Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi: Giotto’s Frescoes and the Saint’s Tomb

The Basilica of Saint Francis of Assisi is not just a religious building: it’s an emotion that takes hold of you as soon as you see it perched on the hill. Its simple façade of white and pink Subasio stone contrasts with the richness you discover inside. Upon entering, you feel small in front of that double superimposed church – the Lower Basilica and the Upper Basilica – which seems to tell two different stories. The atmosphere is one of peace, but also of awe for the frescoes that surround you. Personally, I am always struck by the respectful silence of visitors, broken only by footsteps on the ancient stones. It’s not a place to visit in a hurry: it asks for time to absorb every detail, from the light filtering through the stained glass windows to the stories painted on the walls. It’s a place that speaks directly to the heart, even if you are not particularly religious. I found it more majestic than I expected from photos, with its simultaneous humility and grandeur.

Construction began in 1228, just two years after the death of Saint Francis, at the behest of Pope Gregory IX who wanted a worthy burial place. It was an ambitious project that brought together local craftsmen and artists from across Italy. The Lower Basilica was completed first, around 1230, and immediately housed the saint’s tomb. Work then continued on the Upper Basilica, finished around 1253. The real leap in quality came with the frescoes: Giotto arrived in the 1290s to paint the Stories of Saint Francis in the nave of the Upper Basilica, revolutionizing painting with his realism. Cimabue, shortly after, left his mark with majestic cycles in the same church. Unfortunately, the 1997 earthquake severely damaged the vault of the Upper Basilica, but meticulous, lengthy restorations have recovered much of the frescoes. Every time I return, I think of the centuries of history that breathe within those walls.

• 1228: Construction begins by papal decree
• c. 1230: Completion of the Lower Basilica and burial of Saint Francis
• c. 1253: Completion of the Upper Basilica
• c. 1290-1295: Giotto frescoes the Stories of Saint Francis
• 1997: Severe damage from earthquake, followed by restorations
• 2000: Inscription on the UNESCO World Heritage List

In the Upper Basilica, the 28 scenes of Giotto’s Stories of Saint Francis are the reason many visitors are left speechless. They are not just beautiful: they were innovative for their time. Giotto abandoned the rigid, symbolic Byzantine style to give volume and emotion to his figures. Take a close look at “The Miracle of the Spring”: the characters seem real, with worried expressions and natural gestures. Or “The Sermon to the Birds,” where Francis has an almost tangible sweetness. I always get lost in the details: the drapery of the garments, the background architecture that adds depth, the light that shapes the faces. It’s as if Giotto brought real life into the church. A tip: take your time with each panel, even the less famous ones. You’ll notice how they tell the saint’s life with a freshness that, after seven centuries, still surprises. Sometimes I wonder how he managed to paint so high up, on those medieval scaffolds.

Descending into the crypt of the Lower Basilica is an intense, almost intimate experience. Here, in a simple and intimate chapel, rest the remains of Saint Francis. The environment is dark, illuminated only by lamps and candles, and the air is thick with silence and prayer. The tomb, made of rough stone, is protected by a grate through which pilgrims drop notes or touch devoutly. Around it, niches contain the remains of his first companions. What strikes you is the sobriety: no gold or precious marbles, just stone. It perfectly reflects the Franciscan spirit of poverty. I always go there, even if just for a few minutes: it’s a moment of pause, away from the majesty of the frescoes above. Sometimes I see people in tears, others absorbed in meditation. It’s the spiritual heart of the basilica, and you can feel it. Remember that photography is prohibited, but perhaps that’s for the best: certain atmospheres are experienced, not captured.

Three concrete reasons not to miss it. First: the frescoes are a fundamental chapter in art history. Seeing Giotto and Cimabue in person is like witnessing the birth of modern painting. Second: the architecture itself is unique, with the two superimposed churches offering different experiences – the Upper Church bright and narrative, the Lower Church intimate and mystical. Third: it’s a living place. It’s not a cold museum, but a site of pilgrimage and prayer where you breathe authentic spirituality, even just by observing the faithful in silence. Plus, the view of Assisi and the valley from the square in front offers unforgettable glimpses, especially at dusk when the stones turn golden.

Avoid the middle of the day, especially in summer, when organized groups fill the spaces. The best time? Early morning, right when it opens, or late afternoon toward closing. The light is more slanted, the frescoes shine, and there’s less crowding. In seasons like late spring or early autumn, the weather is ideal for enjoying the walk from Assisi as well. In winter, if you catch a sunny day, the atmosphere is particularly evocative and intimate. I went once in November, with a light mist enveloping the hill: it felt like stepping back in time. Note the closing hours, which may vary for celebrations.

After the basilica, descend into the center of Assisi to lose yourself among the medieval alleyways. The Basilica of Saint Clare, with its striped white and pink facade and the San Damiano Crucifix, completes the Franciscan journey. Just outside the walls, the Hermitage of the Carceri, in the woods of Mount Subasio, is a haven of peace where Francis and his friars retreated for prayer: shaded paths and natural caves offer you direct contact with Umbrian nature. If you’re in the mood for a food and wine experience, stop at one of the trattorias in the center to sample strangozzi with truffle or a glass of Sagrantino.