Venetian Dreams: The Obligatory Museums

Part 1 is here: Venetian Dreams: An Introduction
Part 2 is here: Venetian Dreams: Water Buses and Islands

We visited a few museums in Venice, including the Doge’s Palace and the Correr Museum, but the Peggy Guggenheim Museum was by far the best. What follows is one opinionated person’s view of the museum trail.

The Doge’s Palace

When we decided to visit this museum, we were cold. Please bare this in mind. The aim was to spend a little money on warming up. It was the only aim. The museum did not fulfil this requirement. It failed miserably. It was colder inside than out. Everyone wore coats, hats and gloves and some still rubbed their hands together to make warmth. It was fucking freezing.

The first few rooms were full of columns. Initially, a column or two is interesting, but the scene soon gets dull. Monumentally dull. I could take no more. We entered a vast room filled with more defunct ancient roof bearers than any that preceded it and walked straight out. We were cold, bored and more interested in the ancient art of heating. Don’t get me wrong, an ornate column can be a work of wonder, but a collection of columns, that hold up nothing, in bitterly cold and mostly bare rooms, is for the hardcore.

This sums up the general ambience of The Doge’s Palace. It is cold, repetitive and mostly empty. They could condense the contents into fewer rooms, and it would be far more interesting. Did I mention heating? And, what about seating?

The Doge’s Palace is a vast museum to walk around, and every chair or bench is dressed with rope to obstruct weary rest breaks. The only place that they heat and seat is the cafe. Here, they insisted that we pay for an exorbitantly expensive table service. Meanwhile, a kinder pricelist for self-service stared straight at us. We are not above serving ourselves.

In the museum's display rooms, the staff sat or stood in corners, wrapped up in thick coats and looking miserable with the climate. Some hovered over air conditioning units that gave off as much heat as an old fart.

Aspects of the museum were impressive. They have a map room, called The Shield Room, which is to die for. Large painted maps of the world adorn the walls and vast globes take the centre. I like maps. I would like a map room. This is an impressive map room.

The palace also hosts a notable armoury, with crossbows, armour and swords. Some of the swords are so big that only a giant could lift them. It’s hard to believe that such items are truly a part of human history and not fantasy. I can’t help but be amazed. I should be shocked. They are brilliant, but brutal. I like defensive castles too. Hot boiling tar on your head anyone?

Yes, I’m a pacifist beguiled by the wonderful, wild and violent society that inhabited this earth in medieval times. Wandering minstrels, castles and armour: they are all like a fantastical dream.

Perhaps one of the most famous aspects of The Doges Palace is the bridge with a harrowing name. The Bridge of Sighs is named after the groans of devastated prisoners. It served as a space between courtroom and cell. It’s easy to walk over it without realising its full significance. I did and had to backtrack.

Unfortunately, the museum lacks information about the prisoners and the prison cells. Throughout, it fails to reconstruct history in an imaginative or inspiring way. This is a shame. I love learning about prisons. My fascination with prisons is worse than my penchant for castles. I suggest that the museum curators visit Kilmainham Gaol. It could teach them a lot about sharing history and firing up the old grey matter.

It was only on my return home, that I learnt that Casanova once lived in a Doges Palace prison cell. It seems that the rampant young devil had seduced too many high-class wives. Charged with ‘irreligious behaviour’, Casanova found himself in a prison cell. Casanova escaped in 1756 and it’s said that on the Golden Staircase, which has a ceiling so bright and garish that it hurts while it impresses, a guard mistook Casanova for a politician and let him out. Such stories written on a plaque would certainly have fuelled more interest. I guess that’s why you pay for a Secret Itinerary tour or an audio guide, but the entry tickets were truly pricey and we opted against having a talking machine or person.

Despite the poor presentation and welcome, the palace has a lot to offer. In the rooms, there are laminated information sheets, but they are quite dull to read.

The Palace includes an impressive courtyard and there are grand rooms, in perfect condition, where important governmental business once took place. The rooms that politics once breathed life into are truly striking and, if you have any interest in the political affairs, a visit is essential. The Hall of the Senate is a place where you can truly imagine the lives of the rich and powerful. Fine wooden seats line the edge of the room, opulent paintings line the walls and ceiling, and the grand decadent environment that decision-makers met in, is breathtaking. You can imagine the high and mighty arguing and debating the fate of all, whilst dressed in the finest clothing that Europe had to offer.

Next door, the Grand Council chamber lives up to its name. The ceiling, decorated across the entire room, is magnificent. The room is the largest in the palace. It hosts a stage that I’d love to see a gritty punk rock indie band perform on. The grit and the glory would contrast so beautifully. In my mind’s eye it has already happened and my heart has soared.

We so needed a sit down by the time we reached these rooms, that the long lines of benches that we weren’t allowed to sit on were a form of mild torture. To sit and marvel at these rooms would have been delightful. A few well-placed benches in the centre of the room would be most popular.

I encourage you to view the palace here. Really, it is impressive and my criticisms should not prevent a visit. This website provides a fantastic viewing service.
Arounder Venezia

I have thoroughly enjoyed reliving the memories from the warm comfort of home. I still wish I could have climbed the Giants’ Staircase, which leads from the courtyard, and seen the large statues up close. Erected on the upper parapet in 1567, they depict Mars and Neptune. The staircase, like the benches, was roped off.

The Bridge of Sighs is currently dressed in adverts on the outside, and perhaps undergoing work.


Museo Civico Correr

Not permitted to buy a ticket for just the Doges Palace, we gained a pass to Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana and Museo Correr. We would rather have saved our pennies, but c'est la vie. At the end of a cold day, we decided to see what the ‘other’ museums had in store. Somewhere along the line, I got the impression that once in Museo Correr we would gain entrance to the National Library (Biblioteca Nazionale). Perhaps I was wrong or we didn’t find the right door. It was late and our time was up.

In the Museo Correr, we found many statues, most with missing limbs and penises. If a witch ever turns you into stone beware. You might lose something that you’ll miss. Icarus and Cupid feature heavily. Thalia was there. If you are a fan of Antonio Canova, his work fuels much of the collection. There are paintings, coins and armoury.

To me it was much like a non-capital city museum and a bit lacking. It was a place to while away some time and pick up a few new facts, but nothing blew my mind. Mostly, the visit led to intrigue. I call this intrigue ‘The Case of the Missing Members’.


Peggy Guggenheim Museum

Of all of the places that we paid to visit in Venice, this is by far my favourite. One in five pieces is a masterpiece, the gallery is warm and welcoming and the collector’s life is as interesting as the collection itself.

The museum is set in Peggy Guggenheim’s home, where she lived with the art all about her, sunbathed naked on the roof, and invited people in see her amazing collection. She connected herself with the art world and its people, put on exhibitions and helped artists to escape from the Nazi’s. She died when I was seven. There are many photographs of her in the home, with some of the art placed exactly where it is today. A sofa that she sat on, sits in the centre of the same room.

We found friendly staff, reasonably priced refreshments and a free ten-minute talk on Peggy’s life. Peggy Guggenheim discovered and funded Jackson Pollock, lost her father to the Titanic, lost the one true love of her life to a minor operation, and persuaded the British courts that modern art really is art. Importing art is cheaper than importing objects. She helped many artists into Britain.

My favourites in the collection include:
Victor Brauner - Consciousness of Shock
Check out the rudder. This has a wonderfully surreal boat theme going on.

Vasily Kandinsky - Upward (Empor)
Blake’s got a new face.

René Magritte, Empire of Light, 1953–54
It’s light but it’s dark. It’s crisp.

Gino Severini - Sea=Dancer (Mare=Ballerina)
The paint really does escape onto the frame. The colours are brilliant in real life.

Jean Metzinger - At the Cycle-Race Track (Au Vélodrome)
This reminds me of my brother-in-law’s obsession with the Tour de France, but is a really impressive piece, even for those of us that pootle. The cyclist moves so fast, that you can see right through him.


Campanile

The Campanile is a tower, rather than a museum, but it’s historic and tells a tale.

I like climbing tall towers and looking down at the world. From Cromer Church to Happisburgh Lighthouse, I like towers.

At the Campanile in Piazza San Marco, there’s a lift. You don’t have to climb. No one showed us the stairs and the lift took us straight up. We didn’t have to queue. We never had to queue in Venice. It was cold. It was even colder higher up.

The air was freezing limbs and lungs, but the ascent was easy. We hadn’t worked for warmth.

“I think my little finger is going to fall off” I heard a man say. His accent was from the north of England. It’s cold up north. Imagine how I felt.

It was worth it. It’s always worth it. From the top, we could see Piazza San Marco, Centro storico, the Lagoon, La Giudecca and San Giorgio Maggoire islands, and lots and lots of sky.

The tower has been reconstructed and repaired many times since 1173. We stood on the 1912 version.

The first version acted as a lighthouse, supported a torture cage, and wobbled in an earthquake. It’s said that Emperor Frederick III of the Roman Empire rode his horse up it in 1452. Good for him.

It gained a new face in the early sixteenth century and Galileo demonstrated his telescope from its heights in 1609. In 1902, it fell down. Within 10 years it was back, rebuilt to the 1514 specifications.

It has bells, five of them, so it’s a little like being up a church tower. Instead of calling people for mass, the bells were there to communicate messages. The fifth one, called the 'Bad One, forewarned of executions. The prisoners held in the cages, dangling at the side of the tower, must have dreaded this bell.

Revolutionaries from the Veneto Serenissimo Governo group climbed the tower in 1997, thinking they had liberated Piazza San Marco. They held the tower for a few hours. In 2006, to the annoyance of police, they bought back the tank that they used to storm the square. I find that quite funny.

Stood 98.6 metres high, my imagination filled itself with prisoners, executions and revolutionaries, and my eyes, watering with the bitter wind, marvelled at the view.


Fabpants Recommends: I won’t name any names, but someone close to me was singing Barry Manilow the other day. It really made me want to hear the song. It’s the only cure for earworm. You’ll cringe, but you’ll secretly enjoy it. I have to share these moments. I don’t know why, but I do. It’s not good for any of us.

Download MP3: Barry Manilow - I Can't Smile Without You (courtesy of infonistacrat.com)




Here’s the aftercare package.

Eula are straight outta Indie Alley, where the soft and the shouty unite rebelliously. If you need a bit of lively indie-pop, here it is:

Download MP3: Eula - Housewolf (courtesy of infonistacrat.com)




Going back in time a little, here is a track from 2006 EP called ‘Applause Cheer Boo Hiss’. I recently rediscovered it and had to listen to it repeatedly. It’s still special. Don’t you just love rediscovering little lost numbers? "Look at those girls, so young, so young, still piss their pants."

Download MP3: Land of Talk - Summer Special (courtesy of margheritaferrari.com)




As for new releases, what about Abe Vigoda’s new EP? The cover of Stevie Nicks’ Wild Heart is rather special. The original has been beaten and battered to death by this copy. It's fucking brilliant:

Download MP3: Abe Vigoda - Wild Heart (courtesy of resonatormag.com)




‘Don’t Lie’ gives 1980s gloom music a 2009 edge. It’s reminiscent of Echo and the Bunnymen et al, with a secretly bright chorus.

Download MP3: Abe Vigoda - Don't Lie (courtesy of aolradio.podcast.aol.com)




Just in case you were wondering, and you probably weren't, the new album ‘Tight Knit’ by Vetiver is rather dull, despite the varied styles that it incorporates. It's a finger picking folk journey through the flatlands of the soul. It's a gentle album for sleepy Sundays. If all you want to do is sit and grow grey hairs, then it might be for you. "Every day that I'm away from you shakes me up inside." I do like the 'Everyday' song. It's rather lovely. That's why I'm sharing it. Unfortunately, an album is the sum of its parts.

Download MP3: Vetiver - Everyday (courtesy of subpop.com)




I started with a cheesy tune, so I may as well end with one. This is probably worse. The Lily Allen ‘Fuck You’ song has got to be great to sing along to at 1am in a club. I can just see myself wagging around a mockingly accusative finger. I say mockingly, because don’t hang out with bigots. I say fuck you, fuck you very, very much.

Download MP3: Lily Allen - Fuck You (courtesy of eamel.net)




Oh, I saw Sprectrum at The Freebutt yesterday. The less said the better.

A man had his erect penis out in public on Friday night. He was wearing a body harness, rubber latex chaps and, probably, a cock ring. Most of us were wearing t-shirts and jeans. Whilst returning my eyes to their eyeballs and my jaw to my face, I had to admire the bravery. I also had to giggle. I don't see a big cock pointing at me from the corner of the dance floor very often.