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selenakWhen I'm having breakfeast and looking through my window, I see the Cimitero, the cemetery island of Venice, as the Palazzo I'm housesitting is at the Fondamente Nuove. I also see, sometimes amazingly close, the sea gulls flying, and can't help but note they look more elegant in action than those other birds ever present in Venice, doves, aka the winged rats, as a friend of mine once put it.
It's an odd sensation, not having to hurry when strolling through Venice, though my natural mode of walking is pretty fast anyway. I can't help it. Still, sometimes one notices details which previously escaped one's view. For example: that mask shop advertising with the fact Stanley Kubrick bought his masks there (for Eyes Wide Shut). The film in question having beena flop, I'm not sure whether that's a good advertisement, but anyway.
Last night the Festival Internationale Di Letteratura was opened with a ceremony at the Santa Margharita Ca' Foscari auditorium. Yours truly promptly went to the wrong place first - I went to the university main building, which this is not - but was directed to the correct former church. The opening ceremony was something that I had to take on faith and sound, since my little Italian from the mid 90s has disappeared, but, well, the speeches SOUNDED great. Also, the writer chosen to be part of the opening ceremony was the Syrian poet Adonis, and his performance was a multi media event anyway - he recited, a musician played the piano at his left side, and on the right side, a man painted various phrases from his poem in various languages calligraphically on various sheets of paper. Said sheets were at the end all held up by students of the university. It made for an amazing effect, and I took some photos, which I will post.
Afterwards, there was to be a reception at the Ca' Rezzonico, but before everyone could move on there, the organization committed a strategic mistake by giving everyone the chance to catch some air outside of Sa' Margherita where also some of the writers, all of whom had been presented at the opening ceremony, were supposed to sign some of their books already. Why was this a strategic mistake? Lack of stamina, she says with teutonic stoicism. See, among the festival guests were Michael "The English Patient" Ondaatje and his partner Linda Spalding. I got introduced to them and felt just a wee bit fangirlish, which Mr. Ondaatje, who looks a bit like an Old Testament prophet (photo to follow) took with good grace. Linda Spalding was cheerful and charming - and very hungry. "Will there be food at the reception?" she asked Mine Hostess, herself a professor at the local university, who couldn't say. Whereupon off went the Canadians in the direction of the next ristorante despite the fact they were guests of honour. This had the potential of being, err, problematic; however, I'm happy to report they rejoined us later.
At this point, everyone had moved on to the Ca' Rezzonico, which is a restored palazzo and a museum of 17th century Venice, and drop dead gorgeous. As there was indeed a delicious buffet (clearly the reward for stoic Germans), it was a feast for all the senses, because, lo and behold, not just the grand ball room but every single room had been kept open and could be visited. And this time I had a Venetian at my side. She told me it had been in severe decline and ruined until the 30s, which was when the palazzo was restored. Its main claim to fame for the English speaking world is that Robert Browning died and lay in state there; a photo exists, but the caryatids which on the photo are still carrying the world on globe form on their shoulders have since Victorian times been relieved of their burden, no one knows by whom. Everywhere, equisite tapestries and elegant furniture abounds, and I was snapping away photos like a madwoman, because usually you get these rooms only with hordes of other people in them and here those over people were still busy eating. (The buffet: a good thing in so many ways.) On the other side of the Canale Grande one could clearly see the Palazzo Grassi, currently hosting an exhibition of Rudolf Stingel who for some reason decorated the rooms with red Persian looking tapestry you could see from across the Canale due to the lightning.
On a theme of non-Italians in Venice, I went and saw the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, something I skipped the last time around because last year I was pressed for time, and I hadn't come to Venice for modern art anyway. This time, I was struck by Mrs. Guggenheim basically having lived the anti Henry James heroine life: she went abroad, she had lots of lovers which enhanced rather than destroyed her reputation, she championed not the past but the present and ended up getting extra permission to be buried in her garden instead of the Cimitero. Next to her dogs; I admit to having been confused a bit when reading "my precious babies" and then some rather excentric names, but the dates made it clear they were indeed her dogs. Also next to Peggy and the dogs: an olive tree, donated as a "wish tree" by Yoko Ono when Ms. Guggenheim was still alive. Because I can do the six steps to my 60s interests with everything. :)
Tonight: Michael Ondaatje at the auditorium, and tomorrow it's Stephen Greenblatt's turn. Meanwhile, the relatively sunny weather is still holding, which means I do a lot more walking than in door work, because I don't know about you, but I can't be in Venice in the sunshine and not go outside for long!
It's an odd sensation, not having to hurry when strolling through Venice, though my natural mode of walking is pretty fast anyway. I can't help it. Still, sometimes one notices details which previously escaped one's view. For example: that mask shop advertising with the fact Stanley Kubrick bought his masks there (for Eyes Wide Shut). The film in question having beena flop, I'm not sure whether that's a good advertisement, but anyway.
Last night the Festival Internationale Di Letteratura was opened with a ceremony at the Santa Margharita Ca' Foscari auditorium. Yours truly promptly went to the wrong place first - I went to the university main building, which this is not - but was directed to the correct former church. The opening ceremony was something that I had to take on faith and sound, since my little Italian from the mid 90s has disappeared, but, well, the speeches SOUNDED great. Also, the writer chosen to be part of the opening ceremony was the Syrian poet Adonis, and his performance was a multi media event anyway - he recited, a musician played the piano at his left side, and on the right side, a man painted various phrases from his poem in various languages calligraphically on various sheets of paper. Said sheets were at the end all held up by students of the university. It made for an amazing effect, and I took some photos, which I will post.
Afterwards, there was to be a reception at the Ca' Rezzonico, but before everyone could move on there, the organization committed a strategic mistake by giving everyone the chance to catch some air outside of Sa' Margherita where also some of the writers, all of whom had been presented at the opening ceremony, were supposed to sign some of their books already. Why was this a strategic mistake? Lack of stamina, she says with teutonic stoicism. See, among the festival guests were Michael "The English Patient" Ondaatje and his partner Linda Spalding. I got introduced to them and felt just a wee bit fangirlish, which Mr. Ondaatje, who looks a bit like an Old Testament prophet (photo to follow) took with good grace. Linda Spalding was cheerful and charming - and very hungry. "Will there be food at the reception?" she asked Mine Hostess, herself a professor at the local university, who couldn't say. Whereupon off went the Canadians in the direction of the next ristorante despite the fact they were guests of honour. This had the potential of being, err, problematic; however, I'm happy to report they rejoined us later.
At this point, everyone had moved on to the Ca' Rezzonico, which is a restored palazzo and a museum of 17th century Venice, and drop dead gorgeous. As there was indeed a delicious buffet (clearly the reward for stoic Germans), it was a feast for all the senses, because, lo and behold, not just the grand ball room but every single room had been kept open and could be visited. And this time I had a Venetian at my side. She told me it had been in severe decline and ruined until the 30s, which was when the palazzo was restored. Its main claim to fame for the English speaking world is that Robert Browning died and lay in state there; a photo exists, but the caryatids which on the photo are still carrying the world on globe form on their shoulders have since Victorian times been relieved of their burden, no one knows by whom. Everywhere, equisite tapestries and elegant furniture abounds, and I was snapping away photos like a madwoman, because usually you get these rooms only with hordes of other people in them and here those over people were still busy eating. (The buffet: a good thing in so many ways.) On the other side of the Canale Grande one could clearly see the Palazzo Grassi, currently hosting an exhibition of Rudolf Stingel who for some reason decorated the rooms with red Persian looking tapestry you could see from across the Canale due to the lightning.
On a theme of non-Italians in Venice, I went and saw the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, something I skipped the last time around because last year I was pressed for time, and I hadn't come to Venice for modern art anyway. This time, I was struck by Mrs. Guggenheim basically having lived the anti Henry James heroine life: she went abroad, she had lots of lovers which enhanced rather than destroyed her reputation, she championed not the past but the present and ended up getting extra permission to be buried in her garden instead of the Cimitero. Next to her dogs; I admit to having been confused a bit when reading "my precious babies" and then some rather excentric names, but the dates made it clear they were indeed her dogs. Also next to Peggy and the dogs: an olive tree, donated as a "wish tree" by Yoko Ono when Ms. Guggenheim was still alive. Because I can do the six steps to my 60s interests with everything. :)
Tonight: Michael Ondaatje at the auditorium, and tomorrow it's Stephen Greenblatt's turn. Meanwhile, the relatively sunny weather is still holding, which means I do a lot more walking than in door work, because I don't know about you, but I can't be in Venice in the sunshine and not go outside for long!
no subject
Date: 2013-04-11 01:47 pm (UTC)I really love your description of Guggenheim as an anti-James heroine. And ha, I remember seeing the 'precious babies' (years ago now) and being similarly confused!
no subject
Date: 2013-04-12 07:48 am (UTC)Yes, Peggy Guggenheim definitely gave me amoment of confusion there. :)
no subject
Date: 2013-04-12 06:23 am (UTC)Except for your love of seagulls: those things are evil.
no subject
Date: 2013-04-12 07:47 am (UTC)