Continuing our exploration of traditional work in today’s world, this month we walk the floorplans of iconic churches, basilicas, and chapels and how they relate to those designed today. Vitruvius’ philosophy of fitness, strength, and beauty informed the ideas behind a building; but the physical construction relied on geometry and the order of the universe expressed in sacred numbers. The ancients found meaning in the ratios and numbers often seen in the universe and incorporated them into their buildings which, paired with the religious significance of numbers and cardinal directions offered by Scripture, would become foundational in early Christian architecture and symbolism. 

The philosophical implications of sacred numbers began with their association with various deities and the budding mathematical studies of the ancient world. Sacred numbers and mathematical formulas were observed in nature via the stars and heavens, and patterns in nature like flower petals, leaves, and the nautilus shell. In Old Kingdom Egypt, the pyramids were based on mathematical and astrological calculations that aligned the pyramids with the heavens and ensured their perfect symmetry to allow the interred pharaoh easy passage into the afterlife. Later on, the ancient Greeks and Romans developed their own methods, attaining symmetry and order in their arrangement of columns and facades to beautifully surround the cella (the innermost chamber of a temple). These cultures created a provenance for the early Christians, who would co-opt the existing pagan temples as their own and justify the sacred dimensions using their own faith. Key examples of Roman-turned-Christian architecture are the basilica of Maxentius and the Mausoleum of Santa Costanza. These buildings house key architectural features that we still implement today.

The Basilica of Maxentius, the last Roman basilica constructed in the Roman Forum, partially stands today, owing to its incredibly strong construction and use of arches and domes. Construction began in 308 under emperor Maxentius and was completed only 4 years later by Constantine I, whereupon Rome began its transition to early Christianity with Constantine’s conversion. This building would have served civic purposes, but likely housed several statues of Roman gods within its niches. These niches and the basic elements of the floorplan are all rather familiar: a large open nave with a ceiling of three groin vaults (shown by the three large X’s in the floorplan) flanked by two side aisles each consisting of 3 barrel vaulted ceilings and arcades along the outer walls. The entire ceiling had octagonal coffers, thereby reducing the weight of the ceiling and beautifying the interior. The nave housed eight 66ft tall Corinthian columns, all but one of which has been destroyed. Today, all that remains is the north side aisle, showing the monumental size of the building, and the last column, housed in the piazza of Santa Maria Maggiore.

This simple floorplan would become the template for Christian churches due to its strength, ability to house large groups, and focus on proportionate ratios and interior harmony. The significance of the number three in Christianity is clear and the significance of circles and squares to represent the heavenly and earthly realms respectively was reborn, especially in the Medieval and Renaissance periods.

The second early Christian building is Santa Costanza: a mausoleum made up of a circular building with one ambulatory and an oblong vestibule. Originally built in 338 (also under the direction of Constantine), this mausoleum emphasizes how one moves in the space, not just the sheer magnitude of it.

Constantine had the mausoleum built for his two daughters, then after some time it was turned into a church. The ambulatory reflects the ancient Roman tradition of circumambulation: processing around a funeral pyre, grave, temple, or a whole city to honor what or whomever was within. The circular pathway, twelve columns in the center, shallow dome, and clerestory windows around the upper register emphasize the verticality of the space and inspire an astounding sense of the sacred by the use of light and arches. The ambulatory is for the profane, while the illuminated and seemingly roofless central space is reserved for the sacred and gathers all of our reverence. The space houses two shallow apses, just slightly larger than the niches around the wall. These and the ambulatory’s vaulted ceiling are covered in mosaic, using the low lighting in the “profane” space to make gold mosaic glitter even more.

Santa Costanza was one of many in its construction, other examples being the Tomb of Theodoric, the basilica of San Vitale, both in Ravenna, the earliest redesign of St. Peter’s in Rome from Bramante, and his Tempietto. But it’s influence extended beyond the Medieval period as more churches began incorporating an ambulatory around the apse and baldacchino’s, a notable example being Santa Maria della Salute in Venice, began in 1631. 

Both floorplans make abundant use of basic classical elements: vaults, corridors, and an array of squares with half circles above and to the sides, housing sacred statues. AIA architect John Doyle of Doyle Coffin Architecture thinks of design in largely the same way: carving circular and square spaces out of poche (uninhabitable space or solid material). “A modernist architect probably works with the pieces that build the building more. And I work more in a reductive way like I like carving a space out so the shapes have a sequence.” This approach of emphasizing the shapes of a space have their roots in antiquity and Doyle affirms that “once you understand the rules of classical architecture and the orders, you can modify them to make it more stylized.” 

These orders and rules we now take for granted were incorporated in Roman architecture and have inspired the world’s most famous churches, palaces, and civic buildings. The basilica floorplan remains generally unchanged today, though it has adopted more Christian elements like the cruciform layout. Old St. Peters, built in the end of Constantine’s reign, fully adopted the basilica template while Bramante’s redesign was originally a centralized plan until Maderno’s addition of the familiar essentials: a large nave, two side aisles, a long transept arm, and narthex, all directing the gaze to the Cathedra Petri.  

We can see the marks both of these structures have left in modernity in both classical designs and contemporary. When we compare the circular versus cruciform layouts, Doyle comments that, despite how foreign circular churches may feel, we have them seen before in San Marco of Venice, Bramante’s St. Peters.

“That’s been around a while… Certainly the processional aspects of a cruciform plan work better in a lot of ways. But, a number of years ago, we did a plan that was fan-shaped seating but still had a center aisle and tabernacle at the center. They wanted to have seating where everyone was close to the action of the mass and had unobstructed views to the altar and I think those are legitimate goals for a mass. They don’t look as good on paper, since you have to deal with odd ends and that sort of thing, but in other ways they are good with sight-lines. In those situations, I try to do something, say in the ceiling and aisles, to reinforce the axis and lines to the tabernacle.”

No matter the building’s shape and proportion, the goal is always one of transcendence. Built in 2009, the classically inspired Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe incorporates a cruciform layout with a large apse and crossing, both of which draw the eye straight forward and up upon entering: pulling us towards Christ and guiding us upward to our Heavenly Father.

The far more modern church, St. Thomas More, was redesigned to allow more space within its semi-circular floor plan, making room for four sections of angled pews, trapezoidal steps into the sanctuary, and a taller, more spacious, and more beautiful apse. As Doyle emphasized, four clear beams in the ceiling and a patterned center aisle direct the gaze forward and allow them to rest on the beauty of the sanctuary.

Both of these churches represent the changes in church designs and their histories. As Doyle states: “I just think it’s another part of the evolution… people put their best thought into trying to figure out how to express this mass, this sacrifice, these sacraments. I think there is very a lot of intense, deep thought on how best to do that…churches need to go back to thinking of how to tell these stories.”  

The church is ever changing and innovating in how best to tell its story, but certain fundamental principles remain the same as Doyle and many designers, artists, and craftsmen continue to innovate while keeping fitness, strength, and beauty alive.

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