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Feel real Venice

Feel real Venice - VOLENDO VIAGGI
I still remember when I have finished reading FERNANDO BERTUZZI book of photos, dedicated to Venice. It was something new about the city which I have visited many times and which I loved deeply.  It was another, secret Venice. 
You want to feel a spirit of Venice?.. We suggest that you buy a unique book. It is a book of great Fernando Bertuzzi, and it is named DREAMING VENICE. You will be impressed by the fascinating views of the "floating" city, taken from unusual points of view.. Some have even suggested that it looked better on paper and on canvas than it ever did in the light of day. 
Venice is all MATTER OF LIGHT. It is abeautiful on a foggy and uncertain day, maybe in winter or late autumn... The light is soft and pale and unites the pearly mist with incredibly dark water of the canals and imperious buildings which float on them. Light was, in every context, a token of splendour and of nobility. In the 12th-century chronicles, the Basilica of Maria Assunta was celebrated for pellucida claritas or admirable lightness. 
The habitamts of Venice were mad about artificial light, too. The "LAMPADARI" (chandeliers) were known for complicated forms and variety of crystal chandels which had to reflect in the waters outside of the windows, and the effect was magic.  The 16th or 17th century wanderer could admire the miracle of enlightened and mystical town.
You remember that in Eat, Pray, Love says that in Venice in the Middle Ages there was once a profession for a man called a codega--a fellow you hired to walk in front of you at night with a lit lantern, showing you the way, scaring off thieves and demons, bringing you confidence and protection through the dark streets.
I can easily immagine walking with codega around Venice. I have heard that it is possible to hire codega even nowadays.. well..
The Renaissance churches of Venice, designed by Codussi and Palladio, exclude any frescoes or mosaics from their interiors; the walls are purely white. In this way the quality of the light was preserved. The Istrian stone of Venice is, in the sunlight, dazzling.
The water is changing, flowing. And Venice is never the same. Peter Ackroyd notes that  "ambiguity, reflecting the ambiguous state of a city on the water, may be the key".. 

Our advice:
"DREAMING VENICE" of FERNANZO BERTUZZI
VENICE: THE PURE CITY by PETER ACKROYD

You may also like the photos of two great PHOTOGRAPHER of XIX century: CARLO NAYA who has owned a small photo shop in piazza San Marco in Venice and has dedicated his art to his beloved Venice.

Another advice: if you read in Italian!! A magic book "VENEZIA E' O NON E' UN PESCE" di TIZIANO SCARPA. 

"Venezia è sempre esistita come la vedi, o quasi. E’ dalla notte dei tempi che naviga; ha toccato tutti i porti, ha strusciato addosso a tutte le rive, le banchine, gli approdi: sulle squame le sono rimaste attaccate madreperle mediorientali, sabbia fenicia trasparente, molluschi greci, alghe bizantine. Un giorno però ha sentito tutto il gravame di queste scaglie, questi granelli e schegge accumulati sulla pelle un poco per volta; si è resa conto delle incrostazioni che si stava portando addosso. Le sue pinne sono diventate troppo pesanti per sgusciare fra le correnti. Ha deciso di risalire una volta per tutte in una delle insenature più a nord del Mediterraneo, la più tranquilla, la più riparata, e di riposare qui. "

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage by George Gordon Byron:

 I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs,
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter's wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying Glory smiles
O'er the far times, when many a subject land
Looked to the wingéd Lion's marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!

She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was--her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers:
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.

In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone--but Beauty still is here;
States fall, arts fade--but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!


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