Two Churches

Special Places

Churches are, for me, places devoted to spiritual reflection. They use the language of architectural and historical symbols to express their purpose and to set themselves aside in an unmistakable way from other structures. I do not have to go inside a church in order to be aware of the special nature of the building. I can feel the calm and the silent communication even if all I have a chance to do is examine the exterior. Something invisible comes across that is nevertheless as clear as possible.

It doesn't always matter to me which religion is the owner or sponsor of the church. The overall yet distinct message comes through: here is a place where people attempt more than anywhere else to connect with God, or their interpretation of God. I automatically understand the unique nature of each individual religious building whether it is a cathedral, synagogue or mosque.

Youthful Immersion

As a youth, I was raised in the Catholic Church. Indeed, I was an altar boy. I went to confession and stayed up late (feeling quite adult when I did so) to attend midnight Mass with family members. I knew the traditions, ceremonies, serious humility and artistic beauty of churches constructed to inspire a higher level of behavior, constraint and recognition of God in our lives. It was all very deep, with philosophical and emotional teachings. The buildings were the ultimate support of all the religious goals. Through many years of weekly immersion in churches, I was comfortable with the idea of them.

This was despite a few times when I knew some churches were less welcoming to me, a black child, than other churches. It happened years ago when I was in second grade and my mother and I entered a mostly white church in our new neighborhood one Sunday, on the border between black and white areas of the city. No one talked to us and we were met with a certain restrained hostility.

Photographic Records

As a young photographer, I was drawn to buildings of all kinds, including churches, and how their design quickly spoke to me (and others), conveying their function but also their character and in a limited way their story. I absorbed some of their essence and experienced a slight shift in mood just being in close proximity to churches. I knew what such buildings meant and occasionally I tried to record their features on film as I would other buildings, although they were not quite the same as apartment buildings, shopping malls and office towers. They are visually different, the only buildings where mankind gathers solely to worship.

Scrutiny

One cool summer day in 1975, I found myself, now a young adult, roaming North Michigan Avenue in Chicago. Within a block of each other were two churches. I didn't really pay attention to their names or denominations. All that mattered was the dignified, brooding Gothic stone facades with columns, stained glass arch windows and courtyards. What they were saying was all that was important. The hushed, solemn environment for thought and respect utterly belied the busy traffic, expensive stores and tall skyscrapers that totally surrounded the buildings. They were so separate from their neighbors that they could almost have been in a small town. We're from another place, they said, one of the mind, heart and especially the soul. Enter their walls when you are ready for something different.

Because of the less than warm childhood experience at a new church, I was wise enough to know that I might be scrutinized at St. James Chapel and Fourth Presbyterian Church, which were set in Chicago's wealthiest district and catered to the rich. I didn't attempt to enter them, but I did photograph them from the outside. I was right about the less than positive curiosity, which I received when a few people exiting Fourth Presbyterian seemed to notice that I was taking pictures and looked at me more than once with nervous scrutiny. Was it that they were not used to seeing someone photograph their building (which was unlikely since unrestricted entrance to the courtyard was directly available from the street)? Or was it that they wondered where a young black male (me) had obtained a decent camera and why a young black male was taking pictures? I could sense the added wariness but I was doing nothing wrong and I continued my effort to capture the grounds and architectural aspects of the church. It was by no means the last time I would attract a extra attention with my camera, and a certain disbelief that it was mine, in a way that a young white male would not.

Unchangeable

When I look at the images, decades after I photographed St. James Chapel and Fourth Presbyterian Church, I continue to see places of gravity. I have explored many places around the country and the world and those other places have taught me many things as well. I am still the same person but I have also changed. The two churches have remained physically the same but I wonder if they, and their congregants, have changed, too.