The King and the Doge

The sight of the above karaoke Elvis in a parking lot in Des Moines, Iowa recently made me think that America is no less bound to (and perhaps burdened by) its past as Italy is (and by) its own past. You see folks dressed up as doges (see below) or 18th-century ladies in Venice, as Romans outside the Colosseum in Rome or the amphitheater in Verona, and in the US you happen upon Elvis, or a life-sized bronze statue of Ronald Reagan in full cowboy regalia (hat, shirt, jeans, boots, never-used work gloves hanging flaccidly from his back pocket) outside the entrance of a shopping mall and must think of how to explain to your 8-year-old son that, no, that particular US president did not live in an era when people wore such gear as part of their daily life, nor did he ever work out on the range, but was merely a hammy actor whose carefully-crafted persona involved all sorts of old-fashioned ideas, fictions and fantasies.

An Italian friend I had twenty years ago in New York City told me he couldn't wait to escape from his native Florence and the crush of all its famous old stuff to the new world of America. Borrowing Prospero's famous reply to his sheltered daughter Miranda in Shakespeare's The Tempest I suppose I could have said, "Tis new to you;" for the past (or versions of the past) hover continuously like low cloud cover over the US--it's just a much more recent past than that to which my friend was accustomed back home.

Whether the presence of the past--or of various pasts--should be considered as good or bad to a nation's well-being depends, I suppose, upon what's being made of them.

In any case, we have just returned to a city, Venice, with its past abundantly, even overwhelmingly in evidence, and to the ongoing question of whether the best that can be done with such riches is to ruthlessly, shortsightedly exploit them. We shall see...

Summer Glitter

Night Canal, Dorsoduro

The views from even the less illustrious of campielli, or little squares, are fantastic at night.

A Summer Retreat, North of Burano

The unregulated growth, or encouragement, of tourism in Venice makes it harder and harder to find a place to escape from the invading masses. Even the further reaches of the lagoon are not safe from private tourist or party boats, the latter thumping with trashy dance music both day and night.

Above, a boat of locals takes refuge from tour boats in a waterway too shallow to allow for the latters' passage--though, alas, the sound from the disco boats carries loud and clear across the open lagoon.

After the Storm, Sant'Elena

This was taken ten days ago, but it seems the rain storms have continued in Venice--good news for the city's multitude of unlicensed street vendors with their fragile umbrellas and thin plastic ponchos.

Crossing the Giudecca Canal

Rowing across the Giudecca Canal, with all of its moto ondoso (engine-caused waves), can be a harrowing experience, especially if you're doing it alone--though the members of the rowing club on the Zattere are admirably adept at it.

I've recently crossed an even larger expanse of water, the Atlantic Ocean (with much less effort, if rather more discomfort within the confines of coach class), and am in the States right now, so I'll be dipping into my stock of unused images (such as the one above) rather than shooting new ones of Venice over the next couple of weeks.

Among the Treasures of the Accademia

A detail from one of the great large works by one of the giants of Venetian painting on display in the Accademia--which I won't identify in case any one wants a bit of a challenge

I visit the Accademia far too infrequently, as I was reminded once again by a visit a few days ago. The attendance at the city's museums has come nowhere close to keeping pace with the rise in tourists to the city as so many of the tourists (a full 75%) are in town for only a few hours, and spend that time traipsing along behind the elevated little flag or closed umbrella or some other ersatz staff of office in the hand of a tour guide.

This is a shame, as my visit to the Accademia Gallery the other day made me think that to visit Venice without visiting the Accademia is to miss out on one of the most striking overviews of the history and culture of the city--and of the West.

And for another week, until June 19, this overview includes a nicely curated exhibit devoted to the great Venice-based printer Aldo Manuzio (or Aldus Manutius), whose efforts at the end of the 15th and beginning of the 16th Century not only exerted a profound influence upon his own era, but continue into the present day: http://www.gallerieaccademia.org/aldo-manuzio. (I've been told the available audio guide to the exhibit is quite good, too, but didn't have a chance to try it myself.)

But regardless of when you visit the Accademia Gallery, and no matter what temporary exhibit is up, there are single works among the permanent collection that in themselves are worth the price of admission.