Showing posts with label Coronavirus in Venice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Coronavirus in Venice. Show all posts

Saturday, August 7, 2021

180 Degrees of the Grand Canal As Mirror--and An Update

The kind of calm on the Grand Canal that one hopes never to see again: 5 April 2020 during the first lockdown

No, I've not stopped doing this blog, I just haven't had any time to give to it during our long, complicated, and on-going move from Venice to Toronto. 

By this time we'd hoped/planned to be getting settled into a new home, but the apartment in Toronto we rented months ago from a distance turned out, in person, to be no place we could really live. So we are still in a transitional stage, still living mostly out of our suitcases, and once again looking for another home. 

In the meantime, both Toronto and Venice--and any place with any sense (which, alas, leaves out a dismayingly large percentage of my native land)--are doing what they can to fend off or contain a potential fourth wave of Covid infections. 

The surface of Grand Canal so calm as to be mirror-like (as seen in the panorama above) is a rare and wonderful sight, but one that I hope no one will be seeing again because of a pandemic. 


Tuesday, March 23, 2021

Stop Time: Midair (This Morning)

During lock down it's sometimes easy to feel something like that shovel-load of gravel in the image above, stopped in mid-flight between one place and another, somewhere outside of time, but, as the image also shows, things are still getting done even here. (I can only hope it's not for the conversion of yet another residential property into a tourist one.)

Thursday, March 18, 2021

3 Views of the Weekend Before Our Latest Lock Down Began

Saturday, 13 March 2021

I'll admit I've no inclination to write about the new lock down that began in Venice (and most of the rest of Italy) this past Monday. I'm sure there are plenty of other people writing about it.

The only thing I'll note here is how odd it was in the weeks prior to the lock down to watch the number of tourists (mostly Italians) climb steadily every weekend after the New Year began--even as there were daily reports in the news of highly contagious new Covid variants spreading in places all over the globe.

By Sunday, 7 March 2021, just 8 days before the latest lock down officially began, we must have seen no fewer then six different tours groups, each numbering around a dozen people, being led around the Cannaregio area as we passed through it, as well as a few large tour boats plying the waters around Burano, their loudspeakers blaring the voices of Italian guides.

I can't imagine these day-tripper tours held any benefits for the vast majority of business owners in Venice, but I guess somebody must have been making money in the short term, for the short time they could, and, well, beyond that, what did it matter to them or the city authorities who permitted them.

And so we return to lock down....

 

Friday, 12 March 2021 (when you find you don't have the wide angle lens with you that need so you try to make do with the panorama mode)
 

Saturday, 13 March 2021 (again, panorama as compensation)


Saturday, January 2, 2021

A Subdued (Lockdowned) Good Riddance to a Bad Year


It was forbidden to be in the streets after 10 pm on New Year's Eve, as it has been for, well, I no longer remember how long now; forbidden also to have private gatherings with those outside of your immediate family... So it was a quiet end of the year in Venice, except for a small display of private pyrotechnics shot off somewhere in the western end of the city (see below), and some sparklers hand-held on a balcony (above).
 
The day before New Year's Eve someone had--for a time--more bluntly addressed the departing year with a large banner hanging across the middle third of the Rialto Bridge's span; it read: #FANCULO2020.
 

 

There were also what looked to be two or three home-made hot air balloons that floated above the city before consuming themselves (the short streak of light evident in the long exposure above)


Friday, December 4, 2020

Unwelcome Quiet: Marco Polo Airport During the Pandemic

Above image and below: No buses, no taxis, no hustle or bustle: Marco Polo Airport this past Tuesday at mid-day
 

The philosopher Martin Heidegger famously suggested that the thingness of a hammer--the fact of it as an object made of specific materials--is typically only recognized when it has broken, and can no longer be used. Maybe something similar can be said about an airport: we can only really see it when it's not functioning as intended, as a hub of arrivals and departures, of unending circulation. Or at least that's how it struck me at the beginning of this week, when the need to renew our son's US passport made us board an empty Alilaguna airport-bound water bus, which delivered us to an almost completely empty Marco Polo Airport with time to kill before our appointment.   

There were just four departing flights listed on the electronic boards at the water transportation docks and the usual interior route to the gates through the covered elevated walkway completed in 2017 was closed. As in the old days we trekked outdoors to the terminal, and once there we found that our idea of passing time inside it was not going to work out: entrance to any part of the building was forbidden to anyone without an airline ticket. 

My wife and son returned to wait near the the American micro-consulate by the water departure docks and I stuck around to take the images you see here, realizing that I was, for the first time, seeing the airport as its architects had at some point pictured it, as empty forms--and as the thousands whose livelihoods depend upon it surely never wanted to see it. 




As human activity at the airport has dwindled wildlife, including the two creatures above long believed to be merely mythical, have reclaimed what were once the marshy banks of the lagoon--or these might simply be two people coming to greet an arriving loved one while wearing silly costumes (but I like my original explanation better).


Without barriers and gates and crowds this series of three portals in the Alilaguna and taxi departure area can finally be seen: their interior walls surfaced in a white material whose interplay with their external brick structure alludes to the combination of Istrian stone and brick typical of Venice's historic buildings, while forming a telescoping perspective of distance evocative of some of Tintoretto's compositions.

Wednesday, December 2, 2020

A Light In the Dark: La Mascareta in Calle del Tentor

Since the end of the summer the calli I take through Santa Croce to pick up our son from school have been emptying out. First, the already-reduced number of tourists I passed (all from Europe) thinned and then zeroed out as the coronavirus re-surged; then the shops and businesses along my usual route (like everywhere in the city) were vacated: one of the best gelaterie in the city near San Stae, a well-established pastry shop, a respected upholsterer, restaurants and hotels... It was in this dispiriting context that the above image was taken, a dim light in the early dark of shortening days.

The shop is La Mascareta in Calle del Tentor, just around the corner from the church of Santa Maria Mater Domini as you head toward Campiello del Spezier. Its owner, Hama, is there at work each time I pass--a welcome sight.

Because of the huge number of fraudulent masks for sale online he prefers to sell directly from his shop, where the quality of his productions also distinguish them from the huge number of counterfeit masks being sold by hand in other shops around the city (he showed me today a recent news article about police discovering a stash of 42,000 such masks made abroad but labeled as being "Made in Venice"). And even the pandemic has not changed his feelings about this: he has his work to do, and will be ready for when visitors begin to return to the city.

In the mean time, if you are interested in buying an authentic mask hand-made and painted by a single artisan, you can contact him via his email: lamascareta@outlook.it  

Like any other well-established artisan in Venice, he is experienced and adept at shipping his works securely all over the world.


Hama poses with what he told me remains (even since the pandemic) his favorite mask: the plague doctor, in its traditional form (in his right hand) and an ornate version (in left)
 

Hama told me it's interesting to observe that people from different countries tend to be drawn to a different range of masks: the French, for example, tend to be inclined toward masks that I'd describe as softer-tinted and romantically-illustrated, while many from Japan are first struck by masks whose ornamentation takes the form of an almost jewelry-like surface.


Saturday, November 14, 2020

Sighing Over Venice Is Nothing New, But Buying Is More Useful Right Now: Declare Leather Goods and Newstand

The Declare boutique on Calle Seconda dei Saoneri 2671 (photographed before the start of an event on 24 November 2019)

For over 200 years the troubles and ruination of the defunct Venetian Republic have put visitors in a philosophical mood (or at least a complacently, sweetly melancholic one), and with a new "plague" upon us it's little surprise that this old vein, overworked and exhausted though it's long been, would again become a destination for literistic pick-axers, as it is for Colm Toibin in the new issue of the London Review of Books

Deathly quiet calli, a sprinkling of rather unsatisfactory locals, untrafficked canals: all the usual elements are evoked once more to serve as a ground for the celebrated names and works of the distant past. You know the ones: Tintoretto, Titian, Veronese, Thomas Mann, Henry James....

Ah, inhale deeply of the autumnal air...

I have little patience for this kind of stuff.

To walk through Venice now is to walk past shop after shuttered shop, empty hotel and restaurant after empty hotel and restaurant--and not to reflect with a dulcet sigh on the aged Titian's last days in the plague-stricken Republic of 1576 but to wonder how all the people familiar to you by sight if not name from all these establishments are managing to support themselves and their families without a job.

Of course such hardships are, alas, not unique to Venice these days. But if Venice is on your mind and you find yourself in need of a gift--either for yourself or others--or in some instances, a necessity, I thought I'd put up some posts about Venetian shops that might interest you.

I'm not one to push consumerism, but the posts that follow are simply shops that I like and frequent, and whose proprietors in each case have impressed me with their knowledge of and, yes, even devotion to what they do, and the detailed attention they pay to what they produce. 

In the case of the shop Declare, just a short distance from the church of I Frari heading toward Campo San Polo, it was the colors and obvious quality of the leather of their bags and wallets that caught my eye as I passed by. But as I wasn't in need of either it was their magazine and journal wall that made me walk in.

In fact, the first two images of this post were taken in November 2019, when I was planning to do a post on the series of events being hosted in the shop, each of them featuring the editor(s) of a different art or cultural or intellectual journal carried on the wall. 

But then the holidays arrived, and then Covid arrived, and the event series had to be canceled and has not yet been able to be revived. 

The well-curated array of reading material on its wall continues to be worthy of a visit all its own if you are in the city. But if you are not, Declare's original line of bags, available for purchase online, is worth a look no matter where you live. 

The shop's owner, and the designer not only of the bags but now of a new line of original jewelry, Omar Pavanello, is a man who is as passionately knowledgeable about the materials and methods with which his lines are produced as he is about their form. The bags are hand-produced by artisans nearby on terraferma, and so committed is he to the quality of their production that you can easily find yourself in a detailed discussion of different dying and tanning methods of the leather itself. In fact, reminded by one of his bags of the feel an old Coach bag I bought back in the days (1980s) when that (now mass-marketed) line of leather goods was still produced in limited numbers in Manhattan, I found that Omar was such a fan of the quality of leather they used back then that he'd sought out and bought a couple of old examples as inspiration.

As the photo at the bottom of this post indicates, the newest line includes more colors than are depicted in the online store. If you are in the market for leather goods actually produced in Italy, just outside Venice, of the highest quality, please take a look at their online store, and contact them (by email or phone--English is spoken) to find out about new colors not yet shown on the site. 

And if you are in Venice--or the next time you are--by all means stop in the store.  

 (For more on Declare's partners, Omar and Anna, see the following 2018 article in the local paper La Nuova.)

Anna Tonti, partner of Omar Pavanello in Declare (left), interviews Michaela Büsse, editor of Migrant journal on 24 November 2019 (The six issue run of the Migrant journal is itself very much worth checking out--focusing on a different theme in each of its limited run of issues, this cross-disciplinary and always thought provoking publication defies easy categorization.)


Omar Pavanello (photographed 5 November 2020)

 

Handbags from the new Autumn 2020 line (5 November 2020)


Friday, October 9, 2020

Ca' D'Oro: Then and Now (A Renewed Emphasis on Masks)

Days of wine and poses: Biennale party at Ca' D'Oro, May 7, 2019

With Covid-19 infections starting to rise, the Italian government has issued a nation-wide mask mandate, saying they must be worn whenever a person is out and about. Here in Venice, after turning something of a blind eye to violations of social distancing regulations for the city's nightlife during the summer, authorities have declared their enforcement will once again become a priority.

I've observed none of the cynically-politicized backlash against the requirement that one must wear a mask when entering a store here in Venice--which has been in effect without interruption since late last February--that I've read and heard about in my native country of America. Aping the demagogic and fatal buffoonery of the current occupant of the White House, Italy's own right-wingnuts have, at least in Venice, had little success in whipping up the dimwitted and sociopathic to violent and sometimes deadly demonstrations of their "freedom."

But the less I say about my native land, currently struggling beneath a ruling party which is not only malicious, corrupt and incompetent but also overtly authoritarian, the better. The image at the bottom of this page showing the Coronavirus status in that country as of October 7, 2020 sadly speaks for itself.

Really, no matter where you live, wear a mask when you go out and do practice social distancing.

The scene at Ca' D'Oro on August 26, 2020 is markedly more sober



These signs have been up in every store for months, and are followed.


Meanwhile, my native country--alone among all the developed nations of the world--has ingeniously (and disastrously) avoided falling victim to a second wave of the virus by remaining mired in the first one. A recent order from the once-respected Center for Disease Control that would have required that masks be worn on planes, trains, buses, and in airports was blocked by the White House.  

Wednesday, May 20, 2020

As Quiet As a Library


The arcade running outside (and beneath) the Biblioteca Marciana has in recent months been as quiet as the proverbial library, even at times of the day and night when it would typically be bustling--if not flat out packed. It will be interesting to see how that will change in the coming weeks as Venice continues to move out of lock-down mode; especially beginning in June, when some tourism might return.

I almost always try to avoid posting 2 views of the same scene, but in this case I couldn't make up my mind which to use. Both were long exposures using only a very small very portable Gumby-like tripod called the Miggo Splat recommended to me by Marco Missiaja at his shop here in Venice. The angle of view of the top image seemed a necessity as much of a choice, until I remembered that by holding the ends of the tripod's legs firmly against a solid vertical surface one can capture images from heights and locations not amenable to a regular full-scale tripod (the results of which are visible above, which was captured from above eye level). 


Wednesday, May 13, 2020

Il Tricolore on the Grand Canal

Beginning on April 16, and running through and beyond Italy's Liberation Day holiday on April 25, the Rialto bridge was lit with the colors of the Italian flag to show solidarity with the rest of the country in the struggle against the coronavirus. The above image was taken on Saturday, May 2 when the stillness of the formerly busy Grand Canal (especially on a weekend in May!) struck me as much as the colored lighting of the bridge. (The bridge is no longer lit this way.)

Friday, May 8, 2020

Campo Erberia, Tonight

On an ordinary Friday night in early May this campo would be filled with candle-lit cafe tables and crowds--and gondolas-- along the water's edge. But not this year.


Tuesday, May 5, 2020

Reflections On A Sunday Afternoon On the Grand Canal (6 Views)


The weather this past Sunday was beautiful and the Grand Canal was barely ruffled by currents, winds or motorboat traffic--making it particularly hospitable to both reflections and rowers. 









This image was actually taken yesterday, not Sunday, but I include it here as it was the first gondola I've seen on the Grand Canal in at least 8 weeks (though it carried no passengers).


Monday, April 20, 2020

"Chiudere" (Keep Closed)


Venice has relaxed its lock down just a little--a few more shops have been allowed to re-open (eg, makers of bread, and, curiously enough, sellers of chocolate), one can go outside to exercise by oneself while wearing a mask--but any more changes are not due to come until May 4. I continue to appreciate the caution exercised by Italian authorities.

The above image was actually taken over a week ago, before the recent (and very limited) loosening went into effect. The small brass plaque on the gate which reads "Chiudere" ("to close") means, in its particular and usual context: "Keep this gate closed." But it seems to suggest a bit more these days....

Friday, April 17, 2020

A Piazza of One's Own, Today, 1 pm

Actually, not just a piazza, but the piazza: the only space so named in Venice, and one of the most famously crowded in the world--but not these days.


Wednesday, April 15, 2020

The Abuse of "Heroes" and "Heroism" in the Age of Coronavirus (with 8 Images)

Death (or the threat of it) never takes a holiday: on Pasquetta day emergency responders in full hazmat suits transport a coronavirus patient to the hospital

I find it hard to title these images and hard to write about them without falling into clichés which, worse than being merely trite, seem not only misguided but misleading. 

Seeing medical professionals dressed like this, the inclination is to speak of them as working on the "front lines" of the coronavirus and praise them for their extraordinary bravery. But as true as such statements may be, I find that they're often used to forestall exactly the kind of discussion that really needs to occur among citizens and politicians of each country (or at least those countries which possess a functioning democracy) about the way that their own nation prepared for and is dealing with the crisis.

The personal bravery of medical professionals in this context is undeniable, but to focus only on that aspect of what they are doing is all too often to not talk about the important question of why even the wealthiest countries in the world should leave such medical professionals so ill-equipped to deal with a crisis about which epidemiologists have warned for at least two full decades (as a Washington Post columnist notes, a legendary epidemiologist told him in 1999 that in regards to such catastrophic global pandemics it was not a matter of "if" but of "when").

If one chooses to call this a pandemic a "war," it was not one which began with anything like a surprise attack. And in a country such as my native one of America, which has defined itself for decades by its massive (and massively expensive) military might and constant readiness (we are told) to simultaneously wage any number of anticipated or even purely imaginary wars, it would seem of the utmost importance to discuss why funding and resources for this particular "war," inevitable as it was warned to be by epidemiologists, were, in fact, cut.

Metaphors matter, and when used by politicians and repeated by citizens they deserve to be examined carefully--not just for "what they express" but for how they are supposed to function: the actions they aim to bring about, or, as the case may be, the discussions and investigations they aim to prevent.

The coronavirus is fundamentally a public health issue of the greatest importance, not a war, which should draw a nation's attention to its public health system. In every country the effects of the coronavirus have laid bare the nation's past priorities--as well as raising the possibility that such priorities might be altered for the future.

It is not enough to lionize those medical professionals who have been put in the position of sacrificing themselves to care for the ill in this crisis. In fact, in some cases this kind of talk strikes me as shamefully cynical.

Perhaps in our Hollywood-influenced world it has become automatic to cast reality in terms of wonder boys and superheroes, of the exceptional individual who steps up to save the day (Hurrah!) or perish in the attempt (Sniff, sniff: the pleasure of sweet idle sadness).  (Thrills or sentimentality are too fugitive to carry one too far in the unglamorous process of developing and implementing public policy.)

But it seems to me to be a moronic way not only to conceive of reality but to structure a society.

Unless, that is, the priorities of a given society is to unquestioningly preserve a status quo of debilitating inequality and profoundly unequal access to opportunity. In that case, the myth of the exceptional individual, and the fiction that each and every one of us is potentially such an exceptional individual ("You can do ANYTHING!!!"), is a necessary bit of flattery put forth in the service of a larger confidence scheme. And a society in which those who fail to prove themselves to be exceptional are unworthy of any consideration--certainly in the crafting of policy.

Never mind the fact that most of us, indeed, are simply human, not the stuff of legends or heroic tales--nor should we have to be in order to survive.

Nor should our health care professionals--or, for that matter, grocery store clerks, or any other people now called upon to keep economies going--be called upon to heroically risk their lives because, despite all the warnings in the world, our country finally decided that preparing for an inevitable threat to the public well-being mattered very little or nothing at all compared to private enrichment.

In such countries health care professionals, equipped with nothing more than the vacant flattery of those well out of harm's way, have been treated as sacrificial lambs (and their deaths not even accurately recorded, much less reported), while those responsible for these massive public health failures elude all accountability (and reap windfalls).

The question now is which countries will try to honor all those who have given or lost their lives by crafting policies and setting priorities that aim to diminish so much preventable loss in the future. And which ones will continue to demonstrate that they consider the lives of the vast majority of their citizens to be beneath consideration.  








On the same afternoon, emergency responders wear full protective gear to pick up a non-coronavirus patient