Dogs of Venice- Wednesday Blog Post

            In my few days in Venice so far, I’ve noticed that while all of the Venetians seem to enjoy life, none of them enjoy it quite so much as their four-legged companions. With the number of dogs I see out with their owners, I am convinced that owning a dog must be a prerequisite for being a real Venetian. The dogs of Venice are living the good life. In fact, if I were a dog, I don’t think I could imagine a better place to call home.

Venice belongs to the dogs. They can be found just about everywhere: you see them out for walks, in cafés while their owners have an espresso, and even on vaporetti. They enjoy the company of the rest of the many dogs of Venice, occasionally needing an “andiamo” from their owners when they socialize for a bit too long. Although they seemed not to come in a pack of seven, something about the attitudes of these dogs was reminiscent of those in the movie Moonstruck in my opinion, and sometimes, I can’t help but hear that peppy song that always goes with the appearance of the dogs in the movie.

This high density of dogs seems to make for a different culture towards them than anything I’ve experienced before. Before going to Venice, the idea of bringing a dog into a restaurant was not only something I’d never consider doing, but also something I might not have believed to happen anywhere.  I’m not sure that it is explicitly against the rules to bring pets on public transportation, but it’s certainly something I just don’t see done. Really, the only two places it seems completely acceptable to have a dog is in your own house and outside. Anywhere else would seem a little off, if not somewhat illegal. Many pet owners in the United States might say they think of their pets as just strange looking humans, but the Venetians take it a step further. It seems like their society as a whole has accepted this idea. A “No Dogs” sign seems to be something you simply don’t see in Venice.

I’d like to credit this difference to a fundamental difference in what Venetians and Americans as a whole value. Americans follow the rules. They stop at traffic lights even if there isn’t another car within a twenty mile radius, they generally treat “Keep out” signs practically as a tangible boundary they physically cannot cross, and they certainly don’t bring their dogs into Starbucks with them in the morning for a coffee. I don’t think this is really the case with the Italians. It seems to me that rules are accepted only as suggestions in Italian society. Italians seem to more do what makes sense to them. There’s probably health codes that would strongly discourage the presence of dogs in places where people eat, but by Italian logic, an espresso needs to be had before work and the dog needs to be taken out, so why wouldn’t one combine the two? I very much appreciate this attitude.

Campo Assignment

The Campo San Stefano is located in the heart of the glass making district of Murano. The church associated with it, S. Pietro Martine, sits across a mid-size canal from the campo. With its massive size and plain exterior, it is clear that the church was built in a medieval style. It seems to have a greater than typical number of windows for a church of its time period, which might be explained by the fact of its location in Murano. The lower windows, which take the shape of the Roman arch rather than the ogee arch common throughout Venice, are covered with a thick iron lattice. This, along with the towering height of the church, gives it a powerful appearance. On the clerestory, there are four round windows resembling those one might find on a ship, and indeed, the long tall shape of the church does bring to mind that of a ship.  

The inside of the church is wooden and not terribly ornate. The two exceptions are the few Renaissance era paintings, including a Tintoretto, adorning the walls and 6 massive chandeliers hanging in the front, serving as another reminder of the church’s location. The front door of the church is framed with an aedicule, which is of more of a Renaissance style than the rest of the church. Because of all of the windows, the church is much more light than the typical gothic church.

Taken from online (No photos allowed in church)

            The campo itself features a campanile of a modest size that clearly matches the gothic architecture of the church. The design of the two are tied together by the small arches along the top of each that serve as one of the few features meant purely for aesthetic value. The campanile is topped with a machicolation, and the size facing the campo has a clock face.  The tables of a restaurant take up a large chunk of the space. The campo is of a reasonable size, somewhat smaller than Santa Maria Formosa. The most unique feature of the campo, however, is a recent addition. The artisans of Murano make huge glass sculptures for decoration that can be found throughout the district, and the campo hosts one of these pieces. This piece, which is very modern, stands out in stark contrast to the gothic architecture of the church and campanile.

            Two bridges in the immediate vicinity cross the canal cutting the church and campo apart. It is picturesque spot, with many tourists stopping on the bridges or next to the glass art for a photo. Additionally, the canal itself is quite busy, with boats lining both sides and frequently passing up the canal. There seems to be a fair number of locals around in addition to the tourists.

            The space is a great case study for how the Venetians and tourists use the same space so differently. When a person enters the campo, it is easy to tell if they are a tourist or a local. The tourists wander with no sense of purpose, walking with a slow pace and stopping frequently when something catches their eye. They amble in, admire the glass sculpture, snap a photo to post on a social media site later in the day to impress friends,  then wander on to buy cheap Chinese glass in the more questionable shops in Murano.

The Venetians, on the other hand, look like they have a destination in mind as they enter the campo.  They don’t necessarily walk quickly, but not aimlessly.  They seem to simply go about their business as if the tourists aren’t even there. Delivery boats come and go, and the waiters prepare the restaurant for a siesta between lunch and dinner. Indeed, since Venice is so permanently overrun with visitors, the Venetians probably have learned to turn a blind eye to them.

Despite still being very close to the main island, Murano feels much more like a vacation destination than a bustling city, even in the Venice sense of the phrase. Among the group, it was agreed that the island had an almost tropical feel to it, despite the relatively chilly weather. This shows how little distance it takes to give a place its own distinct identity.  The campo reflected this atmosphere, and as I sat there, I had the feeling that nothing was urgent.  Certainly the church and the campanile had no concern for the passing of time, and that attitude seemed to spread throughout the area.

Venice in the Details

The Museo Correr is one of Venice’s many museums and is home to many pieces of art that tell the history of the city. The story of how the museum’s collection came to be is a unique one.  The Museo Correr is named after Teodoro Correr, who was a Venetian nobleman in the late 1700s.  Early in his career, he followed the typical path of someone of his stature – public administration. However, his real passion was collecting, and he went to extreme measures to pursue this passion. In order to rid himself of his duties as a public administrator, he went so far as to become an abbot.

            Correr’s collection was unusual in that it was collected at a time at which most of Venice’s nobility was selling off their collection rather than expanding. He collected during the time when Venice lost its sovereignty to an invasion by Napoleon. During this unstable time, most of the nobility was happy to be selling off their collections and reaping the large sums of money that their priceless collections demanded. Correr took advantage of this, buying up many of the collections and saving them from being taken from the city by wealthy foreigners hungry for a piece of Venice’s rich artistic tradition. He was known to be ruthless in gathering his collections and was not above extorting and strong-arming his way into ownership of a piece if he wanted it enough.

            The collections of the Museo Correr are significant because from daily life to naval achievements to public celebrations, its paintings represent a huge part of Venetian history. Most importantly, this collection never left the city. At the time that it was gathered, many of Venice’s artistic treasures made an exodus from the city at the hands of the Napoleonic invaders. Although many of the works have now returned to the city, the Correr collection never left. Because of this, as well as Teodoro Correr’s belief that his art should be for everyone to enjoy, the collection has been on display for the public since Correr’s death in 1830. The museum is now open to the public and is run as a civic museum by the city of Venice.

            The building itself also has an interesting history. The part we see in front of us is the Napoleonic wing. It was built as a palace for the ruler put in place by Napoleon when he conquered Italy. Since it was in fact a palace, the museum itself is a work of art. If we were to step inside, we would find an ornate interior that was designed by the Venetian artist Giuseppe Borsato, and above the main staircase, we would find an impressive fresco by Sebastino Santi. Despite the fact that it is a museum itself, the Museo Correr could still be said to follow the Venetian tradition of art staying where it was in the first place rather than being moved to museums.  The architecture of the building reveals a neoclassical design typical of the Napoleonic Period that stands out in constrast to the Venetian Gothic style typical throughout the city.

            This difference in architecture is what struck me the most upon seeing the Museo Correr after getting a feeling for the rest of Venice. Despite the mix of architecture present throughout Venice, to me, the Museo Correr simply did not seem to fit. It looked like a piece of Paris had fallen out of the sky and imposed itself on the Piazza San Macro, which isn’t far off from the truth. This, along with the horses of the Basilica San Macro being taken to Paris, are reminders of how difficult it must have been for a people of such a proud tradition of independence to be conquered by Napoleon. Consider how earth shattering it would be if America was to be invaded and lose its independence. It simply isn’t something we think of as a possibility—America seems unshakably permanent. It has only been independent for 200 years. How much more permanent much have Venetian sovereignty seemed to the Venetians, whose independence dates back for so much longer a time period?  Seeing the intruding architecture of the Napoleonic Wing of the Museo Correr on one side of the Piazza San Marco and the basilica without its iconic symbols of Venetian freedom must have been a painful reminder to the Venetians of what they had lost.

Bibliography

"Building and History." Museo Correr. Fondazione Musei Civici Venezia, n.d. Web. 13 Mar. 2014. <http://correr.visitmuve.it/en/il-museo/museum/building-and-history/>.

"Museo Correr." Lonely Planet. Lonely Planet, n.d. Web. 13 Mar. 2014. <http://www.lonelyplanet.com/italy/venice/sights/museums-galleries/museo-correr>.

"Museo Correr." Google Cultural Institute. Google, n.d. Web. 13 Mar. 2014. <http://www.google.com/culturalinstitute/collection/museo-correr>.

"Museo Correr: A Fascinating Insight into the Art and History of Venice." My Art Guides. Venice Art Biennale 2013, 2013. Web. 13 Mar. 2014. <http://www.myartguides.com/venice-art-biennale-2013/art-spaces/foundations/item/486-museo-correr>.

"Teodoro Correr." Museo Correr. Fondazione Musei Civici Venezia, n.d. Web. 13 Mar. 2014. <http://correr.visitmuve.it/en/il-museo/museum/teodoro-correr/>.

Venice Imagined Part II

In my first days in Venice, I have quickly realized just how different Venice is from any other place in the world.  It is as if someone thought it would be clever to put a massive movie set in the middle of a lagoon and invite 100,000 people to live in it. I accredit this feeling not so much to the way that the water permeates every corner of the city, which is the most immediately apparent unique aspect of Venice. I think it comes more from the consequence of the water in Venice—there are no cars. I never realized just how deeply cars affect the modern city unitl I came to Venice. For one, they are incredibly noisy. Certainly, the boats of Venice is far from quiet, but they are silent compared to the constant drone of vehicles you’d find in Chicago. On a deeper level, I feel that the lack of cars brings a certain sense of security to pedestrians in Venice. Its feels very safe to know that you’re the biggest, fastest thing you can run into in the streets. That sense of security seems to slow everything down to more of a walking pace. After all, no one else can get there any faster.

Venice Imagined

In the opening chapter on anticipation, Alain de Botton discusses the mystique of a place we have yet to visit and the sometimes-harsh reality about that place that sets in once we arrive at that place. He argues that we have a tendency to latch on to a romantic vision of a place in such a way that we are confused, if not disappointed, when we arrive in that place to find gas stations among the lush, palm-tree dotted beaches of our imagination, as Botton experienced in his travels to Barbados. As someone who’s already done a fair amount of traveling, this is something I can relate to. In the past, I would often visualize every minute detail of the trip before it started, only to find that the actuality of the place bore nearly no relation to my expectations. Recently, as well as with this trip, I have been making a habit of not trying to fill in details beforehand in preparation for a trip, but rather have a few well thought-out questions in mind and let reality answer them.

Credit: barbados.org

            In the case of Venice, I am most fascinated by the prospect of a major metropolis that can move no faster than a vaporetto. Every city I’ve ever been to before seems defined in part by the frantic rush into the city via cars and commuter trains, then a frantic rush around the city via taxis and subways as people go about their business, following a frantic rush out of the city as commuters return to their homes in suburbs sometimes an hour away. Every day, the modern city seems defined by its fast pace of life. With the lack of cars, do Venetians rush around like other city dwellers, or do they experience a much slower pace of life? Do Venetians live a more grounded lifestyle, staying mostly in their own neighborhoods, because of it? If so, how do those neighborhoods differ than those with a more transient flow of inhabitants? I’ll allow time to answer those questions as I cannot hope to provide nearly as accurate insight by extrapolating.

Credit: city-data.com

        

Credit: worldofstock.com

    Perhaps my best experience traveling this way came on the first couple of days of my road trip last summer in Rocky Mountain National Park. We had decided ahead of time to climb Flattop Mountain and Hallet’s Peak on our second day in the park, a journey that would take us far above the tree line. I had never climbed such a tall mountain, so I didn’t know what to expect about sitting on top of the continental divide. Instead, I went with an open mind, and I feel I was better able to appreciate the incredible silence save the howling of wind you experience when you are so high up the ambient noise of insects and birds has long since subsided, and the feeling Botton would no doubt describe as sublime you have as you look out from the top and see just how vast the world is and how small and isolated you are. I’ve realized than the lush beaches will be there whether you imagine them before or not, and I look forward to discovering all of the things I have not considered upon my arrival in Venice.

Credit: Believe me when I say I earned this photo