When architect Anthony Lawlor rolled into Salt Lake City on a trip last summer, one of his first stops was a must-see: Temple Square. Lawlor makes a living and gives his life to the study of spiritual buildings. The man that author Jean Houston claims has insight into "the soul of architecture and architecture of the soul" wanted a firsthand look at all those famous spires.
This trip, he offered his impressions."I am very inspired by the buildings there," he says. "There is something about them that seems like they were built this very day. They are so cared for. But at the same time they seem like they have been there forever. I especially like the spires of the Assembly Hall."
Talk with Lawlor and the topic of "spires" will soon arise. He likes the way they are so material and "real" at the base, then slowly lift, getting less and less material until - at the top - they turn into pure spirit.
That is the way Tony Lawlor sees life.
It is also how he sees architecture. And as a principal architect with the Lawlor/Weller Design Group in Iowa, he's out to capture the elan of spiritual structures and find ways to re-apply them in designs for homes, offices and - with luck - pretty much everything.
And like most serious artists, he has a firm sense of his own aesthetics, an "over-arching" philosophy. The philosophy goes like this:
"If you look at all the made objects in the world - whether we're talking about a chair, an office building or even a temple - they are all the product of somebody's inspiration," he says. "And that inspiration was combined with solid materials to create something of use. Pull out the inspiration and the brick and mortar fall down in a heap. So it's my feeling that the spirit of an object is every bit as much a part of it as the materials. Inspiration is part of its reality."
Lawlor had come to Utah to put some of those principles to work. While giving a talk on the spirituality of architecture in California, a Utah woman asked if he'd be willing to help her family design a home in Utah. He quickly agreed.
"What I like to tell clients is `maybe we can start from here' - from the spiritual aspect of the home, rather than start with where they want the kitchen and bedrooms," he says. "What I want to draw out is the inter-connection of things, so when they walk into the dining room or the bathroom or the living room, they're reminded of `wholeness.' "
Every structure has a main reference point, he explains. It may be comfort or luxury or economy. But it can also be spiritual. When Lawlor designs a building, that is his reference point: the spiritual.
Many of Lawlor's techniques are laid out in his new book, "The Temple in the House" (G.P. Putnam's Sons; 226 pages; $17.95). The book is pressure-packed with photographs, quotes and drawings. It also features Lawlor's personal "vision" of sanctuaries, steeples, sunlight and dozens of other spiritual components.
His studies have taught him the importance of gateways (they represent an inner passage to the soul), pathways (the metaphor for our spiritual journey) and the altar or Lotus seat (our arrival at enlightenment.) Every room - like every prayer - needs a focal point, something to pull people beyond the mundane and the confusion. Lawlor talks of the positive effect of such thinking in his final chapter "A Sacred World":
By perceiving the sacred in every facet of the surroundings, our minds become sacred. . . . Experiencing the energy and intelligence in wood and stone, we touch the soul of existence. Hearing silence in brick and mortar, we partake of life's silent core. Seeing light reflected in glass and steel, we become light.
When asked to name buildings and places that produce such effects in him, Lawlor has quick answers.
"Chartres Cathedral in France," he says. "Walking into that building is like entering a different world. You can feel that it was not created for any other purpose but to exalt the spirit and bring people's attention to a higher level.
"Then there's Chaco Canyon in the American Southwest. It is very powerful. It was made by a different culture in a different time, but I'm convinced it was a spiritual center. It is organized to work with the processes of nature - the sunrise, sunset, the movement of the stars and planets. Chaco Canyon has a timeless quality, too."
It will be interesting to see how far Anthony Lawlor - the missionary of making - will be able to take his vision. If anything, the world seems to be going the other direction with bloodless, lifeless, modern structures.
But then true believers never really worry about success. As Mother Teresa said when someone told her she was losing ground to suffering, "I was not called to be successful, I was called to be diligent."
In the world of roofs, floors, walls and ceilings, Anthony Lawlor is as diligent as they come.