The itinerary lists an eclectic mix of places. Yesterday we were south and west (generally) of the Piazza San Marco, and today it looks like we're going north and east. I suppose it's an unusual feature of this tour that we're not going to the Piazza at all, despite staying so close to it.
We start by heading north toward the Ponte di Rialto, into the neighborhood where I stayed two years ago. My old favorite breakfast spot is in the same small campo as our first stop. We stand by the door, inhaling the aroma of baked goods, as our Director shuffles his notecards and begins.
Chiesa di San Salvador
The Chiesa di San Salvador (16th-17th centuries) is from an architectural team that includes Giorgio Spavento, Pietro and Tullio Lombardo, Jacopo Sansovino, Vincenzo Scamozzi, and Giuseppe Sardi. The Chiesa is pinched in by the buildings along the Mercerie, so its design involves a series of three domes connected by a barrel-vault (note this section), with light coming from the oculi in the lunettes and from the wide lanterne.
The sculpted altarpiece (Guglielmo dei Grigi, 1534) contains the "Trasfigurazione di Cristo" (Tiziano Vecellio – 'Titian', 1563). This is lit by the clerestory windows in the drum of the apse's half-dome (and artificially).
The 'Altare della Vergine Annunciata' (Sansovino) contains another dramatic work by Titian, "Annunciazione" (1560-65). On the opposite side of the nave, the organ hangs over the doors to the side street, and on the insides of the panels are the "Trasfigurazione" and the "Resurrezione" (1530) by Francesco Vecellio, Titian's brother.
Chiesa di San Zulian
Just to the south on the Mercerie, the Chiesa di San Zulian (9th-12th centuries, Jacopo Sansovino, interior & facade 1553-1580) is crowded out of the campo by a neighboring dress shop. Coming from the west, the interior is a single, slightly under-square room with a similarly under-square altar to the east.
My eye is immediate drawn to the ceiling, and the central panel of "La Gloria di San Giuliano" (Jacopo Palma il Giovane, 1588-89). The Altare di San Giacomo is on my right and incorporates a painting of "San Giacomo tra San Marco e San Girolamo" (Paolo Veronese, 1581-82).
We continue east, retracing our steps through the Campo Santa Maria Formosa, to the Palazzo Querini Stampalia (c1510-20), where we are reacquainted with Carlo Scarpa.
Fondazione Querini Stampalia
The Fondazione Querini Stampalia is an art museum and study center. Scarpa's redesign of the Pallazzo dates from 1961-63 (explained here, PDF) and is immediately apparent: crisp lines, angled skylights, and elegant mechanical gates in the lower arches.
I also walked around the Palazzo two years ago, notice the gates, but did not go in. After our time at the Memoriale Brion, I am eager to see more. But the Palazzo is not design by Scarpa, it's adapted and renovated by him, as well as a few other well-known postmodern architects. It's an incredible mix of old architecture and new, newer, and newest.
For example, the geometric staircase and the enclosed courtyard with the moire screen are by Mario Botta (1994-2013, explained here, PDF).
We step up and over a curb separating the double-arched porta d’acqua. These gates are a different design, heavier and without mechanical operation; the previous gates are Botta and these are Scarpa. The canal spills into the stair well, with side-by-side pavers, like those at Brion, hovering above the lively water.
The curb encloses this bridge-like element, though it's unclear if the height could hold back at the canal, or contain the water once flooded. From time to time, there is an obvious, sloshing sound, perhaps artificially created, a reminder that we are in Venezia and that the water is here. The lower landing is covered; arrival by boat seems unlikely today.
We cross into a side room and take the stairs up.
The stairs are like the porta d’acqua, a layer of lovingly crafted stone above the old Palazzo stairs. At the top of the stairs, another vesica piscis creates a light fixture with a center circle rather than a mandorla.
We enter the portego (central hall), a neoclassical gathering space with decorative swirls of 'frosting' on blue-green panels. On the ceiling is the "Allegoria dell’Aurora" (Jacopo Guarana, 1789-97) along with an impressive Murano glass chandelier.
There is a chainlink effect on the backs of the doors, a recent installation called the "Porte Tagliafuoco" ('fire doors', Stefano Arienti). Around the corner is the 'Sala da Pranzo' (dining room), full of eighteenth-century porcelain figurines and service settings from Sèvres.
Across the hall is an installation called "How to Deal with a Masterpiece" by Madrid-based architect Izaskun Chinchilla. Inside a 'ribcage' structure is the "Presentazione di Gesù al Tempio" (c1475) by Giovanni Bellini.
On ceiling of the 'Studiolo' is a trompe-l'œil coffered dome with the "Tre Grazie" (18th century).
Another fascinating room has a sign that reads: 'Scene di Vita Pubblica Veneziana', and the walls are covered with some sixty-seven folk-art paintings (c1760) by Gabriel Bella. The collection spills into the 'Corridoio' – one particularly amusing example is "La Laguna Ghiacciata alle Fondamenta Nuove nel 1708" (Anonimo Veneto, 1709).
Turning the corner, we find the 'Sala Ottocento' which features the "Testa di Bimbo" (wax, Medardo Rosso). Another exhibit outside, not inside the Palazzo, is the "Leoni in Campo" by Davide Rivalta.
On the back side of the 'Corridoio' is a structural intervention by Michele De Lucchi (2015-18, PDF), who adapted the Biblioteca di Buora at the Fondazione Cini that we saw yesterday. The structural is work visible in the long corridor and in the 'Sala della Musica'. A sandwich of heavy timbers, called scorzoni in vèneto, provides reinforcement across the width of the Palazzo and its expansion into the adjoining block. It thus creates "Il Canocchiale Visivo" (visual telescope) through the galleries along the north facade (facing the Campo).
We return to the porta d’acqua, and step into the exhibition hall that represents Scarpa's idea of a portego. In terms of the acqua alta, it is clearly built to be defensible (except for the electrical art piece on the floor). It is clean and open, with retaining walls to hold the water if needed.
After forty-five minutes in the galleries upstairs, and the water level appears to be higher. The bottom step is submerged. I retreat to the giardino.
I notice all the odd details that remind me of the rising and receding sea: the steps to get me over the edges, the channels and gaps to direct the water, the overly crafted drains and covers, the garden gate disguised as a flood gate, and the path of 'L-shaped' blocks buried in the lawn just in case.
A water feature is placed against a concrete wall the east end of the giardino. it has a band of tiles that reminds me of the padiglione sull'acqua at the Memoriale Brion, but aligned lower, about chest-high. Perhaps that's the high-water mark.
The water splits the concrete wall and makes a canal. There are creases and scuppers for the water to escape and be caught again. Behind the wall is a patio for the cafe.
The day's experience already includes a wide range of eras and styles, but all live happily in Venezia. The Fondazione is a microcosm of that artistic mission and spirit. For a full listing of the rooms and the collection, I found this PDF.
The tour makes one more stop before lunch, to the east of the Campo Santa Maria Formosa, at the Palazzo Grimani (16th century). The Palazzo makes the most of its entrance on the cramped Ramo Grimani, with toothy lions and floatings faces.
We come into the corner of a courtyard. It looks plain and worn, and I am deeply suspicious of that cornice. But the porta d’acqua is in good shape, and when we climb the stairs to the piano nobile, the Palazzo shows more confidence.
The Palazzo is famous for its sculpture collection, and when we reach the 'Tribuna', as are not disappointed. It's a very small space, so only a handful at a a time, but there could hardly be more marble crammed into one room. The coffered ceiling heightens the drama, and in the center is the "Ratto di Ganimede" (above).
The Palazzo is the eccentric legacy of an unusual man, Giovanni Grimani, a bishop, the grandson of a Doge, the Patriarch of Aquileia (coadjutor with Daniele Barbaro from 1550-70), and art collector.
From the Palazzo, we take the vaporetto to the Arsenale. There by the Porta di Terra, the group splits up for lunch at nearby restaurants.
After a morning of unexpected visual treats, the afternoon begins with the Scuola di San Giorgio degli Schiavoni (Early 16th century). This is one of Venezia's many confraternite.
Adequately impressive from the exterior, the Scuola is an intimate worship space with low ceilings, but not lacking in art. The ground floor is encased in dim woods except for the bright, colorful strip of tempura paintings by Vittore Carpaccio (1502-07) honoring the patron saints of the Scuola. In particular, the image of "San Giorgio e il Drago" on our left, is full of dramatic detail: the lance's broken shaft, the bleeding dragon, the field of victims and body parts.
In the upper space, despite the low height, there is a beautiful painted ceiling with a shallow octagonal 'dome'. Behind the desk at the front of the room, is a relief panel also of San Giorgio.
From here, we head west then north to the Campo di San Lorenzo. It's about three, and the morning's grey is clearing, and the air is even getting warm. As we make our turn, we can see the campanile of the Chiesa di San Giogio dei Greci, and it does not look plumb.
The Ponte San Lorenzo is ahead.
Crossing the bridge, the Chiesa di San Lorenzo (rebuilt 1580-1616) looks like a warehouse. Even entering the old church, it still looks like a warehouse. The church-parts are gone, except for the massive, stone triumphal arch.
Travelling between these Renaissance churches, and remaking on how they are 'stripped of ornament' (compared to medieval churches), it's good to see a church that has literally been stripped. The architects of the Renaissance want to instill that sense of being in Rome amongst the ruins – well, here it is.
Unusually, the old nave is much wider than deep and is used as exhibition space for the Biennale. Currently, there is a skeletal structure with video panels. Behind the altarpiece, there are colorful split stones. And between these are the scratched walls and worn shadows of the missing chapels and memorials.
We double-back, cutting hidden passages, zigging and zagging west and north. We pass through the Campo della Barbaria o Santa Giustina, where a tiny chapel contends with an oversized cistern lid.
In an alley our Director stops the group and asks permission to enter at a small hotel; they agree, but only half of the group at a time.
Palazzo Contarini della Porta di Ferro
Our stop at the Palazzo Contarini della Porta di Ferro is brief but is long enough to add a dose of romance to our walk. The garden of the hotel is magical. Simple Gothic stonework surrounds a small wellhead, with discrete views and greenery flowing over the walls.
The splash from the garden pool is barely enough to break the silence.
The hotel's lounge is a quiet sitting room by the porta d’acqua, with a remarkable architectural scene on the high fascia – more dreams of ancient Rome.
We cross another canal to the Campo de la Chiesa, and the campanile of San Francesco comes into view.
We approach the Chiesa di San Francesco della Vigna (1534-54) from the south and get a sideways view of the facade. I remember how awkward it is to frame a view of the church in the campo. Palladio's design of San Francesco precedes San Giorgio by some years (1564 vs 1566), but so much of it reads the same: the relief of the giant order columns and the depth of the modiglioni at the cornices, and the relative proportions of the two temple fronts.
Here, Palladio is forced to 'retrofit' his system to an existing church design by Jacopo Sansovino, so he lifts everything up on a plinth. My memory is shaken by the height of that plinth – look at the people near the door. After several attempts, I am finally able to frame a shot that includes the entire width of the deign (top image).
Compared to San Giorgio, the lines do seem less 'woven together'. I notice that two modiglioni are folded where the minor order cornice meets the side of the giant order shaft. And the string course between the giant order capitals doesn't line up with the angled cornices but with the astragali. The same motif is used at the minor order pair of half columns on each side. The end pieces are more fragments than at the other churches.
It's just Corinthian, too, as there is no Composite order like San Giorgio or Il Redentore. An extra crease finishes the upper pediment, as if to imply that this is needed to 'fit' the church, though it is not – the facade and the body of the church do not align (compare to San Giorgio).
Our friar guide openst he La Cappella Santa, outside the north transept, near the entrance to the chiostro. The "Madonna col Bambino, Quattro Santi e un Donatore" (1507) by Bellini is inside; we can't go in but can stand by the door enjoy another masterpiece.
Our guide leads us to the chiostro and leaves us to explore. These vineyards and gardens are exactly how I expect a working church garden to be. It is manicured and verdant, and the trees are heavy with fruit. But there are also tools and laundry; people live here.
There's also evidence that the friars have a sense of humor, as well as an unpredictable taste in shorts (I thought for a minute that those were marijuana leaves, but let's call them palm trees).
A hotel like the Palazzo Contarini can offer a 'peaceful oasis' in city surrounded by the sea, not to mention the tourism. But in this chiostro, I get a snapshot of a lasting peace – not something manufactured and sold but cultivated and kept.
Basilica dei Santi Giovanni e Paolo
Passing the Santa Maria dei Derelitti (Baldessarre Longhena, c1575) with its astonishing telamoni , I get an overwhelming sense of déjà vu, but then I've walked this street in both directions more than once over the last decade. The memories are scattered, and sometimes they surprise you when they come back.
We go straight into the Campo Santi Giovanni e Paolo. Just like the last time I was here, I turn to look at the Scuola Grande di San Marco (c1487) and the intricate facade I enthusiastically discussed with our last guide, epescially those perspective relief panels.
Today, our Director takes us to the right (west), past the children playing soccer (and using the space under the tombs in the archways of the facade as goals) and go into the Basilica dei Santi Giovanni e Paolo (15th century).
The Basilica is very big, easily bigger than San Francesco or San Giorgio, with a true Gothic sensibility. This is not Byzantium-inspired Gothic, but pointed arches, ribbed vaults, stone tracery, and stained-glass. Each span includes a timber tie through the arch, with lacey gold decoration.
The bones of the church may be Gothic, but the chapels and the altarpiece are Renaissance and Baroque. There is an openness to the relationship between the central nave and the side aisles, and the Basilica genuinely expresses its size.
The monument on the back of the facade belongs to Alvise I Mocenigo, Doge della Reppublica from 1570 to 1577. It is the work of Girolamo Grapiglia and Francesco Contin. The exterior may not have a full facade, but the interior does. One of the first tombs on the right (south) is Bellini's "Polittico di San Vincenzo Ferrer" (1464-70) and with several vibrant portraits (from upper left): "L'Arcangelo Gabriele", "Cristo Passo", "La Vergine Annunciata", (lower left) "San Cristoforo e Gesù Bambino", "San Vincenzo Ferrer", and "San Sebastiano".
Nearby, the Monumento a Marcantonio Bragadin, a general who fought the Ottomans at Famagosta and flayed after surrender, displays a scene of his death; the tomb contains only his skin.
A twenty-four-hour clock (late 15th century) is mounted in the north transept. The large stained glass window (1510-15) in the south transept is by Giovanni Antonio Licinio, based on artwork from Bartolomeo Vivarini, Cima da Conegliano and Girolamo Mocetto.
The lateral chapel on the north is the Cappella da Trinità, with the "Trinità" by Leandro da Bassano (late 16th century).
By now, the tour is slowing down. Most the group heads back to the hotel before our farewell dinner, and just four of us continue.
Heading west, we cross a canal behind the Chiesa di Santa Mari dei Miracoli, which was our last stop yesterday – quite a stunning church from all sides (below).
Chiesa di San Giovanni Grisostomo
Continuing toward the Gran Canale, we arrive at the Chiesa di San Giovanni Grisostomo (1497-1525). This is a small, pink, central-plan church on a very tight square. The interior, Tardis-like, appears larger than seems possible.
The marble high altarpiece is the work of Tullio Lombardo and sits within the apse and includes the relief of the "Deposizione di Cristo" in the base. The center panel is "San Giovanni Grisostomo e Santi" (1509) by Sebastiano del Piombo. The aspe contains the full cycle of "Traslazione del Corpo di San Giovanni Grisostomo" (1610) by Zaccaria Facchinetti.
The large chapel to the left (south) features a painting by Bellini, "Santi Cristoforo, Girolamo e Ludovico di Tolosa" (1513), one of his last works. The inscription in the painted arch is in Greek, and is from Psalm 14:2:
The Lord looked down from heaven upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God.
Having spent all day walking through the crazy alleys of Venezia, we decide to take the vaporetto back from Rialto. And after a day of ingesting every kind of art the city has to offer, we find one more: the perfect sunset on the Gran Canale.
At least I'll have a few more pictures for show-n-tell tonight. Though we dragged him to the final church, our Director smiled and agreed it might make a few jealous that they did not make it to the end.


























































































































































































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