The old-school way of keeping the summer heat out of your home
Modern air conditioning isn’t the only way to keep cool in the summer. For generations, people have used their ingenuity to dial down indoor temperatures using nothing more than a well-crafted shutter.
On hot summer afternoons, Mediterranean cities go quiet. The streets are emptied by heat so intense that even the shadows seem to move slowly. The climate has inspired regional traditions such as the Spanish siesta, which is as much about respite from oppressive temperatures as it is about resting.
The same logic once informed architecture too, giving buildings cooling physical features including shutters that allow in light while keeping the heat out. Today, in our glass-sealed, climate-controlled structures, it’s easy to forget that both our daily rhythms and our architecture used to work with the weather, not against it. As the effects of climate change intensify, we need to reconsider more humble forms of temperature control. Here are five shutter designs that are well worth revisiting.
1.
‘Persiane alla genovese’, Italy
In the busy alleys of Genoa, the persiane alla genovese protect from the heat while also enhancing privacy. These shutters consist of louvred panels divided into two parts, which are opened in sequence: the bottom at dawn and the rest near dusk. The lower part is called gelosia (“jealousy” in Italian), a nod to the idea of protecting what’s inside from the gaze of the street. The shutters are painted green, making the streetscape look balanced and uniform. From inside, you can look out when either the top or bottom is open, while passersby on the exterior side see only a coherent landscape of green windows.
2.
‘Jalousies’, France
The French had a similar idea and came up with jalousie shutters. The name also comes from the word for “jealousy” but, unlike the Italian persiane, these shutters are more voyeuristic and have a greater focus on looking out without being seen. Those inside are able to peer through the gaps, with the slats deflecting any gaze from the street.
Jalousies first appeared in Marseille, where they were often painted white or in a sun-faded sage. Both were practical selections, with the white reflecting the sunlight and green hues hiding dust from the eye. By the 19th century, they appeared across Parisian façades too – more for atmosphere than climate control, but the soft light they create has become a symbol of romantic French interiors.


3.
Bahama shutters, Caribbean
Bahama shutters, also known as Bermuda shutters, developed in response to hurricanes in tropical climates. Designed to open and close vertically as opposed to horizontally, they are hinged from the top of the window and function more like fixed canopies, casting deep shadows while allowing the aperture to remain open through downpours, their angled slats deflecting rain and helping to control light and airflow. Once made from lightweight materials such as bamboo and palm fronds, today they come in more robust materials such as aluminium or wood.
4.
‘Muxrabija’, Malta
A timber box latticed with geometric patterns, the muxrabija was introduced to Malta during Arab rule in the ninth century. These structures, which protrude from buildings, were originally used as ventilation screens and tools to create a sense of privacy. Their dense geometric pattern reflects Islamic aesthetics and clever design, filtering sunlight and allowing those inside to observe the street without being seen. The muxrabija is typically carved from pine or cedar, while dark-green and brown colours help to blend with the shadows inside. This shutter doesn’t open or close but, in essence, forms a breathing façade that is fully integrated into the skin of the building.
5.
Stone screen, Greece
Before louvres and hinges, there were stones. In ancient Greece, from about 800 BCE to the Hellenistic period, there were either no windows or aperures were sealed with semi transluscent materials, such as thinly cut marble. The marble wasn’t adjustable but would let in light while blocking wind, dust or rain.
Today, we have replaced many traditional shutters with plastic shells and loud motors – but could we learn something from the simplicity of this ancient design? Perhaps there is an opportunity to revive the idea of slow, seasonal architecture with shutters that are put up as the climate demands and are made from materials that speak to the locale in which they are found.