Seen from afar, it’s the Little Christmas Tree that Could. The bright glow in the glum is admittedly rather pleasant.
You might wonder how a Christmas tree could possibly make people mad (though considering the year almost past, you might not). Whatever your Yuletide habits, a lot of Venetians would have welcomed a honking big Norway spruce to its traditional place in the Piazzetta, some looming aromatic conifer loaded with scintillating lights, sumptuous ribbons, glittering glass baubles, etc. It would have been greeted with open arms, many smartphones, and shining faces.
But because we haven’t had enough computer screens in our lives this year, now we have the Christmas Screen.
It’s art, naturally, art that, from afar, sort of resembles a tree, though this structure isn’t even alive. But it does have the consolation of being, as I mentioned, art, groaning beneath loads of symbolism and verbiage.
Installed in the usual position last Thursday, this structure is the creation of artist Fabrizio Plessi, sponsored by the Assicurazioni Generali. No way of my knowing who had the final, or even the first, word in the discussions that led to this creation. It can’t be to attract tourists, because at this point in the evolution of the pandemic it would be easier to attract a Great Auk than a tourist.
It’s tree-ness, on closer examination, is looking a bit eccentric. Also, it’s moving. Literally.
The public has not been amused by a novelty that appears to be more like a refugee from the Biennale than a festive fixture.
The artist explains: “It’s a message of hope.”
The public responds: “A heap of scrap metal.” “Hanging ingots.”
Anything wrong with this picture? In addition to everything else that’s wrong about this tree, Lino notes that it’s between the two infamous columns of “Marco” and “Todaro,” historically the place for public executions. I realize it’s not precisely between the columns, but to him that’s where it is. Not good.
“This year we need a message of light,” Sig. Plessi told La Nuova Venezia. “The 80 modules represent the flow of that many different cultures.” Furthermore, it would seem that the installation symbolically unites earth, water and sky.
“I understand whoever would have preferred a traditional tree,” Plessi continues, “but this is a message of hope. The use of digital in this context becomes spiritual emotion and expresses itself in the only possible language today, permitting us to reach others even if they are physically distant.”
Not sure about you, but while this is the sort of hot air that keeps the Biennale aloft for months on end, it doesn’t do anything for the spirit of Christmas. My own view is that the more you explain something, the less that something actually communicates. If you have to tell people what to think or feel about your creation, you’ve acknowledged that the creation is mute.
If there’s one city that isn’t suffering for lack of works of art, it would be Venice. But there’s always room for one more.
There is more. “This tree is well planted in tradition, but it is also a tree that wants to talk to the world,” says Simone Venturini, the city councilor for Tourism. “Personally I find it marvelous because it shows that Venice knows how to be, together, the city of great history and of the future. It shows that you can make contemporary art without waiting for the Biennale.” Of course you can, as long as you have a sponsor. I don’t want to put a pricetag on Christmas, but this installation, along with 50 kilometers of strings of lights in the Piazza San Marco and on the mainland, not to mention the lights shining on the Rialto bridge, cost a total of some 800,000 euros. So he could also have said that you don’t need to wait for the Biennale in order to spend money. I knew that.
Many years ago a homeless man at the entrance to the subway in New York stopped me with this request: “Hey lady, could you spare some change for an old wino?” How could I say no? His candor was irresistible.
If Mr. Plessi had said, “I like to make art using digital stuff. I don’t know why, I just like it. Maybe because it’s shiny. So here’s sort of a tree made of digital stuff. Kind of made me think of Christmas. Hope yours is happy, in spite of everything,” I’d have started a Fabrizio Plessi fan club.
And yet, at some magical moment in the last four days, some indomitable soul(s) did what they could to put things right. “Thanks, we brought our own….”Despite the condensation on the plastic, the cardboard sign is clear. The “opera d’arte” (work of art), is straight ahead. Christmas, on the other hand, is down and to the left.This is what some people (not tourists, I’m thinking) consider Christmas.! I’m just sorry there aren’t any fish to stick in the branches, like the baby owl in New York and the baby koala in Australia.. In any case, Christmas has been saved. This time.
Life tentatively returning to normal is perceptible in things that are the same, but different, and vice versa. One unexpected example is the little egret (that’s its name, not my description) perched on the railing near our house. I’ve seen them on vaporetto docks, but never this far inland. I hope it doesn’t mean the world is about to end, because I really liked it.
Monday morning, things were different. Yes, we (still) have no tourists, nor will we, probably, for an unknown stretch of time. But it seemed like there were more locals around, somehow. Life has begun to find its old grooves, though not always in a good way; “old grooves” means “do whatever I want.” I was afraid of this. More on this below.
There are still regulations, but they have evolved. The Gazzettino published two pages of lists, according to category, of what we’re allowed to do during this phase. (Phase 3 will begin June 3).
Masks are still required outdoors wherever it’s impossible to maintain social distancing, but gloves are no longer required inside a shop unless you intend to be touching the merchandise. (Shops will have bottles of hand-sanitizer and sometimes gloves available.) Clearly you can resist touching certain things, but only up to a point — I doubt that the employees will always be available to do your fetching and carrying. And of course, if you’re buying clothing you’ll have to touch the merchandise. Obvious. Just plan on gloves.
Gloves are no longer required on the vaporetto. Even more interesting is that the seating has been reassigned to accommodate more passengers.
Clearly, squads of workers spent Sunday night removing the previous seating labels and rearranging them. No more need for the green ones, and the places reserved for the aged and variously infirm have returned. However, rush hours have seen over-burdened vaporettos, with some unmasked passengers. To which I say, what can one expect, even without tourists, if the vaporetto is still running only every 20 minutes? (Note: Some of the slight increase in riders may be Italians from elsewhere in the Veneto, so yes, technically they would be tourists.)The bottle of hand-sanitizing gel is now standard on each vaporetto, specifically the big battellos of the Lines 1 and 2. (I didn’t see any on the smaller motoscafos, such as the #6, so that’s just another thing I can’t understand.) I admire how they’ve armored the bottle. If there’s anything that screams “We know how people are,” it’s the weapons-grade metal bands protecting the bottle from the people we know how they are.A closeup from another vaporetto. Having observed the fate of casino ashtrays, the directors have taken clear steps to defend their hand sanitizer to the last squirt.
Did I say “more passengers”? Transport is a mess now. The number of boats hasn’t increased, and the 4.1 and 4.2 lines have yet to reappear. A friend of mine waited 50 minutes at Piazzale Roma to be able to board a vaporetto bound for the Lido. I think what’s so annoying about that is that the ACTV seems to have been hoping people just wouldn’t notice that they had cut service by 50 per cent. When nobody could travel, the service could have been cut even more than that, but now people actually want to get somewhere. Amazing, I know. Who would have thought.
The main problem this week — and it’s a big one — is the increasing number of people not wearing masks, or with their masks pulled down below their chin. I saw a man this morning talking with a friend, and the man had pulled his mask down to make talking easier. I’m sure he put it back when it wasn’t needed anymore. And social distancing? Suddenly people here are having more difficulty than I am in estimating what “one meter” means (and they’ve grown up with the metric system)…
The Bar Torino in Campo San Luca has made the distance between tables brilliantly clear. Of course, this works because tables stay put, unlike people, and tables also don’t have any particular desire to be closer to the nearest one, a desire that appears to have become irresistible to humans.Tables demonstrating military precision and discipline.It’s like the tables have been ordered to fall in by Prussian drill sergeants.People, on the other hand, have to organize themselves, and the result is not encouraging. Stand close together, or sit far apart? Forget sitting.They may have failed geometry, as I did, but unlike them I got top marks in the “How to wear a mask” course. Still, the denizens of bar Strani (you may recall they were offering home delivery of cocktail kits) have been away from it, and their friends, for far too long, and have a lot of stuff to talk about. Which everybody knows you can’t do with a mask.Here’s what’s funny: This list of rules, regulations, orders, statues, guidelines, is prominently placed at the entrance to the area pictured above. Permit me to translate, because I think the manual of a DC-3 wasn’t much longer. I’ll continue in the text below so as not to clog the caption.
NOTICE: Do not overstep (this barrier), the zone is secure for persons at the tables. To reach the restrooms, use the side door in the calle and respect the wait times. The bar is disinfected (“hygienized”) at mid-day and at evening by means of a bleach-based solution as advised by the minister of health. Entrance is forbidden during the disinfection!
For your further care: Every table is supplied with spray and/or disinfectant wipes. Clients are free to disinfect tables and seats. Attention: The products are based on bleach solution (1 per cent). At night an anti-bacteria lamp with ozone will be used, to guarantee as germ-free a local as possible.
Please be aware of these and respect the rules, the customers, the owners, and the collective health.
NOTICE: At the table please keep your gloves on till you are sure to be in a disinfected area. You are requested to register (everybody) on our Facebook page to keep track of your presence to be notified in case of contagion.
You are requested to have your self-certification in case of any controls by the competent officers. Specific disinfecting products will be available to you. Remove your mask only to drink or eat. Put on gloves and mask before asking for the bill. Wait to be sure you have useful interpersonal space before moving around.
Avoid touching surfaces that you don’t need to use.
Please be aware of these and respect the rules, the customers, the owners, and the collective health.
Lest you think they have an extreme concern for their customers, which of course I hope they do, bear in mind that they also have an extreme concern for themselves. Literally overnight, like some diabolical algae bloom, masses of people gathering to party in public places has become a major problem. It’s happening all over Italy. Fines for these happy-hour shenanigans range from 300 to 4,000 euros, and if that’s no deterrent to the blithe spirits, the bar and restaurant owners are enjoined to break up any groups forming in front of their establishment, otherwise they (the owners) risk suspension of their licenses and will be closed.
All this revelry is the big story these days, because groups MUST NOT BE PERMITTED TO FORM. Front-page headline in the Gazzettino two days ago: “Spritz and folly: ‘I’ll close everything again'” (Luca Zaia, governor of the Veneto). “The Halt! of the governor: Exaggerated nightlife and too many without masks: They should remember the deaths.” “In Padova tens of young people drunk, carabinieri attacked” (wait, what?). “The prefect: Stupidity everywhere, I’m astonished by such childishness.”
The Gazzettino’s headlines yesterday: “Wild nights: Maxi-fines and closures. Bars packed and spritz without masks. (Prime Minister) Conte: This isn’t the time to be partying. Steep sanctions for whoever slips up and stopping the bars.” Sorry for the translation — like so many things, it sounds better in Italian.
“Look,” Zaia states on the front page — “I’ll close everything. We’ll go back to sealing ourselves in our houses with silicone. The use of the mask can’t be seen as a whim, it’s a lifesaver.”
So these modest little photos of via Garibaldi are nothing compared to the locust-swarms of adolescents of every age that overnight have turned the streets and piazzas of Italian towns into pullulating masses of merriment. What strikes me as modestly amusing is that in Venice a lot of this behavior used to be perpetrated by the much-maligned tourists. I’m not saying that whenever the tourists return, and presumably resume their rampant rude revolting craziness, that I’m going to be glad. I’ll be glad to see people enjoying the city, as I always have been when people come to Venice who do not act either like a herd of overstimulated wild boars or moribund water buffalo collapsing before they reach the river.
Speaking of tourists, this just in: The Biennale has been canceled for this year. It had been scheduled as per normal from late May to late November; comes the pandemic and it was halved to run from late August to late November. Now it will run from late never to late never. Whatever disappointment you may feel about losing the chance to see the exhibitions is nothing compared to what the myriad tourist-tenders are feeling. The 2019 edition logged almost 600,000 visitors, who not only paid the entrance fee but ate, slept, and did other money-intensive things here to the tune of 48,000,000 euros. Whatever percentage of that amount the city treasury realized, it will be sorely missed this year. Tourism to Venice isn’t just shirtless day-trippers laying siege to the Piazza San Marco.
Here is a little-sung facet of tourism: The ATM machine. There used to be three real banks in or very near via Garibaldi. Two have closed, and three of these cash machines have appeared. In fact, the Euronet people have scattered these across Venice like sorghum seeds in Nebraska. But with the arrival of the virus and the disappearance of tourists, the machines are dead, blank black screens where cheerful instructions in many languages used to be. The reason? One merchant who has one of these contraptions told me that the company makes money on the currency conversion when operated by a foreign card. There would be only about 50 euro cents to be earned from an Italian bank card, he said, as opposed to four or five euros on a non-Italian card. So I guess when these machines are turned on again, we’ll know that Venice has finally turned the corner.But miracle of miracles, the owner of the self-service laundromat thought to install an ATM in the shop and it is working just fine (probably better than the dryers after the acqua alta of last November). This is a great thing for me, because for some reason the ATM at the only real bank in the neighborhood doesn’t accept my American debit card. So this one dispenser here is my only convenient option for cash. One catch: It’s only accessible when the laundromat is open……Return to normalcy: The Coop will finally be open again on Sundays, and I see that the closing time has been moved up from 7:30 PM to 8:00 PM. The hand gel is still at its post, but the once-urgent notice taped to the door frame stipulating masks and gloves now seems like an afterthought. Entry is no longer limited to just one person per family, but Governor Luca Zaia advises people “not to go with an entire busload of relatives.”
Another sign of the new times is price hikes. Some hairdressers and bar owners are trying to make up lost ground by increasing their prices. There have been reports of an espresso costing as much as 1.70 euros (as opposed to the normal 1 or 1.10). Some salons have added 2 euros, marked “COVID” on the bill, to cover the cost of the single-use supplies they have had to lay in, and some have acquired expensive disinfecting equipment that cleans the air by ozone. Some shops have a box for contributions to help defray the new costs.
There’s at least one normal thing I’d rather not see. It has nothing to do with coronavirus, but is a sort of mine-canary for what I consider the dark side of life-as-usual here: Horrific motorboat accidents. For nearly three months private motorboats were grounded, and at the moment motorboat traffic is still fairly modest (taxis are yet to be seen, for one thing), so accidents haven’t made news because there weren’t any. But on May 18 there was a headline about a collision with a piling, and it brought a dank whiff of “Oh, so we’re back to doing that again,” not unlike the random shootings in the US once lockdown was lifted.
Yes, its owner/driver is in the intensive care unit of the hospital. This bricola is between Celestia and Bacini, on Venice’s north and very busy edge, and the collision occurred at 3:30 PM (so none of the usual “speeding at night with no lights on” factors). Accidents can happen, of course, and it’s still not clear how this occurred. What’s important about this image, though, is that it’s obvious that the boat was going at considerable speed. I realize that speed is what people love about motorboats (and cars), but the risks are everywhere. (Il Gazzettino)
Some people may say that love is eternal, but what’s really eternal is laundry.
I realize that Venice can be fatiguing — most people aren’t used to walking all day. But the dog has twice as many feet as the man, and it’s still standing.
Sometimes people ask me when the “tourist season” or “high season” begins, and I used to be uncertain. Uncertain no more: It’s Easter. Easter is like the starting bell at Churchill Downs — they just start coming. I can’t explain it, but it has never failed; even if Easter were to fall on February 3, November 5, January 22 — that would be the start of tourist season. But that’s not what’s weighing on me.
What’s weighing on me is how so many of our honored guests have come to behave as if they were in their own backyard, or garage, or abandoned lot behind a shuttered White Tower Hamburgers. Extreme bad manners, of which we’ve already had a few starter episodes, get into the newspaper. For example, the drunken Swiss boys cavorting naked in Campo San Giacometto at the Rialto — profoundly repulsive but not DANGEROUS — or the drunken boys (unspecified nationality) who jumped off the Rialto Bridge one night — HUGELY dangerous.
Or the perhaps not even drunken young men who still were jumping off the bridge by the Danieli hotel in full daylight, blithely unconcerned about barges and taxis and gondolas below. The jumpers could easily be injured when hitting the water or, more precisely, hitting something that’s on the water (recall the drunken New Zealander a few hot summer night years ago who jumped off the Rialto and landed on a passing taxi; after six months of agony, he finally died). Anyone in a boat passing under a bridge has to start thinking they’re in some shooting gallery where, instead of bullets, there are bodies coming for them. The prospect of six months of inescapable and increasingly repellent tomfoolery makes me feel tired and dejected.
We know about these shenanigans because people make videos on their phones and post them on social media. That’s the bass line in this chaotic cantata — showing the imbecility by doing something equally imbecilic. Everyone who reads these reports wonders why people are making videos instead of calling the Carabinieri. If you know the answer to this, please step up to accept your award. Right after you call the Carabinieri. But witnesses to the Danieli escapade say that the police were indeed called, and the police indeed did not appear. So there’s that.
In any case, one doesn’t need dramatic episodes to feel repulsed by tourists, and the daily deterioration doesn’t merit much of a story in the paper. Any neighborhood is bound to offer all sorts of examples of boorish behavior. Among various options, my current obsession is the evidently irresistible urge so many people have to just sit anywhere, plop down on the pavement or bridge, when the mood strikes. I realize this is not unique to Venice, because I’ve seen young people sitting on the floor in the airport, as if there were no seats anywhere. I’m not saying we should bring back the corset and the high starched collar, but the other extreme is worse. Why? For one thing, because they’re in the way and public space is already measured in microns. Second, because it makes otherwise normal people, who almost certainly have had some upbringing, appear to want to revert to life as Homo habilis once they get to Venice.
“Consider yourself at home, consider yourself one of the family” is not a Venetian song.Tourists waiting for the vaporetto at San Pietro di Castello. It must be terrible to have your strength give out before you can make it the last few steps onto the dock, where there are benches to sit on.He may be many things, all of them wonderful, but he is not a child. Does he do this where he lives? Or is this some special feature of vacation in a foreign country where nobody knows you?Maybe the force of gravity is just stronger in Venice, pulling people down against their will. (Gazzettino, uncredited photo)Tired AND hungry? Just buy a box of take-out pasta (the newest trend) and picnic wherever the spirit moves you. The city is yours! Sit as near a corner as you can manage, so people can risk falling over you!Takeout food is cheap and filling and maybe even tasty. But while the city is attempting to control the number of places which sell pizza by the slice, kebabs, and boxes of pasta, it has gone inexplicably silent on the question of where the food is to be taken away to. Evidently anywhere is fair game. Take-out places are going to be required to have bathrooms, but not a thought is spared for seating. Which means that in this case I have to sympathize with the feeders. If you give people no option, they’re going to fend for themselves. This is what self-fending looks like. (Gazzettino June 7, 2018 uncredited)Or why not sit down by a sign that says “Please respect Venice”? Better than sitting on the pavement? Yes, sort of.It’s even in English.Speaking of benches, this one at the San Stae stop was inscribed in marker-pen to indicate the appropriate placement of people according to their category. All the descriptions were sharp and rude, and one was dedicated to tourists.It says “Reserved for the tourists del cazzo.” This isn’t easy to translate; “cazzo” literally means “penis,” and is often used to modify a word to its trashiest, cheapest, lowest-grade level. Yes, writing this is also trashy and low-grade, but one recognizes the sentiment even against one’s will. The notion that Venetians hate tourists isn’t quite right: They hate anybody who acts like a slob, and many of those come from somewhere else.
So much for the subject of quality (lack of). In my next post, some observations on quantity (surplus of). There will be interesting statistics.
Almost exactly a year ago, a huge pair of hands was installed in the Grand Canal in such a way as to appear to be pushing against Ca’ Sagredo, once a magnificent palazzo and now a magnificent hotel. They were evidently one of those bits of visual badinage so beloved of the Biennale, which was about to open. I seem to recall they got lots of notice.
But badinage is effective only when it’s fleeting. You can’t have the same old badinage every day, it would be like living in “Groundhog Day.” And yet that’s exactly what we had for a year, to the point where one long since ceased to laugh, smile, or even notice it.
On May 12, 2017, the hands were raised.
On May 8, 2018, the jig — or the contract, or the parking meter — was up, and down they came. And now I discover it wasn’t supposed to be humorous at all.
What goes up must come down, even if it means drilling and sawing all day. Some people, including the artist, are hoping they’ll come back, whenever they can find another place to prop up.
As reported by “La Nuova Venezia,” Lorenzo Quinn, the artist has said that “They’re my son Anthony’s hands, and they’re as important as the message they give.” There was a message?
Of course there was a message! I was totally mistaken to regard this construction as humorous. Because the message is a serious one (no points for saying “Desperate need for renovation of old buildings”). The message of the hands was to draw attention to the problem of “the constantly increasing global warming. We have to save the world” — that’s the message of the hands, and if you didn’t know that before, now you do.
