Viva San Marco!

What an innocent I am. I knew full well that yesterday, April 25th, was not only a national holiday (Liberation Day) but also a local one (St. Mark’s day). I also knew that there were several festivities planned, including “Un ombra di vin soto el campanil” from 11-1 and a regata or two. It never occurred to me that, with all this going on, the library might be closed. Since, for better or worse, the Marciana is located smack in the middle of the universe, I too was smack in the middle of the universe when I discovered the library door locked up tight.

25 aprile 2008

For better viewing, go directly to the slide show.

elezioni 2008

I’ve just been told that the Italian Mr. B is not the equivalent of the American Mr. B, which is news to me. I’m quite sure the former is more competent. I suppose even if they were equivalent, the political contexts are completely different. I don’t entirely understand the context, but I’m trying.

at least there are no carnies

I missed all the blowout events that kicked off carnevale.  Presumably those were the events where it made sense to walk around in maschera. I expected a greater density of crowds and costumes given the fair food stands that have sprung up in all the campi.  Thank goodness that, blowout events aside, it’s no more crowded than usual.  I’d say maybe 10% of the people on the street are in some kind of garb, from a simple eye mask to full regalia. It’s like being in a city-wide “costume optional” party.

I did have a wonderful encounter with the 18th century this morning, though. I was walking under the procuratie nuove, and just as I made the right hand turn to the Marciana I nearly collided with a dress — bright crimson and six feet wide — flanked by two liveried (crimson) footmen. I could barely squeek past them in the loggia.

OK, that was pretty sweet, but honestly, there’s no event to dress for. I don’t think I could do it. But I also don’t like practicing trumpet in dense urban spaces. Yes, we all know I don’t like to draw attention to myself. (Present venue excepted.) It did occur to me, though — in a heady moment of life imitating “conceptual foundations” — that if I were wearing a mask, I’d be anonymous. Then it’s not like drawing attention to yourself, and you could pretend to be someone else. Well, duh. That’s the point. (For those of you who don’t know, there’s a lot of secondary literature on self-fashioning. This is not news.) Have to chuckle at myself.

where am I?

We’re having a glorious spate of sunny days, and the city is suddenly different.  It’s not just that I’ve spent most of the last month at home (there, I’ve said it).  There’s a slate-gray flatness to Venetian winter.  Sunshine is to this city as varnish is to fine wood.  It brings out the texture, the depth, the grain, the color.  Animates it.  Gives it life.

Preparations for carnevale are also underway.  I knew this, of course.  Confetti has dotted the sidewalks more and more since New Years — like crocus heralding spring.  The passarelle for aqua alta are disappearing.  And the mask-shop saturation has cranked up a notch.  But I didn’t anticipate market stands (?) in Campo S. Stefano.  And, frankly, I’m a little alarmed that there’s a crepe stand in the little campo on our side of the Accademia bridge.  Somehow that crosses an invisible, psychological line for me.  This is liable to be more crowded and literally carnival-like than I anticipated.

shutters

As you know, windows here have outdoor shutters instead of screens and/or storm windows. So it’s batten down the hatches at night to seal out some of the cold. It really works, but also seals out all of the sunlight — wan and forlorn as it may be this time of year. I can’t wake up in a pitch dark room!

nb: I’m not complaining. I still feel like Miss Honeychurch* every time I open or close the shutters.

*And Miss Lavish when I experience “a true Florentine smell.” If you haven’t seen A Room with a View, rent it! I was cheered to see “Camera con Vista” on tv a couple months ago, but dubbing into Italian seriously defangs the humor.

choral culture shock

I unwittingly disrupted my rehearsal tonight, in a very subversive and eggheaded way.

I noticed that in a particular section we were singing in unison — and that “unison” didn’t match my part.   Look over one shoulder. Look over another.  Yep, we should be singing harmony.  I ask my fellow singers if we’re supposed to be singing unison.  Yes.  I clumsily point out that the music says otherwise.  Confusion results.  We check with the conductor, and, yes, they had made a change.  Nobody made a note of it, because they’re going by ear and memory (and keep their music in sheet protectors).  Now… they were doing just fine before I asked the question, but once I’d pointed out the discrepancy, many took the time to write in the correct notes (which were all just a third below our part and which, furthermore, they obviously didn’t need since they’d been singing the unison correctly all along).

Aside from feeling guilty about raising needless cain, I came away realizing that I’d underestimated the degree to which this choir is working on a purely aural basis.  From now on, I’m keeping all my fancy-pants questions to myself.  But I will  track down a four-hole punch so I can jettison the sheet protectors and write all over my music.

news of the season, skill building, etc.

I’ve been working on expanding my mental map of this part of town, and spent several hours last night and this afternoon working quasi-systematically through all the wee calli that are off my own beaten tracks between Campo S. Stefano and Piazza S. Marco. I’m finding wonderful short-cuts and some nice views, too. This is a long weekend (for All Saints Day), so visitors have descended on the city in what feels like random fashion. My barista tells me it’s the last hurrah of The Season. That makes this weekend a good time to either stay home or go off the beaten track. I’m not much interested in doing the former lately, so the latter it is!

Apropos the season…. Without fall colors on the precious few trees and without the Halloween/Thanksgiving discourse I’m used to, this doesn’t feel much like November. Plus there are still mosquitos in my room. I killed what I thought must be the last one a few minutes ago, and just now another one flew by my face.  Bloodsucking bastards.

News from the library: After a week of flailing around and not finding much of interest — *pointed, relevant* interest — I finally saw a manuscript today that actually looks very useful and is quite large. Finally, something to put on the definitely-look-at-this-closely-later list. So far, I’ve spent most of my time trying to squeeze the little bit of interesting material I’ve found in each item, since there hasn’t been much to justify coming back to it later. This find also signals the fact that I’m beginning to understand how to select materials to consult. The accumulation of small lessons learned is starting to add up to something.

one long-planned event and two surprises

Tuesday I heard the Consulate General of Belgium speak about his country at a gathering of the Associazione Europa Amica di Venezia (a group that promotes cultural understanding among EU member states). The wonderful Mamma G invited me some time ago to come to these talks, and I’m so thrilled. I was probably the only non-Venetian in the room, save the Honorable speaker himself, oh and one lady from Bassano del Grappa. It was a very convivial group of about thirty people — including a documentary filmmaker (who invited me to a screening this Friday) and an architectural engineer (who offered me a photocopy of the original elevation of the Palazzo Pisani, now the Conservatory, which he helped to restructure recently). They also had a classic Venetian spread for the reception, complete with prosecco, thank-you-ma’am. What a treat to be invited into this large circle of friendly and interesting people!

I’d been looking forward to that for a long time. Meanwhile, on Sunday, I got another invitation to go with my friend N. to a book talk on Monday at the Ateneo Veneto – a discussion of Daria Perocco’s recent edition of Poesie per regate (poems for regattas, Venetian texts from the 16th to the 19th century) . Really interesting talk, and an unforeseen opportunity to encounter some of Venice’s literary scholars. I had a nice little chat with Prof. Perocco… and delivered Stella’s greetings.

Then today by pure luck, on the way home from the library, I saw a poster for a seminar this week at the Levi Foundation: La nascita della storiografia musicale in Europa nel XIX secolo: gli orientamenti nazionali (the birth of musical historiography in Europe in the 19th century: the national orientations). The idea of coming across a poster for so esoteric a musicological meeting is strange enough — outside the confines of, say, a large research-oriented university in Chicago. But this was one huge poster. No, two: one right next to the other. Posted, moreover, in a tiny, back-alley sottoportego (underpass) hidden between Piazza San Marco and the Fenice. I just happened to pass that way as I experimented with a new long-cut home (to skirt foot traffic). “Did I really just see ’storiografia musicale’ out of the corner of my eye?” Yep. And the Fondazione Levi is two minutes from my house. Cool.

noting the obvious

Re cell phone: red button to hang up.  (Green button is handy, too.)

Re “passing”: if people ask me directions, it’s because I’m not carrying a map.