hit it against the rocky wall, yet no light came through. Thoughts accelerated inside her head. She tried to slow them down, but they wouldn’t listen, racing for a way out. The tension in her neck spread to her face and she heard a wheezing noise not realizing it was her shallow breath coming in short, rapid puffs. Her limbs felt heavy to move, although her heart was racing. Like a rabbit running for its skin. Racing to find a way out. Through the dark tunnel, as far as possible, as fast as possible, till it found the exit.
She remembered a moth caught inside her bathroom, at night. Banging against the white walls when she had switched on the light. In an attempt to escape, giving into the primal surge to flee. Till it moved no more, in a corner of the bathroom wall. Dead, yet freed in its own mind, freed from the confined space.
She felt her mind spinning, like an athlete sprinting during a marathon, using all the energy his body could muster, leaving none for later. Life mattered now.
Forward was a black passage and so was backwards, but who knew if forward wasn’t backwards and back wasn’t front?
She let her legs gave way in an attempt to slow down her mind, she felt her body drop to the ground like an inanimate object.
Carved out of stone or wood, to defeat or hide a secret passage, the spiral staircase still stands the test of time like a question mark between symbol and mystery.
In the perfect twilight of the room the girl was waiting, her hand on the banister of a spiral staircase, her mind a tornado of thoughts. Should she go up, towards the unknown? Was the spiral she was confronted with a symbol of a destiny written in her DNA, unavoidable, or a chance encounter mystery?
Usually narrow, often tucked away in the corner of a room, carved in stone or build out of luscious wood, a spiral staircase is like a mysterious creature watching you from the shadows. Alluring. Daring. Playful. Dare you take the challenge?
A spiral staircase is a confined space that obscures from sight what lays ahead, be it above or underneath you, and offering only two options: up or down. Or an open cavity that tricks you by deceitfully offering physical support while playing with your inner sense of equilibrium, spinning you out of balance as you descent into the unknown.
Either way, be it the glimpse of a promise, of something fascinating once reaching its top, or the 50 / 50 gamble that a sinister outcome might be lurking at its bottom, proves irresistible. And you take the first step.
The spiral staircase, stairs with a purpose. Which one?
Built to reach bird-level heights while conserving space, to solve a comfort or a safety issue, the movement one follows along a spiral stairway is influenced by the location of the stair, the amount of natural light, the material (medieval stone, classic wood, or modern steel), the stair’s geometry, and the presence of handrails (if any).
The spiral staircase appeared as a key element intent to fluidity the circulation in any multi-story building, and perhaps its first intent was for private use.
Would you run up a spiral staircase? Would you tiptoe up? Would you use a candle to light your way or trust the moonlight sliding through the top?
Just don’t run up a staircase with a sword in your right hand as you will find it difficult to maneuver upwards, especially on clock-wise winding stairs. Perhaps this is why spiral staircases were used as a defense mechanism in medieval castles. Just imagine how the attackers of a tower could not storm up in a group, but had to go up one by one along a narrow path. Less defenders stood a far better chance to protect and survive.
I can’t resist a spiral staircase. The sight of it, so similar to the DNA’s double helix, reminds me of the human (sub)conscious desire to achieve higher. Its spiral, like a maze of self-discovery through movement and sight, is both a riddle and a promise. It could be a secret passage way between two levels, or the chance to evolve, to self-discover, to take a risk.
Be it an iconic structure or an architectural inner whisper, take this trip with me along spiral staircases and let’s travel the world.
A Timeline of Spiral Staircases
First ever spiral staircases were mentioned in the Hebrew Bible as existing some 3000 years ago. These two spiral staircases were part of Solomon’s Temple and used to access a sacrificial altar.
Searching for actual archaeological remains, the earliest example of a spiral staircase is in the Greek Temple A in Selinunte, Sicily, (built c. 490–460 BC). A really skillfully engineered spirals of the ancient Greco-Roman empire.
Still standing in Rome today is marble-built Trajan’s Column (built 113 AD) and this seems to be the oldest ‘preserved’ spiral staircase in the world.
Did you know that the outside of the column is covered with reliefs depicting the victories of Trajan’s army in the Dacian wars? Dacians were the forefathers of the Romanian people.
There are over 2000 marble carvings that spiral upward depicting the Roman – Dacian Wars (there were two of them) along Trajan’s Column, but its one overlooked characteristic is definitely the winding staircase hidden inside. Windows strategically placed allow enough light for the visitors walking up the stairs, but it is well worth it as at the top there is a viewing platform overlooking the Markets of Trajan, Trajan’s Forum, Capitol Hill, and the Campus Martius. Marcus Aurelius Column (176–192 A.D.) also has a spiral staircase inside. But Romans did not commonly use spiral staircases in buildings until after the third century.
Below: stone spiral staircase at Fagaras Castle, Romania:
Other impressive spiral staircases are located at the Baths of Caracalla (212–16 A.D.), the Baths of Diocletian (298–305 A.D.) and the Mausoleum of Constantia (c. 350 A.D.) among many others.
In Spain, the oldest spiral staircase is located at the archaeological area of the Roman villa of Las Gabias (6 century A.D.), south Granada.
More great spiral staircases are found at the Abbey Church at Cluny and Cathedral Notre Dame de Paris (France); the Basilica of the Holy Apostles in Köln and the Cathedral of St. Peter in Worms (Germany); and the Cathedral in Durham and in Canterbury (England).
Perhaps it is the years of history trapped in a staircase, the symbol it stood for, as well as the excitement to climb it and the anticipation of the mystery, of the view at the top what make any spiral staircase well worth a climb. Like this spiral staircase below, located in the Clock Tower of medieval fortress of Sighisoara, Romania:
Spiral staircase design had to wait for the development of the craft guilds that took place during the Middle Ages – so that extra technical skills required in their extended construction develop. Now they were mostly used to prevent the invaders from gaining access in castles. It is of importance to know here that the Gothic stone-masonry masters ensured the stability of a stone structure by determining the right dimensions for all its different parts.
The Helical Stair – a Timeline
With regard to the helical stair, the oldest examples can be found in the well-preserved towers at Aghios Petros on Andros Island and Pyrgos Chimarrou on Naxos Island, both dating to the Hellenistic period (4 – 3 century BC). Then it went dormant.
The helical staircase was not fully developed until later, during the 16th century, when it gradually developed in proportion and decorations, mainly composed of moldings on the wall handrail. Over time, its enclosing walls dissolved, improving the use of natural light.
Around the 15th – 16th century the helical or open–eyed staircase appears in Spain as an element of late Gothic architecture. This was also known as the mallorca staircase and the first, built between 1435 and 1446, is located in the turrets of La Lonja of Palma. Other helical stairs can be found in the Vélez Chapel in Murcia Cathedral, Colegio de Arzobispo Fonseca in Salamanca, and the Concepción Chapel in Segovia Cathedral.
During Renaissance times the helical staircase becomes a significant sculptural and elemental part of design. Like the one designed by Donato Bramante for Pope Julius II at the Belvedere Palace (and known as the Bramante staircase): a double helical staircase which was intended to separate the movement of people and animals.
Helical staircases now become spacious and elegant and even a centerpieces of a building, like the one located at the exit of the Vatican Museum in Rome designed by Giuseppe Momo (1932), or the free-standing helical staircase under the Glass Pyramid at the Louvre Museum in Paris below (built 1989) or the glass one towering at the new Exhibition Hall at the Deutches Historisches Museum in Berlin (2003), both designed by Ieoh Ming Pei.
Helical staircases inside Louvre Museum, Paris:
Andrea Palladio, 16th century Italian Renaissance architect, wrote in his book of The Four Books of Architecture, referring to spiral staircases :
“They succeed very well that are void in the middle, because they can have the light from above, and those that are at the top of the stairs, see all those that come up or begin to ascend, and are likewise seen by them.”
So, what is the difference between a Spiral and a Helical Staircase?
The common design of many ancient spiral staircase structures includes a center newel, crafted out of stone, with the stone stair slabs constructed around it.
The helical staircase follows the same basic rule, the rotation of a single-slab-step around a central axis BUT the newel is replaced by a small well. Nevertheless, the newel is kept but it is not located in the geometric center of the staircase but around it.
In case you wondered or perhaps you saw one, there are outside spiral staircases too, like this stunning one below that we happened to stumble upon while visiting the Da Vinci – The Genius exhibition back in 2014, near the Maronite Catholic Church in Johannesburg, South Africa:
I hope you enjoyed our excursion along the spiral staircase, from symbol to mystery.
Subscribe to my e-Newsletter for fun and informative content on dogs, books, history, folklore and a castle or two: