Venice is just ridiculous, in the best possible sense. Who makes a city this way? Everything is artificial. I recall the officer on the flight asking me, if I lived in San Francisco, why hadn't I just gone to Vegas to visit Venice, and I think he had a point. But to walk in this city and see what goes on - it is a truly mind-blowing thing to witness.
Getting there: today's trip involves a taxi ride (big black Mercedes taxi - that's the rear window view of a small town called Capella) and a train ride from Mestre to Santa Lucia - over the causeway and suddenly everything is water. Like a mouse in a maze, you're dropped into it, and you can't get a closer look at that temple or church that's right there in front of you without walking round, and over, and figuring out a lot of mini-bridges. The maps I have are not up to date, and wrong turns are a matter of course; but Siri seems to have it mostly worked out (just hoping this won't kill my international data plan).
There are three big Palladio churches to see in Venice, and I plan to take them in chronological order - stop one is: San Francesco della Vigna. The the giant order interrupts the smaller order in interesting ways. The semi-circular opening is a repeat to the scalloped archway for the door below. Very hard to get back away and snap a picture of the whole, but from the side you can see that Palladio is adding to the make-believe, because he's putting a new face on an older church. But you can feel the way the scale has been used to give the facade real presence - the tall base lifting everything up; one imagines that there are figures missing at the top, though, that might have really made it imposing.
Inside, the church is simple and unpretentious; it's fairly clean and the geometry is well delineated by the polychrome. But it's not very dramatic; this is not Palladio's design.
The next stop is: San Giorgio Maggiore, which is on its own little island, so it's vaporetto time. And that means I must head to the Piazza San Marco, which is a place (a crowd!) I really dread. A few obligatory pictures of the Doge's Palace, the Campanile, the Library, and the Basilica - done. What a zoo, almost happy to leave it despite the famous and historic buildings. Then I discover the secret of the vaporettos: the views from the boats are amazing. Of course, Venice is intended to be seen by boat.
San Giorgio Maggiore is the big white church that you see from the Piazzetta at San Marco, as recognizable for the red Campanile to the side, with the conical copper hat. Here the giant order just runs right over the smaller order. It is set above the ground level by a series of pedestals rather than a continuous raised base. The lower order is clearly "behind", and sits right at ground level. The effect is more dimensional, while the front door seems better resolved as its own piece within the smaller order. Still, it does appear to continue the mask-like artifice, even though Palladio is putting this facade on his own church. It is this face that looks across the lagoon, so you really want it to look its best. This mask-like effect is made evident by the undecorated, thin vertical "ears" next to the giant order capitals: Palladio just added some canvas where he needed it.
The interior, however, is just breath-taking: so clean, legible, and restrained. I think of the churches we saw in Florence, or Sienna, or in Portugal - it's astonishing how un-embellished it is. It feels almost modern. especially the way the light plays off the subtle contours and shapes in the ceiling and vaults. The geometry just softly moves and builds the light around you.
Stop number three is another vaporetto hop to the neighboring island of La Giudecca: Il Redentore. This church also faces directly across to the main island, but there is no big square opposite. This facade is extra-dimensional and layered. The giant order sits atop the smaller order, but halts it with squared-off pilasters at the "corners". Only a trace of the smaller order continues as a series of moldings, as the modillions and the depth of relief disappear. The two interior pilasters of the giant order are, however, semi-cylindrical, and the smaller order includes an extra set of "shadow" pilasters at the corner. The entry portico is a completely separate element, proportioned with the smaller order, but with it's own rounded columns and pediment.
Above the pediment of the giant order is yet another pediment, and above that is a rectangular panel with its own cornice. There are figures at the ends of the smaller order, as well as along the top cornice. There's so much jazzy and inventive design going on, yet it's compact, clean, and resolved.
The interior is like San Giorgio turned up to eleven, just spare and clear, but I was not allowed to take pictures, so here's a link. The way the natural light brushes over the un-delineated vault openings, and diffuses down into the church is just outstanding. Like the strata of the facade, except from the top down, the light is built stage by stage. Plus, the layout, in which there are no aisles (just side chapels), and the scale mean you can take the whole thing in, all at once.
My Palladian churches found and absorbed, I spend the rest of the time trying to figure out Venice. There is no single landmark you can ever see to keep your bearings. The Grand Canal is such a twisted intestinal thing that you cannot use it as a guide. In fact, there is no continuous path along the canal except when you're in it. Like a Palladian facade, there are layered mazes: one for boats and one for feet, and I don't have a boat. Venice I love you, but you are so annoying.
No comments:
Post a Comment