I recently returned from a month spent in Venice, Italy where I was immersed in Italian food, culture, and art. I was there to make art, using the city as my muse. I had countless adventures that I will share in upcoming posts, some were more obvious (food related of course) while others were more subtle. I had to look, and observe, as things are often quietly hidden and tucked away amidst the twists and turns of the Venetian streets and canals.
Venice is a city of architecture, of opulence, and of water. For the first two weeks, I was in search of green. I wanted to see how nature had once been, and was currently being incorporated into the Venetian landscape. My adventures reflect this search. I learned so much about the place, the culture, and about the beauty and frustration that comes along with living in a city of water.
A search for green: A lesson in looking up
The architecture of Venice is complex, ornate, and multilayered. As I walked throughought the streets, I encountered bridges with stone and iron railings, shuttered windows, elaborate door knockers, and layers and layers of eroded stone, and water, but one thing that I did not notice in abundance were plants, trees, and flowers. They were all there, but many were hidden in quiet campos, behind high walls, and on balconies high above. This realization forced me to begin looking up from the dark, sometimes cavernous side streets, to the sunlight and colorful foliage up above. It became a world unto itself, alive in the intense white sunlight, overlooking the winding streets and intense blue-green canals below.
Rooftop and walled gardens were everywhere. Gazing at these gardens far above, revealed a place that I could see but could not enter. They hold a mystery, asking us to wonder and desire to get closer. Sometimes, if I looked close enough, I was able to find little hidden treasures peaking out from high above. These vertical city gardens in a sense, taught me what could be grown in containers, and how important gardens are to people. Even in the smallest spaces, high up in the sky, they ask to be nurtured, providing us with color and a sense of life.
Everywhere I looked, there were potted gardens on balconies, overlooking the streets. The contrast of textures and colors against the stone buildings, and window architecture was beautiful. Of course the gardener in me wanted to identify all of these plants that the Venetians chose to place on their windowsills. I was struck by the variety of succulents, sedum, cacti, and of course herbs of every kind.
I was often struck as I was walking along, by the vines that I would find peeking above stone walls. They suggested that something beautiful and secret was inside while adding color and life to the bare stone streets.
And sometimes. even when the plants were on the ground, there were other colorful reasons to look up to the world high above.
