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Cuban Catholic Church Cuban Catholic Church

Cuban Catholic Church

A Cuban Catholic church in Old Havana: San Agustín

The Church of San Agustín was a surprise from the inside. On Calle Cuba at the corner of Amargura, it sits among the close-set buildings of Old Havana. The exterior gives little indication of the carved columns, statues and stained glass within. For me, that difference between a quiet street frontage and an elaborate interior is what makes this Cuban Catholic church worth looking at closely.

ic: The altar at San Agustín fills the frame with carved columns, statues and a small band of purple.

San Agustín and San Francisco el Nuevo

The church is also known as San Francisco el Nuevo, reflecting its later association with the Franciscans. The names refer to the same building. It should not be confused with the better-known former convent and basilica of San Francisco de Asís near Havana’s waterfront.

A Havana Times photo report dates construction to 1608–1663 and describes the building’s Renaissance character. Originally dedicated to Saint Augustine, it passed to the Third Order of Saint Francis in 1842 and to the First Order in 1844. That history explains why both names continue to appear in descriptions of the church.

Looking closely at the interior

My photographs begin with the altar, then move toward smaller details and the wider interior. At first, the amount of ornament can make it difficult to know where to look. The columns provide a structure, while the statues, carved surfaces and coloured glass reward more time.

ic: Three wooden chairs provide a human scale beneath the church’s elaborate altar.

Havana often gives me this contrast between the street and what lies beyond a doorway. My Havana photography collection follows those encounters with the city’s buildings, people and everyday details.

The chairs beneath the altar are useful in the photograph because they give a sense of scale. Without them, the decorated surfaces could almost become an abstract arrangement. Small ordinary objects help me understand an interior, especially when the architecture is as detailed as this.

Architecture above eye level

Looking upward changes the composition. An arched opening, the edge of a gallery and an iron railing divide the space into distinct layers. The stained glass introduces colour high on the wall. I like having both the larger architectural shapes and the smaller carved details in the same picture.

ic: An arched opening and iron-railed gallery reveal the layers of decoration above eye level.

Photographing a church interior also means paying attention to the difference between bright windows and darker recesses. I want enough detail to describe the space while keeping the feeling of its existing light. A photograph that flattens every shadow would lose part of what gives the room its depth.

That attention to what is already present connects with my commitment to authentic photography. The building does not need an invented story or altered setting to hold my interest.

The central aisle and the church’s religious purpose

The wider view from the aisle brings the separate details back together. Rows of pews lead toward the altar, and the chandelier sits within the larger curve of the interior. It is a different photograph from the close view: less about one decorated surface and more about the way the whole space is arranged.

ic: The central aisle gives the eye a clear path through the church’s ornate interior.

This is a religious setting as well as an architectural subject. When visiting churches, I make photography secondary to worship and the people using the building. Follow any posted restrictions, ask if permission is unclear and avoid interrupting a service. Opening arrangements can change, so check locally rather than relying on an old visiting schedule.

Saint Francis and the Franciscan connection

Saint Francis of Assisi is associated with poverty, service and care for creation. The Order of Friars Minor traces its beginnings to 1209. The church’s later Franciscan history is part of its identity, but the photographs here focus on the details visible during my visit rather than trying to explain every figure or furnishing.

ic: A statue of Jesus carrying the cross stands between warm-toned columns.

Quiet interiors and busy streets show different sides of the same city. In A Night in Havana That Taught Me to Pay Attention, I return to the value of noticing what is happening around me. Here, that meant slowing down enough to look beyond the first impressive view of the altar.

For more photographs of religious interiors and architecture, see my church photography collection.

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