When heavy snow and freezing cold blanketed the University of Notre Dame campus in South Bend, Indiana in recent weeks, two civil engineering and architecture majors saw the inclement weather as an opportunity.
They decided to build a Gothic-style chapel of snow and ice that put the lessons learned in the classroom to the test, and when completed, drew some 2,500 students to a candlelit Mass on Feb. 2, braving sub-freezing temperatures with the structure as a serene backdrop.
From the start, Wes Buonerba, who studies architecture, and Martin Soros, a civil engineer, treated the project as more than just a snow sculpture. Drawing directly from their academic background, they designed it as a simplified masonry building, modeled after Gothic churches that rely almost entirely on compression rather than steel or concrete reinforcement.
“It’s essentially a masonry structure,” says Buonerba. “If you have a perfect arch, all your masonry pieces are in compression, and that’s very stable. That’s why churches were [historically] built like this”.
The chapel is organized around four main rib arches, which are the primary structural elements and support the vault between them, transferring the weight of the ice down to the floor. Between the ribs, Buonerba and Soros added infill walls, small Roman-style arches for windows and circular openings reminiscent of rosettes, all carved from blocks of ice.
Inside, the chapel was 15 to 20 feet long, about 5 feet wide, and 6½ feet high. Rising above it is a slender spire that weighs about 50 pounds and reaches about 15 to 20 feet in the air.
Learn to improvise
Making the bows was a challenge for both of them, who also recruited up to ten other student volunteers to help depending on their time.
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“We had a saw to cut the ice blocks at an angle, to chamfer the edges so they would act more like an awl and a bow,” says Buonerba. “A dowel is simply an arch or block of stone that has been cut and slightly beveled to fit the profile of the arch. The keystone was the central dowel that locks the arch in place.”
To create the building blocks, students used recycling bins as molds, each with alternating layers of snow and water, compacted by hand and with a boot. The process, Soros says, was a lot like mixing concrete.
“It’s very analogous to the water-to-cement ratio when making concrete,” he says. “If you put too much snow on it, the block breaks. If you put too much water on it, it gets really heavy.”
The student builders adjusted the density of the ice blocks based on where they would be used. Heavier, denser blocks were placed lower in the walls, while lighter blocks were used at a higher level, especially for the keys above the arches. The approach reduced external forces and eliminated the need for an extensive buttress.
To reinforce the blocks internally, the builders used a long-handled metal ice scraper to drill vertical holes through the packed snow before pouring water into it. Once frozen, the resulting icicles acted as reinforcing bars.
“That was like rebar,” says Soros. “You have a solid ice core in the middle.”
Temporary formwork was used to hold the arches in place while they froze, and the two had to improvise to find elements that would fit the task.
“We used anything we could get our hands on,” Buonerba says. “I mean, buckets in the basement, trash cans, the hood of a car, and bunk ladders. It was anything we could use to make this thing.”
The hood of the car supported by two separate ladders at the base to counter gravity was used while the key was placed.
“As soon as we got the key, it was pretty much self-sustaining,” says Soros.
Additional small transverse arches and thin walls of ice between the main ribs helped to lock the structure into a rigid system, reducing the risk of twisting or collapse if someone touched it. At one point during construction, Buonerba stood on one of the main arches while Soros stood on a smaller window arch, and was thrilled as they both supported their weight.
The water source for the project was the showers in his dorm, Coyle Hall.
Between classes, Buonerba and Soros were on site almost constantly, putting in about 60 hours each.
The chapel quickly became a campus attraction, attracting curious students, passersby and volunteers, and national media attention. The students decided to ask the university to hold a Mass at the site.
Extracurricular classes
The project offered lessons beyond structural mechanics. For Buonerbastrengthened his interest in sacred architecture and practical construction. For Soros, whose interest in civil engineering grew out of volunteering on projects in South America and seeing the effects of inadequate infrastructure, the chapel reflected the satisfaction he feels in building something tangible to benefit a community.
“It might seem like we were just kids playing in the snow,” Soros said, “but it was really applying what we learned: basic physics, basic engineering.”
To make an impact structure, he adds, “you don’t need anything impressive or incredibly ornate. We were just using what God gave us: the snow that fell and the water from the showers on the first floor.”
Students now enjoy looking out classroom windows to see their classmates and others on campus visiting the chapel, but neither is sentimental about the structure’s inevitable end.
“It served its purpose,” says Buonerba. “We have to celebrate Mass with 2,500 students. It brought people together, it gave a lot of joy, and now it melts and will return to earth.”
