Imagine a stone so timeless and enduring that it has shaped the very foundations of one of history’s greatest civilizations—and it’s still being used today. That’s travertine, the ancient rock that built Rome, and it’s far from retired. From the Colosseum to St. Peter’s Basilica, this porous limestone has been the backbone of architectural marvels for over 2,000 years. But here’s where it gets fascinating: the same quarries in Tivoli, Italy, that supplied the Romans are still carving out this stone to construct modern wonders—from mosques and museums to skyscrapers and private homes. And this is the part most people miss: while travertine is found in other parts of the world, the Roman variety is uniquely quarried underground in sulfuric springs, giving it a distinct character that architects adore.
But here’s where it gets controversial: Is travertine’s enduring popularity a testament to its unmatched qualities, or are we simply clinging to the past? Let’s dive in. This stone, composed mainly of calcium carbonate, was formed over hundreds of thousands of years through volcanic activity and mineral deposits. Its striated layers tell a story of ancient forests, eruptions, and even fossils. Architects prize it for its strength, versatility, and ability to withstand the test of time—and climate. Depending on how it’s cut, travertine can appear rough or sleek, warm white with black speckles, or sandy beige with veins of gray, brown, or green. It’s like nature’s own art piece, tailored for human creativity.
For four generations, the Mariotti Carlo SpA stonecutting firm has been at the heart of this tradition, crafting travertine for iconic projects like the Getty Center in Los Angeles, the Bank of China in Beijing, and the Great Mosque in Algiers. Recently, they’ve been busy carving pieces for a Latter-day Saint temple in New York City—a modern commission that echoes their work on the temple in Rome. Fabrizio Mariotti, head of the family business, puts it beautifully: ‘Travertine is like carrying the light of Rome everywhere, because the way it reflects light is very special.’
Now, picture this: the Degemar quarries in Tivoli, where Gian Lorenzo Bernini once sourced travertine for his masterpieces, are still buzzing with activity. Giant jackhammers shatter ancient rock, while flatbed trucks haul 33-ton slabs to the surface. Bernini loved this place so much he built a home overlooking the quarry, which still stands today—complete with a pigeon coop for sending orders back and forth to Rome. But here’s the kicker: while Bernini used this stone for St. Peter’s Square, today’s orders come from places like Riyadh’s new airport and China’s governing party headquarters in Shenzhen. Is this a sign of travertine’s global appeal, or are we diluting its historical significance?
Vincenzo De Gennaro, the quarry’s current head, calls travertine a ‘living stone, born in a cocktail of mineral waters.’ He points to Rome itself as proof of its durability: ‘There is the concrete experience of a civilization dating back thousands of years that stands in the light of day and has been shining undisturbed for 2,000 years. That is the guarantee.’ But Marco Ferrero, a civil engineering professor at La Sapienza University, adds a poetic twist: ‘Marble speaks to us in beautiful Italian, while travertine speaks in Roman dialect. It’s the genuine, traditional stone of the Romans.’
So, here’s the question for you: Is travertine’s continued use a celebration of timeless craftsmanship, or are we over-relying on the past at the expense of modern innovation? Let us know in the comments—we’d love to hear your thoughts!
