Why does a person, having lived through the fear and hypocrisy of the Soviet era, one day start building a chapel? Architect, musician, and now writer Algirdas Kaušpėdas talks about his novel The Chapel — “a dark fairy tale with a happy ending,” written from a sense of personal duty and longing for meaning.

The Soviet period, he says, was a school of dehumanization: fear, lies, adaptation, and escape into oblivion, whether in smoke or a glass. When independence brought freedom, a new challenge emerged — living without tracks, no longer relying on others’ instructions or algorithms. Here began the spiritual architecture: a person stands at the intersection of vertical and horizontal lines of a cross, carrying the full weight of life and responsibility for past choices.

“Antis” (a band) started as a joke, but became a way to turn fear into irony and courage — a rehearsal of freedom. Similarly, in the novel, Leonardas Gražys, having lost his “bad memory,” gains the chance to recreate his identity. He realizes that true creation cannot happen without a foundation — without meaning and free will. The Chapel represents both a real structure and an inner order. It is a path from arranging objects to understanding the world — a passage from chaos to a harmonious state suitable for life.

In the podcast Beyond Economics and Back, Algirdas Kaušpėdas and LFMI president Elena Leontjeva discuss The Chapel — the work itself, the inner transformation, and a person’s effort to reclaim meaning.