This might seem somewhat obvious to you – who wouldn’t like Venice? To be honest, though, when my family and I were there two summers ago, I didn’t particularly care for it. I can’t remember exactly why this was (I do think that a major part was that when we had calamari at a restaurant, I found it below par), but I remember coming away thinking that the place was too gimmicky for my taste. Now, we did have some amazing experiences there, like a glass-blowing demonstration and seeing Murano glass worth tens of thousands of euros, and the chance discovery of Alessandro’s book-binding shop (more on that later), and it is beautiful in many ways. Still, when put up against Rome and Florence and Amalfi, I enjoyed it the least.
This trip changed all that for me. Friday morning my friends Jess, Abby, Jake, Heather, and Ryan and I all departed early in the morning to take the train to Firenze and on to Venezia. We then hiked the mile and a half of winding streets and stairs and bridges until we located our hotel, the Hotel Bel Sito. We discovered through a series of snafus that the lodging was actually going to be quite a bit more expensive than we had figured on, but it ended up being worth it; the rooms were beautiful, breakfast was included, and we were a 5 minute walk from Piazza di San Marco, the center of Venetian life.
Jake and I took a quick walk while everyone got settled, following the “PER S.MARCO →” signs that had led us from the train station. About two minutes into this, we walked over a bridge and I stopped him. There, right in front of us, was “La Ricerca,” Alessandro’s shop! Let me give you some background into this. When my family was in Venezia, we broke away from the tour at one point to try and go to Harry’s Bar, a ritzy place right off of Piazza S. Marco, which is famous for two things: being the hangout spot of Ernest Hemingway, and the birthplace of the Bellini, a drink made with prosecco and frozen peach sorbet. Since Hemingway was of course no longer slouched on the stool nursing his Montgomery martini, we were there for the drink. Unfortunately, Dad was wearing capris, and so, because trousers were required, we were unable to actually enter. This was for the better, both because Harry’s Bar is overpriced and overrated, and because it caused us to wander down some side alleys.
We were first drawn to the shop with the green weathered awning because of the masks. Since it was early July, the tourist catcher shops and kiosks were bulging with the same Made in China chintzy masks. When you start to see something everywhere you begin to never see it, like the leaves on trees or tiles on roofs. The masks in Alessandro’s shop were like delicate leaves with the sun behind them, lighting their patterned ductwork and casting a glow on your upturned face. These masks were unique because instead of the normal paper slathered with paint and fake gold, these were simply single colored irregular pieces of leather molded over a form – imagine a face pressing itself out of a piece of thin wet leather, folds falling away from tightened areas, and you have some idea. This one is a little atypical:
The owner, Alessandro, was a young guy who was very conversant. We came to find that most things in his bookbinding shop, of which the masks were only a small portion of the inventory, were handmade in his workshop about a block away. The walls were lined with leather-bound journals filled with paper milled in Amalfi, cards, letters, and all manner of fine stationary. Being used to (but never completely comfortable with) a world of mass-production, the shop had already an aura of something special, and likely would have stuck in my memory anyway.
But what made Alessandro and La Ricerca one of my family’s top experiences in Italy was the personal attention he paid to us. He was genuinely interested in speaking with people who were like him, appreciative of quality and original manufacture, so that he was speaking with us, not pitching sales. To me and my family, that is the best way to encourage us to buy something, when we know that the money will be used to help continue the production of excellence. Alessandro not only answered our questions about everything in his store, but also decided to take us back to his workshop to show us how everything was made. Only after taking last semester’s printmaking course can I fully appreciate everything we saw in the tiny, bursting space – stacks of gorgeous, creamy paper, a press, inks, sheets of leather hanging from hooks in every available spot. Alessandro explained to us that when he has an idea, he creates a couple of versions and then sets them out in his store; if they sell well, he creates more, and then adds them to his line of products. We left his shop with the perfect close to our trip, heartened that even in that Philistia of commercialism a spark of truth was able to thrive.
And thrive it has. La Ricerca was even more crammed with new, wonderful products, including intaglio prints from a local artist. But what was even more exciting to me was that, after almost two years, Alessandro remembered me and my family! He was just as accommodating as before, inquiring after the health of my family, asking questions about our program, and giving us helpful hints for getting around Venezia (including the fact that you can take a gondola ferry across the Grand Canal for 50 cents). It felt great to have a sort of connection there, and it brought back memories that were even better now that I was returning on my own. It also was great to introduce fellow artists to this thing that had drawn me so much before.
We did not spend the weekend hanging out in a shop, however. Friday evening we wandered around, and then Saturday we spent a full day of tourism. In the morning we had a delicious breakfast, then walked back to San Marco. I hadn’t had the chance to go inside the Basilica di San Marco last time, so I was not leaving before doing that. The outside of the church is impressive enough, grand, but not in an enormous way like San Pietro in Rome. The inside, though, was even more astounding; it fully earns the nickname “Chiesa d’Oro,” Church of Gold. The ceiling is completely covered with golden mosaics – every square inch, with tiles less than a square centimeter. Dome after dome after dome, laid out in a Greek cross…I could go on, but it won’t do it justice. Like the Basilica di San Francesco, it was clearly (although not as emotively) a sanctified space.
We crossed the Grand Canal to eat lunch and visit the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, a museum of 20th century and contemporary art housed in her former home in the Palazzo Venier dei Leoni. It was so refreshing to see art from our era once again! The collection was really great, too, because it included the more unusual, atypical works of famous artists. For instance, a Kandinsky that I would have sworn was a Paul Klee, or Morandi paintings that weren’t of his normal subjects, or a Calder wall-art piece. There were some really famous works there, however, which I had no idea I would see – Max Ernst’s Attirement of the Bride, for instance, or René Magritte’s Empire of Light (which was really cool). In addition, they had some works by artists who I really love, like Jenny Holzer’s Garden Bench (which I copied into my Moleskine in its entirety) or a sculpture by Anish Kapoor. There was a small exhibit highlighting Furturism, which was alright (not my favorite genre)...but then there was a masterful show called Theme and Variations. From the Mark to the Zero. This was curated by Luca Massimo Barberini (I loved it so much I asked a nervous docent), and had actually just opened the evening before. It contained a group of artists who in some cases would never have their work placed next to each other. The purpose was to show how there is a visual language that is related to our perceptions of written language, and that in both cases language can be reduced to a point of zero - basically, it can be deconstructed down to a point of nothing. The writing introducing the exhibit, and explaining different rooms, was so great, I copied certain parts down. Here are two:
"The obsessive repetition of a symbol or a sign leads ultimately to a condition of zero, a tabula rasa that purifies matter, translating it into minimal and monochrome surfaces...the monochrome inscribes the infinite in the finite, written on the 'pages' of the space around it."
and
"...experiments which, through an investigation of sign, color, and space establish the new syntax of the 'zero': letters and words are no longer recognizable and evocative, but rather concretely translated into the minimal elements and basic coordinates of the experiences of space, time and existence."
After the Guggenheim we took naps, went to the market by the Rialto bridge, ate, and then went on a nighttime gondola ride. This was gorgeous because, since it was the low season, the water was clear of traffic and silence pervaded the dark, narrow canals.
A note about Venezia: it changes your conception of moving through space. Everywhere there is some element constricting movement. You may be walking along a street that is 4 feet wide, and there is no break until you come to the intersection with another street or a small campo. On either side there is a three story wall; forward or backwards are the only possible directions for your body, it is movement upon one single line. Or perhaps there is a canal on your right. This is even more playful with your consciousness because now you have open space on your right, but still without the possibility of using it. Once again, a single line is only possible. Further complicating things, at some points there is a bridge that breaks into this open space on your right, but only in an illusionistic way. It is, again, a single line, although one that includes now vertical motion. The single line is never continuous, though; it is always broken after a short distance by a forced turn, so that to reach something a quarter of a mile away requires charting a path that looks like the New York skyline. I believe this is why everyone is drawn to the Piazza di San Marco – here, one can move in any way she wants. The space, which is not actually that large, seems enormous. Pigeons rising in flight only accentuate this effect. Even after just a day and a half of walking through Venezia, it seemed odd to have that sense of restriction lifted upon leaving. I wonder what it would be like to be one of the American interns working at the Guggenheim for six months, and becoming completely adjusted to moving and thinking in that way, and then leaving. It’s just interesting, is all.
In the morning we booked it back to the train station (ALLA FERROVIA →) to catch our morning train to the city of Bologna in Emilia Romana. Dana had told me that the city was renowned for its beautiful people, and this was true, but we were there primarily for two other elements for which it is famous: Giorgio Morandi and FOOD. They came in that order, as we walked to the Collezioni Comunali d’Arte in the center of town to access the Museo Morandi. It was, as most Morandi paintings and exhibits are, pretty incredible, and they actually had a lot of his prints (after taking the printmaking course last semester, I’m boggled at how he was able to fit in so many lines so close to each other), but in comparison to the exhibit at the Met last fall, which completely spoiled me, it felt a little lacking. Imagine my delight, then, when I discovered that the SAME exhibit is now in Bologna! Unfortunately it’s in a different museum on the other side of town, so we weren’t able to make it then, but hopefully the chance to go back will come up before it closes 13 April. The Museo Morandi also had a special exhibit of industrial photography by Bernd and Hilla Becher...rows of beautiful black and white shots of water tanks and cooling towers from industrial centers all over the world.
After viewing the Morandis, we located a restaurant that Jake had researched. We knew that we wanted to eat well in Bologna since it would likely be the best meal we’d have in Italy, so we were prepared to spend a little more than usual. 25 euros seemed too little to pay for the dance that was played on my tongue. We ordered a DOCG Chianti Classico that was almost perfect, and I ordered a cream tortellini alla bolognese for my primo piatto, following it with a veal and prosciutto cutlet smothered in a cheesy cream of some sort with a side of spinach and mashed potatoes. I have never had an instance in which I became truly emotional about food, but halfway through that veal, as I savored a piece in my mouth, I began to become overwhelmed…no, I did not cry, but it was close! I know I have the tendency to hyperbolize sometimes, but I’m being completely honest, Jake and Ryan can attest to this. It will be a long time before I forget that meal…and it seemed criminal when I eventually grew hungry again.
The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging in a park on the outskirts of town. It was a beautiful, sunny day and we sat for about two hours next to a pond. We then walked back across town to the train station, kicked some Germans out of our reserved seats, and relaxed on the ride back to Orvieto. It was a great weekend, but definitely nice to be back in charted territory.
Today I saw a Ferrari. Tomorrow my drawing class goes to Roma for the weekend.
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