I was standing in a damp basement in Ravenna last Tuesday, tracing the edge of a coarse, unadorned concrete lintel, when I realized how much we’ve been lied to about the “beauty” of the post-war era. Most critics treat neorealism…
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 crouched in a freezing draft in a small valley near Cortina last November, my fingers numb, trying to trace the grain of a larch beam that had survived three centuries of snow loads. Most people walk through these…
I remember standing on the gravel path near Vicenza last autumn, my hands stained with dust from a site survey, looking at a textbook photo of Palladio’s masterpiece. The glossy pages always make it look like a mathematical miracle, a…
I was standing in the heat of a midday sun in Ostia last July, tracing the uneven, salt-eroded edge of a travertine step, when I realized how much we get wrong about history. Most textbooks will try to sell you…
I was standing in a damp basement near Porta Romana last Tuesday, my flashlight catching the edge of a reused Roman brick wedged into a much later medieval foundation. Most people walk through the city center looking at the Duomo’s…
I was standing in a damp corner of a villa near Vicenza last autumn, my flashlight catching the jagged edge of a limestone plinth, when I realized how much we get wrong. Everyone comes to these sites to talk about…
I was standing on a scaffold in a small village outside of Orvieto last autumn, scraping at a section of a facade that had been “restored” with modern, mass-produced tiles, and I felt a genuine sense of grief. People often…
I was kneeling in a muddy trench outside of Via Appia last autumn, my knees soaked through, staring at a fragment of crushed volcanic tuff that most tourists would have stepped over without a second thought. Everyone talks about the…
I was standing in a cramped apartment block in the outskirts of Naples last Tuesday, tracing the hairline fracture where a load-bearing pillar met a non-structural partition. Most historians look at the ina casa housing programme and see nothing but…
I was kneeling in the damp dust of a basement in Ravenna last autumn, tracing the irregular grit of a lime mortar joint, when I realized how much we misinterpret the Renaissance. Most textbooks treat the concept of vitruvius and…