Pacific Northwest Magazine By Leora Y. Bloom
A Match Made In Heaven
Rethought and renewed, a former chapel finds new spiritual life
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 BENJAMIN BENSCHNEIDER / THE SEATTLE TIMES
The 1984 renovation is obviously contemporary but fits the space and honors the original structure. Just out of view on the right is a wood-burning stove, formerly the only heat source in this enormous room. While a lot of fun (one New Year's Eve someone suggested frying eggs on it), the stove didn't keep the house very comfortable in winter. Susan Payne's biggest investment has been to install underfloor radiant heating. When the floor is 82 degrees, the air temperature is about 70 degrees to 7 feet up.

 BENJAMIN BENSCHNEIDER / THE SEATTLE TIMES
Previous owners had the refectory table built for the dining room.
The vase on it is by Elin Christopherson, a glass artist who has both studied and taught at the Pilchuck Glass School, and the painting on the far wall is by Pacific Northwest artist Bill Brewer. The "mobile" hanging in the corner is constructed of hand-thrown, hollow pottery by David Shaner.

 BENJAMIN BENSCHNEIDER / THE SEATTLE TIMES
When Payne moved in, all the windows in the house were opaque. She replaced some of the original pebble-glass on the south side of the house with mostly clear, striated art glass and planted Japanese maples along her fence. As the seasons change, the effect is almost like stained glass, with bright green and gold streaming in during the spring and summer, deep crimson in the fall. Because her neighbors to the north are just a few feet away, she left almost all the original glass on that side and remains "blissfully unaware" of her tight quarters.

 BENJAMIN BENSCHNEIDER / THE SEATTLE TIMES
Pale green walls and the diffused light from the original pebble-glass cathedral windows make this bathroom a tranquil retreat. The tub is surrounded by fir perfectly matched to the floor.

 BENJAMIN BENSCHNEIDER / THE SEATTLE TIMES
This area, originally part of the main sanctuary space, is the downstairs bedroom. The dropped ceiling was added to accommodate a loft. The painting over the fireplace was done by Payne's daughter, Meghan Harkey, in a college art class.

 BENJAMIN BENSCHNEIDER / THE SEATTLE TIMES
What feels like miles of original fir floor lead to the raised altar space, now the kitchen, with the master-bedroom loft above.
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WHEN YOU HEAR Susan Payne talk about how her life has changed since she moved into her remarkable chapel-turned-workshop-turned-residence on North Capitol Hill, you can't help but wonder if there was a higher power involved. Since moving in, she's changed careers from a medical social worker to a spiritual counselor. She's also used the house to host, among other things, 15 Tibetan monks and a wedding, but not at the same time.
It all started on Nov. 15, 1998. That was the day Payne had a list of five open houses, but time to visit only one. When she walked in, the soaring space of the sanctuary (now her living and dining area) was filled with the music of Sarah McLachlan. She quickly took in the extraordinary dimensions of the house and found it surprisingly cozy. "I think I decided in five minutes that this was the house I didn't know I was dreaming of," she says with a laugh.
Payne's dream house had led an interesting life. Designed by architect Carl Gould, it was built in 1919 by St. Mark's Parish (as it was then known). The church named the chapel St. Barnabas. Over the years it served as a church, a boat-building workshop and a private residence. In 1984, a new set of owners commissioned architect Jim Olson of Olson Sundberg Kundig Allen Architects to make the house more livable. "The concept was to do something visually opposite of what was there," says Olson. "By contrast, it was intended to bring out the beauty and integrity of the existing space."
From parish place to home


• Services were held at St. Barnabas until St. Mark's Episcopal Cathedral opened in 1931.
• From 1931 to 1941, St. Barnabas was rented or lent to other denominations.
• During the Depression, St. Mark's had serious financial problems. In 1941, the bank foreclosed and placed a "for sale" sign in front of the cathedral.
• From 1941 to 1944, a core group of parishioners met at St. Barnabas.
• In September 1944, a deal was negotiated to allow St. Mark's parishioners to use the cathedral for one year, rent-free, and St. Barnabas was left empty again.
• In the early 1950s, St. Mark's sold St. Barnabas, and it became a private home with few amenities.
• In the 1970s, the house was used as a workshop to build a catamaran; the owners lived in a shack in the back.
• In the mid-1980s, new owners made it a real home.
The result was extraordinary. As Olson points out, there's no doubt as to what's old and what's new. His solution to improve livability was to add a bedroom, bathroom and foyer in what used to be the narthex (the entry area). Olson also designed two lofts. The first (above the newly divided entry) accommodates a sitting area and office. The other (at the opposite end of the main sanctuary space, above what was the raised altar) is a master bedroom and bathroom. Olson put the kitchen on the old altar space, and incorporated one of the sacristies (small rooms on either side of the altar used to store vestments and church furnishings). The sacristy on the other side of the altar space was eliminated to build a staircase to the loft.
Most importantly, Olson left the 30-by-30-foot open sanctuary untouched. Cathedral windows line both the north and south sides, and the area serves as the living and dining room. At its highest point, the ceiling is 27 feet tall. "When someone walks in, they're not expecting it," says Payne. "It's a soaring feeling."
As fate would have it, Payne is a member of St. Mark's and felt an immediate connection with the house. But her feelings about it have evolved. After what she refers to as a mid-life pilgrimage (which took her across America and then to Spain and Italy), Payne returned home and earned a master's degree from Seattle University's School of Theology and Ministry. Today she works at home, in private practice as a spiritual counselor. "I've ended up feeling like my house is an extension of my vocation and how I see myself in the world," she explains.
On a small scale, Payne enjoys having dinner parties and volunteering her home for fundraising. She almost always has housemates or guests, including a friend who came to work on Russian icon paintings at St. Mark's, in what she laughingly refers to as her B&B.
So did Susan Payne find the former St. Barnabas because she is an inherently kind person who recognized its restorative powers, or did St. Barnabas work its magic on Payne, causing her to become a more generous person? The answer is probably immaterial. The result is simply that with Payne's help, St. Barnabas has found a second life as a spiritual center, and a cozy home, its doors always open.
Leora Y. Bloom is a Seattle-area freelancer. Benjamin Benschneider is a Pacific Northwest magazine staff photographer.
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