Events | Venice: I am not making this up

Starting over

May 20, 2021 25 Comments

The triangular red notice-boards of the Biennale have returned to their ancestral homes in the neighborhood. Here’s an important one, front and center in via Garibaldi.

If there’s one term (among many) that has become fashionable around here this year it’s ripresa — recovery. (Not to be confused with “Recovery Plan,” which is exactly what Italians call the mega-component financial scheme that will somehow reassemble our dismembered economy. Does saying it in English give it some occult power? Wish I knew somebody I could ask.) I would have suggested “comeback,” like for some devastated boxer staggering back into the ring, but whatever you want to call it, everybody’s trying to get back to normal.

Over the past two weeks or so, there have been tiny but unmistakeable signs of life such as gradual lessening of curfew, gradual increase of shops and restaurants opening, etc. We still have to wear masks, though not everybody does, but the only thing missing from a cartoon version of life here right now is birds swooping around with little hearts floating upward.

So I’ve been enjoying the tiny signs — more every day — that belong to life as we used to know it. And many of them are connected to the imminent reopening of the Biennale on May 22 (canceled last year, along with its millions of euros from the municipal budget).

Being that our neighborhood is the epicenter of Biennale activity, of course I’d be seeing things such as enormous crates on barges with cranes being unloaded in the exhibition zone, unknown people wearing unusual clothes just standing on bridges looking around, a person here or there with lots of video or camera equipment, or the ticket booth for the vaporettos about to start selling tickets again, ever more individuals dressed in black with a lanyard and plastic-sleeved document around his/her neck. Press, I presume. More water taxis. Gondolas with people in them. I saw a woman today walking around with a big paper map of the city. Boy, that takes me back.

Let’s also notice the soundtrack: The scrapey clatter of rolling suitcases outside the window, the constant low rumble of motors everywhere. All you need is a barge with three cement mixers aboard trying to get somewhere against the tide and you’ll hear what I mean, but the noise from even smaller motors gets to be big, when there are enough of them. This is one part of the Sound of Venice I did NOT miss during quarantine. But here we are.

So generally speaking non-Venetians are returning to their Venice, and we are sliding back into ours, invisible again. We are all side by side, but we are not in the same city. I’ve commented elsewhere on these parallel tracks of life here that never meet, and so that’s a part of normal that is ineluctable.

Not only is the day after tomorrow Opening Day for the Biennale; the following Saturday will be the opening of the week-long Salone Nautico, or Boat Show, in the Arsenal. So bring on the people. I guess we’re ready.

I’ve really missed the yachts; I look them up online to see what they’re like inside. Monsters such as this are moored here, not for their voyagers (this babe costs 238,000 euros per week) but as the perfect venues for really important Opening Weekend parties. It — or perhaps Plan A? — will probably be back for the same reason at the end of August for the film festival.

This restaurant was created a year ago February in what was the only shoe store in via Garibaldi. As soon as lockdown hit, it closed up and has never opened since then until this week. Getting all spiffed up and ready for hungry art-lovers. I think basil plants instead of flowers is an outstanding idea. Also, they say green is the color of hope.

This Eastern European man is a staple at the entrance to the Giardini, playing the old favorites (including “My Way,” my oldest unfavorite, but also the tango music from “Scent of a Woman”) to a modest recorded accompaniment. He had disappeared for a year, because who was around to give him money? The fact that he’s back is a huge sign of better things on the way.

Shapeless whimsy is seeking fame and fortune — the Biennale’s back and boy, is Venice glad.

You start with a plinth of some sort and work up. No way of guessing what might be due to be put here, we’ll just have to wait and be surprised.

The meaning of this will be revealed in due course, though perhaps not by me. At the moment, it’s sitting there in its perfect shape, though its relevance to “How will we live together?” is not immediately evident.

I have no way of knowing whether bags of mulch are a work of art — it’s a little hard to know where to look in these areas or what to appreciate. So I’ll appreciate the mulch.

One entirely unexpected discovery, beyond the fields of the Biennale, was a collateral effect of the city’s revival: The opening of the church of San Lazzaro dei Mendicanti to the public. I have only ever seen this church open for funerals, not infrequently because it was built in 1634 as part of the city hospital. (Hospitals and funerals are unfortunate companions.) We came upon this on a random afternoon wander, and seized the chance to see the church without mourners and memorial wreaths.

The church of San Lazzaro dei Mendicanti is inserted into the city hospital, and is usually shut up tight, as you see here. (Foto: Abxbay on Wikipedia).

Enter the church and this is what you discover is filling the space over the front door. Meet Alvise Mocenigo (known in Italian as Luigi Leonardo Mocenigo), Admiral of the Venetian navy in the 25-year War of Candia during 1648-51 and 1653-4.

You already have grasped that he was a Capitano da Mar because of his very particular hat, and his baton of command. He defeated the perennial Turkish foe at Paros and Naxos, but his qualities as a commander and as a man were evidently so remarkable that when he died even the Turks bedecked their ships with tokens of mourning for their worthy adversary.

The Battle of Naxos. That rearing horse must have been the sculptor’s absolutely favorite part of the whole thing. The obelisks bear medallions representing the four medals struck in Crete to commemorate Mocenigo’s victories (Civica, Rostrale, Murale, Graminea. This will not be on the final exam.)

So modern art brings tourists, which leads to opening some spaces to lovers of old art. I might like this new normal.

Events

Musical New Year

January 2, 2021 14 Comments

I don’t often watch New Year’s Day concerts on television (or computer), but lots of people veer toward the version from Vienna, perhaps drawn by the irresistible, fatal lure of the “Radetzky March.”

This year, though, we were keen to see the concert from La Fenice, live via streaming, and apart from the music itself, I was entertained by observing all the measures the orchestra and chorus had taken to maintain distancing and otherwise limit contact in the decidedly closed area of the theatre. I checked them off, mentally, as from some viral bingo card. Masks, of course, though the inevitably maskless wind and brass players were separated by plexiglas panels. The chorus wore masks, which didn’t seem to affect the quality of the singing but must have been somewhat challenging where breathing was concerned. (Not to mention the drippage that masks inevitably call forth.) The next day it was sharply noted by many that the musicians of the Vienna concert had not worn masks.

Making space for everybody meant that the entire orchestra section of the theater was stripped of its pink velvet armchairs and covered with a platform. (Some of the armchairs were moved to the stage for the benefit of the singers.) I’d like some expert to explain how this repositioning might have affected the overall acoustics. I didn’t notice any particular problem.

Lack of an audience threatened depressing intervals of silence between the numbers, but it turned out that the performers applauded each other — the chorus clapped for the orchestra or soloists; the orchestra stamped their feet and the string players also tapped their music stands with their bows. The conductor clapped for everybody. It was perfect.

The armchairs are very comfortable and very luxe. It’s an ambitious space to cover, though. This image was taken before a performance two summers ago.

Naturally the program was entirely composed of old warhorses, and we love them all. This is one moment in the year when rash experiments in music are neither needed nor wanted.

The reason I’m mentioning all this is because someone had the charming idea to complement the “Barcarolle” from The Tales of Hoffman with a ride through the canals aboard a gondola. Even if you don’t care about music, old or equine, I wanted you to experience this sensation, partly because it has become sadly rare these days, and partly because these few waterborne moments give the most expressive glimpse of the city as she is at the moment that I’ve ever seen. I suppose it was filmed early on a Sunday, because although the taxis and gondolas have almost disappeared, the barges on workdays are still going full tilt. But the sense of emptiness, in canals and along many streets, has become all too common.

Among my many hopes for the New Year is one in particular: To see the city full of gondolas again, slipping through the maze of Venetian waterways. With or without Hoffman.

(Apologies for the quality of these clips; I couldn’t find any better. But they show the organization of the concert, and the music itself is wonderful, as always.)

Events

Christmas refrain

December 31, 2020 17 Comments

This small Nativity scene is just inside the entrance of the church of San Francesco de Paola on via Garibaldi. There’s a bigger scene up near the high altar but I’m sticking with this one: It’s made almost entirely of recyclable materials, primarily bottle caps. It was created, according to the sign below, at the “Sant’ Alvise” day-care center in the neighborhood for persons with various disabilities. Whatever those disabilities may be, the group created a small masterpiece.

Technically, we are still well within the Twelve Days of Christmas, so Christmas images are more than appropriate — except that everyone has now fixed their beady eyes on the arrival of the New Year, so Santas and creches don’t seem quite so…necessary?

Fine, I will go with the marching calendar, but not without sharing a few more glimpses of Christmas hereabouts. To call it “low-key” would imply that there even was a key, but however modest the celebrations may have been, we treasured them even more.

Mary’s face is a bit mystifying — how did they make those eyes? Perhaps I will pursue this matter, perhaps not. Just add it to all the other mysteries of the year.

Are those angels made of fluorescent light bulbs? Outstanding!

The tobacco-toy-lottery ticket shop constructed Christmas in the window entirely from Lego bits. Not for me to say, but anyone who had time to do this must be escaping from something.

Calle Lunga Santa Maria Formosa is the site of a silent battle between green-and-red windows. I have awarded the prize to the one on the left.

I’m just sorry you can’t admire how enchanting the twinkling little lights made the whole arrangement. These are just crying out to be turned into wedding bouquets. With the lights.

In the splendid entryway to the hospital (I’m fine) is this phenomenal Nativity scene constructed on a mascareta from the nearby Querini rowing club.

Matting made of rushes from the lagoon marshes. Reliable sources (via Giuseppe Tassini) maintain that the sestiere of Cannaregio took its name from *canne* (rushes) that once lined its canal banks. The calle de le Canne near San Giobbe is named for a long-ago storeroom of rushes; these had various uses, primarily to apply pitch to waterproof the hulls of wooden ships.

Some resourceful person(s) managed to obtain a not-worm-eaten bricola. Many of these pilings out in the lagoon are in desperate shape, but this is worthy of its exalted role here.

From the day after Christmas until Epiphany hundreds of panettoni will remain in the supermarkets, placed front and center at ever diminishing prices. The management obviously hopes it won’t be forced to throw them away at season’s end. Or leave them in a warehouse till next Christmas?

Undaunted sunset reaches via Garibaldi from however many miles away. I hope your 2021 will be just as bright.

Events, Venetian Events

Redentore up in smoke

July 9, 2020 9 Comments

Waiting for the fireworks. Last year, this looked like a party. This year, it looks like a public health nightmare. I hadn’t ever thought about it, but fireworks manufacturers must be hurting this year along with everybody else.

This just in: The bridge is already under construction, and I’m sure the fireworks are already on the way, but like a launch at Cape Canaveral, mayor Luigi Brugnaro has scrubbed the mission.

This year, there will be no fireworks for the Redentore (July 19). No fireworks, no party boats, no “notte famosissima.” It’s a blow, but there were already signs that caution was going to rule, beginning with the new regulation that spaces along the fondamente were going to be assigned only by booking. But in the end, it was obvious that safe social distancing was going to be impossible to plan, much less maintain, on water or on land.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. “Festa of the Redentore, on the embankments only by reservation.”

Here is the mayor’s announcement (translated by me):

“I do not have good news. I have been awake all night, but unfortunately I’m forced to tell you that we are annulling the fireworks for the Redentore. I can’t bring myself to make it work, I have tried everything. In conscience I just don’t feel like it, for me it’s the most beautiful festa of the year. We set up an incredible system for booking for the boats, we even invented a series of plans for limiting the flow. It’s my decision, I take responsibility for it, but I cannot bring the city to risk it. This is a safe city.”

If you come for the fireworks, you’re almost certainly going to want to eat something somewhere. Not a scene that bears repeating this year.

No news at this moment as to whether the races will be held on Sunday afternoon, or the mass.

However, I think it’s unlikely that the festal mass on Sunday afternoon is going to be permitted to proceed as in days of yore.

Winds of change, as the cliche’ goes. Hang tough, Venice.

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