On a cold February night, more than 2,000 students gathered for Mass—nothing unusual in itself. What made the evening remarkable was the setting: a Gothic-style chapel of snow and ice. Designed and built by civil engineering student Martin Soros and architecture student Wesley Buonerba, St. Olaf’s Ice Chapel transformed snow and ice into a sacred space and quiet beacon of hope.
In this conversation, Soros reflects on how he applied civil engineering principles to the project and why the ice chapel resonated so deeply both on and beyond the campus community.
1. What parts of the structure did you expect to do most of the work of holding the Ice Chapel up? Were there specific geometric choices (arches, buttresses, vaults) that improved stability?
From the beginning, we knew we would need to use arches, based on the basic principles of statics; when building with a material like masonry, the shape of an arch allows for the entire structure to be in compression. We were surprised at how strongly the arches held in place, and how easy they were to construct. Once all the blocks were ready, assembling each arch took around 15 minutes. They froze solid within a couple of hours. We made small transverse arches for the windows, and these were incredibly strong as well; at one point, we even placed our entire weight on the keystone of these small arches, and they held up perfectly.
2. What do you think of ice as a building material?
While we were building, I kept thinking back to my materials class, where we learned about the strength and composition of concrete. It was somewhat analogous, as the water-to-snow ratio took some trial and error to perfect; too much snow and the blocks would fall apart, too much water and they would be too heavy to place on the arch.
3. How did you get the ice blocks to stick together?
The ice blocks were made by repeatedly compacting and mixing snow and water into small recycling bins from our dorm. We got the ice blocks to stick together by adding fresh snow and water, which created a slush mixture that froze within a couple minutes, given the frigid temperatures we experienced ( minus 4°F).
4. Did you use any temporary supports?
For the four main arches, we used the hood of a car from Coyle’s Car Smash, one of our annual fundraising events that raises money for St. Adalbert’s school in South Bend. Once we stacked a couple of ice blocks, we raised the car hood on top of two bunk bed ladders and used it as formwork to place the rest of the blocks.
5. What types of failure were you most concerned about?
Initially, we were concerned about the stability of the arches, seeing as we had never built anything out of snow and ice. In order to maximize strength at the base and minimize weight at the top, we made the bottom blocks with a higher water-to-snow ratio, and added more snow to the keystone block. Additionally, although we knew the theory about arches, we knew our arches would naturally be asymmetrical and slightly imperfect. Initially, this caused concerns about torsional forces occurring at the top of the arch, but once we saw how strong the structure became once it froze, we were no longer concerned.
6. What did this project teach you that a traditional classroom project would not?
This project reminded me of my summer, where I spent a month and a half in rural Bolivia with NDSEED, building a suspended footbridge. Being the design manager, I did a lot of back-end design work throughout the school year, performing calculations and compiling the drawing set. However, while we were on site during the summer, I was a worker like anyone else, moving rocks and buckets of concrete. The monotony of constructing the ice chapel was somewhat similar, and it’s these practical experiences that take us beyond traditional classroom projects. Not only do you learn about the last-minute decisions that are made in the field and the exhaustion of long work days, you also get to experience the satisfaction of looking at the finished product and being able to say, “I built that.”
What people see is more than a structure—it’s an idea, a hope.
7. What surprised you about this project?
What surprised me the most was the attention it received. With the current state of our country—and the world—it is often hard to find hopeful stories. For us, the cold winter months are a metaphor for this reality, and being able to transform this into something that reflects light has been a true blessing. What people see is more than a structure—it’s an idea, a hope. Amidst the division of this world, we just want to bring a little light, a little healing. And I think that resonated with people.
8. Did this make you think more deeply about the role beauty plays in engineering?
Absolutely. The main reason I studied civil engineering was to improve access infrastructure in developing contexts, after my transformative encounter with urban poverty in Argentina. In these environments, beauty is not a priority; cost, practicality, and feasibility are the more common factors that are weighed. That being said, beauty draws people in. Whether we experience it in artwork, music, or architecture, beauty brings us into contact with something that transcends the limits of our own experience. As a Christian, I see all beauty as a reflection of God; whenever we create something beautiful, we participate in the work of the Master Craftsman, reflecting the splendor of His creation.
—Karla Cruise, Notre Dame Engineering; Photos by Ambrose Weidmann.