Mark Kurlansky once said, “Food is a central activity of mankind and one of the single most significant trademarks of a culture.” Italians are known for their love of food and the significance that it has on their culture. Venice is no exception to these stereotypes, and in a way, has a particularly noteworthy relationship with its cuisine. Buzard writes about culture by saying, “‘Culture’, then, shuttles between two frames of reference: aesthetic objects and their role in personal acculturation, on the one hand, and the anthropological sense of a group’s ‘whole way of life’ on the other” (The Beaten Track, 7). The culture discussed in this paper is the latter definition that Buzard gives. It can therefore be said that the food within the Veneto region is more than merely simple nourishment; rather, it is a culmination of the history and culture of the land.
When traveling to Venice it is easy to become caught up in the hustle and bustle as tourists visit art museums, shops, churches, and Piazza San Marco. Everyone moves about trying to see everything and to experience the “authentic” culture of a place that is so unique. They come with the desire to experience the past and to celebrate the arts. While everyone will make time to eat, most visitors will gravitate towards a pizzeria or perhaps a ristorante filled with traditional pastas. It is a rare occurrence that a tourist will take time to settle into a family run osteria to enjoy a hearty bowl of risotto cooked in cuttlefish ink. It is really a pity, because tourists often miss the very authenticity available to them right at their fingertips.
Buzard defines an authentic experience as an experience which contains the following: stillness, non-utility, saturation, and picturesqueness. He continues further to describe saturation by saying, “The setting best rewarding travelers is so densely ‘saturated’ in historical and emotional significance that each step of the ground seems able to evoke the most powerful feelings; when ‘truly sensitive’ travelers stand upon this ground, they feel to the fullest extent of their capacity” (The Beaten Track, 185). In the same way that each step can suggest a powerful feeling, so too can each bite of food. By looking deeper into the historical and emotional significance of common Venetian cuisine, a tourist more fully appreciates the city.
Food content and preparation can be a distinguishing factor in nearly every region and country, but for Italy, food is thought to be the essence of the entire country. Americans are known for their greasy cheeseburgers, the Spanish are known for tapas and paella, and Germans are known for their wiener schnitzel and sausages. Food is the common thread which bundles together different personalities and lifestyles all within the same land borders.
The idea of food as a representation of the culture is much stronger in Italy than in other countries. The myths that surround this subject are immense in number and cover nearly every aspect of food. Some of the most common beliefs are that Italians cook with their heart, center social interactions around food, and eat better than any other group of people in the world. The Italian food culture is by far one of the most discussed in the World. These speculations involving the food of Italy lure travelers in, but are the tourists truly partaking in the culinary experience or are they merely experiencing the taste of Italian food?
Venice is one of the most strikingly unique places in the entire world, and its food has a certain unique flair of its own. As a way to study this relationship between food and culture, I have analyzed some of the most traditional foods of the Veneto region to find the deeper cultural meanings within them. This paper summarizes the conclusions which I have drawn from my raw data after scrutinizing recipes and interviewing local Italians about particular cultural rules associated with food. It focuses on the idea of food as a link to the past, to other cultures, to social gatherings, and to holidays and festivals.
Cicchetti (hors d’oevres): Influence of Water on Culinary Choice
To understand the current culinary practices we need to look into the past influences. The unique geographical makeup of Venice is highly responsible for its current choices and flavors of food. Margaret Plant writes, “Not many cities exist in such a singular marine and coastal terrain, between sea and swampland. As many have observed, the very singularity of the site is crucial to the 'myth' of a Venice wedded to the sea, and so on” (Venice Fragile City, 429). The idea of Venice being wedded to the sea can be seen through the food that is served in homes and restaurants.
Venice is both liberated and controlled by its surrounding waters. The water which envelops these islands influences the access to necesities of their inhabitance. The structure, food, and protection all symbolically, and in some cases physically, emerge out of the vast expanse of the lagoon.
Water serves as a border separating these islands from the mainland. This provides a sense of protection as it has in the past during wars while also providing a sense of freedom from the constraints of the mainland. One of the greatest myths of Venice is the idea that Venice is an escape from reality, which is why the tourism industry is enormous within the city. “Tourism is a leisure activity which presupposes its opposite, namely regulated and organized work” (Urry, Consuming Places, 132). Venice is viewed as a place where the culture allows for liberation. Byron and Casanova help to enforce a myth that Venice is a permanent Carnivale where sexual experiences and other behaviors which contradict the norms of other societies are accepted.
Water gives the Venetians food and helps them to be independent of other cities. It also allows for trade which has provided economic stability. Nearly every aspect of the Venetian lifestyle is enhanced and aided by the water which surrounds the citizens.
On the other hand, the water constricts the lives of Venetians. “The history of Venice's water supply is further proof of the difficult conditions of daily life in the city. All cities in the ancient régime suffered from an insufficient supply of drinking water, but in Venice scarcity could become dramatic because water was omnipresent but not drinkable”. (Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, Venice Triumphant, 14-15). As Crouzet-Pavan suggests, drinking water was one restriction placed on Venice by it’s location amidst the salt-water filled lagoon and sea, but it was far from being the sole problem. The water created problems with construction and development of the city as a whole, and still today leads to acqua alta which causes damage in buildings. This city which was literally erected out of the water is today sinking and, in a way, returning to the lagoon. The structural supports are no longer able to fully sustain these structures without solid ground underneath them.
Being a series of islands surrounded by a lagoon as well as the Adriatic Sea, it is no surprise that seafood is popular in the Veneto region. Walking along the street it is ordinary to pass multiple fish markets or windows with fresh seafood on ice. Quite possibly the freshest seafood in the world can be found within the streets of Venice. Seafood is the most common characteristic shared amongst traditional Venetian foods. It is common within the cicchetti corso, the primo corso, and the secondo corso. The abundance of seafood is due in part to the economic stability it provides the region, but the link between seafood and Venice does not stop with the money, in fact, it is a greater reflection of Venice’s relationship with the sea.
Primo Corso: Influences from Around the World
At its prime, Venice was one of the most prolific trade centers in the world. Because of its central location and ease of access to water ways, it was the meeting point between the East and the West. “[Venice’s] empire reached from the Alps, through the cities, towns, and villages of northeastern Italy, across the Adriatic to Istria, Dalmatia, Corfu, Crete, and Cyprus. A maritime power, Venice served as an entrepôt for trade between Europe and the Middle East, and as early as the thirteenth century its merchants (possibly including Marco Polo) traveled as far as India and China” (Martin and Romano, Venice Reconsidered, 1). As a result of the trades, Venice became a blend of the Eastern and Western cultures. Some of the most remarkable examples of this can be seen within the architecture throughout Venice. In Campo San Silvestre alone, the buildings are representative of different styles of architecture including several Gothic examples as well as quatrefoil openings representative of the East. While a tourist may be able to see the influences more visually in the architecture, the authentic Venetian food is equally as representative of this blend of cultures.
By looking through Venetian recipes, see appendix B, it is possible to notice the mixture of spices influenced from all areas of the world. “Marco Polo established Venice as the most important spice trading post, making the region extremely wealthy” (Gary Erb, www.helium.com). With the prices soaring, it was difficult for other countries to obtain these spices. As a result of obtaining this monopoly, Venice had a plentiful amount of spices and they became common within their cooking. One of the most common Venetian spices is called anise and is often used in holiday cookies. It was not until the Portuguese explorer, Vasco De Gama, discovered a new route directly to India, that Venice lost its control over the spice trade.
Spices are not the only aspect of Italian cuisine that was influenced by the trade center. One dish very close to the heart of Venice is baccalà. This is a salted cod which is used in many recipes, see appendix B. Baccalà has its roots in Portugal, but was brought to Venice through the Baltic trade routes. It is a prime example of the influence of other cultures within Venice. It is generally served on bread or as a dip. It can be found in nearly every restaurant as either a meal (often served with polenta) or, more commonly, as an appetizer. It is a food that many tourists have tried, but have not appreciated it beyond its incredible taste.
Secondo Corso: The Social Aspect of Food
It is never just about the food itself; the circumstances in which food is consumed are equally as important to understanding the cultural ties connected to the cuisine of a place. In Venice, there are very particular traditions and customs associated with food environments. The behavior at a coffee shop and the behavior at a ristorante are drastically different and aim to produce different atmospheres. One common belief regarding Italian food is that all shared meals involve large family gatherings with hearty plates of pasta and enough bread to feed an army. While an average Venetian may experience this occasionally, it is more common that they will spend a few minutes in a coffee shop or enjoy a meal with friends at a trattoria.
The coffee bar is an interesting experience in Italy. As with most places, there is the option to sit down ,for a fee, or stand at the bar. Regardless of the choice, the staff is usually very friendly to the regular customers and will oftentimes even remember their drink order. This is a space where local Italians chat with other locals in the morning, for just a few minutes, while grabbing a hot espresso for breakfast. The staff does not encourage people to leave, and it is a place filled with conversation. If one pays for a table, he or she is expected to stay for a lengthy amount of time and enjoy the company of others or enjoy the space to use as they please.
At a trattoria or ristorante, the atmosphere is very different but still centers around this idea of social interactions. The meal will usually last several hours and is generally spent sharing quality time with friends and family. Small differences, such as allowing sufficient time between courses and not bringing the bill until it is requested, encourage a lengthy stay. There is no pressure put on the guests by the staff at the establishment, and the meal is always more about the company than the food itself.
Food in Italy, when shared together by groups of people, is a way to bring about conversations and social gatherings. Geertz writes, “A cockfight is what, searching for a name for something not vertebrate enough to be called a group and not structureless enough to be called a crowd, Erving Goffman has called a ‘focused gathering’—a set of persons engrossed in a common flow of activity and relating to one another in terms of that flow” (Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight, 5). The same can be said about a social sharing of food. No matter which situation the Venetians choose, the flow of sharing food is less directed towards the taste and more towards the conversation and good company. There is no better way to get to know Italians, than by sharing a good conversation over a delicious meal.
Dolce: Holidays and Food
Another way to become saturated in the culture is by partaking in traditional festivals and holidays. In Venice, many of the most common dessert recipes are associated with the celebrations held throughout the city each year. Whether it is La Festa della Salute, Carnivale, or la Natale, the Venetians celebrate with special desserts. For a list of traditional festival and holiday recipes see Appendix C.
Many tourists come to Venice during February to experience Carnival, but often overlook the aspect of food. In his memoirs, Casanova writes, “It was during the Carnival of 1745, after midnight; we were, all the eight of us, rambling about together with our masks on, in quest of some new sort of mischief to amuse us.” His description of Carnival is perfectly aligned with the myth of Venice. This idea of liberation and sexual debauchery is what brings most tourists to the lagoon, not the delicious foods.
These foods, however, are an experience in themselves that tourists should treasure. They fill the streets during festivals and are only served at certain times during the year. It is often a piece of the experience which is overlooked. Particularly for Carnival, the traditional Venetian food is fritters which are called “frappe” in the Veneto region. The interesting thing about these fritters is that they can be found all across Italy during the Carnival period. They are believed to have originated when Italy was under the Roman rule and have since remained popular but taken different names in each region. For example, in Sicily they are referred to as “gigi” and in Tuscany they are called “donzelli”. The traditions of Carnival have changed drastically over the past centuries. They have become more conducive to tourism throughout the years, but the food has remained constant and is therefore a link to the past. “Nowadays many traditions are vanished and changed, but fried pastries are still the protagonist of the Fat Tuesday cookery” (http://www.annamariavolpi.com/issue33.html).
Conclusion
Arbit Blatas writes, “The surface of Venice is constantly metamorphosing and painting Venice is almost like being a restorer, peeling off the layers to find the picture after picture underneath.” Just as painting Venice requires peeling off layers, so too does understanding a traditional Venetian meal. Every aspect of the foods, from the creation to the consumption, is connected to a deeper part of the true Venetian culture that cannot at first glance be seen.
Rojek and Urry discuss the sense of smell in their work, Touring Cultures. They speak of this phenomenon that tourists tend to avoid areas where less then favorable odors linger. Hotels and tourist centered businesses tend to go above and beyond to have pleasing aromas in order to attract the business of travelers (Touring Cultures, 8). The truth is that those who live in and around these tourist-centered areas tend to be much less aware of these so-called odors. The reason they become a topic of discussion amongst tourists is because they are different then those smells which surround them in their familiar environments. Therefore, they find it hard to appreciate them. The same can be said for foods. The squid ink may never be savored because it does not seem appealing, but to a true Venetian it is thoroughly enjoyed. It represents the feeling of the small osteria, the importance of seafood to Venice, and the laid-back and social atmosphere in which it is savored.
The same can be said for any food. They all represent something greater then themselves. Whether it is the link to another country, to the past, to friends and family, or to a city festival, they all inspire emotions and the essence of a culture. Throughout my stay in Venice, I have been fortunate enough to delve deeper into the culture through experiencing traditional foods. It has allowed me to awaken my senses to an abundance of culture specific to Venice and to venture further than the simple Italian pizza. Just as I have appreciated the quiet calli throughout the city, as opposed to the Basilica di San Marco which most tourists flock to, I have settled into the heart of Venice in the osterias and trattorias.
The food which represents many aspects of culture is like a stem and, when fully given the opportunity to support and nurture, it will allow a mind to blossom into greater knowledge, appreciation, and saturation of a culture. It will give that person the authenticity for which they long.
Appendix A: Seafood Recipes
Appendix B: Recipes with Influences from Other Cultures
Appendix C: Festival and Holiday Recipes
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Hungering for the Authentic: Additional Portfolio Pieces (post 2 of 2)
This Powerpoint presentation provides a basic description of 3 Venetian holidays which were celebrated during my stay in Venice. I have also included information on Carnivale which takes place in the month of February because I have studied many aspects of this holiday throughout my course. It also provides basic information about the type of food celebrated at each of the festivals.
Venetian Festivals and Holiday Food
This Powerpoint analyzes "Bussola Buranello" which is a traditional Venetian cookie created on the Island of Burano. It helps to demonstrate the cultural ties associated with this simple dessert by showing its relationship to the sea, to other cultures, and to Venetian holidays. The majority of the information presented in this Powerpoint was based off of an interview I held with a local pasticceria employee.
Analyzing Bussolà Buranello
Venetian Festivals and Holiday Food
This Powerpoint analyzes "Bussola Buranello" which is a traditional Venetian cookie created on the Island of Burano. It helps to demonstrate the cultural ties associated with this simple dessert by showing its relationship to the sea, to other cultures, and to Venetian holidays. The majority of the information presented in this Powerpoint was based off of an interview I held with a local pasticceria employee.
Analyzing Bussolà Buranello
Monday, December 7, 2009
Piazza San Marco
This new introduction began on Monday as I peered out over the city from the top of the campanile. Before, this campanile was a giant tower. I later learned to appreciate the campanile’s representation of the power and grandeur of Venice. It stands taller then anything near it and is a prominent sight in the Piazza. As Yi-Fu Tuan says, “Architectural space reveals and instructs” (Architectural Space and Awareness, 114), and the campanile is no exception. It demands attention with its great height, its simple yet massive design, and its ringing bells which echo throughout the city. Having now visited the top, the campanile seems more approachable. It is no longer solely a powerful structure which cannot be met; it has now been given another element. It is an opportunity to view Venice in a different way. This tower placed me, the individual, in a state of power, by giving me the bird’s eye view of the city. As Michel de Certau analyzes, it was fulfilling because I was able to see the spaces which I so frequently carve out when I wonder the streets, shop, or take a vaporetto. I was able to see everything—Murano, the Lido, San Servolo, the Salute, etc. I could point out these places that I have studied and met personally. I was able to truly have a sense for the relationship I have formed with Venice as a city over the past weeks. I felt a sense of accomplishment within me as I named several places, applied the history I have studied, and knew details about certain portions of the city. Venice is a city which has been portrayed numerous times and through various myths, but I was able to gaze upon the city in its actuality instead of gazing out upon the idea of Venice.
Later in the week, on the American Thanksgiving holiday, I was surprised with the opportunity to climb inside of the clock tower opposite the campanile. I have used this clock in a practical sense to tell time and I have walked under it to head to the Rialto Bridge, but never could I have known all there was to know about this prominent object within the square. The guide shared about the procession of wise men, the different stages of development of the clock tower, the construction of the moors on the top, the family which used to live inside of it, and the mechanics of the clock itself. The clock was originally taken from Bologna after one of the Doges decided that they would like to have it. It then sat for nearly two years before it was placed where it is today, and since then, it has stood as a symbol of Venice. Similarly to the campanile, the clock tower is a sign of power. It was inconvenient to have, but the Doge demanded it. By learning the history behind it, I was made aware of the force used to not only obtain the clock, but to place it in the heart of the city. The Doge forced families to move out of their homes, and used his authority to gain the exact clock which he desired.
The thing I find most interesting, is the evolution of my relationship with Piazza San Marco. As I learn more about individual aspects of the Piazza, I find myself feeling closer to the square as a whole. I was introduced to this area on the very first day of October. Reflecting on that moment, I remember only being able to notice the basilica and the utter massiveness of the space. It seemed out of place in Venice, where everything else is narrow and filled with canals. It seemed overwhelming. I now spend my last weeks in Venice noticing just how truly representative of Venice this square is.
Of all of the elements we’ve discussed in class which can be connected to Venice –the power, the myth, the history, and the mixture of architectural features—Gothic, Byzantine, Renaissance, and Baroque, there is not one which cannot be seen in the Piazza. The square truly is the gem and essence of Venice. The campanile, the clock tower, the Doge's Palace, and the Basilica all express power in their own way. Whether it is the power of the government, power of the church, or power of the city as a whole. They each represent this concept through their architecture and history. The myth of Venice as a preservation of the past and the history is clearly presented through the Byzantine style portrayed on the church and the many buildings and museums which fill the piazza. It is also a magnificent and grand space filled with beauty, another common myth of Venice. As far as architecture goes, it can all be seen—the gothic elements in the Doge's Palace, the Byzantine basilica and the Renaissance Marciana Library. All of these elements are extremely significant to Venice.
Not only is the Piazza representative of Venice as a whole, my relationship with Piazza San Marco is representative of my relationship with Venice as well. Arriving at Ferrovia at the very beginning of October, I was beyond overwhelmed. I never thought I would be able to know the city or to know my way around. I now can confidently identify paths, nodes, and landmarks. I have discovered not only the physical aspects of the city, but the social aspects as well. There are many things I still have yet to uncover about Venice, and I will continue to progress in the next twelve days. Unfortunately, I will never be able to truly be a Venetian, because to accomplish that takes a lifetime.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Venice in the Details
Upon first glance, the large statue of King Victor Emmanuel II in Venice seems like nothing more than a non-aesthetically pleasing piece of art. Its massive size demands attention and suggests that everyone, including just a mere passerby, should give honor to the king. It is large, out of place, and seems particularly unnecessary when compared to the typical Venetian statues and decorations, but the truth is, this statue holds the key to Venice in many aspects. It is more than a statue created by Ettore Ferrari in 1887, it is the perfect object to unlock the myth and history of Venice.
Margaret Plant begins her book about Venice by saying, “Most histories of Venice end where this one begins: with the Republic’s fall after its defeat by Napoleon in 1797” (Venice Fragile City, 1). This statue is one of the exceptions. It represents the history of Venice directly following its defeat by Napoleon. It was built to give honor to King Victor Emmanuel II, the first king of a united Italy. It commends his efforts during the joining of Italy, commonly referred to as the Risorgimento. This statue portrays these events primarily through the two representations of Venice. On one side of the statue, Venice is depicted as a fallen yet determined woman. She is sitting next to the lion of St. Mark who is covered in the chains of Austrian rule. This Venice, according to the dates shown on the shield, is the defeated and oppressed Venice. The years are 1848-49 which is when Austria took control of Venice and depleted the republic. The aspect of war and the fight for freedom is shown by the image commonly associated with the French Revolution. The Venice on this statue bares one breast and holds a flag close to her body, just as the woman in many French Revolutionary War pictures does. She also carries a broken sword, symbolizing the defeat during her attempt to fight for freedom.
On the other side of the statue, Venice is free and united with Italy. The lion of St. Mark has broken through the chains and is shown roaring. This is a symbol of the pride and strength of Venice as a city. The woman is wearing a dress covered in an elaborate pattern and fancy shoes showing the wealth and beauty of the city after it won independence from Austria during the Prussia-Austria War.
On either side of the monument, there are also shields. One is of the city of Savoy which was given to Napoleon in return for his aid during the Prussia-Austria War and the other is the city of Rome. Rome became the national capital after all of Italy was united. This statue depicts the events of Venice’s uniting with Italy and in a way, having Rome as part of the statue links Venice to the capital. It ties it to Rome and helps to establish it as a powerhouse.
By taking time and initiative to understand the story portrayed through this bronze monument, a traveler can have a much more fulfilling experience in Venice. Buzard says, “The setting best rewarding travelers is so densely ‘saturated’ in historical and emotional significance that each step of the ground seems able to evoke the most powerful feelings; when ‘truly sensitive’ travelers stand upon this ground, they feel to the fullest extent of their capacity” (The Beaten Track, 185). This statue is a link to the history of Venice. It gives the tourist or the traveler the opportunity to be more saturated in the complex culture. Venice is known for preserving the past, for being unique, and for so many other things, but in order to appreciate these aspects, a person needs to make sense of them. By delving deeper into the history, the true colors of Venice can shine through and the traveler can appreciate every stone and every statue that much more.
History seems to be the obvious link to Venice that this statue creates, but it also more indirectly shows the advance of art during the Renaissance and the myth of Venice. The characteristics of this sculpture distinguish it. It is one of only two equestrian statues in Venice, the other being in San Giorgio e Paulo. The equestrian statue was common in ancient times and did not reappear until the fifteenth century during the Italian Renaissance. The first of these appears in Padua and was created by Donatello. The craftsmanship of these statues was exquisite and showed a leap towards realism and proportion that was rather nonexistent during the Gothic time. Although this statue came later than the Renaissance, it is still symbolic of the advances made in Italy during that time. It shows technique, balance, and realistic qualities of the animal. In addition to the horse, the representations of the women are also significant. They play on the myth of Venice. The city is represented as a beautiful woman. She is determined, strong, and she conquers in the end. It shows her liberation from Austria and all of these characteristics given to her can be given to the true city as well—this idea of liberation, sexual freedom, and strength as an empire.
It may seem like an eyesore, or perhaps as Yi-Fu Tuan would say it instructs by showing the power of the city and of King Victor Emmanuel II, but in truth, this statue is much more. It is one of the ways to the heart of Venice, and when analyzed and understood, this detail of the city speaks mountains. It shares of the history, the myth, the art, and the desire for power. Venice is a city with a lot to say, and when the traveler takes a look at this detail, or any of the others, he or she can hear just what it is the beautiful city wants to share.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
A Room with a View
Gilbert Keith Chesterton, a British novelist, says that “The traveler sees what he sees, the tourist see what he has come to see.” This idea is crucial in understanding E.M. Forster’s A Room with a View. In his work, E.M. Forster brilliantly represents contrastive ideologies on tourism through his character Lucy Honeychurch. Forster uses tourism as a motif to portray the transformation Lucy undergoes as a result of being exposed to authenticity, both in cultures and within herself.
When the story begins, the young English Lucy Honeychurch visits Florence with her set-in-her-ways cousin, Charlotte. Having lived a sheltered life, Lucy believes in the ideals of her proper and socially accepted mother which keeps her from truly immersing herself into the Florentine culture. While Forster alludes to the idea that Lucy desires adventure and authenticity, her words and mannerisms coincide with the beliefs of the strong-willed Charlotte, who feels a sense of responsibility for the innocent Lucy.
In the very opening scene, Charlotte verbalizes her disappointment with their rooms in Florence. Lucy chimes in by saying, “It might be London” (13). This immediately gives the reader the sense that neither of these girls are truly looking for the Italian culture. It is this idea of desiring “staged authenticity” that Urry speaks about in Consuming Places (140). While yes, they desire a different “authentic” view, the satire used by Forster in this opening scene shows their negative attitude about any discomfort or unplanned situation.
In a way, they are using this trip as an escape from their own lives, not as an opportunity to understand a new culture. Urry explains this idea of escape in the following way: “Places are chosen to be gazed upon because there is an anticipation, especially through day-dreaming and fantasy, of intense pleasures, either on a different scale or involving different senses from those customarily encountered” (Urry, Consuming Places, 132). They come to Italy to experience the relaxing culture of Italy, to escape the confinement of the English society, to be tourists. This goal of Charlotte and Lucy is more specifically characteristic of Urry’s collective tourist. “It is the presence of other tourists, people just like oneself, that is actually necessary for the success of such places which depend upon the collective tourist gaze” (Urry, Consuming Places, 138). Fortunately, through a series of events and encounters with others, Lucy’s time spent in Florence commences an awakening within her which allows her to experience a small amount of raw and authentic culture which foreshadows the future when she faces her raw self.
While in Italy, Lucy experiences several incidents which begin to help break away the naivete and innocence which have consumed her mind for so many years. The character of George Emerson is used as an instrument by Forster to expose Lucy to the true desires of her heart. Through chance encounters after the murder in the Loggia and in the field in Fiesole, Lucy has no choice but to come face-to-face with the realities of her life. The reality that she is living the life her mother and Charlotte have taught her, the life of the simple tourist in a sense—of the person who travels to see what she has expected to see, not to experience life, or another city in its true essence.
Buzard talks about the four keys to achieving authenticity. “I will focus here on four such motifs, which may be called stillness, non-utility, saturation, and picturesqueness” (Buzard, The Beaten Track,177). The most prominent of these motifs in relation to Lucy’s evolution is saturation. Buzard continues to say, “The setting best rewarding travelers is so densely ‘saturated’ in historic and emotional significance that each step of the ground seems able to evoke the most powerful feelings; when ‘truly sensitive’ travelers stand upon this ground, they feel to the fullest extent of their capacity” (Buzard, The Beaten Track, 185). The reason her meetings with George had such a great impact is because it was Lucy’s first true saturation. The murder in the Loggia leaves Lucy constantly obsessed by her emotions about this event. As Buzard suggests, she cannot go a single step in the city without focusing on these ideas. She is filled with the emotion and history of the events that had previously occurred. Lucy also experiences this side of authenticity during her scene with George in the violet field. Each flower in the field reminds her of beauty and she becomes completely aware of her aloneness with George.
Lucy immediately suppresses the realities she faces in Italy, in part due to her social status, and part due to her ignorance of what has occurred. After she shares a kiss with George in the violet field, Charlotte instantly asks, “What is to be done?” (113). Nearly all of the people in Lucy’s life have this mindset of perfection and of status. She aims to please those she loves and therefore follows their lead when choosing how to reflect upon past situations and occurrences in her life. By Charlotte asking this question so quickly, Lucy avoided processing the event in her own mind. She simply looked at it as a problem which needed a solution instead of letting herself feel the emotions linked with the kiss. In the same way, Charlotte and Lucy looked at their lodging as a problem as oppose to truly allowing it to be an opportunity to experience and understand something outside of their own familiarity.
It is not until after two important conversations with the Emersons occur that Lucy begins to liberate her locked-up emotions. After another kiss is shared with George, she has a discussion with him that leaves her perplexed. In response to the kiss, George says, “I don’t apologize. But it has frightened you, and you may not have noticed that I love you” (155). His honesty with Lucy in a way is a mirror for her to see her true self. Forster writes, “But, once in the open air, she paused. Some emotion—pity, terror, love, but the emotion was strong—seized her, and she was aware of autumn” (156). Lucy was beginning to see her authentic self, and while it scared her and made her uncomfortable, just as the authentic Florence did when they first arrived to their pension, she took action upon her feelings. For the first time, she took time to reflect, and to free herself from the control Cecil Vyse had over her. She did not fully understand why, and in several ways was continuing to deceive herself about why she broke off her engagement, but she unconsciously felt a sense of relief because she was that much closer to her genuine happiness.
At the conclusion of the novel, Lucy has a life-altering conversation with Mr. Emerson. He shares with her the need for love and passion to be united with one’s actions in order to achieve true happiness. Mr. Emerson says “We fight for more than Love or Pleasure: there is Truth. Truth counts, Truth does count” (191). Forster reflects on the conversation in the following passage: “She ‘never exactly understood,’ she would say in after years, ‘how he managed to strengthen her. It was as if he had made her see the whole of everything at once’” (191). This line is crucial to understand Forster’s tourism motif. Not only does this conversation with Mr. Emerson open Lucy to herself, it also opens her to the world in a broader aspect.
During her entire life, Lucy feared the unknown and discomfort. She lived under the umbrella of her social status and inherited the fears of those around her. By allowing herself to embrace her love for George, she gained confidence and became an individual, willing to take on the unknown, instead of a Honeychurch or a Vyse. She was able to accept someone of a different class than herself, and by allowing herself to be stripped down of her preconceived notions about other cultures and societies, she was able to truly be saturated. She learned to not only accept, but to cherish something authentic.
Cecil says it perfectly when he recaps his thoughts about Lucy after her return from Italy. “That day she had seemed a typical tourist—shrill, crude, and gaunt with travel. But Italy worked some marvel in her. It gave her light, and –which he held more precious—it gave her shadow” (83). And while Cecil was able to notice a change at this moment, the true change for Lucy was to come later, after her saturation and acceptance of another culture. She begins the story as a tourist, searching for and thinking about what others suggest to her. She only appreciates those things which give her a sense of comfort and security. The story ends with Lucy as a traveler—original in thought, and searching for the truth and authenticity of life and others.
When the story begins, the young English Lucy Honeychurch visits Florence with her set-in-her-ways cousin, Charlotte. Having lived a sheltered life, Lucy believes in the ideals of her proper and socially accepted mother which keeps her from truly immersing herself into the Florentine culture. While Forster alludes to the idea that Lucy desires adventure and authenticity, her words and mannerisms coincide with the beliefs of the strong-willed Charlotte, who feels a sense of responsibility for the innocent Lucy.
In the very opening scene, Charlotte verbalizes her disappointment with their rooms in Florence. Lucy chimes in by saying, “It might be London” (13). This immediately gives the reader the sense that neither of these girls are truly looking for the Italian culture. It is this idea of desiring “staged authenticity” that Urry speaks about in Consuming Places (140). While yes, they desire a different “authentic” view, the satire used by Forster in this opening scene shows their negative attitude about any discomfort or unplanned situation.
In a way, they are using this trip as an escape from their own lives, not as an opportunity to understand a new culture. Urry explains this idea of escape in the following way: “Places are chosen to be gazed upon because there is an anticipation, especially through day-dreaming and fantasy, of intense pleasures, either on a different scale or involving different senses from those customarily encountered” (Urry, Consuming Places, 132). They come to Italy to experience the relaxing culture of Italy, to escape the confinement of the English society, to be tourists. This goal of Charlotte and Lucy is more specifically characteristic of Urry’s collective tourist. “It is the presence of other tourists, people just like oneself, that is actually necessary for the success of such places which depend upon the collective tourist gaze” (Urry, Consuming Places, 138). Fortunately, through a series of events and encounters with others, Lucy’s time spent in Florence commences an awakening within her which allows her to experience a small amount of raw and authentic culture which foreshadows the future when she faces her raw self.
While in Italy, Lucy experiences several incidents which begin to help break away the naivete and innocence which have consumed her mind for so many years. The character of George Emerson is used as an instrument by Forster to expose Lucy to the true desires of her heart. Through chance encounters after the murder in the Loggia and in the field in Fiesole, Lucy has no choice but to come face-to-face with the realities of her life. The reality that she is living the life her mother and Charlotte have taught her, the life of the simple tourist in a sense—of the person who travels to see what she has expected to see, not to experience life, or another city in its true essence.
Buzard talks about the four keys to achieving authenticity. “I will focus here on four such motifs, which may be called stillness, non-utility, saturation, and picturesqueness” (Buzard, The Beaten Track,177). The most prominent of these motifs in relation to Lucy’s evolution is saturation. Buzard continues to say, “The setting best rewarding travelers is so densely ‘saturated’ in historic and emotional significance that each step of the ground seems able to evoke the most powerful feelings; when ‘truly sensitive’ travelers stand upon this ground, they feel to the fullest extent of their capacity” (Buzard, The Beaten Track, 185). The reason her meetings with George had such a great impact is because it was Lucy’s first true saturation. The murder in the Loggia leaves Lucy constantly obsessed by her emotions about this event. As Buzard suggests, she cannot go a single step in the city without focusing on these ideas. She is filled with the emotion and history of the events that had previously occurred. Lucy also experiences this side of authenticity during her scene with George in the violet field. Each flower in the field reminds her of beauty and she becomes completely aware of her aloneness with George.
Lucy immediately suppresses the realities she faces in Italy, in part due to her social status, and part due to her ignorance of what has occurred. After she shares a kiss with George in the violet field, Charlotte instantly asks, “What is to be done?” (113). Nearly all of the people in Lucy’s life have this mindset of perfection and of status. She aims to please those she loves and therefore follows their lead when choosing how to reflect upon past situations and occurrences in her life. By Charlotte asking this question so quickly, Lucy avoided processing the event in her own mind. She simply looked at it as a problem which needed a solution instead of letting herself feel the emotions linked with the kiss. In the same way, Charlotte and Lucy looked at their lodging as a problem as oppose to truly allowing it to be an opportunity to experience and understand something outside of their own familiarity.
It is not until after two important conversations with the Emersons occur that Lucy begins to liberate her locked-up emotions. After another kiss is shared with George, she has a discussion with him that leaves her perplexed. In response to the kiss, George says, “I don’t apologize. But it has frightened you, and you may not have noticed that I love you” (155). His honesty with Lucy in a way is a mirror for her to see her true self. Forster writes, “But, once in the open air, she paused. Some emotion—pity, terror, love, but the emotion was strong—seized her, and she was aware of autumn” (156). Lucy was beginning to see her authentic self, and while it scared her and made her uncomfortable, just as the authentic Florence did when they first arrived to their pension, she took action upon her feelings. For the first time, she took time to reflect, and to free herself from the control Cecil Vyse had over her. She did not fully understand why, and in several ways was continuing to deceive herself about why she broke off her engagement, but she unconsciously felt a sense of relief because she was that much closer to her genuine happiness.
At the conclusion of the novel, Lucy has a life-altering conversation with Mr. Emerson. He shares with her the need for love and passion to be united with one’s actions in order to achieve true happiness. Mr. Emerson says “We fight for more than Love or Pleasure: there is Truth. Truth counts, Truth does count” (191). Forster reflects on the conversation in the following passage: “She ‘never exactly understood,’ she would say in after years, ‘how he managed to strengthen her. It was as if he had made her see the whole of everything at once’” (191). This line is crucial to understand Forster’s tourism motif. Not only does this conversation with Mr. Emerson open Lucy to herself, it also opens her to the world in a broader aspect.
During her entire life, Lucy feared the unknown and discomfort. She lived under the umbrella of her social status and inherited the fears of those around her. By allowing herself to embrace her love for George, she gained confidence and became an individual, willing to take on the unknown, instead of a Honeychurch or a Vyse. She was able to accept someone of a different class than herself, and by allowing herself to be stripped down of her preconceived notions about other cultures and societies, she was able to truly be saturated. She learned to not only accept, but to cherish something authentic.
Cecil says it perfectly when he recaps his thoughts about Lucy after her return from Italy. “That day she had seemed a typical tourist—shrill, crude, and gaunt with travel. But Italy worked some marvel in her. It gave her light, and –which he held more precious—it gave her shadow” (83). And while Cecil was able to notice a change at this moment, the true change for Lucy was to come later, after her saturation and acceptance of another culture. She begins the story as a tourist, searching for and thinking about what others suggest to her. She only appreciates those things which give her a sense of comfort and security. The story ends with Lucy as a traveler—original in thought, and searching for the truth and authenticity of life and others.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Fornasier Luigi
When people hear the words “Murano glass” their minds instantly jumps to Venice, Italy. If this glass is famous all around the world, then why are tourists given such a false reality about the artistic trade when they wander through the streets of Venice? The pieces that they are purchasing are advertised as authentic, when in reality they are far from it. They often times have no relation to the island of Murano in general. Having now lived in Venice for nearly two months, I have been exposed to my fair share of Murano glass (real and imitations). I’ve seen it all--bracelets, bottles, plates, chandeliers, you name it. It has never meant very much to me, and it always seemed like just another thing to keep the tourist industry thriving. Today I am grateful to say that my opinion about all of that has changed. I was given the opportunity to go with a group of about seven or eight to a true Murano glass factory. We received a private tour of Fornasier Luigi and we were also able to see the master glass blower hard at work producing the base for one of his famous, world-renowned chandeliers.
In a way, the feelings I have about this industry remind me of Ruskin. He respected the Gothic style because of its ability to exemplify the artistic hand. He embraced the individuality and uniqueness even when others could not see the beauty in it. Ruskin describes this idea by saying, “Men were not intended to work with the accuracy of tools, to be precise and perfect in all their actions. If you will have that precision out of them, and make their fingers measure degrees like cogwheels, and their arms strike curves like compasses, you must unhumanize them” (The Genius of John Ruskin, 177). In the same way, the industry now prominently contains perfectly shaped pieces created by inhuman means in a factory instead of the beautiful and unique pieces that were once praised. The mass-produced pieces cannot embody the emotion and personality of each of the pieces that Fornasier Luigi produces. It dehumanized the art.
I now walk past the “Murano” stands and have an almost disgusted feeling within me. It’s like another great piece of Venice has been distorted into a keychain. In addition to the misleading postcard, the tourist now has the ability to take home a false work of art and history by purchasing a 2 Euro pair of earrings. Yes, authentic Murano glass is expensive, but this is due to the number of hours it takes to create a beautiful, hand-made piece. It shouldn’t be taken advantage of in the way that it is. I guess that’s what happens when tourists arrive. They always want to take a piece of the city with them in order to remember, and this is a more economical way for them to do that.
Our tour began by watching glass blowing and ended when a guide shared with us some of the thoughts and perspectives of the family who owns this business. Both aspects of the tour opened my mind to new ideas that I had been previously unaware of. In her work, On Longing, Stewart states that “[The kitsch object’s] expendability is the expendability of all consumer goods, their dependence upon novelty as the replacement of use value and craftsmanship” (On Longing, 168). This is the truth for the Murano glass that fills Venice. These kitsch objects, such as bottle toppers, strive to have beautiful designs and unique colors in order to sell themselves. The prices become competitive, and people only want the objects because the world tells them that they are supposed to when they come to Venice. The truth is, as Stewart states, that the craftsmanship and use value are much deeper than these imitations can represent. Something about watching the sweat cascade down the glass blower’s face while he worked with the hot, malleable glass showed me just how much the imitation glass misses the true point of this art form. In a way, I find it degrading to the families who truly and passionately work in this field.
This particular family has a grand history in Venice. They were responsible for the “Rezzonico” style chandeliers which were covered in ornate decoration (particularly beautifully colored flowers), and were given special treatment in the past by Doges. According to our guide, they were given a private gondolier, they were allowed to have relationships with the daughters of the doges, and they were allowed to travel within the Veneto region to promote their work. The business has been in their hands for many years, and each person who is trained is passionate about what he or she does. They have recently been refusing requests for the “Rezzonico” style in order to pursue a more modern style. This is due to the fact that the master glass blower at the current time wants to remain passionate about his work and wants to switch the style in order to stay fully interested. How striking it was to hear this! In no way, shape, or form, do the “made in China” pendants sold on the streets embody this. They do not even come close to showing the handwork and hours of effort that go into each authentic piece. This art that used to be highly respected has been demeaned to a kitsch, mass-produced industry.
In a way, the feelings I have about this industry remind me of Ruskin. He respected the Gothic style because of its ability to exemplify the artistic hand. He embraced the individuality and uniqueness even when others could not see the beauty in it. Ruskin describes this idea by saying, “Men were not intended to work with the accuracy of tools, to be precise and perfect in all their actions. If you will have that precision out of them, and make their fingers measure degrees like cogwheels, and their arms strike curves like compasses, you must unhumanize them” (The Genius of John Ruskin, 177). In the same way, the industry now prominently contains perfectly shaped pieces created by inhuman means in a factory instead of the beautiful and unique pieces that were once praised. The mass-produced pieces cannot embody the emotion and personality of each of the pieces that Fornasier Luigi produces. It dehumanized the art.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Longing for the Unique
Venice is a city capable of evoking numerous thoughts and emotions. Each traveler that stumbles upon this city possesses a preconceived idea about what the culture and experiences of Venice will entail. Venice is a unique place. The culture, the construction of the city, the priceless artwork, the beautiful churches, and many other factors can be found in no other city in the world. Travelers flock to the city with the desire to live out one of the well-known myths of the city. Some people may travel to Venice to fulfill their longing to experience history or the arts while others may come for liberation, but any way it is looked at, the base component is the yearning to experience the unique.
One of the most common myths of Venice is the idea that Venice freezes the past. One of the most attractive attributes of the city to tourists, guide books, and the media is its ability to preserve the historical aspects of its government, architecture, and construction in general. While the city continues on in modern days, it thrives on both the preservation of the past and on its ability to decay in a beautiful manner. The tourism industry focuses on the old, and the architecture itself (even when remodeled), represents a mixture of distinguishable architectural styles from past centuries. Every calle in Venice incorporates aspects of Gothic and Renaissance architecture, and a person does not need to walk too far in order to stumble upon Baroque, Byzantine, or Palladian architecture. Part of this of course is the city’s inability to logistically support sky scrapers, but that is not the only reason the city refrains from modernizing the construction. It also refuses to modernize in order to allow the decline of the city to portray an image of frailty and helplessness, similar to that of a damsel in distress. Byron explains the beauty found in this fragility in his work With Byron in Italy. He writes, “Perchance even dearer in her day of woe / Than when she was a boast, a marvel, and a show” (With Byron in Italy, 64).
Perhaps the traveler is not passionate about the history Venice represents. Maybe skyscrapers, roads, or artistic expression are more enticing. Whether it be Lord Byron, Shelley, Titian, Tintoretto, or Vivaldi, the tourist can find the essence of the arts within the Venetian culture. It is possible to saunter into the Frari and locate a piece of art by Bellini, or to walk into the Academia and see the priceless Vitruvian Man by Leonardo DaVinci. It is not the collection of artwork in itself that creates the artistic culture in Venice. The longing can be correlated with the inspiration that arose from the beauty and uniqueness of Venice. Many have said the famous quote, “see Venice and die”. Many artists have found their passion within this city and have felt that they have achieved everything there is in life by expressing themselves here. Many tourists long to uncover the same inspiration, the same beauty, and the same passion that so many others have experienced before them.
Another great myth of Venice is the idea of Venice as a carnival city. Famous for its sexual debauchery, cortisans, and the masturbatory fantasies that it creates, Venice has a reputation for allowing anyone to create a secret identity. It allows people to travel here with the ability to put on a mask, both literally and figuratively. Of course during the week-long Carnival (which used to last much longer), participants of the festivities don masks in order to live out their fantasies while remaining anonymous. In many ways though, a physical mask is not required, and the carnival lasts year round. Casanova, Lord Byron, and Veronica Franco are only three examples of people who took advantage of the sexual liberation provided by Venice, but it is a common practice throughout. Represented not only in art and poetry, but in lifestyles too, Venice is one place on earth where sexuality is not only accepted, but embraced. Veronica Franco publicly writes “I will show you my heart open in my breast, / once you no longer hide yours from me, / and my delight will be to please you” (Poems in Terza Rima lines 46-48). This idea of sexuality may be prevalent in other societies, but the openness and acceptability is a signature feature of Venice. It is a city known as being an escape from reality where people have the ability to let loose and live out their fantasies without repercussions.
Whatever longing the traveler may possess deep within, Venice fulfills those desires in a way that only Venice can. History, art, liberation, among many other things can all be found in the heart of this unique land situated in a lagoon. Whether it is the obvious distinct features such as canals and the lack of cars, or some of the more hidden gems of Venice such as its inspiration and decay, Venice is a city that is longed for by many. This longing comes from uniqueness and the fact that no other place compares to Venice. It is not possible to travel to another similar sized city and have a similar experience. “Venice can be compared only with itself” (Goethe, Italian Journey, 59). Stewart writes that “The silence of the photograph, its promise of visual intimacy at the expense of the other senses (its glossy surface reflecting us back and refusing us penetration), makes the eruption of that narrative, the telling of its story, all the more poignant” (On Longing, 138). This is particularly true for photographs of Venice. A city unique in itself, which writes fascinating narratives that cannot possibly be captured on film, is left to be spoken about by those whom possess these photographs, those whose longings have been fulfilled.
One of the most common myths of Venice is the idea that Venice freezes the past. One of the most attractive attributes of the city to tourists, guide books, and the media is its ability to preserve the historical aspects of its government, architecture, and construction in general. While the city continues on in modern days, it thrives on both the preservation of the past and on its ability to decay in a beautiful manner. The tourism industry focuses on the old, and the architecture itself (even when remodeled), represents a mixture of distinguishable architectural styles from past centuries. Every calle in Venice incorporates aspects of Gothic and Renaissance architecture, and a person does not need to walk too far in order to stumble upon Baroque, Byzantine, or Palladian architecture. Part of this of course is the city’s inability to logistically support sky scrapers, but that is not the only reason the city refrains from modernizing the construction. It also refuses to modernize in order to allow the decline of the city to portray an image of frailty and helplessness, similar to that of a damsel in distress. Byron explains the beauty found in this fragility in his work With Byron in Italy. He writes, “Perchance even dearer in her day of woe / Than when she was a boast, a marvel, and a show” (With Byron in Italy, 64).
Perhaps the traveler is not passionate about the history Venice represents. Maybe skyscrapers, roads, or artistic expression are more enticing. Whether it be Lord Byron, Shelley, Titian, Tintoretto, or Vivaldi, the tourist can find the essence of the arts within the Venetian culture. It is possible to saunter into the Frari and locate a piece of art by Bellini, or to walk into the Academia and see the priceless Vitruvian Man by Leonardo DaVinci. It is not the collection of artwork in itself that creates the artistic culture in Venice. The longing can be correlated with the inspiration that arose from the beauty and uniqueness of Venice. Many have said the famous quote, “see Venice and die”. Many artists have found their passion within this city and have felt that they have achieved everything there is in life by expressing themselves here. Many tourists long to uncover the same inspiration, the same beauty, and the same passion that so many others have experienced before them.
Another great myth of Venice is the idea of Venice as a carnival city. Famous for its sexual debauchery, cortisans, and the masturbatory fantasies that it creates, Venice has a reputation for allowing anyone to create a secret identity. It allows people to travel here with the ability to put on a mask, both literally and figuratively. Of course during the week-long Carnival (which used to last much longer), participants of the festivities don masks in order to live out their fantasies while remaining anonymous. In many ways though, a physical mask is not required, and the carnival lasts year round. Casanova, Lord Byron, and Veronica Franco are only three examples of people who took advantage of the sexual liberation provided by Venice, but it is a common practice throughout. Represented not only in art and poetry, but in lifestyles too, Venice is one place on earth where sexuality is not only accepted, but embraced. Veronica Franco publicly writes “I will show you my heart open in my breast, / once you no longer hide yours from me, / and my delight will be to please you” (Poems in Terza Rima lines 46-48). This idea of sexuality may be prevalent in other societies, but the openness and acceptability is a signature feature of Venice. It is a city known as being an escape from reality where people have the ability to let loose and live out their fantasies without repercussions.
Whatever longing the traveler may possess deep within, Venice fulfills those desires in a way that only Venice can. History, art, liberation, among many other things can all be found in the heart of this unique land situated in a lagoon. Whether it is the obvious distinct features such as canals and the lack of cars, or some of the more hidden gems of Venice such as its inspiration and decay, Venice is a city that is longed for by many. This longing comes from uniqueness and the fact that no other place compares to Venice. It is not possible to travel to another similar sized city and have a similar experience. “Venice can be compared only with itself” (Goethe, Italian Journey, 59). Stewart writes that “The silence of the photograph, its promise of visual intimacy at the expense of the other senses (its glossy surface reflecting us back and refusing us penetration), makes the eruption of that narrative, the telling of its story, all the more poignant” (On Longing, 138). This is particularly true for photographs of Venice. A city unique in itself, which writes fascinating narratives that cannot possibly be captured on film, is left to be spoken about by those whom possess these photographs, those whose longings have been fulfilled.
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