Steps of Stone, Steps of Growth
Recently, I had the chance to join a group visit to the St. Joseph’s Oratory, hosted by Our Harbor with both residents and volunteers. For years I had heard stories about this place—about its beauty, its miracles, its sheer magnitude—and this was the first time I really immersed myself in it.
From the very beginning, the journey felt different than what I had always heard. In the past, the walk to the Oratory was known to be punishingly difficult, a long climb that left people exhausted before they even reached the heart of the sanctuary. But now, thanks to a massive renovation project funded by generous donors, the site has been transformed into something far more accessible. Automatic elevators made it possible to rise through its many floors with ease. Still, when it came time to reach the Oratory itself on the fifth floor, I chose to climb the legendary steps. I felt it was something I had to do at least once for myself—to feel, even in a small way, what so many before me had endured in search of faith, healing, or simply meaning.
The building spans five levels, and I walked through all of them. At the Gift Shop I bought a cross pendant, a small token of memory to carry forward from the visit. Throughout the day I kept recalling how a friend of mine, years ago, told me his life changed there. I had also seen videos about the miracles and healings associated with the Oratory. Whether one is devout or not, the weight of that history is impossible to ignore when standing in its halls.
What stood out to me most was the sacred gardens. Walking among them was like following a visual pilgrimage: a step-by-step statue collection tracing the story of Christ’s crucifixion. The climb was steep and emotionally resonant, each statue marking a moment in the Passion. Eventually, the path curved into a small open space where a sculpture of Mary holding her son after the crucifixion stood. It was a quiet place of reflection, and one I will not forget. We took a group photo nearby, and I made sure to photograph the statue myself. It was moving, and in its own way, grounding.
Inside the Oratory itself, the sheer scale of the space stunned me. The sanctuary was massive, its ceilings soaring high above, an almost overwhelming reminder of human devotion and craftsmanship. In the tomb, I lit a prayer for Storm, wishing for healing and strength in the face of their health challenges.
I am not usually one for photography, but this time I couldn’t resist. The sights were too striking, the perspectives too powerful. I took many shots, some of them almost like works of art themselves. That, perhaps, was the theme of the day: walking between history and faith, while seeing everything with an artist’s eye.
Returning to Creation
Speaking of art—this brings me to another piece of good news. I have officially launched a new website: Kacey Infinity Art. Traffic is starting to come in, and things are moving in a positive direction.
Lately, I have been more dedicated than ever to creating. I made myself a promise: to craft something new every day that I am able. Strangely enough, my slow internet has been a blessing in disguise—it has pushed me to spend more time working with pen, brush, and canvas. The results speak for themselves. I recently finished a collection of 10 canvases, in a mix of square sizes, using the best of my most recent work. When I look at them, I can see clear growth compared to my older art. Each new piece feels sharper, more confident, more alive.
One of the works I’m most proud of is a detailed painting of a comet hurtling toward Earth, an idea suggested to me by Storm. It challenged me, stretched my skills, and turned out to be a striking addition to the collection.
I’m already thinking about the future. I’d like to re-hire Aisha as a Designer for the project, especially to help master the Printify app and expand product lines. I could teach her the ropes, and with her focus we could roll out an incredible range of new designs. For now, though, I’m content and grateful with how things are going.
A Logo, a Restart, and a Lesson
Beyond the canvases, I also experimented with something more graphic: a new logo for the website. I envisioned it in the center of a landscape poster, surrounded by intricate patterns. The first attempt was fine, but not what I had hoped for. So I did what I rarely do—I scrapped it and started over completely. The second version, after an hour of careful work, turned out beautifully. It has a radiant, almost luminous quality, and it now serves both as a centerpiece for my art and as the site’s Favicon.
That experience taught me something important: when creating, sometimes the first draft isn’t enough. If I ever step into the world of commissions again, I think I’ll adopt this same mindset—allowing myself the space to revisit a piece and make a second attempt if I’m not fully satisfied. Art deserves that kind of patience.
Closing Reflections
Looking back, this week has been about steps. Steps up the Oratory’s stairs, steps through sacred gardens, steps forward in my art practice, and even steps backward and forward again in redesigning a logo. Each one has carried me a little higher, a little closer to something meaningful.
Whether in prayer, in brushstrokes, or in pixels, creation continues. And with that, I end today’s entry with gratitude—for the journey, for the art, and for everyone who takes the time to walk these steps with me.