22 steps
It is very cold, some clouds are hovering over the old church. It has been thirty years that I haven’t returned to this place. Only the rustic stones covering the entry block have resisted the time impassively.
The white texturized walls have already been painted over more than twenty times and express an obvious weariness.
Sitting on the steps, three girls talk discouragingly.
I open one of the immense wooden doors, and notice the smell of burning incense, touched, I walk along the high-ceilinged narrow hall lit by the meager rays of the morning sun. I don’t remember very well, but I believe the little holes of natural light have varied inclinations creating different scenes throughout the day. On my left some lit candles help to illuminate the young priest baptizing a baby. I look at the enormous sink and I remember the day we had spoken about this hall in the office, simply the water and the light. A small tear falls to the clear cement.
I arrive at the nave. Two nuns dressed in black were praying on their knees, and one of them in a fellinian movement turns back to me, making me even more emotional. In the last row of pews, a man sitted in the sober and shabby bench sang continuously Hail Mary.
Some stains display the leaks from the roof. I remember we spoke about if the wall behind the altar should be made of etched glass or of this rustic stone, bathed by a soft light.
In the small chapel an enormous number of images fecklessly placed over the sideboard, look passionately at the emptiness.
I have to leave, but before i would like to go up to the outer patio.
With great difficuly I manage the 22 steps. I step on the gravel ground and I sit on the long massive wooden bench. This monastic garden still pleases me. I look at the already rusted cube-formed chromed bell that maybe never worked. On the other bench a beautiful couple slowly kiss. Humbly my eyes fix on the cross for a few moments and an entire life passes through my mind, I sigh and breathe deeply … Life is Good!!!
I go down the steps leaning against the wall and I miss the hand-rail that I didn’t want to use in the project.
I knew it!
July 27, 2033
Marcio Kogan
PROJECT FOR CONTEST
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location > campinas . sp . brazil
project > june . 2001
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architecture > studio mk27
architect > marcio kogan
co-architects > bruno gomes . diana radomysler
project team > oswaldo pessano
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studio team > cassia cavani . gisela zilberman
22 steps
It is very cold, some clouds are hovering over the old church. It has been thirty years that I haven’t returned to this place. Only the rustic stones covering the entry block have resisted the time impassively.
The white texturized walls have already been painted over more than twenty times and express an obvious weariness.
Sitting on the steps, three girls talk discouragingly.
I open one of the immense wooden doors, and notice the smell of burning incense, touched, I walk along the high-ceilinged narrow hall lit by the meager rays of the morning sun. I don’t remember very well, but I believe the little holes of natural light have varied inclinations creating different scenes throughout the day. On my left some lit candles help to illuminate the young priest baptizing a baby. I look at the enormous sink and I remember the day we had spoken about this hall in the office, simply the water and the light. A small tear falls to the clear cement.
I arrive at the nave. Two nuns dressed in black were praying on their knees, and one of them in a fellinian movement turns back to me, making me even more emotional. In the last row of pews, a man sitted in the sober and shabby bench sang continuously Hail Mary.
Some stains display the leaks from the roof. I remember we spoke about if the wall behind the altar should be made of etched glass or of this rustic stone, bathed by a soft light.
In the small chapel an enormous number of images fecklessly placed over the sideboard, look passionately at the emptiness.
I have to leave, but before i would like to go up to the outer patio.
With great difficuly I manage the 22 steps. I step on the gravel ground and I sit on the long massive wooden bench. This monastic garden still pleases me. I look at the already rusted cube-formed chromed bell that maybe never worked. On the other bench a beautiful couple slowly kiss. Humbly my eyes fix on the cross for a few moments and an entire life passes through my mind, I sigh and breathe deeply … Life is Good!!!
I go down the steps leaning against the wall and I miss the hand-rail that I didn’t want to use in the project.
I knew it!
July 27, 2033
Marcio Kogan