Venice is a stunningly beautiful city – and I was lucky enough to visit it recently. Now, you think I’d be content to simply get lost in its maze of twisty streets, but in-between wandering the canals, drinking a Campari spritz and eating Spaghetti alle vongole the thought pops into my head: ‘I should visit a museum’.
Reader, that was a serious mistake. The museums of Venice (with the exception of the truly lovely Peggy Guggenheim) are not for ordinary mortals. I don’t even think they’re for the art lover. In part this is because they’re often set inside some fabulous palace, which sounds amazing, but then the original architecture dominates and its hard to see behind the glory and the gilt (and the windows always seem to be covered by a slightly dirty net curtain, that refuses to allow light). Then there is the art itself, chosen to reflect the glorious history of Venice from the perspective of the uber-rich and powerful. Its the kind of art that makes you wish you’d simply ordered another canal-side drink in order to focus on the (much more entertaining) bin-collectors and bricklayers floating by on colourful barges, right outside the door.
Well I did choose art, and worse, I chose to visit the Ca’ Rezzonico – a museum housing 18th Century Venetian art in a palace fronting the Grand Canal. Inside, I wandered the vast (but largely empty) rooms, largely gawping at what seemed to me to be truly hideous chandeliers. The one taken above was probably the ugliest, but may have had some stiff competition from the free-standing monstrosity I’ve included below.
Can you imagine your dining room being lit by such terrors? Yes of course there is an amazing amount of delicate glass blowing involved, and everyone’s taste is different – but what were they thinking? Just because you can make a thing, it doesn’t mean you should.
In my subsequent reading about Venetian art (and the glassmakers of Murano), I came upon this Guardian review of a Damien Hirst show, Treasures from the Wreck of the Unbelievable, set in Venice in 2017. The critic writes:
“I have never seen a bigger show in my life. The artist has filled not one but two museums with hundreds of objects in marble, gold and bronze, crystal, jade and malachite – heroes, gods and leviathans all supposedly lost in a legendary shipwreck 2,000 years ago and now raised from the Indian Ocean at Hirst’s personal expense. It is by turns marvellous and beautiful, prodigious, comic and monstrous.“
Something like the art of Venice itself, then – likely to divide the crowd, but not for the faint-hearted. Remind me to keep it simple next time I’m heading for the glass kiln.