I was standing in a crumbling courtyard near Syracuse last autumn, my knees aching from the humidity, when I saw a contractor pointing at a beautiful piece of travertine and calling it “imperfect.” He wanted to grind it down, to…
I was kneeling in the dust of a narrow alleyway in Spello last October, my magnifying loupe pressed against a crumbling limestone plinth, when I realized most people were walking right past the actual story. They were too busy snapping…
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…
I was kneeling in the dust of a crumbling courtyard near Pienza last autumn, my fingers tracing the jagged edge of a limestone block, when I realized how much we get wrong about these structures. Most travel brochures treat the…
I was kneeling in the dust of a crumbling sacristy in Syracuse last July, my fingers tracing the uneven grit of a lime-wash that had survived three centuries of humidity. Most people visit these sites to photograph the grand altarpiece…
I was standing in a damp, half-collapsed Romanesque doorway near Ravenna last Tuesday, my fingers tracing the uneven grit of a limestone voussoir, when I realized how much we misinterpret the simplest things. Most textbooks will try to sell you…
I was in a dusty basement in Milan last autumn, tracing the edge of a particularly stubborn travertine slab, when I realized how much we misread the era. Most critics approach rationalism between the wars as if it were a…
I was standing in a damp basement in Ravenna last autumn, tracing the edge of a crumbling wall, when I realized most people look at a facade and see only a color or a texture. They talk about “heritage” as…
I was standing in a damp warehouse outside Milan last Tuesday, my flashlight catching the jagged edge of a crumbling concrete pillar, when it hit me how much we misunderstand these spaces. Most people look at an industrial building in…
I was standing in a damp basement in Ravenna last Tuesday, tracing the jagged fracture of a sixteenth-century limestone block, when I saw it: a patch of grey, rigid Portland cement shoved into a joint that clearly demanded breath. It…