I’m just an art historian, fascinated by and wading through the glories of Italian art in all its eras currently on view at the plethora of museums all over this incredible peninsula I’m lucky enough to live on.

Recently I viewed these amazing Roman era frescoes from The Casa della Farnesina, which the Palazzo Massimo now houses and in their literature it says “With its scenic location on the Tiber, this villa was decorated with fine frescos and elegant mosaics, testimony to the art of the early Imperial Age.”

It took some time and digging through many online rabbit holes, but I finally discovered the following:

The Casa della Farnesina is an ancient aristocratic residence in Rome, located in Trastevere; it lies partly beneath the gardens of the Renaissance era Villa Farnesina (from which it takes its name). The house features a complex floor plan and extraordinary wall paintings. The casa or house was only discovered by chance in 1880 during excavations for the construction of the Tiber embankments. To date, only the half situated beneath the gardens has been excavated, while the section lying beneath the buildings on Via della Lungara remains unexplored.

This absolutely blows my mind! If only the owner and builders of the Renaissance era Villa Farnesina had realized what lay beneath their new gardens, I think this information and the art buried there would have blown their minds! They were crazy for Roman discoveries. New antiques were being located all of the time. Michelangelo was said to have been present when the famous Roman era sculpture Laocoon and his Sons was discovered, for example. Imagine building a new villa atop a Roman era one and not knowing it!

Among the hypotheses regarding the owners of this urban casa (which is often and confusingly called a villa in the literature and leads to much confusion) is the theory that it was built for the wedding of Julia the Elder and Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa.

The house is oriented along a northeast-southwest axis parallel to the river; its layout centered on a magnificent exedra facing the water, creating an intriguing perspective. This structure was supported by three concentric walls, featuring an exterior façade with buttresses that extended beyond a river-facing portico onto the lateral projecting wings (or at least the right-hand wing, which is the one that has been excavated).

The side facing Trastevere, meanwhile, featured a long cryptoporticus with vaulted ceilings supported by pillars. Beyond this, along the street, lay a long row of rooms serving as small shops and storerooms.

The central part of the house contained a small courtyard, off which opened two cubicula (bedrooms) and an oecus (reception room). Another summer cubiculum opened onto the exedra. The remainder of the left projecting wing was occupied by less significant rooms and several open-air courtyards.

This Roman era casa invites comparison with the Villa of the Mysteries in Pompeii or the Horti Luculliani in Rome; all share a taste for Hellenistic-style theatricality—particularly in façades facing the sea or a valley (in this instance, a river)—where the central area is defined by exedrae framed by loggias. Such structures also frequently appear in the “landscape vignettes” found in Pompeian wall paintings.

Here’s the fascinating history of the discovery of the casa:

The casa’s paintings and stuccoes were detached during excavation and are now housed in the Palazzo Massimo, a museum within the National Roman Museum. They were only discovered in the 19th century because new retaining walls were being built to keep the Tiber River from overflowing the city’s riverbanks during periods of heavy rainfall. Had the paintings and stucco not been detached, they would have been destroyed. Fortunately, they were kept largely in tact and serve as a prime example of interior decoration in the so-called “Third Pompeian Style.” And, just think! You can visit Rome today and see Pomepeian style Roman painting without going to Pompeii.

The themes of the frescoes: sophisticated architectural perspectives, sacred shrines, still lifes, naval motifs, and exquisite figures like caryatids holding garlands against white or Pompeian red backgrounds are fetured.

The so-called cubiculum “B” features a back wall with well-preserved paintings. A signature on the wall bears the name of one of the painters from the workshop that executed the decoration—Seleukos, a name of Syrian origin. The wall is vertically tripartite, following a standard layout, yet it lacks the illusionistic perspective typical of the Second Style. Indeed, the central section features a painted aedicule containing a picture that does not suggest a landscape lying beyond it.

At the bottom, a painted dado supports panels set against a red background; the upper central section is decorated with a pediment, while the side sections project outward, featuring niches and small aedicules. The upper central area presents a dark background against which slender winged Victories and a faintly sketched colonnade stand out.

The scene in the central painting depicts an episode from the childhood of Dionysus, based on a Greek original from the 4th century BC. Meanwhile, two smaller side panels—supported by winged female figures—feature white backgrounds and scenes of the gynaeceum (women’s quarters) drawn in an archaizing style inspired by 5th-century BC originals.

The eclectic nature of the decoration is striking: large expanses of color and the slender architectural framework typical of the Third Style, Neo-Attic ornamental details (winged figures, Victories, acroteria, floral scrolls, etc.), and large-scale reproductions of classical paintings. The classicizing aura of the artwork has led to the paintings being dated to 30–20 BC.

Garden Paintings
Two fragments of garden paintings also originate from the Casa della Farnesina; they postdate—by only a short time—the earliest known example of this genre in Rome: the frescoes in the underground nymphaeum of the Villa of Livia (40–20 BC). These are two marble fountains shaped like vases, set in a green bed and surrounded by the recesses of a reed fence.

Cubicula “B”, “D”, and “E” featured barrel vaults adorned with stucco work—elements that have since been detached and are among the relics now preserved at the Palazzo Massimo delle Terme. The decoration is organized into small and large panels—square, rectangular, or meander-shaped—bordered by delicate kymatia (molding profiles). The smaller panels feature motifs of an archaizing or grotesque nature (Victories, cupids, griffins, Arimaspians, candelabra, and scrollwork). The larger panels, conversely, are decorated with idyllic landscapes (cubicula “B” and “D,” and the corners of “E”), cycles of Dionysian scenes (corners of cubicula “B” and “D”), and scenes from the myth of Phaethon (center of cubiculum “E”).

In cubiculum “D,” the central panel depicting a Dionysian initiation scene is particularly noteworthy; it shows a Silenus performing the mystica vannus (sacred winnowing-basket ritual) in the presence of a veiled youth—the initiate—a female sponsor, and an attendant. The background is minimalist, featuring a plane tree (a tree sacred to Dionysus), a pillar (on the left), and a backdrop of drapery (on the right). These scenes reflect trends also seen in painting, such as the thinning of forms and a more sparse, open composition. The symmetrical arrangement and the rendering of detail—despite the extremely low relief—are executed with great care, testifying to the high level of artistry achieved in this type of decoration during the Augustan age.

A vast amount of specific archaeological, stylistic, and thematic information is available regarding the frescoes from the Casa della Farnesina. Because the structures were entirely destroyed after the items were detached in 1879, these recovered sections represent one of the most complete and vital snapshots of high-status Roman interior design ever found outside of Pompeii.

The extensive collection on display at the Palazzo Massimo alle Terme reveals several unique details:

Room-by-Room Layout & Color Coding The museum reconstructs the original layout to scale, showing how the Romans used color zoning to designate the mood and purpose of each room:

The Black Room (Sala Nera): A magnificent summer dining room (triclinium) designed with deep, glossy black background walls. It features ultra-thin, delicate candelabra columns and a freeze detailing Egyptian-inspired courtroom and legal judgment scenes.

Cubiculum B (The Red and White Bedroom): Famous for its rich Pompeian red base bands and white central panels. The central paintings are designed as “panel pictures” (pinakes) that look like framed wooden art hanging on a wall, depicting intimate, sensual scenes like the Toilet of Aphrodite and Dionysian rituals.

Cubiculum D (The Neo-Attic / Egyptian Bedroom): Notable for explicitly blending Roman themes with Alexandrian and Egyptian motifs, reflecting Rome’s fascination with Egypt following Augustus’s conquest of Cleopatra in 30 BC.

Unique Stylistic Innovations The Cryptoporticus Garden Views: One of the long corridors (cryptoporticus) featured an early form of illusionistic garden painting. It depicts a realistic reed fence, realistic green foliage, and a water fountain—acting as a direct precursor to the famous garden room of Livia at Prima Porta.

Greek Masterpiece Replications: Many of the small, framed central mythological scenes are painted in a sketch-like, classicized Greek style using a white background. Art historians believe Roman painters directly copied these from famous, lost Hellenistic and Classical Greek panel paintings.

Graphic Historic Evidence: The walls contain ancient graffiti scratched into the plaster by original occupants, guests, or servants, providing a raw glimpse into daily Roman domestic life.

Associated Masterpieces:

Stuccoes and Mosaics The frescoes were only one part of the villa’s multimedia sensory experience:

When the Casa della Farnesina was discovered in 1879 along the banks of the Tiber River, 19th-century Italian engineers and archaeologists faced an urgent crisis. The ancient structure sat directly in the path of the massive new river embankments (muraglioni) being built to prevent devastating floods in Rome. Because the brick and mortar structures could not be salvaged, archaeologists relied on a meticulous, high-risk conservation practice known as wall painting detachment (distacco delle pitture murali).

At the time, this was executed through three foundational methods, varying by how deeply the wall behind the fresco was cut:1. The Stacco Technique (Plaster Detachment)This was the primary method used for the large, flat walls of the Casa della Farnesina.The Process: Conservators glued protective layers of heavy cotton canvas or linen strings (intelaggio) over the face of the painting using strong animal glue or flour paste. Once dry, the team carefully used long, thin chisels, specialized iron spatulas, and levers behind the wall.The Result: They separated the uppermost painted layer along with its undercoat of preparatory plaster (intonaco and arriccio) cleanly away from the underlying stone or brick masonry.

The Vaulted Stuccoes: Along with the wall panels, archaeologists saved highly detailed plaster ceiling relief sculptures (stuccoes). They showcase scenes of initiation rites, rural life, and mythical creatures carved with such low-profile elegance that they perfectly mirrored the delicate third-style paintings below.

The Mosaics: The floors featured stark, black-and-white geometric mosaics designed to structurally balance the intense colors of the walls.

I don’t know if you are like me, but when AI asked if I had any other questions, of course I did. How, I asked, were these frescoes detached from the ruins?

When the Casa della Farnesina was discovered in 1879 along the banks of the Tiber River, 19th-century Italian engineers and archaeologists faced an urgent crisis. The ancient structure sat directly in the path of the massive new river embankments (muraglioni) being built to prevent devastating floods in Rome. Because the brick and mortar structures could not be salvaged, archaeologists relied on a meticulous, high-risk conservation practice known as wall painting detachment (distacco delle pitture murali). 

At the time, this was executed through three foundational methods, varying by how deeply the wall behind the fresco was cut: 

1. The Stacco Technique (Plaster Detachment)

This was the primary method used for the large, flat walls of the Casa della Farnesina. 

• The Process: Conservators glued protective layers of heavy cotton canvas or linen strings (intelaggio) over the face of the painting using strong animal glue or flour paste. Once dry, the team carefully used long, thin chisels, specialized iron spatulas, and levers behind the wall. 
• The Result: They separated the uppermost painted layer along with its undercoat of preparatory plaster (intonaco and arriccio) cleanly away from the underlying stone or brick masonry. 

2. The A Massello Technique (Full-Wall Extraction)

For intricate architectural corners, fragile architectural mockups, and the heavily contoured, three-dimensional vaulted ceilings (stuccoes), the stacco method was too risky. Instead, they used the ancient a massello method.

The Process: Workers constructed heavy wooden cages, structural braces, and support frames directly against the face of the fresco to absorb shock.

The Result: Laborers used heavy-duty saws and chisels to physically cut through the entire brick wall behind the painting. They extracted the fresco along with its massive, heavy stone-and-mortar structural backing intact. While it preserved the artwork perfectly, it resulted in massive, incredibly heavy blocks that required immense manpower to hoist out of the muddy Tiber mud pits.

3. The Strappo Technique (Pigment Tearing)

Though less frequently chosen for the Casa della Farnesina due to the high quality of the ancient mortar, the strappo technique was a highly popularized 19th-century innovation used when walls were too structurally decayed to chisel.

The Process: Conservators applied an ultra-strong animal glue to a heavy canvas layer on the fresco.

The Result: Once dried, they literally tore (strappare) the topmost paint film directly off the plaster backing. The pigment layer peeled off like a sticker, sticking entirely to the canvas fabric while leaving the ancient white plaster entirely blank on the wall.

Post-Extraction Re-mounting Once the panels were successfully pulled from the Tiber banks, the temporary canvas facings on the front were dissolved using hot water and alcohol sprays. The fragile plaster panels were then carefully stabilized by gluing them onto wooden lattices, wire meshes, or lightweight canvas canvas panels.

This allowed the National Roman Museum to reassemble them decades later into the full-scale rooms viewed by visitors today.

When in Rome, you must visit this museum!

You may recall me telling you that I went to Rome on a mission in August of 2026. I made a special trip just to see this gorgeous Hellenistic relief sculpture of The Birth of Aphrodite. I wrote about it here: https://getbacklauretta.com/2026/09/20/palazzo-altemps-museo-nazionale-romano/

But when I got to the museum, this sign told me the sculpture was not on view. (Truth be told, I didn’t notice the sign. I went through the museum looking for the relief sculpture, couldn’t find it, asked about it, and was told it was on loan to Athens. Then I saw the sign. Haha. Typical.)

So, making the best of a trip to Rome to see fabulous sculpture, after filling my eyes, mind and heart with all the gorgeous artwork at the Palazzo Altemps, I left, had a delicious lunch of spaghetti carbonara seated al fresco in Rome, and went on to pay my first ever visit to the Palazzo Massimo alle Terme, another one of the 4 incredible museums directed by the National Museum in Rome. The Palazzo Massimo is such a treasure house, How fortunate the world is for these repositories!

And, was I ever rewarded!

Just look with this beautiful group of sculpted maenads!

Maenad, priestesses of the god Dionysus

Feast your lucky eyes!

And, in the same gallery, were a few other examples of this period of Greek originals, all as lovely as the one before.

Ah! the loveliness of these figures! But it is the way the draperies are handled that takes my breath away. How mind-blowing it is that they survive at all!

The day I visited the church and took these pictures was on a Monday (after I spent an hour at the American Consulate renewing my passport). When I walked into the church I saw this prayer book open to Monday of the 21st week (I’m not sure: the 21st week of what?)

Among the other things that caught my eye this day was the pulpit on the side of the nave. I assume it would have been on the congregations side of the former rood screen, that no longer exists (again, I assume. That’s the norm for these churches with ancient origins).

Looking up at the ceiling frescoes:

Interestingly, there is a small adjacent chapel that has its own entrance from the street. I don’t believe it has ever been open when I have been here previously. It was definitely worth a look.

The ceiling alone of this chapel was quite something!

And from the transept, a door was open to the church’s cortile, which I for sure have never seen before. I’ve probably always been here during cold weather and this door would of course be shut. Sadly the courtyard was not accessible, but I hope to find it open another time because it looks lovely!

And finally, for this post, another part of the church was open and that is not always the case. It is the former sacristy and it is decorated with very interesting frescoes.

Below: Tadeo Gaddi’s Crucifixion with Mary Magdalene

And, fascinatingly, the study for the Tadeo Gaddi fresco exists and is displayed!

Pietro Nelli, Resurrection, c. 1400

Annunciation from c. 1370 by the Master of the Barberino

As I was exiting the sacristy, I looked up and was rewarded with this striking fresco.

It’s obviously a fascinating church and I will go back again and again, until it is ingrained in me.

I love this church for these reasons: it is home to

1 crucifix by Giotto

2 frescoes by Ghirlandaio

1 fresco by Botticelli

and two important people are buried here (among many others) : Botticelli and Amerigo Vespucci.

The Chiesa di San Salvatore di Ognissanti, or more simply Chiesa di Ognissanti is a Franciscan church founded by the lay order of the Umiliati, the church was dedicated to all the saints and martyrs, known and unknown. How’s that for inclusive?

If you would like to read more about the church, I’ve provided this synopsis which appears just inside the doorway. It’s pretty fascinating.

And, most importantly for anyone who loves Italian Renaissance art! Did you know one of the earliest masterpieces housed in the Uffizi is Giotto’s Madonna Enthroned or Maesta (this particular representation of the Virgin, enthroned and surrounded by a court-like company, is called a Maesta) 1310, created for the Ognissanti. That’s right, the first painting you really ever see at the Uffizi was created for this church.

Ok, you have your bearings? Let’s look at my favorite art works in the church:

First up: Ghirlandaio’s combination fresco of The Madonna of the Misericordia at top, and his Mourning over the Body of Christ in the lower register, both painted c. 1475

And the 2nd Ghirlandaio fresco: St. Jerome in the Study, 1480.

Next, the fresco by Botticelli from 1480, St. Augustine in his Study.

And then there’s the crucifix by Giotto!

Now for the two burial plaques in the pavement showing where the 2 luminaries are interred.

Amerigo Vespucci, the Florentine whose name would become very important in the making of the New World.

And Sandro Botticelli’s final resting place:

These are just my favorite parts of this important church. There are many more parts that are deserving of mention, and I’ll be writing about a few more of them soon in part 2.

Ci vediamo! I’ll be seeing you!

Once in a while something so interesting passes across my field of vision that I must simply share it. This is one of those things.

https://theconversation.com/palaces-and-the-pope-the-fascinating-story-of-how-renaissance-rome-was-rebuilt-290876

I hope you like it!

In late August, I came to Rome on a mission. I failed.

But I made the best of it and found replacements that sufficed while my original mission is postponed.

Confused? I’ll explain.

First you need to know: There is a great family of 4 museums in Rome, administered under the name and authority of the Museo Nazionale Romano. One of the 4 locations overseen is the Palazzo Altemps, a stone’s throw from the Piazza Navona.

It was in this palazzo that my mission was supposed to occur.

Many years ago, when I was an art historian in training at the beginning of my career, I fell in love in Rome. It was not with a handsome Latin man, though. It was with this work of art, known as The Birth of Aphrodite from the so-called Ludovisi Throne.

The relief is part of this marble confection.

When I came upon the sculpture, I almost fainted from the beauty of it. You think I’m exaggerating but I am not. I’ve had a physical reaction to a work of art 3 times in my life. This was the first one. I simply thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen and was overcome with sensation. The 2nd time was not even with the work of art itself, but a color slide of Simone Martini’s Annunciation. When my art history professor showed us this slide in a course on Italian art, I nearly fell out of my chair, I was so overcome by the sheer beauty of it. Later, when I made it to Florence for the first time and saw the work in person, I felt almost as strongly; for sure it is still one of my favorite artworks ever. The 3rd time I had a physical reaction to an artwork was still in the Uffizi. When I encountered Michelangelo’s painting of The Holy Family, the so-called Doni Tondo, I jumped backwards because I felt that Joseph’s left elbow was jutting out into my space and was about to hit me. Seriously. I was exhausted when I was walking through the museum and certainly it would have been summer or a hot fall and the heat combined with the tiredness I was feeling made me have a physical reaction to the master’s painting. Those are the 3 times I’ve had physical reactions to a work of art.

Believe it or not, I had never seen the Ludovisi relief of Aphrodite again since that first encounter. I always wanted to. But if you’ve been to Rome you will know: it would take a lifetime to see everything housed in the city. I’ve been to Rome countless times, now, and I still have not seen everything I want to see. Retracing my steps to see Aphrodite just never happened.

And then this visit, I made it my priority, my mission:

The name “throne” was attributed at the time of the discovery in 1887 in Rome in the area of ​​the Villa Ludovisi. Considered to be the throne of a divinity or the enclosure of a colossal cult statue or a stair balustrade, the work has also been referred to as the crowning of an altar or a base on which, on special occasions, the simulacrum of the divinity could be placed.

The stylistic analysis of the relief and the comparisons with terracotta votive plaques from Magna Graecia date to the period 460-450 B.C. the sculpture, perhaps coming from the sanctuary of Aphrodite in Lokri Epizefiri, on the Ionian coast of Calabria, or, according to another hypothesis, from the Sicilian sanctuary of Aphrodite in Erice. Its presence in Rome was in fact connected to the republican temple of Venus Erycina located just outside an urban gate, Porta Collina, later incorporated into the Horti (gardens) of Julius Caesar.

But, after all my hype: Guess what!

That’s right, the relief was not on view! I nearly fainted from disappointment!

One of the employees at Palazzo Altemps told me the sculpture I had come on purpose to see is currently on loan to Athens and will be back in a year! If I had a nickel for every time I have been to a place in Italy to see something specific, only to find it being restored or removed temporarily, I would be a very rich woman.

But, I knew this museum had to have something to make the visit worthwhile, and I set out to find it/them. It was successful.

This building was an aristocratic palace, and some of the rooms are still quite like they must have been in the building’s heyday.

I’d have to say, while much of the ancient statuary on display here was truly spectacular, it was this frescoed loggia on the piano nobile that took my breath away.

But the sculpture was also quite wonderful to see and enjoy.

Ha ha, I’m sorry, but even an art historian can laugh at the placement of this fine, ancient statue! He’s been set here to direct people up the stairs, in my mind at any rate. What do you think?

But, let’s get serious again.

Fabulous, absolutely fabulous ancient sarcophagus.

As fireplaces go, this one is pretty amazing!

Above, every fine palazzo needs its own chapel, no? I noticed the inscription, shown below, on the ceiling when I walked into the chapel.

Well worth a visit, I’ll be going back in a year’s time to hopefully see the Birth of Aphrodite relief sculpture!

I recently posted about The Boxer, an incredible Greek antique sculpture housed in Rome (https://getbacklauretta.com/2026/09/17/the-boxer-an-undisputed-masterpiece-of-ancient-greek-sculpture/). This work, the so-called Hellenistic Prince, was discovered about a month earlier than The Boxer in 1885, within the same area of Rome. It also appeared to have been purposely buried in antiquity, probably to protect it from pillaging.

Both life-sized sculptures are now housed in the Palazzo Massimo alle Terme in Rome, where they are beautifully displayed within a very rich collection of ancient art.

This work probably dates to the 2nd century BCE and was created using the lost-wax casting technique. The eyes would have been made of other material and inserted after the cast was complete, but they are now lost.

The statue portrays a nude young man with traces of a beard, leaning on a spear in what is called an “heroic pose,” taken from Lysippos’ Heracles. Some scholars believe that the young man is actually a Roman general, portrayed by a Greek artist working in Rome.

The detailing is spectacular. The presence of this person is incredible.

This collection is absolutely outstanding! I can’t wait to return and study everything in more detail. I count my lucky stars that I am able to live near such art.

This is the facade of the great Roman church: Sant’ Ignazio di Loyola, which I think is my favorite religious building in all of Rome. And that is saying something, because there are dozens of incredible churches in the Eternal City.

But today it is the piazza of the same name that I want to discuss. This square is without doubt my favorite outdoor urban space in this incredible city. The large church facade of course dominates the space, but when you step out of the church and look across the rectangular piazza, your eyes feast upon an intimate yet theatrically designed Rococo urban space created by architect Filippo Raguzzini in 1727. To me this dramatic urban space seems to just call out for an operatic performance to be held.

The space sits tightly integrated within the historic Campus Martius neighborhood, framed by narrow medieval and Baroque streets such as the Via de’Burro. When you walk through the space, passing in, by, and around the little palazzi, you find changing but interesting points of view as you look toward the monumental facade of the church.

I’ve recently posted twice so far about the church. One was just a quick introductory look, pictures taken when I was walking through Rome with a Roman who had his own ideas about what to look at in the building. The 2nd post were photos and text from my following visit, when I had lots of time and no one else to think about. I was able sit and look for as long as I wanted and believe me, I wanted a long time!

And, finally, today’s post, which is dedicated to this fabulous, unique piazza.

The square functions like an open-air theater set. Standing on the church steps, one feels like they are standing upon a stage, facing an audience. The surrounding residential buildings feature curving, concave facades that wrap around the small square like an amphitheater. Locals nicknamed the unique curving structures il canterano (the chest of drawers) or burrò (from the French bureau) because their rounded shapes resemble 18th-century furniture. The intimate, closed-in geometry of the surrounding domestic palazzi contrasts sharply with the massive, towering travertine façade of the church itself.

The architectural setting around the Church of Saint Ignatius of Loyola (Chiesa di Sant’Ignazio di Loyola) in Rome is one of the world’s premier examples of deliberate Baroque and Rococo urban theater.

Rather than sitting isolated or facing an open, standard square, the massive church is integrated into a highly choreographed, compact streetscape designed to shock and awe visitors emerging from narrow alleys.

The most significant component of the architectural setting is Piazza Sant’Ignazio, a legendary public square designed by architect Filippo Raguzzini between 1727 and 1728. Raguzzini laid out the square using an innovative, symmetrical geometry resembling three interlocking ovals.The Burrò Little Palaces: Facing the church are three-story residential buildings designed for the Roman bureaucracy (nicknamed the case da affitto). Their facades feature alternating concave and convex walls that mimic miniature theater backdrops or a set of chest-of-drawers (burrò). The buildings wrap snugly around the square, funneling visitors into a tight space. This deliberately contrasts the warm, cream-and-peach stucco residential architecture against the towering, solemn travertine stone facade of the church.

Who, what, when, where and why?

Filippo Raguzzini (1690 – 1771) was a highly influential Italian architect and the prime champion of the Roman Rococo style. He is widely considered the most brilliant spiritual successor to the legendary Baroque master Francesco Borromini thanks to his revolutionary manipulation of curved walls and complex urban geometries.

Born in Naples into a family of stonemasons, Raguzzini’s life shifted when he went to help rebuild the town of Benevento after a massive 1702 earthquake. There, his talent caught the eye of the Archbishop, Pietro Francesco Orsini. When Orsini became Pope Benedict XIII in 1724, he brought Raguzzini straight to Rome. Raguzzini experienced a dramatic, meteoric rise to the top of the papal architectural establishment, earning knightly honors by 1725.

While the masterfully staged Piazza di Sant’Ignazio remains his crowning achievement, Raguzzini completely reshaped early 18th-century Rome with several other notable structures:

Ospedale di San Gallicano (1724–1726): Located in Trastevere, this sprawling hospital facility was remarkably advanced for its era, highly praised by contemporaries for its innovative layout and integrated ventilation system.

Chiesa della Madonna della Quercia (1727–1731): Built near Palazzo Spada, this small church for the butchers’ guild serves as a textbook example of Rococo church architecture, using delicate concave lines along its compact facade.

Birth of the Roman Palazzina: The three signature apartment houses Raguzzini built to frame Piazza di Sant’Ignazio fundamentally birthed the concept of the modern Roman palazzina—compact, courtyard-free residential apartment blocks tailored to the city’s rising administrative class.

The elegant Chapel of San Domenico within the church Santa Maria sopra Minerva,

Remodeled the facade of San Sisto Vecchio,

Was even involved in structural restorations of the Spanish Steps in 1731

Though Raguzzini fell somewhat out of favor after his papal patron died in 1730, he served as a municipal architect for another 40 years. His willingness to blend formal geometric systems with casual, undulating residential shapes broke the rigid structural rules of his time, transforming city blocks into dynamic interactive art.

In the coming weeks, it is my plan to get back to Rome and familiarize myself with these other notable buildings by Raguzzini. This has opened an entirely new avenue of happiness in learning for me!

Alla prossima!

The false dome of the Church of Saint Ignatius of Loyola in Rome is one of the world’s most celebrated masterpieces of trompe-l’œil (fool the eye) and quadratura (illusionistic perspective painting). Painted by Jesuit lay brother, mathematician, and artist Andrea Pozzo between 1685 and 1694, it mimics a soaring, ribbed architectural cupola on a completely flat surface.

The original architectural blueprints by Orazio Grassi called for a grand, physical stone dome over the church transept crossing. However, two major complications halted its construction:

1. By 1642, the Jesuit Order had completely run out of funds allocated for the structure.

2. The massive height of the planned dome sparked protests from the neighboring Dominican monastery, as it threatened to completely block light from reaching their extensive library.

Rather than leaving the interior roof flat and bare, Pozzo was commissioned to paint a 13-meter-wide canvas that would simulate the missing architecture.