After the episode dedicated to the illustrations of the collective The Palermitaner, we return to the world of art. This time, we spoke with the successful photographer Federico Cannata, who told us his story and how his professional journey began in Modica, a small town in eastern Sicily, before taking him to Milan.

From a town of around 50,000 inhabitants in the deep south of Italy to the stages of Milan, Federico continues to build his career without ever forgetting the land where he was born. We were particularly drawn to his photographic project Sicilitudine (a title crafted out of an invented word from the artist, which would roughly translate to “Sicilianity”), for the striking beauty of the images he captured in Sicily.

Thirty-six years old, Federico was born into what he describes as a “humble” family, with a strong passion for cinema. He defines himself as “always fascinated by beauty,” a fascination that began in childhood at the circus. Later, with his first camera and his earliest shots taken around Modica, this fascination turned into a true passion.

His classmates often paid the price, becoming models whenever needed, while garages and basements were transformed into makeshift sets and the streets of Modica became the backdrop for scenes to be immortalized.

Federico’s dream, however, was to become a fashion photographer. Despite his precarious financial situation, he refused requests to shoot parties and weddings. One evening, at a friend’s birthday party, he noticed that a large number of copies of Vogue magazine were about to be thrown away. He spent the entire evening leafing through them, then took several home, studied them carefully, tore out the pages that inspired him most, and hung them on the walls of his house. His dream now felt tangible: to appear in Vogue. Shortly afterward, an opportunity presented itself—a competition for young photographers, with the winning images published on the magazine’s website. After a year of unsuccessful attempts, he nearly gave up. But in his basement in Modica, decorated with fabrics bought at the market, he took two final shots that put him over the top. The next day, he saw his photographs on the homepage of Vogue Italia’s website, a moment that still makes his eyes sparkle.

From then on, his rise was meteoric: Fashion Week, collaborations with the most renowned fashion brands, and features in the most important magazines. One of the defining traits of his photography is its deep connection to Sicily, to which he has devoted the Sicilitudine project, a series of powerful black-and-white images. To explore his work, you can visit his Instagram profile or email him at ti.liamtoh@atannacociredef to receive a detailed catalogue of the Sicilitudine project.

In his work, Federico deliberately seeks out “dirt” and “grain”—the imperfections that give rise to a grainy aesthetic—which he finds in crumbling walls and in “the backs of vans parked at markets.” “This project is not aimed only at Sicilians,” Federico explains, “but also at those who leave Sicily, and at all those who are struck by Sicilianity—those who perceive this land as something special.” He lives in Milan for his work in the fashion world, but regularly returns to his hometown of Modica. “Milan makes me suffer and Sicily makes me angry,” he adds, “because there is no awareness of its beauty.” His photographs, however, help to create that awareness.

The scenes he portrays are highly evocative, reminiscent of images from another era: children playing soccer or hide-and-seek, elderly women sewing, clothes hanging out to dry along the street. Federico’s work depicts a Sicily that seems to belong to the past, yet still exists—a collection of moments from distant times that remain alive and meaningful today. In an age dominated by social media and an endless flow of images, both real and AI-generated, these photographs allow us to rediscover the beauty of photography itself: an art form that defies time and freezes moments for eternity. Looking at Federico’s images, it becomes clear that this is something we deeply need, and it is no coincidence that his work is so warmly received by the public. Photography, combined with the “slowness” so characteristic of Sicily, creates a blend that conveys serenity, calm, and peace.

The post “Sicilitudine”: The Soul of Sicily Through Federico Cannata’s Lens appeared first on JustSicily.

The new episode of Windows on Sicily focuses on a recently published collection of illustrations dedicated to the city of Palermo. It’s called The Palermitaner, a project launched in 2021 by artist Flavia D’Anna, a young woman born in the Sicilian capital. Flavia now lives in Barcelona and works in the marketing department of a large multinational company, but art has always been at the center of her world — a passion inherited from her parents.

Our conversation with her was a blend of images, politics, and deep truths about our city. Artists, as we know, have a particular way of perceiving reality; they see what others do not see and hear what others do not hear. Flavia lives, breathes, and notices art everywhere. Observation is her primary source of inspiration, a way of moving through the world that offers a social and political narrative unlike that of many others.

During lockdown, she found herself confined to her home in Barcelona, unsure how to fill her time. So she decided to channel both her frustration with that period and her enduring love for the city where she was born. Inspired by existing projects — The Tokyoiter, The Parisianer, The Napolitaner, and others — themselves reminiscent of the iconic magazine The New Yorker, she created a version dedicated to Palermo.

She began with her own illustrations and then expanded the project by inviting other artists to contribute, a progression that can be traced by scrolling through the project’s Instagram page.

We met with Flavia in a bar in the center, in Via Roma, next to the Teatro Biondo. She is leaving after spending the Christmas holidays in the city and is ready to return to Barcelona. Despite her love for Palermo, Flavia cannot bring herself to return to live there, as it is too “ruthless” and “neglected by the authorities.”

But the project stems from another consideration of hers, Palermo’s resistance to being neatly summed up — it just can’t be categorized or boxed in. The very aesthetic traits of its inhabitants are an example of this: “We’re all different. I’m blonde and you’re dark, for example,” she rightly says. Flavia adds to this heterogeneity a critique of the city’s cultural decline, where stereotyped symbols “that no one feels are their own” take center stage — cannoli and citrus fruits above all.

The (very successful) aim, then, is to create through illustration an authentic symbolism made of places, people, and habits typical of Palermo’s inhabitants — all of them anything but ordinary. The project tells stories of the city’s identity in which anyone can genuinely recognize themselves. There is an illustration dedicated to the 806 bus line to Mondello beach, one to the Palermo distillate Anice Tutone (drawn by Flavia), another showing a boy on a moped towing a horse, and a depiction of Piazza Garraffello in the old Vucciria district, a place where, until a few years ago, parties lasted until dawn. These and many other scenes emblematic of Palermo and its people make up the fifty splendid illustrations gathered in the book, which will soon be available for purchase in various formats on the Forward Edizioni website.

“The purpose of the project is this: to bring everyone together around something that unites us rather than divides us. A Palermitan is not only someone born here, but someone who embraces its nuances,” Flavia tells us.

“Poetry,” she adds, “comes from those who live in harsh realities, from the less educated classes who face difficulties and must survive.” But she cautions: “We must not define an ‘us’ and a ‘them.’ The problem lies in imagining ourselves as a different social class. We are Palermitans.”

The conversation drifted into political territory, though without the exclusionary edge that politics often carries. We try to press her a little on this.

“Everything is politics,” she replies. “Any topic that reaches everyone’s attention, any voice that reaches everyone’s attention, is political. The way you live your sexuality is political, the way you shop, what you watch, how you dress.”

Yet Flavia prefers not to frame her ambitious project in those terms. The Palermitaner is, quite simply, about the people of Palermo — and about those who feel different enough to embrace the city’s complexity.

The post From The New Yorker to The Palermitaner: An Illustrated Portrait of a City appeared first on JustSicily.

Marcello Dell’Oglio is a radiant, happy, elegant man, but above all, he is “serene,” as he says when talking about his life. “We are all a book to be read,” he adds, with his characteristic kindness. Marcello was born in 1961 in Palermo. His father Filippo was a tailor and cutter, and he has never forgotten the motto of the family clothing store: “Dell’Oglio doesn’t just cover you, it dresses you.”

But according to his father, Marcello was not cut out for life as a merchant: he lacked business sense. He gave discounts and deferred payments, “I always put myself in other people’s shoes,” he says–which was a problem for the shop’s finances, but not for his friendships, as he was well-liked by everyone. With the arrival of the euro, it became harder to make ends meet and Marcello was forced to close the shop and start his current career as a condominium doorman. It’s a life that brings him joy.

The building where he works, at Via Notarbartolo 23, is not just any building. It’s where the national hero, Judge Giovanni Falcone lived. Falcone fought against the Mafia until he was brutally murdered on May 23, 1992– in an attack that also claimed the lives of his wife Francesca Morvillo and three of his bodyguards—on a stretch of highway A29 near Capaci, just outside Palermo.

Marcello’s work is anything but ordinary, primarily because of the enormous tree in front of the building: a Ficus Magnolia planted around the 1950s, even before the building was constructed. It was planted there by the owner of the land–unaware of the fate that lay in store for it–who built a reinforced concrete cage around it to limit its expansion.

Despite the cage, the tree continues to thrive, and not only in terms of its roots, leaves, and branches. A few days after the famous judge’s death, a woman left a note to commemorate his life, hanging it on the tree. From there, a tradition was born that continues to this day. The Falcone Tree, as it was renamed, has become a destination for those who want to leave a memento, a poem, a photo, or a phrase dedicated to the fight against the mafia attached to its trunk or branches. Every year, a large event is held in front of the tree in memory of the massacre of May 23. It’s “triple duty” for Marcello: famous guests crowd the concierge’s office and at the end of the event he has a heavy clean up.

This isn’t, however, the only reason why the building is famous, and it’s no coincidence that Marcello has been interviewed by the most important Italian newspapers. Thanks to him, the concierge’s office has become a library, even though there are no formalities of any kind. He created it in 2018 by bringing in some of the books he had at home, then the residents added many more, with the result that there are now about a thousand volumes available to everyone, residents and passers-by alike, in the entrance hall. The library has an area dedicated entirely to the mafia.

Towards the end of our meeting, Marcello tells me how, a couple of years ago, the tree underwent an “MRI scan”, an experiment that took place at 1 a.m., involving numerous experts and blocking the road. The tree was hooked up to a truck which, by pulling on its branches, verified its perfect state of health. Another assessment was made on the roots, which turned out to be about 60 centimeters deep, the minimum size for such a large tree, while the others “no one knows where they go,” Marcello tells us. It’s a curious metaphor for a city that has too often been plagued by mafia abuse: the Falcone Tree is there, and no one knows how far it reaches.

A few years ago, Marcello was awarded a prize for culture. “Me! I’m nobody!” he exclaims humorously. He recalls that when he was in the milittary his supriors told him: “Dell’Oglio, what do you need a shop for? You’re cut out for military life.” We beg to differ with the general, and we’re happy that at Via Notarbartolo 23 there’s a well-dressed man directing visitors to the offices and residences, greeting passers-by and lending books knowing that they will often not be returned. All in all, preserving the memory of Giovanni Falcone.

The post At Judge Falcone’s Former Home, a Doorman Guards Memory and Books appeared first on JustSicily.

According to some estimates, the historic center of Palermo is the largest in Europe, while others place it in third place. But beyond the biased rankings, it has the characteristic of being intricate and extended, unlike, for example, that of Bologna where “not even a child gets lost,” as Lucio Dalla sang. Fortunately, since maps have been available on cell phones, this possibility has been reduced to a minimum: unless you find yourself with a dead smartphone battery, today neither children nor adults get lost anymore. The reason we are talking about the historic center of the Sicilian capital today is to tell you about its guardian deity, a sort of (secular) guardian angel scattered throughout the city in various depictions.

The streets and layout of the center are very unusual. You go from well-kept streets to others in a state of disrepair, from the doorways of luxurious buildings to public housing, from luxury bars and restaurants to street food. Here too, gentrification and the world of B&Bs have taken hold. In this strange and fascinating mix, there is one constant character, depicted in the form of statues and paintings, who appears in the streets and buildings of the city. There are about twenty representations of this character, which visitors may encounter as they wander towards their destinations. We are talking about the Genius of Palermo, a word that derives from the ancient Greek ghenos: genia.

In his representation at Palazzo Pretorio, the Genius is at the center of a basin, which has an inscription in Latin: “Panormus conca aurea suos devorat alienos nutrit.” This phrase has a profound meaning for the city, at least according to its most widespread and accredited interpretation: “Palermo Conca D’oro devours its own and feeds foreigners” It is a motto that describes the location of the city and its fertile plain—the Conca d’Oro—to welcome others, which contrasts with the lack of attention paid to its own inhabitants. In other words, the meaning is that the people of Palermo are much more magnanimous towards others than towards themselves and each other.

There is no credible explanation about who the genius was, but according to a myth reported by ethnologist Giuseppe Pitrè, he was a real person, a shipwreck survivor who decided to live and die in Palermo.

Legend has it that, sometimes, at night, he comes to life.

The first representation of the Genius dates back to 1483 and can be found in an alley in the Vucciria district, but it became more widespread between 1700 and 1800. It can also be found at the port to welcome those arriving by sea, at the Palazzo delle Aquile – the seat of city power– in the splendid Villa Giulia and in many other places. It appears in paintings and frescoes, as in the case of the Royal Palace. The mysterious Genius continues to watch over the city, reminding us of the welcoming spirit that distinguishes it.

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Origins, Identity, and a Sicilian Legacy

Our new feature covers two topics: entrepreneurship and Sicilian nobility. This is a unique blend that is very much present in Sicily, a land where aristocratic palaces and estates abound. To take a closer look at what we are talking about, we turned to Giulia Lanza dei Principi di Scalea, a young woman who combines the management of her family’s inherited properties with her profession as a psychotherapist.

When I arrive at her estate—in Camitrici, near Enna and Caltanissetta—one of the first things we talk about is her origins. A burden, but also a challenge that Giulia has taken on with great enthusiasm. Origins are boring for many, but to a small extent necessary for understanding. This is why Giulia shows us, somewhat reluctantly, a long, narrow parchment listing all the members of her family, the Lanza (or Lancia) family. We spread the very long document out on the ground, not without risking damaging it several times in order to take a few photos. “Chi fur li maggior tui?” (Who were your ancestors?) reads the beginning of the endless document.

“Who were your ancestors?” A question that was asked of Dante during his journey through Hell, recounted in the Divine Comedy. Well, understanding it fully is no easy task for Giulia herself. Not least because the document outlines the family’s development “from 934 to the present day (1907)”… not exactly a walk in the park.

A Family History Echoing The Leopard

The most recent developments, which laid the foundations for Giulia to become the owner of the Camitrici estate today, are reminiscent of the marriage between Angelica and Tancredi, recounted in Giuseppe Lanza Tomasi di Lampedusa’s famous novel, The Leopard. Set at the turn of the 19th century, following the unification of Italy in 1861, the story tells of the arranged marriage between a commoner and an aristocrat. “If we want everything to remain as it is, everything must change,” reads the famous phrase that has become an annoying cliché, which the enterprising Tancredi addresses to his aristocratic and traditionalist uncle in an attempt to convince him of the need to go along with events and turn them to his advantage. Among these events is his marriage to the daughter of the clumsy Calogero Sedarà who, with awkward manners but precise methods, tries to certify his rise into high society.

The union between Angelica and Tancredi was the literary archetype of what was common practice at the time. A similar story dates back to the second half of the 19th century, when Camitrici was owned by a farmer who had made his fortune. In Giulia’s case, the family of non-aristocratic origin was that of Annita Drogo, whom her farmer father gave in marriage to Niccolò Lanza di Scalea. The marriage, which was troubled, did not produce any heirs, which is why Annita left her estates to her nephews. Among them was Giuseppe Lanza dei Principi di Scalea, Giulia’s father.

Land, Work, and the Weight of Social Status Today

After continuing, without effort, to understand the family’s story, we arrive at the reason why Giulia opens the door of her beautiful home in Camitrici, in the center of the Lanza di Scalea farm. We visit it far and wide. The main production is that of about 750 olive trees, which give life to an extraordinary extra virgin olive oil, available for purchase both in Italy and overseas (giulialanzadiscalea1@gmail.com). Pomegranates, wheat, garlic, and onions are also grown. More recent, and still ongoing, is the attempt to cultivate pistachios.

Today, Giulia occupies a particular social position, that of someone who sees her life burdened by a mixture of inscrutability and practicality. What is inscrutable is her social “status”, which is no longer what it once was but is still present. What does it mean today to belong to a noble family in Sicily? On a social level, very little or nothing. Legal protection for the nobility was abolished in 1948 with the adoption of the Republican Constitution. “If I call a restaurant, they’ll probably give me a better table,” says my friend Giulia, who has also been the target of hatred and envy from fellow citizens, which sometimes pops up like mushrooms on social media. Giulia is well aware of her privileges and does not hide behind excuses or justifications that have more to do with religion than reality. “I don’t have to climb the social ladder or anything else, because chance would have it that I was born into this situation.” Attributing the family you are born into to chance seems like democratic idea to me: being aware of your privilege, means treating it differently, not judging negatively those who, in the absence of similar factors, have to work harder to make their own way.

A Modern Heir Balancing Legacy and Reality

Giulia, now in her thirties, is an example of delicacy and sobriety, shunning the typical pompous behavior of some of her “colleagues,” who are intent on dragging along, with precise results, the practices of their ancestors. Giulia, in accepting this strange legacy conferred on her by history, has managed to skillfully combine thoughtfulness and intelligence in the difficult choices she has made. If, as we said, social status is not very concrete today, real estate is very concrete indeed. She is now the owner of the beautiful Villa Scalea in Palermo—that also welcomes paying visitors—and the Contrada Camitrici estate. The latter’s land, by the way, is cultivated entirely organically. These are splendid places, to say the least, which Giulia manages with her mother Benedetta. Two women in the presence of eight hard-working employees, refreshed during their olive harvesting process with pizza and, sometimes, a few beers.

Our Giulia is also one of the very few heirs of the Florio family—due to another branch of the complex family tree, which is why she is called upon to attend or cut the ribbons at certain inaugurations. The latter is much less concrete. To quote the phrase from The Leopard: everything has changed for Giulia compared to her ancestors. But something has remained the same.

The post Giulia Lanza dei Principi Scalea, Blending Sicilian Nobility and Entrepreneurship appeared first on JustSicily.

For the people of Palermo, Mondello is better than the Caribbean. Whether this is true or not, we can’t say, but it’s certainly not far off. Especially on a mid-autumn day, with no rain and at most a few clouds slightly blocking the sun’s rays.

With these elements—the most important being that summer is already far behind us–the Gulf of Mondello is, without exaggeration, breathtakingly beautiful: a natural inlet with crystal clear water and sand just a stone’s throw from Palermo, about 7 miles away, depending on the area of the city. Mondello is nestled between Monte Pellegrino and the Capo Gallo nature reserve, which guard and protect its waters, which are always calm.

The word Mondello, is thought to derive from Arabic, in which it means marsh. The gulf was indeed marshy and there was a port there, but it was later reclaimed and became a fashionable resort between the 19th and 20th centuries. The Palermo elite built their summer residences there in the characteristic ‘Liberty’ style, transforming what was until then a fishing village into a place that beame not only popular but also elitist.

Outside the summer season, the beach that from May to September is crowded with people enjoying its attractions is almost completely accessible. But, regardless of the season, it is a magnificent place to take long walks on the sand, soak up some sun, enjoy a delicious lunch of local fish or an aperitif in the bars that line the beach. The main square is a hub of street food and trendy restaurants. An excellent compromise between the two is the Trattoria da Piero, an exceptional seafood restaurant.

Mondello is a district of Palermo which can be reached by crossing the “Favorita,” a park that functions as the natural lung of the city, which, incidentally, is larger than New York’s Central Park. This fishing village and chic resort is first and foremost a place where approximately 12,000 people live. There are schools, supermarkets, greengrocers, and other shops, a calm and peaceful place where many choose to live in order to escape, at least in part, the hustle and bustle of the city.

The beach is beautiful, and sometimes we Palermitans forget this because of the summer crowds. I walk from one end to the other, savoring the feeling of peace conveyed by the small waves breaking on the sand.

I walk away and, while visiting the village and shooting some pictures, I come across a chestnut vendor. I film him without being seen, but he notices. He is preparing the “caliaturi”, the special embers typical of Palermo, which are used to roast chestnuts. At first, he pretends not to notice. Then he asks, “Who are you making this video for?” I reply that it’s a video to tell tourists about Palermo. “Tourists already know that!” he says.

Well, for those who don’t know, this is a way to find out. I wave goodbye, he returns the greeting, and I leave.

The post Mondello: Palermo’s Caribbean Beach on a November Afternoon appeared first on JustSicily.

After telling the story of the tiny, “non-touristy” hamlet of Granieri, we move a few kilometers towards the municipality of Caltagirone, of which Granieri is a hamlet. Caltagirone, which is in the province of Catania, is about an hour away from the latter and two and a half hours from Palermo. This municipality of about 35,000 inhabitants is known not only for its beauty but also for its splendid, thousand-year-old production of ceramic artifacts. The economy and life of the inhabitants of Caltagirone, who are proud of their art, revolve around this craft.

The Origins of Ceramic Art

The tradition that has made the town of Caltagirone famous dates back to the Neolithic period, with ancient artifacts still in existence, as well as others dating back to the period between the 7th and 5th centuries BC. The abundance of clay soil surrounding Caltagirone made the birth of this production possible. Ceramic production slowed down between the Roman and Byzantine periods, but found a new era of splendor with the arrival of the Arabs in 827 AD, who were responsible for importing the revolutionary techniques of glazing and polychromy, specifically yellow and blue, which are still today the characteristic colors of these ceramics known throughout Italy. The current name also derives from the Arabs: Kalat al Giarun, which according to some versions, means “hill of pots”. Ancient documents testify to the presence of over 100 ceramic workshops in 1500, but in 1693 eastern Sicily was hit by the terrible Val di Noto earthquake, which caused about 60,000 victims, as well as the inevitable destruction of most of the ceramic works of the time.

The rebirth from the ashes caused by what is considered the strongest earthquake in Italian history took place in the 1700s, a century during which Caltagirone ceramics reached the peak of popularity that they still enjoy today. In those years, the houses and churches of Sicily were flooded by them for the first time. Then, in 1918, Luigi Sturzo, a famous politician from Caltagirone, founded the “Regia Scuola Professionale per la Ceramica” (Royal Professional School of Ceramics), further establishing this town as a true center of production. The inscription on the facade of the school today reads “Scuola Artistico Industriale per la Ceramica Luigi Sturzo” (Luigi Sturzo Industrial Art School for Ceramics).

Inside the Luigi Sturzo Art School

To visit the school, we turn to Samuel, a former student and now a collaborator. The first thing he shows us is a room with a small exhibition of holy water fonts curated by Fabio Gulè, a high school teacher. Inside the room, there is an inscription quoting a document from the Municipality of Caltagirone: “The President, Rev. Luigi Sturzo – Deputy Mayor, reports that the establishment of a ceramics school in Caltagirone has always been an ancient aspiration of the citizens and a real and pressing need of the working class.” The school was in fact industrial in size, aimed at small-scale production. But, as Samuel tells us, this is no longer the case.

Due to the latest school reforms, this school in Caltagirone has lost its practical dimension. Until a few years ago, the three main courses were technology, restoration, and the art of ceramics, so the teaching was entirely devoted to this complex art. Today, multimedia components related to production have taken over, to the detriment of the three courses mentioned above, which are no longer taught. Until recently, there were also many more commissions from outside for the school’s students, who have now lost the pleasure of seeing their work exhibited. In this “perhaps positive or perhaps negative” revolution, as Samuel tells us, the number of students has fallen from 500 in 2010 to around 100 today.

We continue our tour of the beautiful school, a former monastery dedicated to St. Gregory. All the classrooms with production machinery are still there, albeit mostly out of use: there is the glazing room, the press, the spray tank, and much more. From the rooftops, you can see almost the entire town, including the Ceramics Museum, which is currently closed pending its relocation due to the instability of the premises. Unmissable, Mount Etna looms in the distance.

The Art of Caltagirone Lives On

One of the main attractions is the staircase of Santa Maria del Monte, the most evocative place in Caltagirone, consisting of 142 steps whose risers are entirely covered with hand-painted majolica tiles. There are several ceramic producers on the staircase, and we enter one of them, but the lady who personally produces all the artifacts does not want any kind of publicity, so we are only publishing a couple of photos that she allowed us to take. She is not interested in getting rich, but only in participating in this wonderful art. Caltagirone is a must-see, as is buying a piece, large or small, of these splendid creations. In a town that still lives off its art today.

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A Journey into the Sicilian Heartland

The setting for this new episode is a rural area in the Sicilian interior. We are far from the “hot spots” of tourism and more precisely we are in Granieri. In this tiny hamlet of the town of Caltagirone, in the province of Catania, agriculture reigns supreme: olives, broccoli, eggplants, potatoes, but above all table grapes, the area’s flagship product. Granieri is now a village consisting mainly of three streets and two small squares: Via Roma, Via Firenze, Via Torino, Piazza Giovanni Silvestri, and Piazza Orvieto. There are other streets, but the three mentioned above are where life in this small village takes place. The central hub from which the village develops is the Castle, or Magione, of Granieri, a historic place that we will discuss shortly. In Piazza Silvestri, there is also a small municipal delegation from the Municipality of Caltagirone, but nature rules here, with its own pace and strict demands. The inhabitants respond to these demands with hard work.

To get here, we left Palermo and after almost three hours by car, we reached this small village of 400 people. We are welcomed by Giorgio, the son of the owner of most of the castle—which he shares with other members of his family—and the countryside, both purchased by a distant ancestor. Giorgio is a young man of almost thirty, who passionately recounts the history of the castle.

The Story of the Castle

The first owner was Antonio Silvestri, then president of the Court of Palermo, who bought it at auction in 1866 from the state, which had confiscated it from the clergy. There was nothing but land around it. The reason for the purchase was the need to give his son Giovanni, who suffered from asthma, a place to breathe clean air. The castle was completed in 1885, as stated in the inscription at the entrance to the main building. Once he arrived, Antonio gathered men from the surrounding areas to begin farming the land surrounding the castle, which at that time amounted to about 1,200 hectares. After a few years, the Magione had many of the typical features of a town: workers, fields nearby, houses where the farmers and their families lived, a Carabinieri barracks with a small cell for any prisoners, an elementary school, and a small garden for relaxing.

Today, the tiny village of Granieri, some 150 years after Antonio’s purchase, has changed, but not too much. Once upon a time, there was only the lord’s fiefdom, with the master and his farmhands, who were paid partly with the opportunity to live in the farmyard and partly in cash. Then, over the years, particularly from 1930 onwards, Granieri expanded with a few small roads, notably the three mentioned above, which start from the square in front of the castle entrance. As mentioned, around 420 people live here today, and Giorgio is happy to introduce us to village life.

Life in Granieri

Our guide was born and raised in Palermo, where he still lives, commuting between the city and the countryside. “The countryside is a magnificent place, far from the hustle and bustle and stress of the city,” he tells us. Many of his memories are linked to this place where, for about ten years during his childhood, he came to spend his summers playing soccer and riding bikes with the local kids. Those kids have grown up, but Giorgio has the kind of friendship with them that comes from knowing each other since childhood, which is not at all affected by his status in the village.

We sit down for a beer in Granieri’s only bar. At the end of the working day, young and old alike gather here to spend some time together before going home, sipping a drink. Between 6 and 8 p.m. at the Caffè del Borgo, friendliness reigns supreme, and laughter is guaranteed even for those coming from the milder temperatures of city life. We talk about a wide variety of topics, with soccer certainly having its place. But at a certain point, two trucks steal the show.

Granieri is a transit town that even heavy vehicles are forced to pass through. One of these, a huge one, stops and parks on the street in front of the bar. “We’ll look after it for you,” the boys joke to the driver, who hurriedly runs to buy something at the Caffè del Borgo. A moment later, another truck arrives and is forced to stop. The other driver comes running back with a beer in his hand, which everyone sees. A heated discussion ensues on the subject, involving none other than the driver of the other truck, who brakes to have his say to us standing in front of the bar on the sidewalk. The verdict is unanimous and negative: you mustn’t drink anything if you’re driving these vehicles. The driver of the second truck waves from the window and continues on his way.

Peppe, the Poet, and the Call of Nature

Shortly afterwards, we go inside. We were sitting outside before, and we meet a guy called Giuseppe Belluardo, known as Peppe. “He knows three thousand verses of the Divine Comedy by heart,” Giorgio and his friends swear. Shortly afterwards, Peppe is already reciting Purgatory. We applaud, pay, and go to roast a horse meatball—no offense to anyone, but it’s a typical product—and some sausage.

The castle is not open to tourists, but there are some cozy farmhouses in the surrounding area where you can stay. The area is not particularly touristy but is an excellent base for visiting the beautiful surrounding areas of eastern Sicily. Caltagirone is definitely worth a visit, which we will talk about in the next episode.

As mentioned, we are far from the tourist areas, and agriculture reigns supreme here. “Whether I delight you or benefit you, I do not know,” says the personification of Nature in Giacomo Leopardi’s “Dialogue between Nature and an Icelander”… we tried to approach Peppe. To remind us that the employer here is very strict, we have to go to sleep.

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From True Encounters to Imagined Ones

After experiencing Palermo’s multicultural dimension firsthand through the story of its markets and its Arab-Norman architectural and cultural heritage, today we move on to another example that once again reflects foreign influences, but with a slight “twist.”

We’re talking about the Palazzina Cinese, or rather the Palazzina alla Cinese. The difference between the two versions of the name is substantial. In this case, the encounter between cultures was not real, but rather the result of a fashion, a quirk of the time.

The building was constructed at the end of the 1700s at the behest of the nobleman Benedetto Lombardo. Even in the first version of the building, the intention was to create a structure with exotic features, following what was a real fashion at the time. Interest in the Orient arose from trade on the famous Silk Road, followed by direct exchanges from the mid-1500s. By the 1700s, the so-called “Chinoiserie décor”, or “cineserie” in Italian, had spread throughout Europe.

Chinoiserie in Palermo

Despite the name, oriental objects and artifacts came not only from China but also from other Asian countries, Japan, Korea, and Southeast Asia. Thus, the fashion for oriental products and the exaltation of the Orient—criticized, among other things, in Edward Said’s famous book Orientalism—took hold, and Palermo was by no means exempt.

The Sicilian capital was abundantly invaded by a taste for Asian products, porcelain, furniture, and paintings. In the wake of this, the fashion developed of having entire rooms dedicated to Oriental taste within noble palaces, examples of which are the Chinese sitting room in Palazzo Mirto and the Chinese Room in Palazzo dei Normanni.

However, the ultimate expression of this trend in Palermo was the Palazzina alla Cinese, a building entirely dedicated to this fashion. The building, which, as mentioned, already existed, reached its current state under its next owner: none other than Ferdinand III of Bourbon. The sovereign had fled Naples, which had fallen under the control of Napoleon’s France. Having moved there thanks to the welcome he received from the Palermo nobility, Ferdinand commissioned the architect Giuseppe Venanzio Marvuglia to renovate the Palazzina.

The Royal Oriental Fantasy

This resulted in the building that can be visited today, which is entirely in Chinese style. The palace is topped with a pagoda roof and has three floors. On the first floor are the reception hall, the dining room, the king’s bedroom, and that of Queen Maria Carolina. There is also a separate building connected by underground passages, which are not open to visitors today, where the kitchens, stables, and servants’ quarters were located. The dining room with its “Mathematical Table” is very unusual. The table has four seats and a mechanism that, when activated by the servants, raised the dishes without disturbing the royals. Next to each place setting were three cords, each of which, when pulled, signaled a need to the staff below: water, wine, salt. All the rooms feature Chinese-style frescoes by Sicilian painters.

This place between Palermo and the village of Mondello is yet another foreign presence on Sicilian soil. This time, with a little deception…

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The Arab-Norman style is a mixture of three different artistic expressions: Arabic, Byzantine, and Romanesque. This very particular artistic, cultural, and architectural expression was made possible by the Normans, a population of Scandinavian origin who arrived in Sicily from France, or rather, from Normandy. The Normans created a prolific environment for the arts and architecture, giving rise to what came to be known in the 19th century as “Arab-Norman” art. A quick reminder: the Arabs lived in Sicily from the 9th to the 11th century AD, and the Normans from the 11th to the 12th century. The syncretism of artistic expressions derived from the cultures that had succeeded one another in Sicily gave rise to this unique style, celebrated throughout the world and by UNESCO, which in 2015 included it in its World Heritage List. The latter encompasses nine sites, although they do not represent the entirety of Arab-Norman expressions.

Among these nine, we focus on the Royal Palace and its Palatine Chapel and the Cathedral of Palermo. The former is also known as the Norman Palace, while the latter is dedicated to the “Virgin Assumed into Heaven”.

The Norman Palace, which was the seat of Norman power, is now the seat of the Sicilian Region and its parliament. Inside, it encapsulates the history of the city and the successive rulers. In short, it stands on the first settlements of the Carthaginians and on a previous structure from the Arab period. It was then built by the Normans and later modified over the centuries by the Spanish from the mid-16th century and, finally, by the Bourbon kingdom (1734-1860). The palace is beautiful, but its architectural gems from the Norman era are the real highlights, above all the Palatine Chapel.

The Palatine Chapel is considered the highest expression of this particular cultural syncretism. For some, it is the finest artistic example of the interconnection between these cultures that can be found in the Mediterranean countries. It was commissioned by King Roger and consecrated in 1140. Today, it is one of the best-preserved medieval monuments in the world, both from an architectural and decorative point of view. The structure features Byzantine elements, above all the splendid gold mosaics covering the chapel and the depiction of Christ Pantocrator (“who dominates everything”), surrounded by inscriptions in ancient Greek, the liturgical language of the Byzantine Empire. The ceilings, on the other hand, are made of wood and entirely painted by Arab artists. Their very distinctive shape is Islamic and is called Muqarnas. The architectural structure, that is, the layout of the spaces, is Norman: the result is a place that is simply unique in the world.

Another great example of Arab-Norman art is the Cathedral of Palermo, which stood on the site of an early 6th-century Christian basilica, then became a mosque with the arrival of the Arabs until it returned to Christian worship in 1072 under the rule of Robert and Roger of Altavilla. Arabic art is present in the cathedral’s exterior walls and apses, while the crypt was modified during the Norman period. The remains of the Normans are also preserved inside, along with the precious crown of Constance II of Aragon, wife of Frederick II.

These are just two examples of Arab-Norman expression, which can be found mainly in churches, but there are also, for example, the Admiral’s Bridge, the Baths of Cefalà Diana, and the Qanats (underground canals). This syncretism has given Sicily a further, very distinctive artistic polish, almost sealing its vocation as a “land of encounters”.

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