If James Turrell had worked in Trinitaris Church, he would have dissolved space and erased its limits to leave only colored light, mists and halos. We would watch and learn a great lesson: light helps us see and eventually all we see is light. We would be able to understand it as a miracle that reveals itself. In front of us, events would appear having no idea of the source causing it and leaving no trace of the hands by whom it was produced.
Dan Flavin would have displayed his fluorescent on the ground, the corners, horizontally, in clusters, forming curtains, piled and spreaded graphically. We should see that, together, common letters become simple words that articulated produce suddenly "the magic moment". Also, we would say, I understand everything and I could have assembled this scene easily by myself.
Because we admire them, we believe that architecture always has a "physical reason" and the destiny of "a meaning".
For us, in Trinitaris, light takes the shape of the gargoyles of the church's roof. With this collection of objects as a three-dimensional metaphor carried from "the outside" "to the inside", we wanted to evoke in this internal and static place, this other open, clear and changing space by the light of the sun.
In this room, there are 24 suns of white steel, contain light, sound and climate that renew the air of the Church; as the machines of the "perfect breathing" drawn by Le Corbusier. These gargoyles areleaning over the ledge with 1 meter in cantilever and weigh about 70 kilos each.
The new pavement is a thin sheet of metallic plates of 1.5 mm wide placed on the existing tile. The steel maintains the calamine of the furnace that works as well as the fingerprints that every different piece has. The bright and dark reflections of the varnish make any visitor feel like walking on indoor water with an infinite depth.
Somebody once told me that when the Trinitaris Church doors were open to the street and the lights were off during the day, the gargoyles reminded him of swimmers about to jump off the edge of a springboard and then fly over the liquid floor of the nave.