Phoenix at Sainte-Anne
Published Saturday October 4th, 2008
After the parish of Sainte-Anne lost its revered 1886 Gothic church and art treasures to a fire, the parish made the decision to rebuild on the site. The result has a daring and colourful modern bravado.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her: but as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
Her ashes new - create another heir
As great in admiration as herself.
- William Shakespeare, Henry VIII, Act 5, scene 5
Shakespeare recognized the power of myth and resurgence; appreciating that at times a tragic end allows for a promising beginning.
In ancient mythology, the phoenix was a sacred firebird with beautiful gold and red plumage that ignited itself into a fiercely burning blaze at the end of its centuries-long life. From the ashes, a new, young phoenix arose to begin the cycle of life anew. The bird was also said to regenerate when hurt or wounded, reaching a state of near-immortality and invincibility: an unmistakable image of fire and divinity. The phoenix soon became popular in early Christian art and literature as a symbol of the resurrection, of immortality and life-after-death.
Architecture and urbanism appropriated the image as well - everything from the city of Phoenix, Ariz. (so named in the 1860s as it was a city born from the ruins of a Native American civilization) to Fredericton's own Phoenix Square civic plaza in front of city hall (the fourth city hall on the same site, as its three forerunners were each destroyed by fire).
Perhaps the best known use of the metaphor in architectural circles is the bestselling book Phoenix at Coventry by Sir Basil Spence. It recounts the trials of rebuilding Coventry's new cathedral in the 1950s after Second World War German air raids destroyed the English city's medieval predecessor. Spence's modern structure captivated the world as a badge of fortitude and artistry overcoming the fires of war. And while nobody would have wanted the beloved and venerable cathedral to be obliterated by an act as senseless as firebombing, its replacement was grounded in the spirit of the times by looking boldly into the future. It became its own monument through devotion, craftsmanship and architectural design.
Closer to home, on June 29, 2005, a heavy lightening storm filled the skies over New Brunswick's Kent County, and by the end of the day, the Parish of Sainte-Anne-de-Kent had lost its most cherished building to fire: the Neo-Gothic Sainte-Anne-de-Kent Catholic Church.
With its gleaming 36-metre-high white bell tower capped by four finials and single piercing spire, the 1886 church was a tour de force by local craftsman and designer Léon Léger (1848-1918), the most celebrated pioneer of the Gothic Revival style in Acadian churches. Léger's Sainte-Anne-de-Kent encompassed a profusely ornamented wooden Gothic interior. A high central nave was enclosed by two arcaded side aisles with a vaulted ceiling held aloft by slender clustered pillars, guiding the eye to the exquisitely hand-carved main altar.
While Léger's hand was truly that of a master, an equally impressive aspect of the church was completed in 1936, when local artist Édouard Gautreau produced 48 murals and frescoes to decorate the building. These artworks were a remarkable achievement, covering virtually every wall and surface of the interior with religious scenes and passages. Its designation as a provincial historic site seemed almost too slight for a structure that was widely regarded as the Sistine Chapel of Acadia. The church also boasted a hand-blown glass chandelier from Murano, Italy; one of only four such fixtures remaining in the world. The blaze resulted in one of the greatest losses of Acadian art in the history of New Brunswick.
Once the shock of the fire was absorbed, the need to rebuild from the ashes became essential. A decision was made to situate the new church on the same site, and the Moncton firm of Architects Four was given the challenging task of designing a replacement structure that would not only become the hub of the community, but the replacement for an Acadian icon.
The architect team established a mission statement that affirmed: "The new church would not attempt to reproduce the lost architectural jewel but be designed for a new age integrating the Place of Worship, an expandable multi-purpose hall for the community, teaching rooms and the rectory. Artifacts saved from the fire would be integrated into the design to recall the historic with the new.
"The cornerstone and identity for the Community would return. A contemporary style of architecture would not compete with the old but be a reminder of an important place. Its bold use of colour speaks to the determination of the Acadian culture to return."
It's difficult to imagine how Léger and Gautreau would grasp the strikingly contemporary new Sainte-Anne-de-Kent church, but they would surely acknowledge its daring and colourful bravado. Designed as a series of low sloped volumes that embrace the horizontal rather than the more Gothic vertical, the first aspect of the building that grabs one's attention is the bright orange siding set between a dark metal standing seam roof and a light grey concrete block base. While intense colour has an established history in the material culture of Acadian buildings, this particular choice of orange is virtually identical in hue to wood-fired flames; a metaphor that refuses to shy away from the very inferno that claimed the old church.
The architects' clever use of sturdy but inexpensive materials throughout is evident. A sophisticated meeting of varied materials helps make this a vigorous and dynamic building, especially at the two fully glazed corners at the rear of the main worship space facing the adjacent graveyard. From the broad sheltering front canopy to much of the exterior volume, clapboard was chosen to fit the rural context, while the sanctuary's main wall is expressed by the sturdy grey masonry on both the interior and the exterior face. Salvaged sandstone from the foundation of the original church provides a pedestal for the Saint Anne statue located outside the building, as well as inside the church for the sanctuary's tabernacle light base, one of the most significant elements in a Catholic church.
Behind a pair of beautifully engineered wood doors with slender stainless steel pulls, a well-lit entrance foyer leads to a large multi-purpose room and the 200-capacity nave. The bright worship space is laid out in an intimate semicircular plan, whose sloping ceiling, supported by large wooden trusses, rises towards the altar set between a pair of large Gautreau paintings. Whimsical details enliven the interior, such as the column base where structural heavy-timber, steel strapping and polished exposed concrete combine to form a robust pedestal for a chrome holy water vessel.
Like the phoenix, the Sainte-Anne-de-Kent church has resolutely risen from the ashes. While it may take a few decades before the current structure becomes a venerated historic site, the parish has shown respect for its past and faith in its future by pursuing a commendable work of architecture. One need look no further than the recent words of Maurice Couture, former archbishop of Quebec, who said "."‚."‚. your final intervention revealed both the tragedy of losing an historic jewel and the joy of having met the challenge of creating something modern, beautiful and significant."
On another note, after contributing architectural columns to the Telegraph-Journal's Salon section since its inception a year and a half ago, I'm taking a six-month hiatus for some well-deserved R&R. It has been a pleasure, and I hope I've opened some eyes and made you look twice at some worthwhile places you may have once simply passed by. I look forward to putting pen to paper again in 2009.
John Leroux is an architect and art historian who lives in Fredericton. He can be reached at johnnyleroux@hotmail.com.
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