coloured pencils, 32.5 x 29 cm. May 2019
Late on Saturday night there are people partying in Venice. We walk past a hot-spot where there is a silent disco on the campo. (Silent? Yes, the dancers are all wearing headphones – a surreal sight.)
We continue on our journey, navigating ourselves deep into the peace of Dorsoduro.
No cars, not even the hum of far-away traffic. It is a profound silence, broken only by the soft thuds of shoes on stone and perhaps a voice carried on the breeze.
And shortly after this, we find ourselves lost once again. But we don’t mind.
Coloured pencils, 35 x 25 cm. May 2019
Within the web of Venice one wanders, and wonders, “Shall I turn right (or left)? What is beyond that bridge? I’ll go straight“, [side-tracked] “But oh – THAT way looks intriguing. Which way, which way?” And after a few more moments, glancing back, “Now, where the heck did I come from?” And so one twists and turns until one is deep within the labyrinth, hoping one has memorized the way back.
There are infinite pathways. Each one offers another view point, another framed composition which must be stopped at and dreamily sighed over. Accompanying the wondering wanderer is the sound of lapping water and (in spring) blackbird song amplified and bouncing off stone walls (those skew-whiff walls which frame compositions).
Of course it is early, for later on Calle del Caffettier (as indeed every other calle) will be choked with tourists. But right now on this March Sunday morning I am almost alone.
Afterword: I had trouble getting back into drawing after my recent Italian trip. As I walked in a fallow state of mind along my local beach it dawned on me that our West Australian shells contain the same colours as the marble and stone buildings of Venice. (Well, after all, both shells and Venice are immersed in sea water periodically depending on moon, weather, season and tides.) I carried a few shells home and somehow this collection of colourful calcium carbonate gave me the impetus to get back to work.