Project Overview
At the heart of Chania’s old town lies the hill of Kasteli, a place where past and present are in constant dialogue. Today, the hill is framed by Byzantine fortifications, Venetian streets, and Ottoman layers of history. Yet beneath all this lies something even older: Minoan Kydonia, one of the most important palatial centers of Bronze Age Crete.
Kydonia flourished around 1600-1100 BCE, during the peak of the Minoan civilization. Mentioned in Homer’s Odyssey, it was a center of trade, culture, and political power. Archaeological excavations on Kasteli Hill, most notably at Agia Aikaterini Square, have revealed palatial remains, pottery, and fresco fragments, all confirming the city’s grandeur. But unlike Knossos or Phaistos, which stand in the open landscape, Kydonia is hidden under the living fabric of modern Chania.
Mapping this city was not just a technical exercise. It was an attempt to bring into view something invisible, to bridge archaeology and geography so that both locals and visitors could better understand what lies beneath their feet.
Side A of the paper which features two maps: at the top, a very large-scale close-up of Kasteli Hill inside the Byzantine fortifications, showing excavation sites including Agia Aikaterini Square; at the bottom, a city-scale map of Chania, situating Kasteli Hill within the wider city and marking all excavations of Minoan Kydonia alongside other points of interest.
The map was a self-initiated project under my freelance studio, Staridas Geography #MakingMapsPretty. Although not commissioned, it was conceived with real-world users in mind: archaeologists, cultural institutions, and the general public. The audience is broad and layered. Archaeologists and researchers may use the map as a synthesized view of scattered excavation data. Cultural authorities and museums can employ it for education and heritage promotion. Tourists and locals alike can unfold it to discover the invisible city beneath their feet. And in my portfolio, it serves as evidence to potential clients of my ability to handle complex cartographic storytelling.
The purpose of the project was threefold. I wanted to reconstruct the spatial presence of Minoan Kydonia, to educate audiences through accessible and thoughtful design, and to demonstrate my cartographic craft in a portfolio piece that could stand alongside my best work. The final product was a folded paper map, chosen deliberately for its tactile and exploratory quality. The act of unfolding the map mirrors the excavation process itself like a slow unveiling of hidden layers.
Challenges
The project confronted several challenges. The first was data. Excavation records were scattered, often partial, and published in inconsistent formats. Some were precise architectural plans, others hand-drawn sketches. These had to be aligned into a coherent geographic framework.
The second was design. The map had to speak to archaeologists, cultural institutions, and the general public simultaneously. It had to handle bilingual labels in Greek and English without overwhelming the page. It had to differentiate between what is certain and what is hypothetical. And it had to be beautiful enough to invite engagement without losing credibility.
The third was medium. Designing for a folded paper map is different from designing for a screen. Fold lines, reading order, and print calibration all shape how the audience encounters the map. Every element had to be positioned with the physical object in mind.
Paper Map, Side A
Design Process & Design Decisions
The design process was the true core of the project. It unfolded in stages, like the excavation itself: from raw fragments to coherent narrative.
Research & Data
The work began with collecting excavation reports, archaeological drawings, and city maps. These sources were digitized and georeferenced in QGIS. Aligning ancient excavation plans with modern cadastral parcels was painstaking for a number of reasons like projections differed, scales varied, and distortions had to be corrected. But only through this georeferencing did the invisible city begin to align with the visible one.
The basemap of the Kasteli Hill map, showing the urban fabric: parcels, roads, green areas, Byzantine walls, and excavation sites. Built in QGIS and exported to Illustrator, it served as the base upon which points of interest and labels were layered.
Creating this basemap was like laying foundations. It showed how Kydonia and modern Chania overlapped. From there, I built the city-wide frame.
The basemap of the Chania city map. Spatial data processed in QGIS, with composition in Illustrator. It distinguishes the inner Byzantine walls from the outer Venetian walls, situating Minoan Kydonia within the centuries of Chania’s fortified history.
These two basemaps became the skeleton of Side A: one intimate, zoomed into Kasteli Hill, the other expansive, embracing the entire city.
Design Choices
With structure in place, I turned to design. The goal was to create a map that felt academically credible but also inviting. A classical style was chosen, with restrained symbology and careful hierarchy.
A close-up of the final paper map showing the Kasteli Hill detail. Clear lines and subtle shading highlight the excavation sites within the modern urban grid.
Another close-up of the Kasteli Hill map, where the interplay between city fabric and excavation sites becomes visible.
Color choices were inspired by Minoan frescoes including warm ochres, terracotta reds, deep blues. These hues rooted the map in cultural memory while providing legible contrasts.
A close-up of the Kasteli Hill map with its legend, explaining the colors for land cover features such as built-up areas, roads, open spaces, and excavations. The legend was designed with the same elegance and restraint as the map itself.
Typography was equally deliberate. Greek and English labels had to coexist harmoniously. Fonts were tested for weight and spacing until they balanced, ensuring neither script dominated.
Uncertainty was expressed visually. Solid lines represented confirmed structures, dashed or lighter lines indicated probable reconstructions. This honesty about certainty and doubt was central to the design philosophy.
Side A: Layout and Composition
Side A features two maps: at the top, a very large-scale view of Kasteli Hill, and at the bottom, a large-scale map of the city. This dual composition was intentional. A single map could not capture both the intimate detail of excavations and the broader context of the city.
A close-up of the Chania city map showing Kasteli Hill and the excavations. This balance between archaeological focus and urban context was only achieved after multiple layout experiments.
The top map zooms into the heart of Kydonia, showing the archaeological sites inside the Byzantine walls, with Agia Aikaterini Square emphasized. The bottom map zooms out, situating Kasteli Hill in the city and marking every known excavation and point of interest.
The layout encourages vertical reading: first the microcosm of the hill, then the macrocosm of Chania. The two maps are unified through consistent colors, symbols, and typography, making the composition feel like a single narrative told in two frames.
A close-up of the Chania city map showing stylistic refinements: typography, linework, and fills tuned to evoke a classical but modern aesthetic.
The design evolved through many drafts. Early versions were dense with labels, obscuring the excavations. Later versions stripped out too much detail, making the maps sterile. Iteration refined balance: enough information for depth, enough restraint for clarity.
Another close-up showing the final harmony of colors, lines, and symbology. Each iteration brought the map closer to coherence.
Iteration was not just cosmetic. It was about deciding what story to tell. Should the excavations dominate, or the living city? Should the Venetian walls be bold, or should they recede? Each draft forced choices that shaped the narrative of the map.
QGIS handled spatial accuracy, digitizing, and alignment. Adobe Illustrator provided design control: layout, symbology, typography. Custom symbols were created for walls, excavation areas, and land cover. Each was tested for clarity at print size. Subtle shadows and gradients were added to certain elements to create depth without sacrificing legibility.
Side B: Excavation and Artifacts
If Side A tells the story of space, Side B tells the story of place. It focuses on the main excavation on Kasteli Hill, where Minoan Kydonia has been most fully revealed.
Side B of the paper map: a detailed view of the main excavation on Kasteli Hill, accompanied by selected Minoan artifacts now housed in the Archaeological Museum of Chania.
At the core of Side B is the archaeologists’ plan. I transformed this plan with color and shading. By adding subtle shadows, walls gained volume, and spaces became more legible. The result was a plan that remained archaeologically faithful but far more readable.
Left: the original plan of the excavation as drawn by archaeologists. Accurate but austere, a technical drawing not easily accessible to wider audiences. Right: my reinterpretation of the excavation plan: color and shadow bring a three-dimensional feel, turning a flat technical diagram into an engaging visualization.
A close-up of Side B, showing the final excavation map. Clean symbology and restrained shading highlight the structures without overwhelming the reader.
Artifacts were added around the plan, selected from the Archaeological Museum of Chania. This decision linked the abstract geometry of walls to the tangible objects of Minoan life. Side B thus became more than a site plan; it became a cultural narrative, tying architecture to artifacts, excavation to exhibition.
Another close-up of Side B, zooming into excavation details. Every line and color was tested for clarity, ensuring the plan could be read both as science and as story.
Paper Map, Side B
Solution & Outcome
The final double-sided map solved the challenge of invisibility. Side A situates Kydonia within Chania, connecting the hidden city to the living one. Side B dives into the excavation itself, pairing architectural remains with artifacts. Together, they create a layered narrative: broad context on one side, intimate detail on the other.
The design language is classical, restrained, but enriched with Minoan-inspired colors and has made the maps academically credible and visually engaging. Bilingual labels expanded accessibility. And the folded paper format turned the object itself into an act of discovery
Although self-initiated, the project created real value. For archaeologists, it synthesized scattered excavation data into a coherent view. For cultural institutions, it offered a tool for education and tourism. For tourists and locals, it revealed the hidden city under their feet. And for my portfolio, it demonstrated my ability to merge complex data, historical sensitivity, and design excellence.
A close-up of the Chania city map featuring my logo and attribution. The signature is minimalist and discreet, a final touch of authorship that never distracts from the content.
Credits
The archaeological data used in this project were kindly provided by the Ephorate of Antiquities of Chania (Ministry of Culture) and the Archaeological Museum of Chania. I also gratefully acknowledge the contribution of Dimitris Michelogiannis from the Region of Crete for his support.
The original plan reproduced and reinterpreted on Side B of the map derives from: Erik Hallager, Yannis Tzedakis & Maria Andreadaki-Vlazaki, The Greek–Swedish Excavations at Kastelli, Khania 2001: A Preliminary Report, Proceedings of the Danish Institute at Athens, Vol. VII, 2001.
Basemap data were derived from OpenStreetMap contributors. Map design, composition, and visualization were carried out using QGIS for spatial data processing and Adobe Illustrator for cartographic rendering.
Closing Note
This project was more than cartography. It was an attempt to make the invisible visible, to show a city that lives only in fragments beneath the streets of Chania. By combining archaeological data, geographic reasoning, and careful design, the map of Minoan Kydonia offers audiences a way to see differently: to walk modern streets while imagining ancient courtyards, to drink coffee on a square while knowing a palace lies below.
Maps, at their best, are bridges. This one bridges past and present, science and story, excavation and experience. And for me as a cartographer, it reaffirmed why I do this work: to make hidden worlds visible, beautifully and truthfully.