Restoration of a Trullo, Puglia

In September, I spent a month working with a restoration team in Southern Italy rebuilding a trullo. Trullis are conical dry stone buildings which are only found in a small area of Puglia. We were restoring one on a residential property just outside Ceglie Messapica. It was quite a diverse international team and a challenge not only to complete the project but also to work in harmony together and with our Italian Trullaro.

Trullis have 2 layers from the ground to the peak. The circular base and walls have to be wide enough to support the roof which means that the room size inside is quite small compared with the diameter of the structure. The inner roof is made up of corbled stones, each one is dressed on all six sides to create a smooth inner cone. The outer roof is made up of chianche or tile-like stones. These are also dressed to fit together and prevent water ingress. The two layers are held together with skill, gravity and harting stones.

We ate incredible local food, swam in a perfect blue sea, explored a huge ghost city, made pasta shaped abstractly like ears, drank red wine and laved in olive oil.

Inner cone of a trullo in need of restoration

Lintel of an inner door, linking two trulli

Taking advantage of rare steps up the roof to do some yoga on top of an ancient trullo.

Alberobello, UNesco heritage site

Wine

Day 1, 60's additon of cement render affected the integrity of the chianche

Love limestone

After removing the cement and the chianche

Chianche laid out for reuse

Dressing a new chianche
For more details, watch this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-wjj8XDFa4

Selecting the perfect chianche

The peak to aim for

Our Trullaro, Mario, checking the angle of the laid stone

Harting

Grapes for this season's vintage

The corbled walls of a new 'Scottish Trullo'

Ripe figs PYO

The Team

Blissful evening after working hard

Pomegrate PYO

Applying lime plaster

An olive tree growing up through a ruined trullo

An organic olive grove, dotted with ruins

I was working in collaboration with Thea Alvin of My Earthwork, Amanda Roelle of Archistrati and Norman Haddow of Walls Without Mortar. It was an honour.

This month was transformative and I want to share Thea's words with you.

"There is something quite magical, literally, about Italy. It simply exists, it doesn’t boast, or flaunt, though surely, it has fathered and mothered masters of all genres. It doesn’t hold itself loftily above others, though its pedestal is pretty tall.

Italy, my Italy, is one filled with a timeless feeling of wanting to contribute to its effortless lineage of stone, of stone art, of small works, nothing masterful, of the daily, every day workings, the things that make life real and rich.

Crushing thyme on my slippered feet, I walk below the bay tree setting the table in a vineyard for dinner, this night, mid summer, we serve 18. The meal is still in the kitchen and an 8 year old Italian set of golden curls wildly bundled and wrapped in something velvet and tasseled helps me, correcting my diction, and putting the forks on the proper side of the plate. She abruptly rejects a spotted wine glass, and seriously delivers the water pitchers with their beaded lace coverlets. The train from Switzerland screams through the valley and the Churches in town begin to ring out seven peals. Dinner in an hour, the roses, ripe right on time, the pears and figs and plums too. The grapes are heavy on the vine, but they need another month or so until its time, and tray upon tray of tomatoes were carefully split and laid to dry in the sun. It’s so deep in layers of sensation, that the top or the bottom is intertwined and the flavors that soak into my skin and heart can be recalled even now, in early spring with such real authenticity, that I well with tears. This place has so formed me, transformed me, informs me. These mountains, these hearty joyful people, this music, the wine, the stone. The language of place. The shape of the smell... We sit there for hours and hours sharing the meal, laughing, crying sometimes, but above all, soaking it in. all of it, each one of the parts of it, soaking it in until saturated and we begin to swim in it and splash in it.

Italy, this Italy is rich in something so tangible, so non materialistic. It is fluent in love. It speaks the language of art, and this is such a simple verse. It speaks of lizards on white washed plastered walls. It speaks of palm trees hosting visiting owls. Its splashing rivers diverted momentarily, create pools and basins to enjoy, to dip ones hands into the cold freshness and absorb the moment to hold against the tedium, the tears, the labour of all the balance of the days."

Rolling Stones