Sunshine Chapel Narrative

Now, here I am. Living with my dad as the dark feelings of misery I had grown accustomed to slowly fade, day by day. As they fade, my perspicuity grows with it because now I know how she is, and how easily anyone can twist a story. I know that I want to go far away; I know that I want to be anything but what she is. I know that, despite what it may seem like on the outside, everything has changed: I can’t bring myself to regret

With Constructing the Good Life, we’ve looked the ways in which architecture and specific places in the environments we inhabit are defined by a sense of cultural and personal connection or significance, beyond the physical conditions or even basic function of the space. This week’s readings, “Subconscious Landscapes of the Heart” by Randy Hester and “Replacement” by W.G. Clark in particular, help to show the ways that meaningful spaces are often designed and constructed by the people who use them, and the deeper connections to the land that may develop.

A.) The mission chapel is beautiful. The beauty of this chapel can compare to the Santa Barbara one. They both are bright in color. When in the chapels I get a warm feeling. Old artwork. Kind of built like an ancient style building. Candles light up the room.

Oasis Church started in 1983, thanks in part to a good friend of mine, Al Kasha. He wrote many Top-40 hits, movie scores, and even a song for Elvis. Al won two Academy Awards for Best Song—one for There’s Got To Be A Morning After from the movie, The Poseidon Adventure, and a few years later he won another for We May Never Love Like This Again from the movie, Towering Inferno.

Regretfully, this was the last song the congregation would sing with the choir. Once the song ended, a woman came up to announce announcements and initiate welcoming visitors. Although I felt rather awkward, the church members were rather welcoming. I don’t think there was a church member who didn’t come up to shake my hand.

As school begins at a new institution, exuberance flows through your veins, and you skip towards a sea of new faces. Stares of disgust penetrate through you as if you have wronged these individuals by being in their presence. Far from the expected, you brush the feeling of anguish off and decide to walk up to a group of friendly looking individuals. You manage to put your left foot in front of your right just three times before the group recognizes the attempt of involvement, and opts to disperse as if being pulled away from you by a riptide. Surrounded my hundreds of new faces, never have you felt so lonely. Knowing none of this is because of your personal actions, but those of your parents, you feel drowned in a sea of grief.

Each nuanced hue’s like wandering an abandoned cloister; indulging in the memories of strangers who once breathed the sensation of brick.”

“Okay.” Tabitha looked around for a suitable meeting place. “I’ll be at the eatery, next to the haberdashery.”

The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in a way follows a similar pattern. When the ceiling is divided it is done so in a series of squares, triangles and circles. There are three zones to the ceiling division. The lower zone where very little light is received is defined by De Tolnay as "peopled by a race enduring variations of the human condition". According to Fleming, the middle zone is a mix of Old Testament prophets and some pagan symbols that "have knowledge of the Divine and mediate between man and God". The contrast of the pagan symbols and biblical prophets suggests a idea which is not completely Christian. The use of prophets and pagan examples side by side kind of suggests that Michelangelo was looking at the qualities they shared as

Rain dribbled down the gravestones, down the monuments, down the men with bowed heads. The sky was trademark English grey, the sort of colourless, dreary sky that so many cynics and sceptics had been born under, the grass was less of a green colour, and more of a dead brown, and the poppies had bowed their head, weighed down by the drizzle, and out of respect for the dead. The only things that looked clean and not devoid of life were the gravestones: white marble, drenched in rain, almost gleaming. The gravestones didn’t slump like their onlookers, with their backs arched and legs bent, but rather stood upright, perfectly balanced, in neat, faultless rows. Each row was perfect, neat, and even rather beautiful. There was something breath-taking about the thousands and thousands of rows of white slabs, all anonymous and impersonal, standing at attention.

Upon entering the colors followed a pattern of blue and purple, these are cool tone colors to demonstrate tranquility and acceptance into the chapel. Further, as the chapel progressed the glass became warm tone colors to symbolize the warmth of love that God has for his followers. Furthermore, the physical surroundings of the chapel were admirable I was blown away by the beauty and dedication it took to build the church. Upon exploration I was informed that it took about 30 thousands bags of cement to create the posts in which the church stands on. The humility and dedication of the monks is explicitly empathized through completing task without industrial machinery and rather with their own two hands and a wagon. The church itself works as a symbol and reminder of core values of the monks. The physical surrounding that accompanied the vespers service broadened my admiration to the church itself and to their hard

Although, not has deep as the other devotional this devotional forced us to open up about a topic that could have spurred up arguments. Whether it be based off of interests or perspective, discussing the making of a chapel could have divided us, but we took it upon ourselves to be open-minded to contradictions.

From the moment I stepped into gallery 305 I felt some sort of connection. The timeframe of the artwork was relatable, the setting was familiar, and the feeling was purely magical. The sounds, oh the sounds, they reminded me of my church back home. It was angelic music, soft and heartfelt. It was the kind of music that drew hearts in, as it drew mine back in the days. It was the same music that gave me a feeling of encouragement to carry out the ways of God; the same music that made me want to repent from my sinful ways in business and day to day wrongdoings. The walls were tall and the ceiling had tinted windows. On the sides, there were glass windows made of numerous beautiful colors. They had images of people in them, just like the windows had back home. Many of the images on these glass windows were of people I knew, priest, pastors and saints. Gallery 305 felt like home from the moment I stepped in. It depicted the common holy church for

My dad could tell by the way the dark gray clouds hung over the lake that it was going to be a cool day with spotted rain showers. So, hoping that it was not going to rain, I grab some sweats and got ready for a day of fishing.

Students line the patterned red seats in the high school auditorium. While the speaker on stage bellows his gospel of forgiveness, some students halfheartedly nod along, some stare at their shoes, and some snore. Looking around the chapel from my seat in the back row, I am overwhelmed with one impression: apathy. This mood that hung in the room was pervasive, making me feel uncomfortable because I realized that I felt it too.