Restoration is an act of service—not only to the structure itself but to the generations who built it and to those yet to come. I have had the opportunity to work on three very different restoration projects, each teaching me something new about care, craft, and continuity.
One of these projects was the Ludwigskirche in Saarbrücken, a particularly beautiful church. My role there involved carefully removing the weathered and damaged faces of stones. Often, the core of the stone remained sound, so we would pick away roughly eight inches to make room for a new face stone and mortar. I collaborated closely with my supervisor and an architect to ensure that the replacement stones matched the original in both material and character. There is always an effort to use stone from the same original quarry whenever possible. If that isn’t feasible, we try to find matching old stock or reuse stones from other sources. Mortar, by design, is always sacrificial—it is meant to protect the stone by failing before the stone itself does. We work with specialized companies that match mortar color and composition to the original, ensuring the new work blends seamlessly with the old.
 |
The Ludwigskirche (Ludwigs Church) of Sarrbrücken Germany, is a Lutheran Baroque-style church and ist considered to be one of the most important Protestant churches in Germany.
|
 |
| Here the removed "faces can been seen. |
At the St. Martinskirche in Kaiserslautern, the challenge was quite different. Years ago, cement mortar had been pumped into the joints between stones before the negative effects of this material were understood. Because cement is much harder than the surrounding stone, instead of protecting it, the mortar was actually causing damage. We had to painstakingly remove the cement layer by layer, including old rubber tubes and wire ties used to pump it in. Though slow and frustrating, this process was essential to saving the church.
 |
Rubber hose stilled filled with cement mortar and wire at the
Saint Martins Church, Kaiserslautern
|
My third restoration site was a retaining wall at the Jüdischer Friedhof, Jewish Graveyard, in Mannheim. The wall supported a roughly five-foot height difference between two sides of the graveyard. Most of the capstones required replacement or cleaning, and much of the old mortar was crumbling away. Many stones were loose or missing entirely, and entire sections needed replacing. I helped saw and roughly carve new stones to the proper dimensions before securing them into place. Once the structure was stabilized, we re-mortared everything to ensure its longevity.
 |
| In this photograph many of the earlier addressed problems are visible, and some missing stones now replaced by new ones can be seen filling some of the gaps. |
Restoration work requires a different mindset than new construction. While new builds can be more forgiving and allow the materials to adapt, old stone must be respected and preserved. Whatever is introduced has to bend to fit the existing structure rather than forcing it to change. Though modern tools like pneumatic hammers and angle grinders have made some tasks faster, the fundamental principles and careful attention to detail remain unchanged.
The restoration process usually begins with detailed plans prepared by architects, who provide photographs and documentation of the areas that need work. Once on site, the team creates and continuously updates its own list of tasks. On one site, the Ludwigskirche, we uncovered that previous restoration efforts had been poorly executed. Far more stones required attention than initially planned, emphasizing the critical importance of meticulous documentation and quality workmanship in historic preservation.This collaborative and evolving planning process is something I am eager to take on more independently as I progress in my career.
Most profoundly, this work taught me the meaning of serving future generations. For the first time, I was truly working for those who would come after me, rather than only for myself or those immediately around me. The experience also gave me a real taste of life on a job site—long days spent working in all weather conditions, contending with awkward angles and scaffolding set just a little too low or high. It reinforced the dedication this craft demands, but also the deep and lasting rewards it offers—work that nourishes the soul by preserving history and beauty for centuries to come.
