We are getting ready to take the train to Venezia (pop 258,685 in 2020). As we check out, the front desk tells us there is acqua alta and we should reconsider. In our trip planning, we try to avoid the summer tourist season and the acqua alta – which mostly occurs during the winter. Mid-October sounds safe, but now we're on our way to the floating city.
We arrive at Santa Luzia in a light drizzle, and the canal does seem quite high. The glass panels above the entrance prepare us with an underwater setting. We take the vaporetto down the Canal Grande to Sant'Angelo, to our AirBnB. As we pass the Ponte di Rialto, the water level is right up to the curb stones, and we wonder if that's normal. In the lobby, we hear water sloshing, and the floor is wet; yes, that looks high, too.
We have timed tickets to San Marco and have a table for a quick lunch nearby. We know that when there is an acqua alta, the first place to flood is the Pizza, so we try to avoid crossing the square. Still, Siri sends us to the Ponte dei Dai, one of the main entrances to the Piazza San Marco. On the other side, the directions tell us to turn left on the Sotoportego Calle del Cappello Nero – a partially covered alleyway through middle of the building block.
Before we get there, we pry through the crowd on the bridge. And when we get to the other side, we see why: the steps of the bridge lead right into water. Immediately, a street hawker approaches us with an offer of plastic booties.
The pressure of timed tickets and lunch reservations convinces us to make the attempt. The water looks shallow, and there is a kind of threshold on the corner of the building that could be a good steppingstone. But it's the second step that gets you, and we discover the alley's water is ankle-deep. For the person on point, shoes become sponges. The acqua alta clams another victim, and a hawker makes another sale.
Here is a travel tip while in Venezia: on your iPhone, go to Settings > Maps > Directions > Walking, and turn off Stairs (Siri sees the canal bridges as stairs, but our settings are for Lisboa).
After lunch, we reach the Basilica di San Marco (eleventh century), and find the Piazza is still flooded. The entrance queue is up on the temporary walkways. The recently installed glass barrier is doing its job, but the sea is nearly half a foot up the side. The water goes right out to the Campanile (ninth to sixteenth centuries). The level near the Torre dell'Orologio (fifteenth century) is much lower, though almost no one is walking on the floor of the square.
We are marching on tables, and our feet are wet and cold. But we are here to see art.
From the Piazzetta dei Leoncini, we turn the corner and find the Portale di Sant'Alipio (north end of the western facade). The half-dome's mosaic is the Traslazione del corpo di San Marco (thirteenth century). This is the only facade mosaic from the original medieval cycle and shows the body of San Marco arriving at the Basilica on the shoulders of the dignitaries. The other mosaics are eighteenth and nineteenth century 'restorations'.
The walkway turns left at the second portal. Here we can really see the shift in expression from the mosaics of the thirteenth and eighteenth centuries, with L’Accoglienza da parte del Doge della Signoria (reception by the Doge and lords; eighteenth century?). The neoclassical scene does not look quite right as a mosaic.
From the corner, we get a glimpse of Il Giudizio Universale (last judgement; eighteenth century?) at the center portal. As we are on the north side, we can only see an angel with a trumpet chasing the 'unworthy' into the depths. And on the top is the statue of San Marco, above the winged lion and the monumental horses, holding his book and offering his blessing to the city.
Along the walkway, people move in both directions. At the entrance, armed guards check for tickets and send away those without, though they have been standing in line. But we have tickets, and from the Portale di Sant'Alipio we enter the Il nartece (narthex). Now the mosaics come fast and furious, and the strange juxtaposition of the medieval and the neoclassical continues.
After scanning our tickets, the first thing we see is the Cupolino di Giuseppe elbreu (thirteenth century), with the images of Sant'Alipio, San Simeone, and Justicia in the adjoining arches. The mosaic is one of three mosaics dedicated to Giuseppe. He is going down the well – perhaps an appropriate image. Giuseppe's other domes turn the corner to the north, behind the scaffolds.
Moving backwards through narrative and south along the narthex, we come to the Cupolino di Abramo (thirteenth century). Abramo's conversation with God is depicted by His hand from Heaven, which appears four times around the mosaic.
Next is an enormous glass skylight which gives views to the ceiling on the upper level, with more of the over-populated, dynamic, nineteenth century imagery. The arches, however, continue the Old Testament narrative, and includes a scene of the wicked drowned in Noah's flood – another auspicious reference.
Before entering the Basilica proper, the last dome is the Cupolino della Genesi (thirteenth century): In principio creavit Deus caelum et terram . Here, there are three concentric registers. The inner one shows the creation of light, darkness, and the Earth; then He gathers the waters [in medio aquarum] – again, maybe appropriate.
The next register illustrates 'let there be light' [fiant luminaria in firmamento caeli], with the sun, moon, and stars. Then He creates sea creatures and fowl, then land creatures and livestock, then man [faciamus hominem ad imaginem]. He blesses the seventh day [et benedixit diei septimo]; He sits down and places His hand on the 'day', which appears as an angel. He breathes life into man [inspiravit in faciem eius spiraculum vitae] and gives him a 'spirit', which is a smaller, winged (?) figure. Finally, we see man at the Gate of Paradise [porta paradisi].
Around the outer register is the story of Adam et Eva and the expulsion from Paradise. The multi-winged angels (cherubin who guard Paradise) in the pendentives and other design around the arches are truly fantastic. One feature of Il nartece is that it's low enough to enjoy the mosaics and read the Latin texts without the iPhone camera.
The last bay of the narthex is known as the Cappella Zen (named for the entombed bishop, not the meditative practice), and is closed from the entryway. We also cannot pass through the center door, with the San Marco half-dome mosaic (sixteenth century; the entry to the museum). So, we continue to the door that leads to the south aisle, where a floor mosaic of leaping animals greets us like happy puppies.
To get a sense of the place, the plan of the Basilica is a Greek cross with five domes (four arms and a center), all connected by arches. So, down the nave (west to east) we have arch, dome, arch, central dome, arch, dome, arch, and half-dome (altar). From North to south, its dome, arch (north aisle), central dome, arch (south aisle), and dome.
The arches between the domes include an intermediate level and a walkway. Looking up, we see saints shown in mosaics under these lower arches: S Paulus and S Hilarion, both looking haggard; Scs Epimachus and Scs Gordianus, both with an Alexandria connection (St Mark's body was retrieved from there). So many saints, there appear to be a few unnamed ones – spare saints.
The arch and dome in the first bay of the nave are La volta dell'Apocalisse di Giovanni (nineteenth century) and the La Cupola della Pentecoste (twelfth century). The next arch is the La volta Cristologiche which includes the well-known 'anastasi' scene of Christ retrieving Adam from and Eve Hell. And the dome over the central nave is La cupola dell'Ascensione (twelfth century).
The mosaic over the south transept is La cupola di San Leonardo, possibly because the location near the Doge's court offers better access for the accused (patron saint of the imprisoned). From here, another turnstile filters entry to the presbiterio.
The lateral chapel just to the right of the altar is the La cappella di San Clemente (thirteenth century), which stands behind a screen of columns, the Madonna and Child, and four female figures. We enter the altar area, behind the elaborate iconostasi (fourteenth century) with over a dozen more figures, where San Marco's tomb sits under an antique marble ciborio. The intricately carved columns are astonishing.
Of course, he should be in the crypt directly under the altar, but the acqua alta can change a plan (he was relocated in 1835).
The bright half-dome of Cristo Pantocratore (sixteenth century) is directly behind the urn, and just below the half-dome is S Marcus holding his gospel (twelfth century). The front of the altarpiece shows Christ and the Twelve Apostles, which is somewhat damaged (from water?). But on the reverse is La Pala d'Oro, an inlaid gold quilt filled with incredible jewels and images. It is brightly lit and a photographic challenge; visitors cannot help casting shadows on the artwork.
The dome above the presbiterio shows the old world prophets, La cupola dei Profeti. The animal symbols of the Four Evangelists are on the pendentives: St Luke's bull, St John's eagle, St Matthew's angel, and St Mark's lion. A series of sixteen arched openings pierce the lower edge of the dome. Maria and thirteen prophets are at the base of the dome.
To Her right is David (DD Rex), dressed as a Byzantium royal, with the proclamation: "De fructu ventris tui ponam super sedem tuam" [of the fruit of thy body will I set upon thy throne]. To Her left is Isaiah (Ysaia) with a similar scroll: "Ecce virgo concipiet, et pariet filium, et vocabitur nomen ejus Emmanuel" [a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel]. They gesture up to Christ at the center.
The neighboring chapel to the north is La cappella di San Pietro, which mirrors San Clemente. The north transept is La cappella della Madonna Nicopeia, which makes another connection to Constantinople and Byzantium.
Now centered in the nave, we get a good look at the La cupola dell'Ascensione. In the pendentives are the Four Evangelists, all seated at their desks writing their gospels. Between the arched opening are sixteen female figures representing La personificazione di Virtù e Beatitudini. Around the dome are fifteen figures: the Twelve Apostles separated by earthly trees, and two angels attending Maria. In the middle, four angels carry Christ to a starry Heaven on a rainbow.
As we walk down the north aisle, we can also see the other side of the La volta Cristologiche, and the mosaics of Il bacio di Giuda and the Crocifissione.
As we queue for the museum, our animal-mosaic friends on the floor seem less excited to see us; they've gone back to eating or just staring at us.
While we wait, we can study the Cupola della Pentecoste. From the center, the Holy Ghost, a dove on the gospel and holy vestments, radiates His spirit to the Twelve Apostles, who each receives 'the Word' in the form of a book or scroll (odd how the Spirit creates an 'Ed Grimley' affect on their hair). Pairs of figures in various types of dress sit between the arched windows and represent the many nations to which the Apostles must spread the Word (Arabe, Parthi, Elamit, Mesopotamia, Iudea, Cappadocia, Pontum, Asiatici). And four large angels stand the pendentives.
The queue takes us out the central portal of the narthex, into a narrow stairway, and up to the gallery level, where the light and the views allow a closer connection.
In the museum, small samples of mosaics (mostly fourteenth century) provide a sense of how the arches and lunettes might have looked before the neoclassical 'restoration'. They are surprisingly lively and emotive.
The Cavalli di San Marco stand in a featured corner. They are massive, and the surface is a trove of ancient textures and bridle marks, the folds in the skin and the musculature – all astonishing. The sheen of the gold is still intact; extraordinary to think these date to classical antiquity, perhaps as far back as Greece.
From the upper gallery, we can look out to the nave and the altar, with the neoclassical mosaics above. We may see why neoclassical representation is ill-suited to mosaics: there are too many figures and too much movement. It becomes confusing, and the medieval 'graphic legibility' is lost.
Perhaps the best of the nineteenth century works are the smaller panels in the arch, though the image of the angels driving the damned into the mouth of the Beast is still spectacular.
From the gallery, we access the terrace that looks over the Piazza. The rain has stopped, and we can revel is the dry air. The replica horses are here, along with the Campanile and the details of the west facade.
Looking down, we note the state of the acqua alta. The Piazza is about half-flooded, and there is standing water down the center all the way to the Museo Correr to the west. A few properly booted tourists are in the puddles taking selfies. Towards the Piazzale to the south, there are more dry spots, and the crowd at the foot of the Campanile tread on the square floor, though the line to get out there is still on the raised walkway – a remarkable sight.
Back in the upper gallery, we scan down into the glass-covered well into the narthex. Illustrating the Basilica's complexity, drawings and models of the Basilica fill the next room.
The exit is from the north arm of the narthex, where we can see the last two Cupolini di Giuseppe elbreu and the Cupolino di Mosè. Try as we might, we look for the scene where Moses parts the sea but cannot find it – hard to believe the Venetians left that out.
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