I was standing in a narrow carruggio in Camogli last Tuesday, squinting against the salt spray, when I saw it: a “restored” villa where the owner had replaced traditional lime-based pointing with a modern, grey cement grout. It was an…
Author: Elena Vasari-Pucci
A building tells you how it was built if you know where to look. I write about joints, mortar and the decisions of people who are long dead, because that is where the real story sits.
I was kneeling in the dirt outside a site near Pompeii last autumn, my knees aching from the damp, when I realized how much we get wrong about the past. Most guidebooks treat roman housing and the domus as if…
I remember standing on a scaffold in Rome last autumn, my fingers tracing the jagged transition where a Renaissance pier meets a much older, more weary foundation. Most people walk into the Vatican and see a finished masterpiece, a seamless…
I was standing in a dim corner of a basilica near Ravenna last autumn, my flashlight tracing the uneven surface of a crumbling apse, when it hit me how much we get wrong. Most guidebooks treat glass mosaic in byzantine…
I was standing under the shadow of the Via Santo Stefano arches last Tuesday, watching a tourist struggle to photograph a “scenic view” while completely ignoring the way the terracotta bricks were actually laid. It’s the same old story: people…
I was kneeling in the damp dust of a villa outside Pompeii last autumn, my flashlight catching the jagged edge of a broken pilae stack, when it hit me how much we get wrong about ancient comfort. Most textbooks treat…
I remember standing in the shadow of a massive concrete cantilever during a site survey in the late nineties, the air thick with the smell of wet dust and ozone. Most people look up at these massive shells and see…
I was kneeling on a damp floor in a villa near Ravenna last autumn, my knees aching against the cold stone, when I realized most people look at a floor and see only a pattern. They see “art,” but they…
I was standing in the shadow of the Laurentian Library last autumn, tracing the way the stone seemed to buckle under the weight of its own elegance, when it hit me how much we get wrong. Most people approach the…
I was kneeling in the dust of a partially excavated villa near Pompeii last autumn, my flashlight catching the jagged edges of a collapsed hypocaust, when it hit me how much we misunderstand the mechanics of luxury. People tend to…