An 18th Century Romanesque chapel—part of the Château d’Estoublon estate in the Baux de Provence Valley in France.

26  January  2012

I have always been a lover of churches—inspired by their architecture and ambience, their poetics and their past. I no doubt owe this love to my Grandmother Marie, a serial churchgoer who attended daily mass as St. Jerome, Holy Name Cathedral, or St. Peter’s in the Loop. Summer stays in her East Rogers Park home instilled in me an awe and reverence for these sacred spaces that I might otherwise never have enjoyed. At six or seven years old it was easy to feel small in such grand cathedrals—what I didn’t anticipate was that many decades and churches later I would still feel small in these hallowed houses of worship—the size and stature of which mattered not at all. Whether humble or grand, I am drawn to these architectural jewels wherever I travel—captivated by the bones of the space—the play of light on hard surfaces—the dark recesses—the icons represented—the silence residing in the sacredness. 


I share with you images of an enchanting Romanesque chapel I came upon during a recent trip to France. So enthralled was I by this diminutive stone chapel with its simple, austere interior that I nearly missed my ride back to town.