Posted on May 14, 2010 by Fiona Hilliard

Whether you’re trundling downhill on a rickety tram, driving around the Rossio or wandering the polished streets of the Chiado, you’ll notice tiles flickering past you on buildings everywhere in Lisbon. In Bairro Alto and Alfama you can scarcely walk by a church, shop or townhouse without being dazzled by colourful glazed façades. I know I was…

So what’s the story behind these tiles?

Azulejos, to give them their proper name have been part and parcel of Lisbon’s make-up since the 14th century.  The word “Azulejo” means polished stone.  The Moors brought this term and tradition to Spain and Portugal. Unfortunately, no original Moorish tiles exist to this day in Portugal.

Fortunately, they did however get the royal seal of approval. According to the history books, King Manuel I was so taken by the beauty of Spain’s Alhambra in Granada, that he ordered his palace in Sintra to be adorned with the same ceramic tiles. He had a batch specially imported from Seville, featuring distinctive geometric patterns.

Bit by bit, Portuguese artists cottoned on to the art of the azulejo and pretty soon they were turning their attentions to human and animal patterns.  Their colours of choice were blue, yellow, green and white.  The popular blue and white variety came into vogue around the time of the great discoveries, with patterns heavily borrowed from China’s Ming Dynasty.

The azulejo is not all style over substance.  The tiles fulfil an important function in the narrow winding streets of Lisbon.  Not only do they protect the townhouses and buildings against damp, but also heat, humidity and noise.

Azulejos may not be a Portuguese invention, (they’re Egytian actually) but they have become something of a cherished national treasure. Since the 18th century, no other European country has been producing as many tiles as Portugal. Today the tiles play a very important role in the city’s architecture. Don’t be surprised if you find yourself craning your camera to photograph a tile-framed balcony or indeed, standing vacantly in the middle of a busy pathway to observe the wavy mosaic patterns of the street…

 If you’d like to learn more about the history of the craft, there’s an interesting little museum buried within the walls of Alfama called Museu Nacional do Azulejo. They currently don’t have a website, so here’s the address:

Museu Nacional do Azulejo

Rua da Madre de Deus 4

Lisbon 1900-312

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