Daniel and I walked to the sacred staircase in the Loretto Chapel. The staircase spirals around twice connecting the second and first floor. There are no side supports or centralized supporting pole, the only thing keeping this nautilus staircase up is skilled craftsmanship, the underbelly is aesthetically smooth and continuous through wood joinery.

All this information is dictated to us by a looping audio discussing its magical qualities before crescendoing into overtly holy music. The staircase is now roped off; only newlyweds can breach its mystical steps in the hopes that contact with such a magical structure, as a self-supporting staircase, can create the necessary supports and threads to uphold the equally elusive and precarious structure of marriage.

All this pomp and circumstance, turns me into a skeptic.The staircase becomes comic, enshrouded by a film of corniness. I find my attention occupied with where the steel might be hidden instead of the high ceiling, the ornate windows, the awe inspired by any of humanities attempt to carve a space for God with man power, sweat, and so much time.