I remember standing in the shadow of a towering structure in Barumini, my hands caked in fine, ochre dust, feeling more frustrated than inspired. Most guidebooks treat the sardinian nuraghi as these mystical, almost magical monoliths—mysterious relics left by a…
I was kneeling in the dust of a side street near the Quattro Canti last Tuesday, my knees aching against the uneven basalt, when I saw it: a tiny, jagged seam where a 12th-century limestone block had been shoved into…
I was kneeling in the dust of a Palermitan courtyard last summer, my magnifying glass inches away from a limestone block, when I realized how much we miss by simply looking at the “grandeur.” Most guidebooks will try to sell…
I remember standing in the dust of a collapsed courtyard in 1994, my hands stained with the grit of pulverized limestone, watching a supervisor argue about the “aesthetic grandeur” of a facade while ignoring the fact that the foundation was…
I was kneeling in the dust of a crumbling courtyard in Noto last spring, my fingers tracing a jagged fracture in a limestone corbel, when I realized how much we get wrong. Most guidebooks treat sicilian baroque after the earthquake…
I remember standing in a damp, narrow corridor in Matera three years ago, my flashlight catching the edge of a tool mark that had been smoothed over by centuries of humidity. Most people look at cave dwellings and rock architecture…
I remember standing in a narrow alleyway in the Sassi during a particularly humid July, watching a tour group cluster around a crumbling archway. They were all staring at the “picturesque” view, snapping the same filtered photos of the cave…
I was standing in a dusty courtyard outside of Ostuni last July, my knees aching from kneeling beside a crumbling limestone plinth, when I realized how much we get wrong about these structures. Tourists and real estate developers love to…
I was kneeling in the dust of a crumbling boundary wall in the hills outside Syracuse last July, my fingers tracing the jagged edge of a limestone block that refused to sit flush. Most people look at a pile of…
I was kneeling in the dust of a courtyard in Alberobello last July, my knees aching and my hands stained with limestone grit, when I realized how much the travel brochures lie to you. Most people visit puglia and the…