Legions of artists have tried to capture the elusiveness of Venice in word, music and paint. Goethe, Thomas Mann, Dickens and Henry James, just to name a few, have penned magnificent lines. Richard Wagner and Mendelssohn have composed great symphonies and Monet, Manet, Renoir and Whistler have been inspired to paint some of their finest canvasses. All have struggled valiantly to express the essence of Venice.
According to Mary McCarthy, author of ‘Venice Observed,’ “…what one is about to feel or say has not only been said before by Goethe or Musset, but is on the tip of the tongue of the tourist from Iowa who is alighting in the Piazzetta with her fur piece and jewelled pin.”
Questions race to mind. Why do heartfelt attempts at description sound like the most banal clichs? Can anything new be said, or has human thought and emotion over the centuries been exhausted? What immerses people in such a delightful and frustrating endeavour to define the elusive with originality? I, too, am compelled to take up the challenge.
The German author, Thomas Mann, who wrote Death in Venice, said that Venice must be first seen from the sea....
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