In recent years, “minimalism” has too often been reduced to blank white walls and empty rooms—a consumerist symbol stripped of meaning. True minimalism is not about “less” for its own sake, but about removing the inessential to reveal core value.

St Moritz Church in Augsburg, Germany, embodies this philosophy. With origins in the 11th century, the church underwent numerous alterations and wartime damage, leaving a fragmented collage of history. In the early 2000s, the parish commissioned John Pawson, a British architect renowned for minimalism, to restore clarity to the space.

Over nearly a decade, Pawson’s team carefully removed layers of decorative excess, retaining only sculptures and frescoes of historic importance. The existing structure remained, but surfaces were abstracted in white, the floor laid with precisely jointed Portuguese limestone, and the apse lined with thin onyx, diffusing light into a mist-like glow. This was not erasure, but renewal—like freeing a turtle from encrusting barnacles.

The restored 17th-century figure of Christus Salvator by Petel, once darkened by centuries of candle smoke, now reveals its gilded brilliance. St Moritz demonstrates that minimalism is not emptiness but precision—the courage to strip away distraction so that architecture’s spiritual essence can re-emerge.