Category: Modern Italy

I remember standing in a dusty site office outside Syracuse, staring at a cracked, peeling slab that a contractor had insisted was “cutting-edge” engineering. He spoke about the miracle of modern materials, but all I could see were the tell-tale…

I remember standing in the shadow of the Palazzetto dello Sport in Rome, my fingers tracing the rhythmic, sweeping curves of the precast ribs. Most people stand there and marvel at the aesthetic grace of the structure, treating it like…

I was standing in the shadow of the Porta Nuova last autumn, squinting against the Milanese drizzle, when I realized how much people get wrong when they talk about the Pirelli Tower and structure. Most critics treat it like some…

I was standing in a drafty palazzo near Ravenna last autumn, staring at a structural junction that felt more like a heavy-handed argument than a piece of architecture. I kept hearing people drone on about the “ethereal spirit” of mid-century…

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…

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 remember standing in a narrow alleyway in Naples last autumn, my fingers tracing a seam where a jagged piece of 1950s concrete had been shoved against a centuries-old limestone block. The texture was wrong—too smooth, too cold, and utterly…

I was standing near the Palazzo della Civiltà Italiana last Tuesday, watching a group of tourists snap photos of the arches, looking for that “classic Rome” feeling they expected. They were looking for the warm, crumbling patina of the Trastevere…

I was kneeling in the dust of a crumbling palazzo in Palermo last autumn, my fingers tracing a series of jagged, hurried repairs in the limestone, when it hit me how much we misinterpret the concept of authority. Most people…

I was standing in the Piazza della Vittoria last autumn, watching a group of students sketch the facade, and I felt that familiar, sharp irritation. They were all talking about the “purity of form” and the “manifesto of Rationalism,” treating…