A House Shaped by Time
- Paula Sinclair
- Feb 2
- 4 min read
Alvito is a medieval hill town perched above the Comino Valley, roughly halfway between Rome and Naples, where Lazio begins to give way to the mountains of Abruzzo. With a population of just under 2,500, it is a place shaped by geography and time in equal measure. Stone houses climb the hillside in irregular layers, narrow streets wind upward toward the castle, and daily life unfolds at a pace dictated more by seasons than schedules.
Just below the Castello di Alvito, near a 12th-century church, stands a former rectory that has grown and changed over centuries. Parts of the house are believed to date from the same period as the church itself. Built directly into the slope of the hill, the structure unfolds across multiple levels and carries more than one address, with entrances opening onto different streets at different heights. From the outside, it reveals little of what lies within.
Today, the house is home to Joel and Anja, artists whose lives have unfolded across Germany, the United States, Turkey, and India. When they first encountered the building, it was in poor condition—crumbling, dark, and long neglected. Yet they were immediately drawn to it. Not because it was beautiful in a conventional sense, but because it felt familiar. In its irregular forms, and its layered construction, they were reminded of the heritage buildings they had known in India—structures shaped by necessity, adaptation, and age rather than by symmetry or perfection.
Artists see differently. They are trained—or perhaps simply inclined—to notice subtle shifts in colour and texture: the way plaster fades, how dampness and time create a surface no human hand can truly replicate. Joel and Anja understood how rare that kind of beauty is. And it was precisely that weathered elegance, paired with the sweeping views of the valley below, that spoke to them.
Inside, the house reveals itself slowly. Rooms appear where one does not expect them, connected by narrow stairs and passages that reflect centuries of additions. The kitchen, reached by crossing an outdoor balcony, still holds its original stone sink and an old pizza oven, once used to heat the house during winter months. Below the living spaces lies large cantinas, a natural cave, cool even on the hottest summer days. Beneath that, an old stable—now transformed into a bathroom—retains its original character, its walls finished simply in natural stone.
Throughout the house, traces of earlier lives remain visible. Bedrooms still carry their original cement floors, hand-scored long ago to imitate tiles the earliest owners could not afford. Walls bear subtle variations in colour where plaster has been layered and repaired over time. Rather than erase these signs of age, Joel and Anja chose to preserve them wherever possible, allowing the house’s long history to remain legible.
The furnishings tell a story of movement and memory. Handmade baskets hang in the kitchen. Furniture sourced from Indian antique markets sits comfortably alongside pieces found locally or left behind by previous owners. Handmade tiles frame the kitchen backsplash, created by Joel and his students, others as mementos, collected over years of travel. Family photographs, inherited bedframes, and artwork by Anja or made by relatives are woven into the fabric of the house, creating a space that feels deeply personal rather than curated.
The house is finished now, its old charm carefully preserved. Choosing a favourite space is nearly impossible. “It depends on the temperature,” Anja says. “If it’s hot, the cantina or the cave with the hammock is perfect. Or the porch. Every space has its moment.” In winter, they gravitate toward the kitchen, warm and intimate. Mornings begin with spectacular views from their bed. The guest bedroom, with its ensuite bath, allows you to soak while gazing out over the valley. There’s a reading nook beneath the stairs. Anja practices yoga in the green room, where the morning sun pours in or paints in the blue room. From this height, they can watch clouds drift below them.
After more than a decade of searching for a place to call their own, Joel and Anja found what they had been seeking in the country where they first met, and near the place of his grandparents’ birth. They were not searching for a particular country so much as for a feeling — a place with history, walkability, and a true sense of belonging. Here, each summer, they slip easily into village life, gathering neighbours and friends around the pizza oven, taking in the view across the valley, and enjoying a home they have restored slowly and with great care.
The result is a home shaped by centuries, by travel, and by restraint. Nothing feels rushed or overly designed. Each room has its moment, each object its reason for being there. It is a house that connects past and present, landscape and memory—a quiet bridge between worlds.
Check oun Anja's art at @anjapalomboart
Photography by Stefano Notariocomo - stefanonot.photo @stafanonot.photo
Author's Note
This story is part of a larger unpublished manuscript currently in development. Full chapters, extended interviews and additional interiors are intentionally held back in anticipation of future publication.
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