On Exploring St. John's Chapel

La chapelle Saint-Jean, originally uploaded by Lú_.

When I walked through the door from (as I recall it now) a roomful of armour and gifts to kings into the Tower of London's 11th-century chapel, I caught my breath.

There is, I think, little more beautiful than pure, unadorned architecture. The weight of stone lifting up toward the skies, the light piercing through its plain windows into what could have been an oppressively dark space — this room moved me. The recollection that my children's ancestors, the first two Constables of the Tower, must have worshipped here, and perhaps their umpteenth great-grandfather Guillaume "Le Conquérant" as well, when he was actually in England — deepened that emotion. I was fortunate; there were few visitors to that room (it must not interest the school tours much), and for one moment none were between my awe, my camera, and the light.

I have for many years now believed that emotion is among the physical entities that is captured by art, and that art can invoke in the viewer that same emotion. (I could try your patience with the long version, but won't.) Times like this, when so many people seem to be moved as I was, convince me further.

But man, that Explore creature is one strange beast.