The name of a sacred space matters a good deal. Whether it focuses on the people it serves, denoted by “congregational”, the intentions of the believers like “Rodeph Shalom” meaning seekers of peace, or a certain saint or religious symbol like “St. Mary” or “Blessed Sacrament”; all of these names mean something to the community and inform the interior in key ways. A church with any name would serve the same beautiful purpose but it would not allow us the same continuity of design throughout centuries of construction. It is this continuity that inspires timeless beauty from the moment you step through the door.

Roman Catholic churches took on distinct names of their own. San Vitale from 547 AD, Santa Costanza from the late 4th century, and the Basilica of San Simpliciano from the 3rd century all express distinct regional saints and martyrs and their interiors reflect this. All of these churches’ namesakes are buried on site and the layouts carry on the Roman tradition of perambulation: walking around a grave or tomb multiple times as a form of commemoration. Their interiors include images of the Byzantine emperor and empress as well as a trope that would become more and more common: saints holding the church as an offering to God.

Further into the high and late medieval periods, the crusades brought renewed dedication to Mary inspired a flurry of new churches named after her, often bearing the simple yet devout name Notre Dame (French for ‘our lady’). Following the ravages of the Bubonic Plague, plague saints and martyrs also became popular namesakes as pestilence tested faith in God and symbols of strength supported suffering Christians. St. Sebastian afflicted with arrows, St. Roche with a bubo – the mark of the plague – on his thigh, and St. Gregory whose devotion to Mary reportedly banished the miasma from his inaugural procession as pope.

These saints and artistic motifs identify a church’s age and informs viewers of the struggles its community faced. If they are not depicted standalone, they are often shown on either side of Christ, holding the church that houses the art in their hands, pleading for salvation on behalf of the parishioners. Crusade, sickness, invasion – all of it yielded some of the most stunning art and architecture in Europe and reveals the importance of a name to a church interior.

Over Canning’s 50 years, we have seen a space carry far more meaning when it has a name that either reflects the local community or informs them via the art, color scheme, and decorations. Three spaces: the Chapel of Our Lady of Fatima, the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and the Military chapel, all incorporate their name in the designs, making each and every one a unique space.

The chapel dedicated to Our lady of Fatima was once a convent chapel but is now used to serve the parish of St. Theresa. Between the history of the convent, location within St. Theresa’s, and the dedication to Our Lady, the interior needed to have a feminine scheme that did not feel forced or out of place. The resulting interior is a mix of warm and brilliant colors with artwork and decoration carefully placed to support the simple architecture.

The walls invite you in with warm beiges and a near-continuous chair rail pattern from the altar rail. A subtle blue stripe interrupts the pattern, giving the space around the windows verticality and strength, rather than letting them recede into dead wall space. Along the ceiling cove, a Rosary encircles the room – highlighting its use as an adoration chapel and the request from Our Lady of Fatima to pray the Rosary. But above all, the eye and the soul are drawn to the sanctuary, which is delineated by a rosy wall color and vibrant artwork. Taken from a forgotten prayer veil, the roses on the lower wall delicately come through and form a shower of roses, honoring the promise of St. Theresa the Little Flower. Though a small space, this chapel is abundant in symbolism and homages to its namesakes, thereby resting in itself and feeling like a place of peace apart from the world outside. 

Far larger in scale, the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe crowns a hill in La Crosse, WI and makes several references to Juan Diego’s vision and our lady. The interior is adorned in varying shades of gold, beige, and soft whites, resulting in a warm and bright interior punctuated by color.

The dome, most notably, is turquoise. Turquoise was worn by our lady and typically reserved for Mesoamerican nobility and deities. Her mantle was thus a statement of sovereignty over all the world and thus the color was placed at the highest point, serving as a mantle and night sky over the entire church. The red columns holding the baldacchino are both references to the baldacchino of Santa Maria Maggiore and the use of red for majesty. The intentional use of color and decoration here clearly communicates the patroness of this shrine and makes no confusion as to her role as Queen of Heaven.  

Dedicated primarily to St. George, the chapel for the Archdiocese of the Military features strong lines, artwork, and a distinct color palette. The only major change was to the ceiling, where a palette of grey, gold, and red focus the eye on the Holy Spirit and the tabernacle at center.  The hard lines are like those on a uniform, but they match the modern interior and harmonize its angular floorplan and vivid marble and travertine walls. When we walk into a chapel for the military, we may not know entirely what to expect. But the interior that is restrained and simple but remains reverent and instructive seems to fit whatever expectations we may have had without calling too much attention away from its dedication to Christ.

No matter the name or dedication of the church or chapel, the name that accompanies it carries great meaning and should be clearly expressed in some way in the design, be it through art, decoration, or simply color. When the names are manifest in the interior, the space is imbued with intentionality for the community it serves. It offers a way of educating the community about their faith and history. Thus, a name carries both expectation and opportunity as we look to dedicate and build anew.

Cultivated by a love of the Beautiful, Ai-Vi Hoang's experiences in art and architecture, shaped by her experiences at home and abroad, have led to a conviction for the renewal of church ornamentation and beautification. She is graduate of Benedictine College with a B.A. in Architecture focusing on Classical styles, she has learned to forever be a student of the greats as part of her pursuit in wonder at the good, true, and beautiful.