Carlo Scarpa’s cult status in architectural circles often centres on Verona’s Castelvecchio, yet his lesser-known transformation of Brescia’s medieval fortress – now the Museo delle Armi Luigi Marzoli – reveals equal ingenuity.

Commissioned in the 1970s to convert the Lombard stronghold (built atop Roman ruins, later layered with Visconti towers and Venetian frescoes), Scarpa proposed radical interventions: mirrored armour displays, glass walkways revealing ancient walls, bronze plinths erupting from archaeological strata. Budget cuts curtailed these visions, with local architects simplifying his concepts post-departure.

Yet Scarpa’s genius persists. Precise gaps between contemporary concrete and medieval stone articulate centuries of strata. A triple-height atrium lays bare the site’s Roman-to-Renaissance cross-section. Dismantled weapon components float on minimalist mounts, transforming functional objects into abstract sculpture – a trademark Scarpa move seen in his liberation of ecclesiastical carvings from didactic contexts.

Today, the museum draws more scholars than tourists. Visitors favour Brescia’s bustling centro storico over this hilltop redoubt – their loss. Where crowded landmarks overwhelm, here unfolds a masterclass in layering time: Scarpa’s surgical insertions honouring two millennia of history without fetishising any single era. In an age of architectural spectacle, it’s a quiet reminder that the boldest statements often whisper.