- Geometry plays an important part in your church designs: the triangle, the circle. Why are you attracted to these geometrical shapes?

“Geometry can sanctify a space. This is how the sacred space was marked out thousands of years ago: they drew a geometrical shape in the sand and declared the space inside sacred. Perhaps these shapes are in our DNA, for you can understand them intuitively. In cultures all around the world, the circle is the symbol of God. By contrast, the square is the symbol of what is down-to-earth, the symbol for humans. The triangle represents the harmony of three different parts: it symbolizes the Trinity of the Son, the Father and the Holy Spirit.”

- The circle is the most prominent motif in your church designs. Why does it appeal to you architecturally, besides being a symbol of divinity?

“On one hand a circle has a distinct centre. On the other it is endless, without corners. The absence of corners gives a sense of safety, it seems to me, as if you are being cradled in the arms of God. If you are looking for answers in the church, if you want to contemplate or pray to God, you need to be in a specific atmosphere and to feel safe. But there are other reasons why we choose a circular shape for a church. The circle is also a symbol of fullness. It functions as a full stop, as a spiritual focal point offering refuge for people to get away from the daily hustle, to rest for a while or collect themselves. The circle is also an age-long symbol of heaven and eternity, in contrast to the square which refers to the earth and to transience. Heaven is reflected in the colourful annular window that surrounds the dome. It might be said that the circle is floating over the town of Lesná or, in a transcendental sense, that Heaven is floating over Lesná.”

- Although you have designed Catholic churches, they are rather sober, without many images, sculptures or ornaments. Is there something you don’t like about the richly embellished interiors of Baroque churches for which the Czech Republic is famous?

“Baroque church interiors are overloaded with information. They are too much to digest, in my opinion. Paintings and sculptures played an important part in the past when these churches were built. They told stories of the Old and the New Testament, a bit like comic books for those who couldn’t read. Today, our situation is totally different. But we can read, and we have the information that we need, so the less information in the church the better. This has consequences for the position of the priest as well. In Baroque times his position was hierarchical, so his job was to recite and explain the stories of the Bible. The organisation of the interior space consequently had to be longitudinal, with the priest and the most important paintings in front of the congregation, like a window to heaven. The circle, by contrast, is much closer to the contemporary perception of church liturgy, which represents the community of the Apostles and Jesus seated around the table during the Last Supper. A circular space is therefore more appropriate nowadays. It underlines that we together form a community. The authority of the church has dwindled, and the community and an awareness of being together has taken over.”

- If a church has a circular floor-plan, the question arises of where to situate the altar. Should it be right in the middle?

“The middle of the circle should be reserved for the event, the story that has to be told at that very moment – for instance a couple getting married, or a baby being baptized. When there is no event happening, there should be nothing at all: an absence that God will fill by His presence, by light. The dome emphasizes this empty centre and implies a vertical connection to God. When I started on the Church of Sister Maria Restituta in Brno, I was occupied with light and acoustics. But once the concrete casting for the dome was freed from its formwork, I could see the texture of the surface and it made me think of a fingertip. The surface suggested a huge fingerprint, of 25 meters in cross-section. It would be the finger of God touching us. Touching is for me a very important concept. A lot of energy is generated when touching takes place: the touching of two shapes, the touching of two people, the touching of our soul by God. The same happened with the altar in the Church of Saint Wenceslas in Sazovice. It looks heavy, as if made of solid brass, but it only just touches the ground, as though weightless. I did something similar with the wall of this church. It appears to be thin, almost cut out of paper. I wanted to generate the feeling that there is something beyond the material, something that exists even though we cannot see it, as if the material was dematerialised.”