I had wanted to visit Rocchetta Mattei for nearly twenty years. Somehow, it never quite happened. Work regularly took me within reasonable distance of the castle. However, opening days, appointments and travel plans never lined up. It became one of those places I kept meaning to visit. Eventually, a cancelled plan worked in my favour. Last year, I couldn’t get a suitable flight from Gatwick to Bologna. Instead, I flew to Florence and drove north. Suddenly, Rocchetta Mattei was on the way.

The castle sits in the hills of the northern Apennines, between Florence and Bologna. Cesare Mattei began building it during the nineteenth century. He used the ruins of the medieval Rocca di Savignano as his starting point. Mattei and his heirs continued changing the building, creating the extraordinary collection of spaces that survives today.

Rocchetta Mattei is a complete melting pot of ideas. Towers, courtyards, staircases and private rooms seem to borrow freely from different periods and cultures. Moorish decoration sits alongside medieval references, Renaissance ideas and touches of Art Nouveau. Normally, that combination might sound like a mess. Somehow, that is part of its charm.

Every room feels like another discovery. You move from intricate Moorish decoration into spaces dominated by bold black and white geometry. Elsewhere, striped walls, patterned floors and painted surfaces compete for attention. The changes can feel quite abrupt, but that unpredictability makes exploring the castle so enjoyable.

The stripes particularly stayed with me. They appear everywhere, changing scale and direction as you move through the building. Sometimes they frame arches and openings. Elsewhere, they take over entire rooms. Some monochrome spaces feel almost Escher-like, with stairs, arches and alternating bands confusing your sense of perspective.

Decoration covers almost everything. Ceilings, columns, walls, arches, windows and floors all get involved. Yet it doesn’t feel like someone carefully assembled a collection of historical styles. The castle feels much more personal and eccentric. Mattei seems to have simply followed ideas that interested him.

That freedom is probably what I enjoyed most. One influence doesn’t need to agree neatly with the next. Moorish intricacy can sit beside bold monochrome geometry without anyone trying to make sense of the combination.

For someone interested in pattern, colour and decoration, there is almost too much to look at. I photographed small sections of walls as often as entire rooms. A border, stripe or unexpected colour combination could hold my attention as easily as the architecture itself.

After nearly twenty years of trying to visit, I probably arrived with unreasonable expectations. Rocchetta Mattei exceeded them. It is eccentric, excessive and occasionally bewildering, but above all, it is enormous fun to explore. It really is a feast for the eyes.

I came across the cemetery at Busto Arsizio while looking for places to visit during work trips. If I have a few hours free, I usually try to find something interesting nearby. The bold geometry of Luigi Ciapparella’s 1971 cemetery extension was enough to make the journey.

I knew very little about the building before visiting. I had seen photographs online and wanted to experience it for myself. Sometimes that is enough of a reason to go somewhere.

The arrival is quite strange. You approach along a quiet road and suddenly meet a long, monolithic concrete wall. There is very little context. It is simply there, and the exterior gives almost nothing away.

Walking inside changes everything. Huge circular openings punch through concrete walls. Curved structures repeat across different levels, while walkways cross above and around you. It immediately transported me back to the architecture that excited me as a child.

I have always liked buildings where you can understand something about their construction just by looking at them. Busto Arsizio has that quality everywhere. The concrete is heavy and direct, but Ciapparella does surprisingly playful things with it. Circles cut through walls, curves become supports, and repeated forms create views into other parts of the cemetery.

The ironwork caught my attention too. Railings follow the curves of the concrete using much finer lines. There is something almost mechanical about the combination. The two materials speak the same geometric language without trying to look alike.

It is also a building that rewards wandering around. A circular opening becomes a window onto a garden. Turn a corner and several arches suddenly line up. Move upstairs and the same forms appear from completely different angles. I spent much of the visit simply looking through things.

Perhaps what surprised me most was how decorative it all felt. From photographs, I had expected the concrete to dominate. In person, there is much more going on. Circles overlap, ironwork creates repeating patterns, and planting has grown into the spaces between everything.

More than fifty years of weather have also left their mark. The concrete has stained and changed colour, while trees and shrubs have softened parts of the structure. I liked that. The building doesn’t need to look pristine to retain its impact.

What stayed with me most was the confidence of the architecture. Ciapparella took a small group of strong forms and repeated them relentlessly. Yet walking around never became predictable. There was always another opening, junction or view to find.

This is exactly why I look for places like Busto Arsizio when I travel. I spend enough time away with work that I want to use some of it to feed my eyes. Sometimes that means a museum or exhibition. Sometimes it means driving down a quiet road north of Milan to look at a concrete cemetery from 1971.