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A busy day during the high season.
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The Horror Tiles of Graça: Lisbon’s Hidden Masterpiece
Tile Lovers – Discover the Azulejos You Won’t Find in Any Guidebook
Have you ever heard the story of Queen Ketevan of Georgia and her martyrdom? I hadn’t, until a few years ago when I wandered into our neighbour, the Convento da Graça, to see an exhibition on the Procession of Corpus Christi. It wasn’t the 1587 clay miniatures that captured my attention.
What truly mesmerised me were the stunning azulejo panels lining the vast convent hall. These are, without doubt, among the most beautiful tiles I’ve ever seen in Lisbon. But what made them unforgettable was their subject: the brutal martyrdom of Queen Ketevan, a Catholic queen tortured to death for refusing to convert to Islam—a story I’d first read about in an Indian newspaper years ago. Here, Portuguese monks had immortalised her ordeal in vivid detail, not for the faint-hearted.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by the very panels I’d been searching for. The miniatures faded into the background as I was drawn into the grisly narrative, told in life-sized blue and white tiles—a haunting, cinematic tableau.
I’ve returned to these panels many times, and they never fail to fascinate. Yet, so many questions remain unanswered.
Why is there such secrecy surrounding their existence? Why aren’t they promoted as a major attraction? Even the Museu Nacional do Azulejo offers no information about them.
Online, you’ll find names, dates, and places—but who were the monks who witnessed and recorded these events.
Why are the faces missing? And how did these panels end up in Graça? Even more curious, how did a full-size replica find its way to a winery in Georgia, apparently unnoticed? In an age when even the smallest event goes viral, why all the secrecy?
Ketevan reigned in Kakheti, a feudal state located in the east of Georgia, at the beginning of the 17th century.
She was killed in Shiraz, Iran, after prolonged torture sessions from the Safavid Suzerains of Georgia for refusing to give up her Christian faith and convert to Islam.
She was held in Shiraz for several years until Abbas I, in an act of revenge for the recalcitrance of Teimuraz, ordered the queen to renounce her Christian faith and, upon her refusal, he tortured her to death with red-hot pincers in 1624.
A Portion of her relics were clandestinely taken by the St Augustine Portuguese Catholic missionaries, eyewitnesses of her martyrdom, to Georgia where they were interred at the Alaverdi Monastery in the Kakheti region.
The story about the Martyrdom of Queen Ketevan
I’ve returned to these panels many times, and they never fail to fascinate. Yet, so many questions remain unanswered.
Why is there such secrecy surrounding their existence? Why aren’t they promoted as a major attraction? Even the Museu Nacional do Azulejo offers no information about them.
Online, you’ll find names, dates, and places—but who were the monks who witnessed and recorded these events? Why are the faces missing? And how did these panels end up in Graça? Even more curious, how did a full-size replica find its way to a winery in Georgia, apparently unnoticed? In an age when even the smallest event goes viral, why all the secrecy?
What About the Tile Museum?
A guest recently asked for my thoughts on the Museu Nacional do Azulejo. Honestly, we rarely recommend it to first-time visitors—there’s simply so much else to see in Lisbon. If you’re passionate about tile traditions and techniques, it’s worth a visit, especially for the chapel.
But, as I admitted to our guest, many find it a bit dull. Instead, I pointed out the incredible tiled walls scattered throughout Lisbon, especially the vibrant new street art tiles by artists like Jorge Romão, AdFuel, and the legendary Mr. A—all within a short walk of Tings Lisbon.
Yet, for me, nothing compares to the Martyrdom of Queen Ketevan panels. They’re no longer hidden away, but nor are they celebrated as they deserve. Unless you know about them, you’ll likely miss them.
If you’re a true tile lover, come and see these extraordinary azulejos for yourself. They’re one of Lisbon’s best-kept secrets—just around the corner from us at Tings Lisbon.
Thomas
