Anyone who writes a blog on Venice and is in town during Carnevale must decided whether they'll take photos of people in costumes. While I enjoy seeing people have a good time, especially those--adults and kids alike--who display an evident pleasure in being dressed up, I don't much like to photograph people who are posing. And posing for photos seems to be the main thing--sometimes the only thing--that the more elaborately-costumed adult do. And that's a good thing, too, as the number of people wearing cameras around their necks (pros, semi-pros, enthusiasts, and point-and-shooters) far exceeds those wearing costumes, and the latter fulfill the important function of providing the former with subject matter.
I like seeing photos of people in costumes; I admire the flair or whimsy of those both in front of and behind the lens, and am happy to leave it to others.
But this afternoon I caught sight of the thoughtful clown above as I was about to exit a vaporetto and I fumbled to get out my camera and take a shot before something, or everything, changed. It made me think that my favorite costumes are finally those that allow for unexpected glimpses of basic humanness: thoughtfulness or boredom or whatever; the ordinary, essential and sympathetic set off by the festive, the comic, even the outlandish.