I remember standing in a sweltering, sun-bleached courtyard in Ortigia last July, watching a young architect try to explain how a high-tech, automated misting system was the “future” of sustainable cooling. It felt like an insult to the stone. We…
I was standing in a narrow alleyway in Palermo last Tuesday, my camera lens inches away from a patch of raw, weeping limestone, when it hit me how much we misinterpret these sites. Most guidebooks treat unfinished facades in italy…
I was standing in a narrow alleyway in Palermo last Tuesday, squinting at a particularly stubborn patch of lime wash, when I realized how much we misinterpret what we see. Most people walk past a building and see a finished…
I remember standing in a narrow alleyway in the heart of the city after the 2009 tremor, my fingers tracing the jagged edge of a limestone lintel that had been sliced clean by the movement. Everyone around me was talking…
I remember standing on a crumbling limestone ledge near Positano three years ago, the humidity pressing against my neck like a damp cloth, watching a modern contractor argue with a local mason. The contractor was waving a glossy blueprint, shouting…
I was standing in a damp, salt-crusted cellar near Ravenna last autumn, watching a junior contractor prepare to inject a high-tech, polymer-based resin into a crumbling tuff wall. He was treating the stone like a broken plastic toy rather than…
I was crouched in a damp corner of a villa near Syracuse last autumn, my flashlight catching the edge of a faded fresco that looked, at first glance, like a simple decorative border. But as I leaned in closer—the way…
I was kneeling in a damp villa outside of Syracuse last autumn, my knees aching against the grit, when I realized how much we get wrong about the past. Most people walk through a museum and see roman mosaics and…
I was kneeling in the dust of a site near Capua last July, my knees aching against the grit, when I saw it: a sixteenth-century brick pier sitting directly atop a massive, weathered block of Roman tufa. Most guidebooks will…
I was standing in a drafty courtyard near Syracuse last autumn, tracing the edge of a weathered plinth, when I realized how much we get wrong about luxury. People talk about marble as if it were a finished, static product—something…