Skip to main content

The science of religious architecture.

I’ll be honest, I’m out of my depth on this one. 

But the whole point of this page is giving myself excuses to read and write about interesting things, so we’re forging on.


Church of the Light in Ibaraki, Japan (Tadao Ando)

How do we represent the divine on Earth? It’s an age-old question, and one that has been answered in countless ways. The Greeks and Romans sought to impress their pantheon by constructing feats of engineering, buildings of a scale befitting the gods.

Acropolis at Athens

The Catholic Church took a similar approach in the Gothic period by stretching what was materially possible at the time, building their cathedrals up into the heavens. The goal was for the structures to awe and inspire visitors into faith, and to this end they struck upon another pillar of religious architecture: Light. The intricate stained-glass windows and large open spaces created a sort of holy light in the cathedral at a time when many buildings were lit with dim candles.

Chartres Cathedral in Chartres, France

Moving into an era closer to our own, where we tend to spend our money on schools and Social Security rather than on places of worship, architects faced the challenge of capturing the essence of divinity without the crutch of throwing 200 years’ worth of the town’s taxes at it. In 1980, Fay Jones took the approach of connecting the church to creation itself by designing a chapel constructed of almost entirely glass in the setting of a forest. The effect of this is surreal—though the building is entirely contained and conditioned, you feel as though you are close enough to nature to reach out and touch it.

Thorncrown Chapel in Eureka Springs, AR (Fay Jones)

Part of what I find so interesting about the change over time in how we build places of worship is that it represents a tonal shift in how people see their relationship to their creator. The Greeks and Romans believed in harsh, demanding gods and so built monuments to their glory in the hopes that they would be spared the gods’ wrath. The Catholic Church in the “dark ages” worshipped a jealous and supremely authoritative god. Their only mission was to serve and to bring others into the faith, so they dedicated their lives to constructing awe-inspiring cathedrals in an attempt to move others to worship. Even in our own time, the tone has shifted again. The message presented by Fay Jones in Thorncrown Chapel seems to be that divine creation is all around you, you need only have the eyes to see it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

In criticism of criticism.

How many of your ideas are actually yours?           And, to that point, how many of them do you even agree with? In the age we currently live, countless writers, critics, and general snobs make their living by giving an opinion on things that most of us have never experienced. If I read a (beautifully written, I might add) movie review by Roger Ebert, I still haven't seen the film. I may have some idea of what it was like to have seen it, but only from the perspective of Mr. Ebert himself. If I then decide to watch the movie, who could say how much different my experience will be for having these ideas preloaded into my head--ideas about whether it is a two or three star worthy film, if I had ought to believe in the characters as written and portrayed, or pointing out the holes in the plot that might otherwise have passed clear over my head. Will I enjoy the film any more or less for having this external knowledge of it? Is it possible that I'll never watc...

The design of anti-design.

 This article brought to you by (brand name).  Or maybe by No Name™. That's what you're seeing there in the yellow: a brand whose whole identity is based on having no brand name. You won't find any Eggo, they only make "original waffles". No Charmin either, just "bathroom tissue".  Make no mistake, this campaign of anti-design isn't concerned with actually destroying brand image (they'll happily sell you all the bright yellow merchandise you can carry), they're more so trying to convince you that not having a design somehow puts them on the moral high ground. That, by spending a single cent on marketing or packaging design, all the other companies have duped you and you'd really be a fool not to buy all this plain yellow goodness.  It is, of course, just another way to market a brand.  To stray from consumer goods and into other areas of anti-design, this is a problem that I've often had with some works of minimalist architecture. I...

In defense of luxury.

 Allow me to introduce you to my first car: a Mercedes S-Class If only.  My actual first car was a clapped-out Chevy Lumina (though she was good to me). But what my car did have were airbags and ABS brakes-- two features that were once considered to be luxury features  exclusive to cars like the S-Class, yet somehow found their way onto a car that I bought from my cousin for $800. If it seems like I'm getting somewhere, it's because I'm trying to. Research is expensive. There's not really any way around that unfortunate fact, nor around the equally unfortunate fact that someone has to pay for it. I don't know about you, but I definitely can't afford to. Here's where luxury comes in. If rich people want to pay prices that would make you or I limp at the knees in order to have the latest-and-greatest gadgets and doodads then, hey, they have my best wishes. The money that luxury consumers pay for the honor of being the first to use these newer and better techn...