In One of Rome’s Most Famed and Neglected Villas, Centuries-Old Risqué Frescoes, Painted Over by Nuns, Have Reappeared

Nearly a year into a $40 million restoration of the Villa Silvestri Rivaldi, conservators are rediscovering and reviving 16th-century art

Christian Thorsberg | Daily Correspondent

September 29, 2026 4:00 p.m.

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In the shadow of Rome’s Colosseum, restorers are making progress on a monthslong effort to return a long-neglected 16th-century residence, regarded as one of Italy’s finest historical palazzos, to its former glory.

The Villa Silvestri Rivaldi, built atop ancient Roman structures between 1534 and 1547 by a chamberlain of Pope Paul III, has a storied past. 

Immediately following its construction, it was home to such high-profile figures as Cardinals Lanfranco Margotti and Carlo Emanuele Pio, and members of the Colonna and Medici dynasties—Alessandro de’ Medici, who would go on to become Pope Leo XI, among them. In the 17th century, the building was transformed into a convent, then a textile factory. It eventually became a welfare institution and finally a school.  

Its scale made it an attractive place to be. The complex comprises nearly 50,000 square feet of interior space and some 27,000 square feet of outdoor gardens and courtyards. But its beauty began to fade when it was abandoned in the 20th century—its green space was bulldozed by Benito Mussolini, Artnet’s Alina Cohen reports—and its rich history has since been overshadowed by many popular adjacent attractions, including the Temple of Peace, the Imperial Forums and the Colosseum.

“Our citizens and the entire world know little, if anything, about the wonder of Palazzo Silvestri Rivaldi, a priceless Renaissance complex that was at risk of perpetual abandonment,” Francesco Rocca, the president of the Lazio region, which includes Rome, said in a statement, per a translation by the London Times.

Late last year, the Italian Ministry of Culture announced a roughly $40 million project to restore the residence. This included its sale from the state to the Lazio region for $30 million and the preparation of an open-air revival. The restoration’s first phase, evidenced today by ample construction scaffolding, is meant to stabilize weak floorboards, rebuild crumbling ceilings, and clean the massive, once-colorful frescoes inside that have fallen into disrepair, the Times’ James Imam reported in December. 

“Such is the expressive, artistic, historical, and cultural richness of this place that we must all feel responsible for enhancing it to the fullest, with the contribution of the most inspired forces and minds,” Alessandro Giuli, Italy’s minister of culture, said in a statement, according to a translation by Artnet. “We are only passing through, but we must leave behind traces that are beautiful, that are lasting, that are always available for the public good.” 

The frescoes, depicting both pagan histories and Catholic iconography, are at the center of workers’ efforts. Stretching wall to wall and across ceilings, centuries-old scenes of battles, soldiers, Christ and angels—some made by painters from the school of Raphael—are being refreshed with advanced techniques, such as laser cleaning. In places, conservators are uncovering images of nude gods and goddesses that were painted over by nuns and church leaders who deemed them too risqué.  

“We were sure there was a mural there, and we did a cleaning test,” Paola Mezzadri, one of the project’s leaders, tells the Art Newspaper’s Joanna Moorhead about failed efforts in the early 2000s to peel back layers of paint on certain walls. “And it was clear that there was a lot to uncover. But at the time the building was owned by a religious order, and they didn’t have the funds to restore it.” 

The villa’s restoration isn’t only about ancient history. In the late 20th century, the abandoned complex became a de facto venue for squatting musicians and their guests, including visiting jazz drummer Marvin “Bugalu” Smith, and was at one point the scene of a kidnapping: A communist group with ties to the Red Brigades held a local butcher there until he agreed to offer inexpensive meat to Rome’s poor residents.  

“We are finding graffiti left by the squatters,” Maria Adelaide Ricciardi, a restorer with Italy’s Ministry of Culture, told the Times’ Tom Kington in 2020. “Every layer of history is here … and now we want this place to have a new life.”

Christian Thorsberg is an environmental writer and photographer from Chicago. His work, which often centers on freshwater issues, climate change and subsistence, has appeared in Circle of Blue, Sierra magazine, Discover magazine and Alaska Sporting Journal.