One Day at the Sainte-Chapelle

For some uncountable number of years, I worked at the Sainte-Chapelle, a tiny gothic jewel box of a church with more window than wall. Sunny days would come in a rush of visitors, all agog at a chance with the stained glass lit brightly from behind. Ah but those who came when days were dim were in fact the lucky ones. For intense light bleaches the color, bleeds it right out of the window into reflections on the floor (like the spirits of so many scattered gems, it’s true). The medium of a stained glass maker is less glass itself than light and an artist knows their medium. No one comes to northern France for sunbathing, either now or in the thirteenth century. In fact in the dim days of fall, winter and early spring the shy light behind the tinted panes would leave the color intact in all its richness, immersing the viewer in a haze of sidereal purple.

It happened one January day the chapel was empty of visitors that I must nonetheless surveille. One stray pilgrim finally came and it was a joy to see her wander, wondering as she gazed above at the densely immaterial color surrounding her, emanating from walls not of stone but of glass. Near eye level, her glance landed on the angels enamelled into the spandrels. She cleared her throat and addressed me asking how many angels there were in the chapel. For all answer I smiled. A returning smile dawned on her as welll “Always so many more than we think, isn’t there," she replied, answering her own question.

Photos of the Sainte Chapelle and other monuments and views of Paris by the eagle eye of the Talented and Beautiful Nikki  Cohen can be bought at https://mayfairemoon.smugmug.com, among them the first photo of  this entry.