Advertising on the Worship – The Commercialization of Sacred Architecture
Walking through Piazza del Duomo in Milan, one cannot escape the gravitational pull of the cathedral. Milan Cathedral, begun in 1386 and completed across centuries, is not only the largest church in Italy but one of the most intricate achievements of Gothic architecture in Europe. Its spires rise like frozen prayers, its marble façade glows differently under mist or sunlight, and for centuries it has anchored the city’s civic and spiritual identity. The Duomo is not merely a church. It is Milan’s landmark, its economic compass, its stone heart.
During the current restoration works—scaffolding, cranes, dust rising over buttresses—I noticed something unsettling. On the protective screens covering part of the façade, a bright advertisement was projected. It looked less like Milan and more like Times Square or Piccadilly Circus. The clash between Gothic pinnacles and LED pixels created a moment of visual absurdity.
As an architect, I cannot ignore the contrast. When lawyers open an office, their signage is restricted to a plain background and a single color. Embassies and consulates, official institutions of diplomacy, maintain restrained dignity in their façades. Why then should a cathedral—a house of worship, of memory, of collective faith—be treated with less discipline?
In that instant, I remembered an old proverb from Makkah: “حج وبيع سبح” (Hajj wa bay‘ subḥ). Literally, it means “perform pilgrimage and sell prayer beads.” The phrase criticizes mixing sacred acts with commercial activity, blurring devotion with transaction. And here it was, embodied in stone and neon: prayer above, commerce below.
Supporters may argue that such advertising funds restoration, that without sponsorship the marble could not be cleaned, the statues repaired. Yet we must distinguish between memorial inscriptions—carvings that honor donors or saints—and logos of unrelated corporations. The first is commemoration. The second is commodification.
The Duomo has always been more than a church. It is a chapter in the book of cities, a marker of Milanese identity, a symbol of endurance. To place another brand upon its façade is not to preserve history but to overwrite it. Restoration should restore dignity, not rent out sanctity.
This is not a condemnation of the municipality of Milan, nor of commerce itself. It is a reminder that certain spaces carry responsibilities. If even offices and embassies respect visual discipline, should not a cathedral demand more? If worship becomes backdrop to advertising, what happens to meaning?
Perhaps the real advertisement is not the brand on the scaffolding, but the endurance of the cathedral itself. Stone outlives neon. Spires outlast screens. And long after the pixels fade, the Duomo will continue to remind us that some spaces are sacred—not for sale.
✦ ArchUp Editorial Insight
This provocative article dissects a subtle yet powerful tension in contemporary architecture: the collision between spirituality and consumerism. Using Milan’s iconic Duomo as both stage and symbol, it questions the ethics of surrounding sacred spaces with visual clutter, branding, and capitalist distractions — what the author calls “advertising on the worship.”
The strength of the piece lies in its cultural honesty. It doesn’t romanticize the past but exposes how urban façades once meant to inspire reverence are increasingly hijacked for attention economies. It challenges architects and planners to consider: Who truly owns the city’s visual vocabulary?
Looking toward the next five to ten years, this theme feels pressing. As public space continues to blend commerce and culture, we risk losing the spatial dignity that once framed collective meaning. This is not just about aesthetics — it’s about the soul of the city. ArchUp rightly calls for an architecture that remembers silence amidst the noise.
