DANIEL H. writes:

Recently I was in Houston for business. I was told that I absolutely must visit the Rothko Chapel while there. “One of the great American artworks of the 20th Century,” I was informed. (That should have been my first clue not to go!)

Billed as a “spiritual space,” it is a windowless, tomb-like structure, with none of the dread spookiness of a real tomb. Just deathly and cold. The walls are hung with large, dark purple blocks of color; the floor is cement, and there are a few benches and cushions spread around for “meditation.” The only nice feature was the way the ceiling was designed to diffuse daylight within the structure. Of course, if one wanted daylight, one could just skip the chapel altogether and go for a walk!

It felt like a slap in the face to be there, as if I were being dared to worship there. “Come, give yourself over to this deathly, drab feeling. The old churches are gone. Now, you will worship this.”

Having given myself a block of time to visit and explore the “chapel,” I quickly left and found myself outside, on some grass under a tree. It was a hot Texas afternoon, and I spent a lovely, desultory hour reading a book under that tree. Later my friend sent me a message, asking how I enjoyed the chapel. She had been earlier in the day and claimed that it had been deeply moving to her.

“I guess I am old fashioned,” I wrote her back. “I like things that are actually pretty.”

Laura writes:

Rothko was open about his intentions when he said, “The familiar identity of things has to be pulverized in order to destroy the finite associations with which our society increasingly enshrouds our environment.” [emphasis added]

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Joe writes:

This is much the same treatment given the former-now-dead Church of the Saviour in West Philadelphia.

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