There are places designed to help us find our way, and others created expressly to make us lose it. The Labirinto della Masone belongs proudly to the second category. Hidden in the countryside near Fontanellato, not far from Parma, this immense bamboo labyrinth rises from the flat landscape of Emilia-Romagna like something imagined in a dream. From above it appears ordered and geometric; once inside, that reassuring order disappears behind walls of leaves, identical turns and paths that seem to change direction while nobody is looking.
The Labirinto della Masone is much more than a tourist attraction. It is the realisation of a long-held vision belonging to Franco Maria Ricci, the celebrated Italian publisher, graphic designer and art collector. Conceived as a meeting point between nature, architecture, books and art, the complex brings together an enormous living maze, a museum, a library and a series of elegant buildings inspired by classical forms.
It is also connected to one of the greatest literary explorers of imaginary labyrinths: Jorge Luis Borges. That relationship transformed an eccentric idea into a cultural monument unlike anything else in Italy.
Franco Maria Ricci and the dream of a labyrinth
Franco Maria Ricci was born in Parma in 1937 and became internationally known for the extraordinary elegance of his books and publications. His editions were recognisable for their black backgrounds, refined typography, precious paper and carefully reproduced works of art. In a publishing world increasingly dominated by speed and mass production, Ricci defended beauty, craftsmanship and the physical pleasure of holding a well-made book.
His famous magazine FMR embodied this philosophy. It treated every page as a composition, combining art, photography and writing with an almost obsessive attention to detail. Ricci was not interested only in communicating information. He wanted books to be objects capable of creating wonder.
The same vision eventually produced the Labirinto della Masone. Ricci had long been fascinated by labyrinths as architectural forms and intellectual symbols. They appear throughout human history: in ancient myths, medieval cathedrals, Renaissance gardens and modern literature. A maze can be a game, a prison, a spiritual path or a metaphor for the human condition.
The decisive inspiration is traditionally linked to Ricci’s friendship with the Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges. Borges, who had lost his sight, filled his stories with mirrors, infinite libraries, secret passages and labyrinths that existed as much in the mind as in physical space. During a visit to Ricci’s home near Parma in the late 1970s, the two men reportedly discussed labyrinths while walking through the countryside.
Ricci later recalled making Borges a promise: one day he would create a real labyrinth. It was the kind of promise that might easily have remained a beautiful conversation between two intellectuals. Instead, many years later, it became a landscape.
Why the maze was made from bamboo
Ricci chose bamboo for both practical and aesthetic reasons. Bamboo grows rapidly, remains green throughout the year and can reach considerable height, creating walls that feel dense and imposing. Unlike the carefully trimmed hedges of a European aristocratic garden, bamboo produces a more fluid and slightly untamed atmosphere.
The plants move in the wind and filter the sunlight. Their tall stems create constantly shifting vertical lines, while their leaves produce a soft rustling sound that accompanies visitors along the paths. The labyrinth therefore feels alive. It is not a static stone monument or a decorative pattern viewed from a terrace, but a growing environment that changes with the seasons.
Hundreds of thousands of bamboo plants belonging to several varieties were used across the site. Some remain relatively low and compact, while others rise several metres above the paths. Together they create corridors through which it is difficult to understand one’s position or see what lies beyond the next turn.
Bamboo also carries cultural associations that suited Ricci’s imagination. It can express strength and flexibility, elegance and wildness. It bends without easily breaking and grows with remarkable energy. In the Labirinto della Masone, the plant becomes both building material and protagonist.
Entering the Labirinto della Masone
The labyrinth does not reveal itself all at once. Visitors pass from the monumental architecture of the entrance into an increasingly enclosed green world. At first, finding the correct path seems relatively straightforward. Then come the intersections, repeated corners and unexpected dead ends.
The human mind immediately begins inventing strategies. Some people try to remember each turn; others follow the wall with one hand; many rely on instinct and discover that instinct has an excellent sense of humour. Families begin confidently and soon disagree about every direction. Couples test the strength of their relationships. Children often navigate with more determination than adults, possibly because they are less troubled by the prospect of becoming lost.
The experience is playful, but it also produces a subtle psychological effect. Beyond the bamboo walls, ordinary reference points disappear. The countryside, roads and surrounding buildings are hidden, leaving only paths, leaves, sky and the sound of other visitors somewhere nearby.
This temporary disorientation is part of the attraction. Modern life is filled with maps, satellite navigation and instructions telling us exactly where to go. Inside the labyrinth, uncertainty becomes a pleasure. Taking the wrong path is not a failure; it is the purpose of the journey.
A design inspired by ancient labyrinths
Although the bamboo gives the maze a natural appearance, its underlying design is carefully controlled. The plan draws inspiration from geometries found in ancient and Renaissance labyrinths, combining regularity with deliberate confusion. Its star-like outline creates a monumental shape that is most easily appreciated from the air, while the internal paths prevent visitors from understanding the whole.
This contrast between external order and internal uncertainty is one of the oldest ideas associated with labyrinths. Seen from above, the solution appears possible. Seen from inside, every choice becomes uncertain. The visitor knows that an order exists but cannot immediately perceive it.
Ricci’s labyrinth should therefore not be understood merely as a giant puzzle. It belongs to a much older cultural tradition. The myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, Ariadne’s thread, the labyrinths represented in Roman mosaics and the symbolic paths of medieval churches all survive in its design.
There is no Minotaur waiting among the bamboo, although after the fifth wrong turn somebody in every group will probably begin to suspect otherwise.
The pyramid at the heart of the complex
At the centre of the Labirinto della Masone stands a pyramid-shaped structure that gives the landscape an unexpectedly ancient character. The pyramid contains a chapel and functions as the symbolic heart of the complex.
Its form connects different cultures and periods. Pyramids evoke eternity, mystery and the desire to build something capable of resisting time. They also contrast strikingly with the surrounding bamboo, joining solid geometry with living vegetation.
Reaching the centre is not simply the practical goal of the maze. It produces the sensation of having arrived at a place separated from ordinary life. The architecture, silence and symmetry turn the destination into a moment of pause after the uncertainty of the paths.
The buildings surrounding the labyrinth were designed in a neoclassical language, with brick façades, arches, courtyards and carefully measured proportions. Their disciplined geometry reflects Ricci’s passion for typography and book design: every space appears arranged as deliberately as the elements on a printed page.
The art collection behind the bamboo walls
A visitor could come only for the maze and still leave satisfied, but that would mean seeing only part of Franco Maria Ricci’s creation. The complex also houses his extensive art collection, assembled over decades according to personal curiosity rather than the rigid logic of a conventional museum.
Paintings, sculptures and objects from different periods coexist within elegant galleries. The collection reflects Ricci’s fascination with unusual beauty, forgotten artists, dramatic portraits and works that fall outside the most predictable routes of art history.
This gives the museum a distinctive personality. It does not feel like a catalogue of compulsory masterpieces. Instead, it resembles an invitation into the private imagination of a collector. The artworks reveal the same sensibility found in Ricci’s books: a taste for mystery, precision, elegance and rediscovery.
The library and publishing archive are equally important. Ricci’s editions demonstrate how printing can become an art in itself, bringing together typography, images, paper and binding. Moving from the green maze into these interiors creates a dialogue between two different kinds of labyrinth: the physical network of paths outside and the intellectual universe of books within.
A library, after all, is another place where a person can happily become lost.
A monument to an unusual Italian personality
The Labirinto della Masone cannot be separated from the personality of its creator. Franco Maria Ricci did not build it as an amusement park or as a conventional botanical garden. He created a personal world in which his interests could coexist: books, architecture, art, landscape and the symbolism of the maze.
This makes the site particularly suited to ItalyStories. It is not merely one of the many beautiful places to visit in Italy. It is the story of a person who transformed a private obsession into a public experience.
Italy is filled with monuments commissioned to celebrate political power, religion or family prestige. The Labirinto della Masone celebrates something rarer: imagination. Its scale might be monumental, but its origin is intimate—a conversation, a promise and a lifelong fascination.
The project took years to develop and eventually opened to the public in 2015. Ricci was already in his late seventies when his dream became a reality, proving that ambitious ideas do not necessarily belong only to youth.
Visiting the labyrinth
A complete visit requires enough time to experience both the maze and the cultural spaces. Rushing through would miss the point. The labyrinth rewards curiosity, while the museum and library encourage a slower rhythm.
Comfortable shoes are advisable, particularly for visitors determined to explore every possible wrong turn. During warmer periods, the bamboo provides shade, but the climate can still be hot and humid. Water and appropriate clothing make the experience more enjoyable.
Visitors should check the official opening calendar before travelling because schedules, exhibitions and admission arrangements can change. Weekends and holidays may be busy, and booking in advance can make access easier.
The site is located close to Fontanellato, itself worth visiting for its historic centre and the imposing Rocca Sanvitale. Parma, with its art, music and celebrated food traditions, can also be combined with the labyrinth to create a much richer journey through Emilia-Romagna.
Why the Labirinto della Masone is worth discovering
Many attractions are impressive in photographs but predictable in person. The Labirinto della Masone works in the opposite way. An aerial image can show its scale and geometry, but it cannot reproduce the sensation of being surrounded by bamboo, hearing unseen footsteps beyond the leaves and wondering whether the next corner will bring the centre or another dead end.
Its appeal changes according to the visitor. Children see an adventure, photographers find endless patterns, garden lovers discover an unusual use of bamboo, and readers recognise the shadow of Borges. Art enthusiasts may arrive for the museum, while others enter simply to test their sense of direction.
All of them encounter the same idea: sometimes losing the path is the only way to see a place properly.
The Labirinto della Masone is simultaneously a garden, a work of architecture, a museum and the material form of a literary dream. It tells us something essential about Italian creativity—the ability to unite different arts and transform an apparently impossible idea into a real place.
At the end of the visit, the exit does not feel like a victory over the labyrinth. It feels almost like leaving a story before one is ready. Beyond the last wall of bamboo, the ordinary world returns, complete with roads, directions and destinations.
Yet for a little while, among those green corridors, being lost was exactly where we wanted to be.
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