Archaeological presences have always been a widely debated topic in the architectural and urban spheres, especially in a strongly anthropized territory such as Italy, which has, more than in other contexts, a strong and widespread presence of traces of the past. In Italy, the nation with the highest number of UNESCO sites in the world [
1], we have always had to come to terms with the “presence of the past”, which was also the emblematic title of the first Venice Architecture Biennale in 1980 [
2]. In recent years, the relationship between architecture and archaeology has been the focus of specific research and projects: an accumulation of materials and experiences that have legitimized architecture’s contribution to the configuration of archaeological sites [
3]. If archaeology, through excavation, initiates a discourse on the ancient, it is up to architecture, through the tool of the project, to continue this narrative by offering new meanings for ancient ruins: what is striking is their ability to provide a sense of time without summarizing history and without concluding it in the illusion of knowledge, turning into a work of art without a past [
4].
Looking at the contemporary landscape, consisting of the multiple forms through which the project is expressed and relates to archaeological sites, the desire to work
in situ is relevant, allowing the context of the ruins to be an integral part of the visitor’s experience, as well as a starting point for the project. Leaving a work
in situ can be seen as a response, a strong stance against the “nefarious epidemic” [
5] (p. 395) of disposable exhibitions, which rather than aiming at a real cultural enrichment, offer to all intents and purposes a service to customers, in a fetishistic loop of a consumerist nature. It is preferable to prevent the work under scrutiny from being transported, or disassembled and reassembled, despite itself “to a museum, the place where each power becomes immobile, detonated, observable [...] like a taxidermied animal” [
6] (p. 127). We can affirm that only together with the context an architectural work – or what remains of it – is truly legible: architecture has always refrained – for obvious material and functional reasons – from its possible non-locality and imperturbability with respect to a given context. The same frame, so defined and clear-cut for pictorial works, blurs completely and becomes untraceable around a constructed building: where does nature’s landscape end, where does man’s art begin? The answer is that this fusion of the elements is the true masterpiece, exactly what we call the context [
7]. Otherwise, a sort of disengagement, a paradoxical short-circuit, could only arise, which acts as soon as the work is detached from its necessary surroundings and that estrangement from unexpected detachment arises, well represented by filmic scenes such as that of the acephalous Etruscan goddess “hanging” in Rohrwacher’s recent film
La Chimera, which is an explicit quotation of the “flying” Christ in Fellini’s
La dolce vita. The architectural fragment assumes the role of
trait d’union, between the state of an archaeological pre-existence in its singularity of material fact and a surrounding context (lithic, vegetal and meteorological) that cannot be excluded in any way from the design thinking. “Pilar Carrera, by exploring the concept of the fragment [...], emphasizes its semantic condition proper to a space of emergence of meaning” [
8] (p. 88). The fragment, a partial
“restanza” [
9] of a totality which has been lost, must be considered as a trigger mechanism, a real perturbing for the one who questions it, a basic matrix generating ideas. Each fragment is, potentially, in the hands and eyes of the one who carefully listens to it, an
objet trouvé with a poetic reaction: the imagination is best activated in the waste, in the cracks and gaps of reality. The incompleteness of the fragment in the form of a synecdoche (a part for the whole) is a harbinger of ideas, connections, intuitive leaps: because it is by its very nature that, if overwhelmed by information, the imagination dies. “High definition [...] informational does not allow anything indefinite to exist. But imagination inhabits an indefinite space. Information and imagination are opposing forces” [
10] (p. 67).