I don’t mean to enter Venice by the back door, but I’m glad I do. Upon exiting Santa Lucia train station and taking in the extraordinary set dressing of the scene before me – the Grand Canal, gondolas, gracious facades – I unwittingly choose a vaporetto (ferry) that’s heading away from the prime tourist zone, chugging along the broad Giudecca Canal. I can’t help noticing the buildings lining its edge are less about architectural perfection than practicality – including a chunky red-brick complex used by the local police.
This is good. La Serenissima is notoriously a victim of over-tourism, its daily visitors often outnumbering its residents. But there are other ways to sample the city’s pleasures than simply crowding into its most famous locations, so I’m heading for the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, a modern art museum. It does overlook the Grand Canal, but I’m approaching from a less-obvious direction, alighting at the Zattere ferry landing and walking along quiet footpaths past narrow canals.
The Peggy Guggenheim Collection, when I reach it, is a subtle delight – a graceful single-storey house in attractive gardens, the grounds dotted with sculptures. As I stroll through the simple interior with its white walls, I’m within touching distance of many works by well-known painters, including Kandinsky and Picasso. Particularly eye-catching is Picasso’s 1937 painting On the Beach, in which trademark misshapen figures play with a toy boat against a broad swathe of blue water – a colour that seems to fit neatly with Venice and its Adriatic locale.
At 11.30am each day there’s a free “Peggy Talk” tour, which I’m just in time to join. American guide Georgiana tells our small group the backstory of Peggy Guggenheim, described as the “black sheep” of a famous family which made its fortune in mining.
After her father Benjamin went down with the Titanic in 1912, Peggy was introduced to modern art while working at a bookshop in New York. Moving to Europe, she started collecting and exhibiting art, then settled in Venice after World War II. When she died in 1979, she left her palazzo and its paintings to the Guggenheim Foundation on the stipulation that they not be split up.
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This fascinating collector met many fascinating creators – Man Ray, Marcel Duchamp and Jackson Pollock, among others – and hearing her life story helps bring the house to life. I can imagine her walking through the rooms, giving guests an informal tour of her art treasures, then stepping out on the terrace to show them the Grand Canal.
That’s where I’m heading next, for another free talk which focuses on a different work daily. Today the subject is The Angel of the City by Marino Marini, a 1948 sculpture depicting a man on a horse. Marini was fascinated by horses and ancient fertility symbols, which might explain the notable phallus on the man on horseback. “The phallic element was originally removable when special guests visited,” guide Daniela tells us, but was made permanent after it was stolen too many times.
Leaving the naked horseman to continue his exuberant ride, I step back inside the museum for a final look. As I pass through the rooms, some still containing furniture, it really does feel as if I’m visiting the great collector’s home. In a small room at one end are paintings by Pegeen Vail, Peggy’s daughter, depicting Venice in a lively and colourful primitive style. Sadly, Vail died young. But as with her mother, her presence lives on in this unique house by the Grand Canal.
The writer visited with help from a Eurail Pass and a Venezia Unica City Pass.
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