Wander in Palermo: Castello della Zisa
The Zisa Palace, home to the Museum of Islamic Art, is a gem for anyone exploring UNESCO’s Arab-Norman itinerary.
Sense of Wander: ★★★☆☆
Zisa Palace, a power symbol of the Norman kings of Sicily, bears witness to Sicily’s history as a cosmopolitan melting pot of Arab, Norman, and Byzantine cultures.
PALERMO, Sicily — For those intrigued by the history of Arab Sicily, you’re likely familiar with UNESCO’s “Arab-Norman” itinerary. This remarkable route spans a series of heritage sites along the northern coast of the island, reflecting the unique syncretism between Norman, Islamic, and Byzantine cultures during the era of the Norman Kingdom of Sicily (1130-1194).
While the Palatine Chapel and Palermo Cathedral often top visitors’ lists, the Zisa Palace — also known as Castello della Zisa — is a hidden gem that shouldn’t be overlooked. Nestled on the edge of Palermo’s city centre, the Zisa offers a window into Sicily’s rich history.
The name “Zisa” comes from the Arabic word “al-Aziz” (العزيز), which holds several meanings. While it’s often translated as “the splendid one,” it’s also one of the 99 Names of Allah, commonly translated as “the Almighty.” This word appears in fragments of inscriptions in Naskh script, adorning the entrance to the main hall
“This is the earthly paradise that open to the gaze.
This is the Musta’iz*, this palace the Aziz.”
(*”The Glorious One,” referring to William II)
Constructed between 1163 and 1190 by the Norman kings, the Zisa was originally built outside the city walls as a hunting lodge and summer palace — a peaceful retreat where rulers could escape the summer heat.
Guidebooks often describe the Zisa as a fine example of Arab-Norman architecture, blending Islamic and Christian influences that shaped Sicily’s cultural landscape. Expecting to see the pinnacle of Norman Sicily architecture, I found myself somewhat disappointed upon arrival. The palace appears abandoned and isolated, surrounded by overgrown grasses and an air of neglect. Inside, the stone blocks showed signs of wear — and wrinkles — etched by the passage of time.
What many don’t know is that the Zisa, having passed through numerous hands, endured neglect, damage, and restoration over the centuries. After being abandoned for decades and scarred by the 1968 earthquake, it underwent over twenty years of restoration work.
Though it may seem isolated today, the Zisa once stood at the heart of a grand park of wonders called Geonardo. Here, in this haven, sovereigns could relax and engage in creative pursuits, free from the pressures of official duties.
The Fountain Hall in the Zisa, Palermo, painted by Carl Friedrich Heinrich Werner in the late 19th century, offers a glimpse into the Fountain Room’s former splendour.
As soon as I step into the building, I’m immediately drawn to the detailed text descriptions that guide me through the rich history of Zisa Palace, as well as the broader cultural landscape of Norman Sicily.
At the heart of the Zisa Palace, there’s a room that has earned fame far beyond its walls: the Fountain Room.
True to its name, a fountain sits at the centre of the room, where water once flowed from a siphon adorned by a mosaic depicting an eagle. This water cascaded down a channel and flowed across the floor basin, eventually merging with the large fish pond, showcasing the advanced hydraulic feat of Islamic palaces. The water feature also helped to cool the air, creating a serene, almost meditative atmosphere reminiscent of the Alhambra in Moorish Spain.
Above, the ceiling once featured muqarnas — the honeycomb-like vaulting that is a hallmark of Islamic architecture. Throughout the Zisa, these muqarnas are sculpted from blocks of tuff stone, with some covered in plaster to enhance the “stalactite” effect.
When French architect Eugène Viollet-le-Duc visited, he remarked, “One of the most interesting things we found here is the Arab Zisa castle…. Here certainly lies the origin of all the different Gothic combinations of vaults, and the origin of the deep science of the intersections of curved planes.”
The walls were once decorated with painted stucco, and the upper registers featured mosaics with scenes of royal hunts and peacocks against a golden background. These mosaics juxtaposes with the geometric patterns inlaid with hardstone, creating a unique blend of Byzantine artistry and Islamic aesthetic ideals. Though eclectic, these elements reflected the tastes of the Norman owners who embraced Islamic architectural traditions while also preserving those from other cultures.
Despite the Zisa being a private residence with no official receptions or audiences, there’s a clear division between public and private spaces — and the Fountain Room is a prime example of the former.
Though time has worn much of its original decoration, the Fountain Room’s past grandeur has been captured by artists like Carl Friedrich Heinrich Werner, who painted The Fountain Hall in the Zisa, Palermo in the late 19th century.
Luck wasn’t on my side during my visit — the Fountain Room was closed for restoration, and I could only catch a glimpse of its interior by peering through the scaffolding.
A sneak peek into the restoration work that’s being carried out inside the Fountain Room.
The original muqarnas on the first floor remain visible despite the passage of time.
The muqarnas above the window niche, with its crisp geometric design, contrasts with the rough-hewn stones of the building.
Since 1991, the Zisa has housed the Museum of Islamic Art, a treasure trove of artefacts spanning from Arab Sicily (9th to 10th century) to Norman Sicily (11-12th century).
The museum’s collection includes a variety of objects, such as pottery, ceramics, glass, and metalware. However, visitors like myself — who have explored Islamic art museums elsewhere — may find the exhibits somewhat disappointing. The collection is small, and many ceramic pieces are displayed as shards. But I convinced myself that, unlike large institutions, these items offer an authentic glimpse into the Islamic-influenced material culture of Norman Sicily during that period.
An unexpected find on the museum’s second floor is its collection of mashrabiya, donated to the Palermo Museum by the Lacovelli brothers in the late 19th century. Mashrabiya is a traditional Egyptian craft where hundreds of small wooden pieces are painstakingly assembled to form a lattice screen, all without the use of nails.
The earliest examples of mashrabiya date back to the 9th century. These screens were designed to shield interiors from the intense heat and excessive light while maintaining privacy and allowing for ventilation.
The Zisa Palace is also home to the Museum of Islamic art, showcasing an array of artefacts from the Islamic world.
This ancient pottery piece carries a decorative pattern around its belly that simulates Arabic inscriptions.
A fine example of a Mamluk bronze vessel, its calligraphic inscriptions remain legible thanks to the silver inlays that are still intact.
The small niche in the bottom right of this mashrabiya was designed to keep a water jar cool.
In medieval Sicily, Palermo was described as “urbs felix populo dotata trilingui” — a “happy city, endowed with a three-tongued people,” by Peter of Eboli, a chronicler and poet to Emperor Henry VI (reigned 1169-1191). The three languages referred to are Arabic, Latin, and Greek.
One of the most fascinating examples of Norman Sicily’s tricultural identity can be found within the Zisa Palace: the tombstone of Anna (labeled as lapide sepolcrale in Italian). Trust me, this is one object you can’t miss.
Anna was the mother of Grisandus, a Norman cleric who served King Roger II (reigned 1130-1154). She passed away in 1148, and her son first buried her in the cathedral of Palermo. In 1149, Grisandus moved her remains to a private chapel dedicated to St. Anna within the Church of St. Michael in Palermo.
What makes this tombstone so extraordinary is its epigraph, written in four different languages: Latin, Greek, Arabic, and Judeo-Arabic (the Arabic dialect spoken by Sicilian Jews, written in Hebrew characters). This reflects the multiculturalism of 12th-century Sicily. What’s even more intriguing, however, is not just the multilingual inscriptions, but the nuances embedded in each translation.
For example, the Arabic text doesn’t simply translate the others — it adds layers of cultural and religious context. The Pope is referred to as the Imam of Rome, and Palermo Cathedral is described as “jami’” (Friday mosque). The date of Anna’s death is given as “yaum al-jum’a, the 20th of August 533,” blending the Arabic weekday, the Gregorian calendar, and the Hijri calendar.
The years are adjusted accordingly in the other inscriptions: the Latin inscription reads AD 1149, the Greek inscription marks the year 6657 in the Byzantine Orthodox calendar, and the Judeo-Arabic inscription gives the year as 4909, according to the Jewish calendar.
Adding to the uniqueness of this marble tombstone, it is inlaid with a mosaic of colourful stones. At the centre, tiny pieces of hardstone — possibly malachite, jasper, and purple porphyry — are arranged to form a cross.
While this tombstone may have served as a personal memorial for Grisandus, it has become a living testament to the cultural syncretism that flourished in medieval Sicily, something Dirk Booms aptly calls the “Rosetta Stone of multicultural Sicily.”
Tombstone for Anna is a powerful symbol of Norman Sicily’s multicultural and multilingual heritage.
While wandering on the second floor, I find it hard to imagine that its large central hall was once an open-air space surrounded by porticos. In 1526, Leandro Alberti described this area, writing, “In the middle of the cloister, the air flows,” suggesting that the space originally had an opening to the sky.
The quadriportico was encircled by a covered vestibule, and traces of this structure remain visible at the four corners of the room, with the vaults adorned with muqarnas.
Later modifications by the Sandoval family (who purchased the palace) altered the original design. They dismantled the quadriportico and repurposed its columns to support a grand, lowered arch, intended to offer a panoramic view toward the sea. Eventually, the atrium was covered by a finely cut stone vault.
The Zisa Palace has a central hall with an atrium on its upper floor.
Part of the original central hall was dismantled, and its columns were repurposed to support the arch structure.
Fragments of floor slabs with indentations designed to hold mosaic decorations.
Though I was disappointed by the limited scope of the museum’s collection and unable to experience the grandeur of the Fountain Room in person, the Zisa Palace remains one of the most memorable destinations on my Arab-Norman itinerary — it’s a place I’ll never forget.
As this article comes to an end, I hold onto the hope that, one day, I’ll have the opportunity to witness the restored splendour of that legendary room with my own eyes.
Looking out over Zisa Palace’s garden divided by a canal that stretches over 100 metres, leading up to the palace’s renowned Fountain Room.
Tips for wanderers — The Zisa Palace is located about 20 minutes from downtown. For those wishing to visit the Fountain room, I suggest contacting the Zisa Palace in advance to make sure that it’s open to public.
You may also be interested in:
Reference:
Booms, D., & Higgs, P. (2016). Sicily: Culture and conquest. The Trustees of the British Museum.
Spadaro, M. A., & Troisi, S. (2018). Itinerario arabo-normanno: Il patrimonio dell'UNESCO a Palermo, Monreale e Cefalù—The Arab-Norman itinerary: The UNESCO heritage in Palermo, Monreale, and Cefalù. Edizioni d'Arte Kalós.
Zanella, M. (Ed.). (2019). Il castello della Zisa. Skira editore.