Paula's Tour Talk

Serenissima: Venice in Winter

Venice has been my soul's home since my first glimpse on a gray, chilly, rainy October afternoon. The light was stunning and it was love at first sight.

Since it has long been a goal of mine to spend a winter in Venice, I was delighted to receive a copy of this new book of photographs and essays.

Washington Post photography columnist, Frank Van Riper, and his photographer wife, Judith Goodman, have produced a gorgeous book, Serenissima: Venice in Winter.

With over 125 stunning photos, it captures the deep beauty and magic of a place that all too often is portrayed as a kind of touristy Disneyland of riotous color and carnival banality.

From Serenissima (c) Goodman/VanRiper

It's an oversize book of black and white photographs of Venice, shot in the half-light gray tones of winter afternoons, early mornings, and dark misty nights.

It's a book of Venetian faces-- of firefighters and brides, children and chance encounters.

   

From Serenissima (c) Goodman/VanRiper

It's photos of shadowy passageways, hidden gardens, small canals and bridges shot with sensitivity and an artist's eye.

In Serenissima you'll also find eerily lovely photos of well-known places like Piazza San Marco, and the jewel box La Fenice transformed into something new and evocative in the winter light.

But that's not all. Van Riper's accompanying essays offer an excellent introduction to Venetian history and insight into the challenges she faces with an aging dwindling population, high water, and rapidly disappearing every day commodities.

Yet these personal essays are not just a re-hashing of the usual material that you can find in so many other books.

These are enhanced with stories about the people and places in the photos and colored by this couple's love of the the Venice that comes out only in the winter.

Whether you are longing to get back to Venice or preparing to see it for the first time, Serenissima: Venice in Winter  is a fine addition to your library.

_____________________

Links: See more photos on Serenissma's web page,  read about the saga of getting Serenissma published, and learn about Frank Van Riper's and Judith Goodman's photo tours to Italy  and Maine.

 

 

 

Filippo Lippi's Madonna and Child

Looking Past Pretty

It's hard not to succumb to at least a mild case of the Stendhal Syndrome, a feeling of dizzy ecstasy when overwhelmed by art, while in Florence visiting art museums. But I've noticed that often people experience quite an opposite feeling.

Walking past one Renaissance masterpiece after another, barely stopping to glance, many otherwise intelligent people are lulled ( or dulled) into what I think of as the "pretty response." 

It's a kind of stupor that causes a flat response, a check on a checklist: "Oh yes, that's famous. Very pretty."

The only cure is to stop, breathe, and really look. 

For example, this painting by Lippi, reproduced endlessly on Christmas cards and posters, at first glance might just seem, well, pretty. But look closer.

Notice the grey stone frame. It serves as both a window and a frame for the figures. See how Mary's body crosses into the field of the frame?  How one of her shoulders moves past the frame on the inside and the other breaks through the space to the outside? This gives her a stunning spatial reality, seldom seen in earlier paintings.

Notice the landscape. If you think about it, you might realize that it is imaginary, allegorical. Those rocky outcroppings are neither Italian (like the clothing and furnishings) nor does it show a village scene of Nazareth.

Even if you go no further, knowing that this background has meaning* can aid in overcoming the pretty response.

A few more things you can easily spot by focusing for a minute and looking:

•  the faces are real human faces and each wears a revealing expression
• the halos are barely perceptible, just suggestions of more light
• the angel in front looks like he's about to giggle
• the 2nd angel just barely peers out from beneath the baby's arms and you can see his tiny teeth
• pearls, circles, and curves are repeated
• the curls and lines of the figures' hair recurs in the lines of the background
• the incredible real-ness--the weight and heft as well as the sheerness of Mary's veil

None of these simple observations require art historical knowledge, and you would surely make your own discoveries after looking at this painting for a few minutes. (Post a comment if you do).

Spending time with a few works that capture your attention will prevent the Stendhal Syndrome and override the "pretty response."  It will also make your visit to the Uffizi or any other art museum much richer.

*Next time, I'll tell you about those meanings and a story about the artist and the models, too.