Category: Renaissance

I was in a crumbling palazzo near Palermo last autumn, my knees aching from the humidity, when I found it: a series of rhythmic, intentional gouge marks in a limestone lintel that no modern machine could ever replicate. Most historians…

I was standing in a damp, salt-crusted cellar in Palermo last autumn, tracing the jagged line where a sixteenth-century limestone lintel met a much later, clumsy brick repair. The mason had clearly been forced to pivot mid-cut, leaving behind a…

I remember sitting in a dusty studio in Ravenna, my fingers stained with glue and charcoal, staring at a mass of balsa wood that refused to behave. Everyone around me was obsessed with the latest high-resolution digital renders, treating them…

I was crouched in a damp corner of a 14th-century chapel near Ravenna last Tuesday, the smell of wet limestone and old dust filling my lungs, when I realized my sketchbook was more useful than my laser scanner. Most people…

I was crouched in the damp shadows of a basement in Rome last autumn, my flashlight beam dancing over a particularly stubborn patch of travertine, when it hit me. Most people look at the grand facades of the Renaissance and…

I was standing in the shadow of a sixteenth-century bastion in Puglia last summer, tracing a jagged line of lime mortar with my thumb, when I realized how much we misinterpret the history of defense. Most guidebooks will give you…

I was kneeling in the damp dust of a crumbling perimeter in Puglia last autumn, my flashlight tracing the jagged edges of a limestone block, when it hit me how much we misinterpret these sites. Most tourists—and frankly, even some…

I was standing in the shadow of a crumbling travertine archway near the Piazza Navona last autumn, feeling the dampness of the Roman humidity seep into my boots, when I realized how much we get wrong. Most guidebooks treat rome…

I was crouched on a damp scaffold near the Grand Canal last November, my fingers tracing the jagged edge of an Istrian stone lintel, when it finally clicked. Most people walk past these facades and see nothing but a pretty,…

I was kneeling in a damp, narrow calle near Cannaregio last November, my knees aching against the slick Istrian stone, when I realized how much we get wrong about the city. Most guidebooks treat the concept of venice and building…