Photo Friday: Dangerous Beauty in Venice

“We danced our youth in a dreamed of city, Venice, paradise, proud and pretty, We lived for love and lust and beauty, Pleasure then our only duty. Floating them twixt heaven and Earth And drank on plenties blessed mirth We thought ourselves eternal then, Our glory sealed by God’s own pen. But paradise, we found is always frail, Against man’s fear will always fail. ” ― Veronica Franco

I don't know how to describe Venice in all its beauty, so I got dear Veronica Franco to do it for me because she does it much better than I'll ever be able to. My first sights of the city of Venice were at night, because we arrived at the train station pretty late in the day and the sun had already set.



Venice by night is so different from everything I expected it to be. But then again, my first encounters with Venice were through Madeline's European Adventures which is a computer game I played when I was 8 years old. I attribute my present-day love of travel to this.



Venice is small. Really small. So small I really wouldn't recommend staying more than one full day, because you can so easily walk around on foot. That being said, maps are essential if you don't want to get lost in the million tiny alleys and walkways.

But sometimes getting lost can be a beautiful thing.



The thing about Venice is that it is picture-book perfect. You walk around and you see yourself walking through scenes that look like they're out of postcards.

It was then I realised that I was walking in a postcard. That's what the whole city is - it's a postcard.

Canals and a gondolier. See what I mean?

That made me start wondering if anything in Venice is real at all. Okay, okay, blame my philosophy degree - but it's hard to believe that anything real can exist in this postcard perfect city.

It's hard to believe that anyone can actually live in Venice, doing anything at all that doesn't relate to tourism. If there were schools, I didn't see them. If there were families, and children, I didn't see them either. If there were homes, they were hidden by the overwhelming crowds of tourists padding down the alleyways.

It made me sad, thinking this.

View from the Rialto Bridge.

You see, Venice is beautiful, of that there is no doubt. But that beauty is an artifice. It is a preserved fragment of a city that was once greater than it is. It is a city overrun by the sound of souvenir shop cash tills ringing. The fancy gondolas ferry tourists for €80, rather serving its original public transport purpose.

Venetians have been forced out by ever-rising property prices, pushed by others carrying wallets fat with money each wanting to own a piece of the city that is a living museum.



"But," I hear you say, "What is wrong with souvenir shops? After all, they sell masks, and masks are a part of Venetian culture are they not?"

True, except the masks aren't papier-mache anymore; they're bulk-produced in white PVC and imported. Far from original and hand-made, they now come in common designs with a choice of colours.

Murano glass has become so popular around the world that it's no longer unique to Venice; a victim of its own success, Murano glass is so common these days that it has lost its fascinating beauty for all but those most able to appreciate its finery.



It is true the music of Vivaldi, who was born here, is still celebrated - but only barely. The Carnevale di Venezia tradition is strong, revived in 1980 after having declined in the 18th century, although with so many mask-wearers you can be assured that you will jostle among tourist crowds all craning their necks for a better look at the dressed-up partygoers.

The Piazza di San Marco. I had the good fortune to be able to photograph this woman twirling her shawl in the wind.

I wanted to find something of life in Venice - the hustle and bustle, the everyday, and I didn't. The character of Venice is old, ancient, otherworldly. Carnevale - mysterious, almost unreal and like something out of a novel. There is little, if anything at all, of things that I recognised from real life in it. A postcard. A museum.



Venice will never be empty. It will always be filled with people who come looking for beauty and romance and the walls of old buildings crumbling into narrow canals. It will thrive with those searching for ornate, for old, for opulence.

Oh, Venice has a soul, alright. No one can possibly say that Venice doesn't have a soul.

But those souls have hearts that cannot live here. The only ones who come are those on holidays with money to spend. So the Venetians will leave, taking with them what's left of Venetian blood. The real heart of the city will dwindle until it will eventually sit empty, like the rows of gondola boats docked at the pier waiting for the next paying customer.