NICOLE KUBAS nicole.kubas@gmail.com 573-268-2205
O Shepard, Where Art Thou? The East Bottoms, a low lying area east of downtown Kansas City, appears as if two worlds collided. In the early-twentieth-century, the area sat on the edge of Kansas City between nature to the east and man to the west. At the time, the community housed a multitude of European immigrants of modest means. In first quarter of the twentieth-century, Electric Park, a pioneer of the modern day theme parks, generated investment and an appeal for the area. The growth in investment and rapid movement of immigrants into the area produced a population which reached about 15,000 people. In the 1920s, the Catholic Diocese recognized the community’s need for a proper Catholic church. Prior to this, the community had a small parish with an unofficial sanctuary. In 1922, Saint Francis Seraph Catholic Church was erected at the corner of North Agnes Avenue and Martin Avenue. The church, located on three plots of land, not only housed a space for worship, but also a school and a rectory. The church provided a gathering space for both the Catholic and non-Catholic community. As Kansas City changed, so did the East Bottoms. Since the 1950s, the East Bottoms has become increasingly industrialized. The close proximity to the railroad lines and highway systems made the area attractive to manufacturing and “truck farms.” In addition to the industrialization of the area, the sprawling Kansas City’s metropolitan area furthered the decline of the East Bottoms’ population. Many of the young residents moved to the newly created suburbs, while entrepreneurs bought up the available land for industrial uses. These factors decreased the population by 6,000 people in the 1980s. The change in land use decentralized the population, thus under-utilizated St. Francis Seraph Church in the second half of the twentieth-century. These circumstances led the Catholic Diocese to investigate how to fund and maintain a worship space for the aging residents of the East Bottoms. For roughly a decade during the 1980s, the Church had a traveling clergy member provide weekly worship services. Then as populations around the downtown area declined further, the diocese consolidated multiple small parishes, leaving the former church structures vacant. around the downtown area declined further, the diocese consolidated multiple small parishes, leaving the former church structures vacant.
Saint Francis Seraph Catholic Church. 1925. Photograph. Centenary History of the Churches, Missouri Valley Special Collections, Kansas City.
NICOLE KUBAS nicole.kubas@gmail.com 573-268-2205
Today, St. Francis Seraph Catholic Church, vacant for over 20 years, bears the scars of neglect and deterioration. The school and rectory, now torn down, leave the church to stand alone along side construction debris and abandoned machinery. Land once supporting the community’s social life, now has become a forgotten plot smashed between truck farms and random industrial buildings. St. Francis Seraph Catholic Church attracted me instantly. I fell in love with this church and its context. I was fascinated by how oddly the area evolved. On one block there were old farm houses and on the next a truck farm or industrial building. The buildings seemed to be fighting for supremacy. I was struck by the clash between the past and the present. The dynamism of the environment left me standing in awe. My photographs featured a wide range of subject matters. The first subcategory showed the church’s placement in its context. The train tracks for the area stretched along the south block, while two industrial buildings stood across the street. To the rear a truck farm and the neighboring northern parcel, where once rested a rectory and a school, contained useless machinery. Lastly, a dead-end street occupied the southern façade of the church. I chose to present the church, in each subcategory, as a pleasurable object that has been dismissed by the Catholic Church and the community. My photographs attempted to capture the beauty of the church regardless of the fact that it had been vacant for over two decades. The randomly placed machinery also sparked my interest. The scene as a whole was begging to be noticed and photographed. The church waits there, anticipating its next chapter. I, unfortunately, believe that this is the final chapter, one which is approaching soon. As workers clear the brush and debris from the northern parcel and later begin to encroach into the church’s territory, the days of the St. Francis Seraph Catholic Church grow fewer.
Photographed by Nicole Kubas