The construction of Munich’s cathedral began in 1468 under the direction of master builder Jörg von Halsbach. With limited funds available and no nearby stone quarries, red brick was selected as the primary building material. It was an unconventional decision at the time, but one that gave the cathedral its distinctive warmth and grandeur. Astonishingly, it only took 20 years to complete, and so the church was consecrated six years later in 1494. The roof was originally designed to have spires, but in 1525 the towers were eventually crowned with onion-shaped domes, adding a Renaissance touch to the Gothic ‘bones’ of the church.

During World War II, Frauenkirche suffered devastating damage. Allied bombs caused the roof to collapse and destroyed much of the interior. Between 1948 and 1955, the people of Munich undertook its renovation, with simplicity being favoured over its original lavish ornamentation and opulence.

Although Gothic in its design, Frauenkirche stands apart from the typical soaring, ornate cathedrals that are found in Prague or Milan. There are no flying buttresses, no gilded excess, no gargoyles leering at you from the rooftops. Instead, its a masterpiece in scale and simplicity, it embodies perfectly late Gothic Bavarian architecture. Step inside and you’re met with a vast, cavernous nave, no clutter, no distraction - just height, light, and harmony, ensuring its Gothic minimalism invites reflection rather than spectacle.

As you enter look down at the floor to find what has been named as the ‘Devils Footprint’. According to legend, Halsbach struck a deal with the Devil to fund the cathedral’s construction, however, only on the condition that it would contain no windows. When the Devil came to inspect the finished church, he was led to a spot where the columns cleverly obscured the windows from view. Satisfied, he stepped forward, only to see the light pouring in from behind the columns. Enraged at being tricked, it is said, he stamped his foot in rage, leaving behind a blackened imprint in the tile.

To the right of the nave stands the richly adorned tomb of Emperor Ludwig IV of Bavaria, a 14th century Holy Roman potentate. His bronze coffin, crafted by Hans Krumpper in the early 1600s, is a stunning example of Renaissance funerary art. It features skulls and crossbones, hourglasses and lion motifs, a regal yet dark tribute to power and mortality.

Throughout the church, you’ll find other examples of memento mori quietly embedded in the architecture. One of my favourite pieces was a small skull and hourglass along the left aisle, a medieval reminder of life’s ticking clock and the fleeting nature of time. It’s easy to be overlooked but once seen it certainly encourages a moment of reflection.

Before you leave, take a slow walk around the exterior of the church. Be sure to examine the niches and you’ll discover even more skull carvings etched into the weathered stones. Looking more closely, I couldn’t believe how many examples of memento mori can be found there, a silent reminder to every passerby that death comes to all, regardless of wealth or status.