15: Kostanjevica na Krki // Hall of Fame Art in a Hall of Fame Setting

A stunning shot of the Cistercian Monastery in Kostanjevica na Krki, Slovenia // © Matej Kastelic / shutterstock

No matter the angle from which you soak it in, Kostanjevica na Krki is special. Less than one thousand people live here, lucky bastards. Easy to say really, but then beauty is always in the eye of the person writing about it from their living room. That’s how that goes, right?

But yes, Kostanjevica na Krki. One of the oldest towns in Slovenia, don’t you know? So many places in the country feel the need to throw that claim around, but Kostanjevica is pretty damn old, the oldest in Dolenjska no less. 

All towns in Slovenia are, what, do you remember? Beautiful, old, quaint. The big three. Kostanjevica ticks all three, a collection of red roofs surrounded green, green, green, wrapped in the ambitious bends of the Krka. That’s a river, by the way, the name of the town means ‘Kostanjevica on the Krka’. 

A beautiful image, especially when seen from above (aren’t all images more beautiful from above?), but most tourists bypass the centre of town and head straight to its most famous spot, a place where ‘culture and art intertwine with nature and spirituality’. Words of the official tourist brochure, not mine, but accurate enough. 

The Cistercian Monastery of the Spring of St Mary was constructed in 1234, founded by the excellently-monikered Bernhard von Spanheim, the first great Duke of Carinthia. His wife and son are buried in the monastery, a clear indication of its importance, although we weren’t visiting the monastery to check out a couple of graves. A morning of wine-tasting in Bizeljsko left our little group hungry for art, for the legacy of a man who stands tall above all others in the annals of modern Slovenian art. 

There’s something about the isolated cheeping of birds, isn’t there? It is a sound that acts as a synonym for tranquillity, despite the inherent interruption caused by the warbling. It certainly added a new layer of serenity to the monastery as we ambled around its gardens, weaving in and out of a mass of sculptures that didn’t resemble anything in particular but didn’t really need to. 

This is the Božidar Jakac Gallery, a love letter to one of Slovenia’s greatest artists. Born in Novo Mesto way back in 1899, Božidar started painting at a young age, although his lack of finances meant he had to stop his growing painting career to fight at the Battle of the Soča in World War I. Luckily for both Božidar and the art world, he survived and was soon put in contact with Rihard Jakopič, another titan of Slovenian art history. The two formed a teacher-student relationship, a relationship that eventually saw Jakac move to Prague to study painting and printmaking. It was here, in the stunning Czech capital, that our boy Jakac began to dip his toes into the waters of graphic art.

Fast forward a few years and Slovenia’s first graphic artist is becoming a regional sensation, an independent artist and exhibition-hungry traveller who wasn’t afraid to depict the scenes he saw on his wanderings, be they in Slovenia, France, Tunisia or wherever. Jakac was at the very forefront of a growing avant-garde scene in Slovenia, the face of the Spring of Novo Mesto and a burgeoning influence for a new generation of artists, only for that least avant-garde of wars to interrupt; World War II.

Božidar Jakac painting a young Peter of Yugoslavia // © WikiMedia Commons

Not that the war stopped Jakac’s productivity. Far from it. He actually continued to produce, working as the official pictorial chronicler for the Partisans, the right side to choose in a war of winners and losers. He continued on this theme after the war, injecting new elements of realism into his work and passionately representing Yugoslavia on the world stage.

In 1974, some 15 years before his death, the Cistercian Monastery of the Spring of St Mary was transformed into an art gallery, one centred around Božidar Jakac but one that went on to feature other national artistic heroes, names like France Gorše, Zoran Didek and others. The monastery had been dormant for nearly 300 years, abolished and abandoned, not waiting but hoping, one eye open for a chance to sparkle once more. Nothing sparkles like the portraits and landscapes of Božidar Jakac. I mean, he was predominantly a black and white artist, but you get the point.

Jakac was also a pioneer of Slovenian film, lest you doubt the completist nature of his bow. He produced a variety of documentaries about Slovenians at home and abroad, becoming the first Slovenian master of cinema in the process.

Božidar Jakac is a top table name in the proud history of Slovenian art but the monastery that houses his legacy outstrips him. No shame there, of course, and your opinion on that will depend on whether you value individual works of art over the combined achievements of spirituality. Actually, when it is put in such a way, I should reevaluate where I stand on this legacy rankings, although the idea of ranking legacies in such circumstances is, how to say, pretty dumb.

We mingled around the gardens a while, climbing sculptures and enjoying the exquisite atmosphere generated by art, monasteries, hills and the harmonious chatter of the birds.