Places of Worship Never End (2010, VI)

Photo: courtesy of: k u n z e s e e h o l z e r / Jann Averwerser

Published in C3 Korea no. 311 | 1007

Places of Worship Never End

The American critic Charles Jencks relates the success of iconic buildings – amongst others to the decline of worship in twentieth century society (1), arguing that the current condition and evolution of the icon in architecture is “linked to the decline of religion and the decline of metanarratives … that is, the belief in progress, socialism, democracy, freedom” (2).The reasons for worship losing its strong grip on society are related to consumerism and capitalism. The question is centered in people’s beliefs, points out Jencks. “With the continual decline of the Christian and Modern belief systems, with the rise of consumer society and a celebrity system, architects are caught in a vicious trap” (3).

But can we really think of places of worship as places which no longer hold any interest for citizens of our time? Does a progressive loss of trust in religion necessarily mean a loss in our cities of the importance of churches and places of worship in general?

Let us take a step back for a moment to the original and most intimate sense of the church.

From an architectural point of view, the church as a building works on two distinct levels with respect to worshipers. The first is related to the interior of the building, in which an atmosphere that drives and suggests a certain spiritual leaning is created. A balance between a certain level of intimacy and openness to the rest of the world is vital in this sense. Of course, symbolism plays a fundamental role in the creation of such spaces. Stained glass church windows depicting biblical scenes or the internal decoration of the churches are just a couple examples (4). Vertical elements such as facades and walls should work as filters between the interior and exterior. Although these surfaces are often used to tell religious stories, they need not become distractions or confer a sense of oppression. The place of worship, in fact, demands to be enclosed yet not completely isolated; it should inspire feelings of protection and safety but not isolation and solitude. Everything in the church’s interior is thus fundamentally important in the implementation of the proper spiritual atmosphere.

On the other hand, from the outside the church is an important urban element, one inserted in the landscape (whether urban or rural) so as to serve as a landmark for citizens. In the historical catholic city, for instance, the belfry indicated the main square in the city center, often close to the town hall. Conceived as a landmark and a point of reference, and often annexed to the center of institutional and public life, the church became part of a quite recognizable urban place: the village’s main square. The position of the church indicated the place in which the two human powers – spiritual and worldly – were located.

Places of worship, then, are not isolated places or buildings apart; they are, speaking historically (and institutionally), main presences in the city. Almost every village or city in the world, from those founded by ancient civilizations to our modern metropolises – has a spot dedicated to organized spiritual activity and worship. Given that those places are usually intended to serve as a sort of gateway between the worldly and spiritual aspects of a civilization, they commonly lie in central or privileged parts of cities.

Assuming that every project meant to be a place of worship must deal with the two aspects of its typology the symbolical and narrative inside and the referential and representative outside then the quantity of attention the designers pay to each of these distinct aspects depends on several factors, such as the cultural and social environment or the sort of worshiper the place is meant for, considerations which change, however, from time to time and civilization to civilization.

Although they do so by different means and in different proportions, the projects presented here evince similar values and features to those of the places that have preceded them.

The Capilla del Retiro for example, designed by Cristián Undurraga (Undurraga Devés Arquitectos) in Los Andes Valley, Chile, is a clear example of a successful modern place of worship. Against the rocky surroundings, with numerous trees dotting the vast earthen surface, a slick, “pure” volume emerges, immediately visible and recognizable. From all around the area the Capilla can be pointed out as “the building.” Except for the high post displaying the Christian cross at the top (placed a bit to the side), the building does not resemble a catholic church. It appears rather as a closed system of perpendicular concrete walls that cross one another, creating a solid, massive light grey volume. But looking at it more deeply, certain enriching details come into view. The massive volume appears to have been inserted into the ground, but is in reality floating in its own hollow. The excavation made for the construction of the Capilla has been made a bit larger than the building itself, allowing a tiny space between the bedrock in which the building is situated (still visible from inside) and the church itself. The entrance is carved into the ground and emphasizes the relationship of the church to the ground (5). On the inside, a sense of austerity and poverty may be appreciated. This sense is achieved through the presence of natural elements such as ground and light, in contrast to the modest church furniture. The massive sense achieved outside is reversed by the interior, especially by the presence of the natural light which passes through the soffits and the lower part of the vertical walls (6). In the Christian religion humility is a positive value, so the tendency toward modesty in the church’s interior is well-taken, and appropriately mitigated by the omnipresent sense of something superior. The churchgoer is invited to behave humbly, and the presence of God is continually suggested by the presence of natural phenomena (light, ground, mountains).

In the Capilla Porciúncula de la Milagrosa we find certain of the same elements, such as the use of natural light and a bold contrast between the building’s interior and exterior. Materials play an important role in creating a proper atmosphere for meditation as well: a dark background material is applied to clash with the strong luminous lines provided by the natural light coming both from the side and from above. In this case the Bogotá-based architect Daniel Bonilla used a dark stone to set off a warmer series of materials, such as the wood of the ceiling, the material used for the vertical cladding, and that used for the altar. Once the proper atmosphere has been created with the combination of lights, colors and materials, the symbolic value of the place has been suggested as well. The place serves to lead worshipers to meditation and prayer.

From the outside the building is a featured element in the natural landscape. Its position “was scrupulously studied,” as the architect explains. The materials used to clad the Capilla recall a certain natural origin as of stone, wood and water, the latter of which is utilized in the pond to the east of the building   yet they are used in such a way as to clearly suggest they are human-made. The main shape is so tidy and slick that the church is immediately recognizable, set forward from the other elements in the surrounding landscape. Although the architect’s primary intention was to “try to alter the territory as little as possible,” the Capilla nonetheless remains a clearly visible sign of the presence of a place of worship in the area.

LOCALARCHITECTURE, the architects that designed the Temporary Chapel for the Deaconesses of St-Loup in Pompaples, Switzerland, explain the use of natural light in their project as something “essential to confer on the space a calm atmosphere, contributing to spiritual introversion, as well as to reinforce its symbolic value.” The main sources of value that a place of worship needs in its interior are suggested by that list of the architects’ intentions. Inside this protestant church the creation of a spiritually inclined environment is achieved by partially separating the interior space from the outside and creating a sort of in-world in which the outside nonetheless remains roughly recognizable. Architectural elements such as stained glass windows are used in this regard, as “natural light is filtered through a figure   abstract, figurative or symbolic   and the outside context vanishes to provide the sacred space with indispensable privacy,” explain the architects. In most worship places unmistakable boundaries for the place are considered fundamental. In a church it must be clear when one is inside, and when one is outside. Moreover, the two dimensions are deeply interconnected and always relate one to the other. From the inside it is important to feel one is in the place, and from there, to be able to safely see the outside world. In the case of this chapel, the architects designed the visual perception of the outside environment so that it is “diffracted through the transluscent polycarbonate panels and is thus reduced to its essence.” They hope they have, in the final analysis, offered “a visual abstraction that strengthens the inwardness of the religious space.” From the outside the temporary structure is immediately recognizable for its origami main shape, which clashes with the surrounding buildings and the rest of the St-Loup plateau. Moreover the temporary chapel is meant by the architects to serve as “a lantern for the entire site.”

The relationship between the outside and the newly created inside world is also clear in the renovation of Lumen United Reformed Church in London, UK, designed by London-based Theis and Khan Architects. The symbolic dimension is achieved mainly by means of interior solutions such as lighting the main space from above and the use of interior color in general. “The white render and changing light gives the space a pure and elemental feel and imbues it with a peaceful, religious aura,” explain the architects. Moreover, the large cone the architects used in the main church room to divide the inner space confers upon it a sort of spiritual sense. The congregation space is conceived as a “serene place of worship composed of a series of neutral spaces for use by people of all faiths and beliefs,” explain the architects.

The Agirbas & Wienstroer’s project of a Synagogue-Church–Mosque is a prominent sign for Gelsenkirchen’s inhabitants. Although the “Dialogue of Appearances” is a temporary structure, its importance for the city lies in the open approach to other beliefs it suggests. The mosque and the synagogue have been placed at the two sides of the city’s oldest church as an urban sign of benevolent intentions. “The aim of the Project is to bring together people of different origins by exhibitions, symposiums, concerts and children playing together. In spite of the small size of the buildings, this Project is a city sociology project for us” explain the architects.

It is not a case that the Farewell Chapel in Celje (eastern Slovenia) designed by architects Lena Krušec and Tomaž Krušechas has been placed in an elevated site within the Teharje existing cemetery. Visible from all the area, it represents a clear point of reference both visually and symbolically. The fact that the Chapel lies on the top of a small slope, it allows people to perceive a suggestive panorama from the inside. The materials and the composition of walls and surfaces that the architects chose for cladding “disable views towards the existing cemetery and tombstones, while orienting visitors’ views over graveyards to the quality natural landscapes” explain the architects. The roof has been detached from vertical walls so the sunlight can pass through and create long shadows on the vertical surfaces and generate a “special contemplative atmosphere of the interior space”.

The natural light is always a fundamental element for architects to confer the space a certain contemplative atmosphere. This is quite visible in the rehabilitation of the Mortuary Chapel of Santos-o-Velho Church in Lisbon by architect Paulo Tormenta Pinto. The architect conceived the interior space -which is actually an integration with an existent church building- as cut by vertical stripes of light coming from outside. The light in fact “appears in the project as the main material” and “passes through the spaces embodies all the architectural intentions” explained the architect. The vertical wooden stripes alternated with light, confer the space a certain visual rhythm which prepares the worshipers for a sort of transition from the outside courtyard to the mortuary chapel.
Similarly to the Capilla del Retiro by Cristián Undurraga, the natural light from above plays a fundamental role in the construction of the religious atmosphere in the Chapel of St. Benedict by architects Peter Kunze and Stefanie Seeholzer. This small chapel does not have the necessary size and position to become a symbolic landmark in the area, but its significance lies in the atmosphere created inside. The architects explain that “the origin of the chapel goes back to the initiative of a private builder-owner which wishing was to donate a chapel as a token of the gratitude”. The chapel is thus meant to be the materialization of the sense of a religious gratitude: something quite personal which requires an intimate space. This wish has been translated in a 17 square meters and 3 meters high space big enough for a person and his soul.

Big surfaces both vertical and horizontal create the spaces of the Santo Antonio Church and Saint Bartolomeu Social Center in Portalegre, in eastern Portugal by architect João Luís Carrilho da Graça. From outside the “elementary volume formed by its white surfaces” -as the architect described it- does not resemble a church at all. Like many other public (and private) building that can be found now in Portugal the Santo Antonio Church adheres to an architectonical language developed by famous Portuguese architects such as Alvaro Siza, Aires Mateus or the same Carrilho da Graça. Long and high white continuous walls along the streets do not indicate to passers-by the presence of a worship place and nor small tectonic movements like gentle ramps or slightly inclined walls. The massive elements outside have anyway the function to rise attention and prepare the visitors spiritually. That can be seen as a contemporary translation of what the gothic architects did with the impressive high facades of the 12^th to 16^th century in Western Europe. The high arcades and the sense of breathtaking verticality is here substituted by the strong contrast between clean white surfaces and shadows or with the effect created by massive volumes that seem to be floating in the air. The real church atmosphere –of course- appears once the visitors are inside: the massive volumes reveal their light, spacious and more intimate nature.

Jencks is perhaps right in arguing that a variety of factors (from consumerism to capitalism) have progressively decreased the attention people pay to religion not to mention their belief in it but the same cannot be said for the buildings and sites which represent it. Even if belief is losing its importance because of the global culture change, worship buildings seem to be fully capable of continuing to make their point.

In terms of typology and external appearance, a church or place of worship needs to serve as landmark in its cityscape and thus its evocative power is still impressive. It might even be said that the presence of such buildings, their external appearance, must be impressive and awe-inspiring almost by definition (if not by typology). In fact, as urban landmarks, houses of worship are still perceived as iconic buildings because they are deliberately different from other city buildings. No other public or private building wants to appear to be a church, and by the same token, no church, mosque or synagogue wants to be confused for some other sort of building.

Since the time of the Greek temple’s cellas, worship places have been designed to house a people’s beliefs and to represent the religion’s power on earth. These days the envelope appears to be stronger and more effective than what it was supposedly built to contain. It seems the attractive power that the architecture demonstrates has superseded that of the belief it represents.

Religion, then, may have lost its grip on society, but the power of religious buildings seems not to have been phased by that turn of events – perhaps because the buildings have managed to make the case for spiritual experience better than any creed can.

Captions

1. Charles Jencks, Iconic Buildings – The Power of Enigma, Frances Lincoln, London 2005.
2. Cf. John Jourden, Jencks: Being Iconic, Interview with Charles, on Archintect.com, Dec 11, 2005.
3. Amongst others, a remarkable contemporary example of the use of this tradition is the Chagall work for the Cathedral of Metz (France 1958 – 1960) or Gerhard Richter’s stained glass window in the Cologne Cathedral (Germany, 2007).
4. Charles Jencks, “The New Paradigm In Architecture,” Hunch, August 2003, Berlage Institute, Report 6-7.
5. The ground represents an important symbolic element in Christian culture: “For dust you are and to dust you will return” (Genesis 3:19).
6. To use light coming from the lower part of the vertical wall is a powerful architectonic gesture already present in several contemporary churches: e.g. in the Jubilee Church, Rome, Italy (1996 – 2003) designed by Richard Meier.

Silvio Carta