Steeple Chase in Charleston

You can read reams about their history, and you have no doubt seen umpteen photographs of their steeples punctuating the skyline. But when is the last time you perused all the details of their architecture? Not from an academic point of view. Just from your point of view of seeing and ‘feeling’ these majestic churches resting there in the atmosphere.

St. Philip’s, 172 Church Street

St. Philip’s and St. Michael’s are the most recognizable churches in Charleston because they are among the oldest and most visible. It also happens that they pierce the sky with the surest sense of elegance and ease. Other churches on the peninsula are architectural marvels in their own right, but these two draw the most attention, no doubt, too, because of their neoclassical porticoes.

To my eye, the steeple of St. Philip’s feels more anchored to the ground due to the contrast between its large, square base and its long, narrow spire (so narrow that it makes me think of a witch’s hat). Meanwhile the earth-color of the stone ‘holds’ the steeple downward. The brown color also absorbs rather than reflects light, which flattens the three-dimensionality: you look at the steeple, but your eye is not drawn round it voluminously, which diminishes its grandeur. Another curious element is the gold cross on top of the spire. It arrests the upward motion and halts the eye—even to the point that once you notice the cross you lose sight of the steeple.

St. Michael’s, 72 Meeting Street

Conversely, the gold ball and ornamental rod atop St. Michael’s simultaneously thrust your eye heavenward and draw it down to the mass of the steeple shape, whose exemplary proportions guide you gently down to its base.

As the spire descends, notice how it gracefully expands into a roof for what looks like a gazebo perched in the sky. You want to rest there awhile, pour a drink, and take in the view. And just below the ‘gazebo’ is a slightly protruding base whose shadow ever so slightly serves as a visual support. The same effect—the same delineation—is achieved by the balcony just below the clocks.

Notice, too, how the alternating of clocks and windows has a soothing effect (your eye does not race to the next clock), and how the arch of the windows provides a smooth transition to the shuttered arches below and the gazebo arches above, both of which echo the shape of the windows. This unifying element beautifully harmonizes the three distinct sections of the steeple and makes it  visually pleasing and compelling as a whole. ¶

(These photos were taken from atop the parking garage on Cumberland Street where I luckily found myself late one afternoon.)