The Island of San Michele, Venice 1770s

Editor: Right, so this is Francesco Guardi’s "The Island of San Michele, Venice," painted sometime in the 1770s. It’s an oil painting, and it just breathes this kind of hazy, almost dreamlike view of Venice. The buildings shimmer in the distance, the water's calm. What leaps out at you when you look at it? Curator: You know, it's funny you say dreamlike, because that's precisely the word that first danced across my mind! Guardi doesn't give us the precise, architectural rendering that Canaletto might. It's as if he's bottling a feeling, the very *essence* of Venice... or rather, his *memory* of Venice. See how he lets the light bleed and blur? And all those tiny figures...do they feel quite real to you, or more like fleeting impressions? Editor: More like impressions, definitely. They're almost like brushstrokes themselves, adding to the overall texture. I'm interested in the choice of subject too, I wonder, was San Michele always this kind of isolated, somber place, even back then? Curator: Ah, now there's a poignant layer to our little Venetian cake! San Michele has been Venice's cemetery island since the early 19th century, but even before that, it held a monastery. Perhaps Guardi was drawn to the island's sense of quiet contemplation, that whisper of mortality always present. Makes those shimmering reflections seem a tad more… knowing, doesn't it? Almost a premonition. What do you make of his colour palette? Editor: It’s so muted, almost pastel, like it’s fading before your eyes. But there are hints of a rusty colour and gold in the buildings, holding them up against the soft, pale blues and whites. Curator: Exactly! Guardi's painting seems to ask: What remains when the gondolas stop gliding, and the canals fall silent? What fragments of Venice will survive in our collective memory? Editor: It makes you think about Venice as this kind of fragile beauty, always on the verge of disappearing, doesn't it? That's a completely different perspective than I had before. Thanks! Curator: The pleasure was all mine, maybe Guardi´s ghosts will visit you in your dreams now!