Established in 1955, Tung­hai University was Taiwan’s first protestant university. And the Luce Memorial Chapel, which stands near the center of Tung­hai’s campus, with beautiful vistas of Mt. Dadu, was the first building in Taiwan to employ a modernist architectural vocabulary.

Accommodating more than 450 persons, the chapel is much deeper and more spacious than it appears from the outside. Inside, the diamond-shaped concrete coffers and the “lines of sky” created by panels of glass placed between the saddle-shaped walls are truly eye-catching. They demonstrate the sparse simplicity of a design that highlights the beauty of the structural elements themselves.

Occupying 5410 square feet, with seating for 450, the chapel is named for Henry W. Luce, a late-19th-century missionary and educator in China. His son Henry R. Luce, founder of the Time–Life magazine empire, donated the funds for construction.

Henry W. Luce was once vice president of Yen­ching University, the forerunner of Peking University and one of 13 universities established by protestant churches in China.

In 1949, church-affiliated educational institutions on the mainland were forced to cease operations. In 1953, the New York-based United Board for Christian Colleges in China, which had provided support for those 13 universities, agreed to establish Tung­hai University in Tai­chung, commissioning I.M. Pei to serve as an architectural consultant. The Luce Chapel remains the only church building ever designed by I.M. Pei.

Born to a distinguished Su­zhou family in Guang­zhou in 1917, I.M. Pei moved to the United States when he was 18 and earned a master’s degree in architecture at Harvard when he was 29. Because he had attended a school administered by the United Board in China, he accepted the board’s offer to serve as lead architect for the campus.

To help things along, Pei recruited two other architects: ­Chang Chao-kang, who would later design National Taiwan University’s Agricultural Exhibition Hall, and Chen Chi-kwan, who would found the architecture department at Tung­hai University and design Tai­pei’s Grace Baptist Church.

The world-renowned Chinese-American architect I.M. Pei served as architectural consultant for the Tunghai campus. He insisted on exacting calculations for every aspect of the Luce Chapel project, even down to the scaffolding.

In creating an architectural plan for the university, this three-man team wrote a new chapter in the history of architecture in Taiwan.

Apart from some buildings designed in the traditional Chinese si­he­yuan style, it is the Luce Chapel that has attracted the most attention on Tung­hai’s campus.

As an internationally famous work of architecture, the Luce Chapel will forever be linked to I.M. Pei. But make no mistake: there is more than one hero behind its design.

“In my judgment, Chen was most responsible for the design of the Luce Chapel,” says Han Pao-teh, a famous scholar of architecture and former chairman of Tung­hai’s architecture department. “Pei gave his consent or offered a few suggestions.” Han reasons that in other works by Pei one sees joy in geometric forms but “never emphasis on conceptual ingenuity.”

Han attributes the ingenuity demonstrated by the chapel’s curving walls to the person he regards as the chief designer of the building: Chen Chi-kwan.

Joan Stanley-Baker, an art historian and theorist who has taught in Taiwan at National Taiwan University, National Tsing Hua University, and Tainan National University of the Arts, agrees that the design of the chapel doesn’t look like the work of Pei. “Pei,” she says, “is terrified of curves.”

Lo Shi­wei, a professor of architecture and dean of the College of Fine Arts and Creative Design at Tung­hai, notes, “The curves and curved walls demonstrate a poetic grace that is very much in character for an artist like Chen.”

Indeed, what sets the Luce Chapel apart from traditional church architecture is the four conoid (saddle-shaped) shell walls that rise from the campus lawn to enclose and protect the church. Panels of glass installed between the walls create interesting “line of sky” lighting effects.

Chen (center, wearing glasses), the chapel’s principal designer, ­participated at every stage of the project, from creating the earliest architectural renderings to removing the construction formwork.

Born in Beijing in 1921, Chen earned his master’s in architecture at the University of Illinois and worked for Walter Gropius’ firm before joining the faculty of MIT. Apart from his work as an architect, he also gained renown for his paintings. In June of 2007 he died in San Francisco at the age of 86.

When describing the process of designing Tunghai University, Chen recalled that Pei had called Chang and him together for a brainstorming session, suggesting they build a vaulted gothic brick church and using his hands to convey its shape.

Chen insisted that such a building would not suit earthquake-prone Taiwan, but he made a model out of wood anyway. Much to his surprise and delight, it ended up looking like the upside-down hull of a wooden boat. Consequently, the three moved toward looking at using wood construction. Not long after, ­Chang was the first to leave for Taiwan to oversee campus construction, but the design of the church was left to Chen, who remained in the United States.

Chen described this stage of the work as involving the “integration of many different ideas.” Pei’s co-workers would also make occasional suggestions. It was during this period that the design incorporated “lines of sky” to separate the four “boat walls.” It was thus that the distinctive elements of the design took shape.

Han Pao-teh explains that the four conoid walls are each created with two straight and two curving lines. It gives the church a unique upward pitch.

The chapel was originally designed for wood construction, but Chen wanted to dispense with pillars and beams by shifting to thin-shell concrete, then a cutting-edge structural technique just gaining traction in the United States. Yet by taking this new approach, Pei was forced to start over with his structural calculations.

Back then reinforced concrete had yet to fully catch on in Taiwan, but via third-party introductions, Chen found Feng Hou­san, a structural engineer who had studied in France. Feng assessed the project and concluded that the thin-shell approach was feasible, and Chen brought him to New York to make a presentation to Pei. With Pei’s approval, construction began at the end of 1962.

The church is constructed from four conoid thin-shell concrete walls, the exteriors of which are covered with handmade ceramic tiles. After 50 years, the tiles are still in excellent condition.

Back then conoid walls and the thin-shell reinforced concrete construction were newfangled techniques throughout the world. Under the circumstances, the ­Guang-Yuan construction firm deserves a lot of credit for being able to finish the project in a year.

Lo Shi­wei of Tung­hai points out that ­Guang-Yuan’s owner Wu Gen­zong relied on a Japanese reference book about reinforced concrete construction. His team carefully followed all of the book’s suggestions, and when they encountered steps that were not covered in the book, they would prudently make the trip to Tai­pei to ask Feng.

Chen recalled that Pei fretted about construction quality and was extremely demanding of the builders. The construction planning documents stipulated that only river sand, not ocean sand, could be used for the concrete. What’s more, heat drying and testing to confirm a low moisture content were also required before the sand could be used to make concrete. Concrete that meets such stringent specifications can support 4000 pounds per square inch. That’s much higher than the 2500–3000 psi that’s standard for the industry.

A work of lasting architectural significance, the Luce Chapel has come to represent the spirit of Tunghai University.

The Luce Chapel was unscathed by the September 21, 1999 earthquake that battered much of central Taiwan. After 50 years, it still hasn’t lost even a single exterior tile—a feat that bears witness to the stability of the structure and the integrity of the construction, which far surpasses that of many of the reinforced concrete structures that followed it.

Nevertheless, when the church, which is devoid of pillars and beams, was finished in 1963, its structural unconventionality scared construction workers, who feared that if they removed the formwork, the reinforced concrete shell would collapse.

Observing the workers’ fears, Chen led Feng and Wu unannounced into the construction site. As everyone watched, rapt, he knocked out a wooden support for the formwork. A few seconds passed, and nervous concern about collapse gave way to celebration and sustained applause. The workers took stock, marveling that they had been a part of something never before seen in the history of Taiwanese architecture.

Lo notes that the Luce Chapel remains an outstanding work of architecture today, 50 years later. Although small when compared to many other architectural masterpieces and not particularly revolutionary from a global standpoint in terms of its design and construction techniques, it doesn’t need any extra embellishment: its structure defines its architectural space, which is sheltered by those saddle-shaped walls. Every detail is expertly integrated into the whole. After five decades, “in terms of innovation, no work of architecture in Taiwan can surpass it.”

Today I.M. Pei is the last of the building’s three designers still alive. If passing the test of time is something required of all great works of architecture, then the small-is-beautiful Luce Chapel is passing with flying colors at its half centennial.