“The fact that people break down and cry when confronted with my pictures shows that I can communicate those basic human emotions…the people who weep before my pictures are having the same religious experience I had when painting them. And if you say you are moved only by their color relationships then you miss the point.”

– Mark Rothko



The Rothko Chapel is a hidden gem, situated in Houston’s Montrose neighborhood. Just a stones-throw from the Menil Collection, this inconspicuous, octagonal brick building sits on an acre of green grass surrounded by mature live oak trees, something that we treasure here in Houston. The trees’ undulating branches are covered in moss, encapsulating this sacred space. They create a protective shield yet also beckon passer-byers to pop in and stay awhile.



The building is easy to miss. Its simple, yet severe architecture is unassuming. To the unknowing eye, the space could be anything…a city building, a water treatment facility, a gym. I have lived in Houston for nearly five years, and am embarrassed to say that last week was my first visit to this bizarre, haunting, calming, austere, and yes, sacred space. I decided to visit the chapel without doing much research beforehand. I wanted to experience the chapel and then fill in the blanks. I’m glad I did.



Front of Rothko Chapel, Houston, TX. (Credit: Alison Bliss)



As a side note, if you really want to ‘experience’ this space, inside and out, do not bring your young children. A friend graciously watched mine, and I was so glad she did. Although the motto of the chapel is ‘All are welcome’ I wouldn’t recommend bringing toddlers, as it is lovely to silently and mindfully meditate.



Upon entering the front doors, a docent welcomed me. The greeting space is void of decoration; just a few Rothko-related books are piled on a rustic wooden bench for suggested reading. I was asked to sign in (admission is free,) and was then welcomed to enter the chapel. A large glass door separates the visitor from a serene, contemplative, minimalist space. The chapel consists of one room with 8 off white walls, two doors, and a collection of fourteen monochromatic, oversized canvases created by none other than Mr. Mark Rothko. A diluted skylight allows natural light to flood into the room, illuminating the paintings. In the center of the room are two rows of stark wooded benches arranged in a square. They are meticulously placed for viewing and meditating. Around the benches a number off fabric poufs are sprinkled as additional stations for viewing.



Rothko Chapel, Houston, TX. (Credit: Runaway Productions)



The environment is completely silent. I didn’t dare talk, but then again, I really didn’t want to. I just wanted to sit and stare. It takes a minute for your eyes to get adjusted. Upon first glance, Rothko’s panels seem basically the same; dark canvases arranged in slight variation around the room. As eyes adjust, the colors and shapes within the canvases become illuminated. As I relaxed and took a seat, my eyes uncovered hues of plum, aubergine, burgundy and mahogany. I discovered brush strokes, unexpected shapes and images as if staring at cumulonimbus clouds moving through the sky. Each panel transfixed me. I wanted to spend hours sitting, staring, contemplating and praying in silence. At some point I had to return to the hustle and bustle of the real world, but I took some time for my self. The canvases lead me into a sort of guided meditation and I was able to just ‘be.’



Rothko Chapel, Houston, TX. (Credit: Hickey-Robertson)



This chapel, commissioned by Jean and Dominique de Menil, is in many ways the unexpected culmination of Mark Rothko’s tumultuous career. The chapel was originally intended as a Roman Catholic place of worship on the grounds of Houston’s University of St. Thomas. Though Rothko was from a family of Jewish Latvian immigrants, he was largely agnostic. When Jean and Dominique de Menil approached Rothko with the idea for a Catholic chapel he agreed. A handful of Rothko’s contemporaries had been provided with such an opportunity; think Henri Matisse’s Chapel of the Rosary in Venice or LeCorbusier’s Chapel Notre Dame du Haut in Ronchamp. The chapel project gave Rothko the rare opportunity to manipulate every condition of the viewing experience for the onlooker. Though he had always worked closely with galleries, museums and even private owners of his work for canvas placement, lighting, and wall color, this took it a step further, allowing him to manage the space from the inside out.



Jean and Dominique de Menil, founders of the Menil Collection in Houston, were devout Catholics deeply influenced by the French Les Arts Sacrés movement introduced to them by a Dominican priest, Father Marie-Alan Couturier. This twentieth century art movement originated in France as a reaction to the devastation churches, chapels and cathedrals experienced during World War II. With so many historical treasures destroyed, these progressive priests looked to ‘living art’ to inspire the divine. Father Couturier believed in the power of an image to evoke God and was a lover of modern art. He lectured widely on abstract expressionism and the power of modern, living art as a means to contemplate the sacred. The de Menil’s had a vast collection of post-war art and were particularly taken with Mark Rothko. They too, were inspired by the transformative, transcendent power of his abstract canvases. The project began in 1964. The chapel was dedicated in 1971 and grew from its original inception as a Roman Catholic Chapel to a nondenominational, ecumenical sacred place for all people, from of all walks of life and all religious orientations.



There is no ‘correct’ way to view art. The artist can suggest ideal viewing conditions and control lighting all he or she wants, but ultimately what you see is what you see. Rothko and the de Menils created as ideal of an art experience as possible. Everything is controlled in the room except for you. Your senses are gently tuned through sight and silence, allowing you to focus. On what or on who, is ultimately up to you. That, in itself, is sacred.