Check this out.

This post marks the beginning of a new series entitled From Where we Stand. Through these articles we will attempt to explore the spaces that have an effect on us and share the emotions and memories to which they are attached.

Our first submission comes from our friend Jay Winfrey who was also the mastermind behind this new segment. Jay is a musician, designer, craftsman and all around great guy living in Portland. His heart however still lies in Texas where he grew up. Jay will be making submissions to this project from time to time as well as curating submissions. More details about the project as well as how you can submit your own story can be found at the end of the post.

Photo of Jay courtesy of Chris Hodney

No. 1

I am thankful to be alone.

While on a tour of the University of Portland’s campus, I would likely be paraded past its chapel and simply given the Mass schedule. But unescorted, I am allowed to fully experience Pietro Belluschi’s Chapel of Christ the Teacher without being hurried along. I am free to linger and to get lost in the memories conjured by its architecture.

Something in the mix of the chapel, the sun and the smell of cut grass floods me with boyhood memories of summer Sunday evenings spent running amuck in the yard of First Baptist Church, Sundown Texas. We kids played freeze tag while our parents talked beneath the metal-roofed breezeway. The building’s rough, pale-yellow firebrick, if scraped up against while running, would leave burning reminders of the dangers of straying from the straight and narrow. A gleaming glass-block cross above the sanctuary entrance showed us the path to righteousness. The orange, purple and pink sunset stretched its fingers over the gabled roof and held us all there, letting us know that He has the whole world in His hands.

The memory was over in an instant, but its power left me a bit dazed. This little church, with the surrounding sounds and smells allowed me to recapture things I haven’t thought about in years. It was a deep and profound experience that a work of architecture has only caused in me a few times before. In truth, it’s not form, but the experiences and memories evoked by the architecture that will motivate me to visit this building again and again.

At the beginning of his book Thinking Architecture, Peter Zumthor observes, “There was a time when I experienced architecture without thinking about it.”

This statement is certainly true for all of us. Our early experiences with the surrounding world become the foundation for all other input and processing. I rarely think of a school without replaying the first time I struggled against the heavy wood doors of Sundown Elementary. Small concert halls always put me back on the piano bench in Mrs. Wells’ living room, a metronome pounding into my brain. Thunderstruck and TNT by AC/DC make me want to head to the field house, put on gym shorts and lift some weights. It’s a high school football thing.

The goal of From Where We Stand is to seek out buildings and spaces that strike a transcendent chord, that touch a beauty that is beyond their aesthetics; the beauty of experience. This beauty can be found in a chapel, a burned-out warehouse or a nightclub. It can be found anywhere we live. We understand that experiential beauty is deeply personal and so only posting our experiences would not do the topic justice; therefore, you are invited to submit your own. We will select a story from time to time to be posted on this site. Please include photos… We hope to hear from you soon!

Submit to fp.fromwherewestand@gmail.com

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