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.

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.

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.

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.

Avignon

This past weekend Sara and I traveled to southern France. When choosing a city, we did not look for a well-known tourist area such as Cannes or Paris. We instead opted for the small town of Avignon. Yes, the famous bridge is on the outskirts of the city, but it wasn’t what stole the majority of our attention during our visit. We could easily walk from one side of the city to the other in fifteen minutes, and in that time, we never passed a single tourism stand—no pins, no shot glasses, and no miniature replicas of the bridge.

This town was filled with beautiful gardens, churches, and old palaces. We were left to roam around on our own and to just take in the beautiful scenery. We climbed several hills and towers, and could easily go two hours without seeing another human being. It was peaceful. I felt less anxious than in other towns, and how nice it was to experience a different kind of traveling. For one of the first times since I have been in Europe, I felt like a romantic tourist versus a collective tourist. Urry reflects on the romantic tourist in the following passage: “Those who value solitude and the romantic tourist gaze do not see this as merely one way of regarding nature. They consider it as ‘authentic’, as real” (Urry, Consuming Places, 138).

My personality usually categorizes me as a collective tourist—searching for things that others have seen, desiring to see things simply because they are famous, etc. I’m guilty of collecting shot glasses and post cards from the places that I travel too simply so I can say I was there. However, the authenticity of Avignon totally captured me. It was such a change from Venice, Florence, Salzburg, and London. It was solely a real city, not focusing on any aspect of tourism. There were few signs designating where famous landmarks were, there were no souvenir shops, and people were just going about their everyday business.

The very first day, I was so taken back by how difficult it was to order from a little sandwich shop. It was crowded and the woman only understood French and was fairly impatient (understandably so), because she was very busy. After reflecting on this experience, I began to embrace it. How incredible, that I was able to truly be thrown into another culture head on. This city made no exception for tourists. Sara and I found ourselves going to the local grocery store to grab dinner, and walking around in the hills and buildings as if we lived there. The only word that I can use to describe it was authentic. It was just so completely Avignon in all of its essence. The good and the bad, it was all the true city. They didn’t strive to put on a mask for the tourists who pass through.

The whole weekend was an adventure. We were left to think, to wander, and to take on the city. It was such a desirable experience. I needed the break from the museum lines, the stereotypical sights to see, and the crowds of people. Avignon was the perfect place for taking that break! I guess I shouldn’t continue to share my love for this city though, because as Urry says, once the word is out, the crowds will start coming!

Laurea

Walking down the streets of a northern Italian town, it is not out of the ordinary to stumble across a half-naked person being serenaded by a small group of close friends and family members. This common occurrence is a typical graduation ceremony which takes place when a student has completed the equivalent of a Master’s degree in America. The Italian’s refer to this as the Laurea. The name comes from the Laurea which used to be the highest degree one could achieve in Italy. It included four to six years of coursework and the completion of a thesis. These celebrations now occur once the student has completed their final exam and walked out of the classroom door for the last time. This celebration represents more than just the completion of schoolwork. The amount of work that friends and family put into the traditions, as well as the experiences they share with the new graduate, all represent the personal relationships and accomplishments of the former student.. Each individual’s celebration is unique, but they each fulfill certain aspects and customs.

The most crucial element of this Italian custom is the scroll, or il papiro in Italian. For each graduate, a three foot by five foot poster is created to be read and displayed throughout their university and their hometown. Each papiro contains a rhyming narrative which describes the graduate’s life. It normally begins with birth and contains childhood memories, embarrassing moments, and any other bits of information the creator desires to include. The papiro also displays some sort of picture whether it is a photograph or a caricature. Commonly the body is an illustration while the head is sometimes a genuine photograph. The purpose of the drawing is to give a humorous or embarrassing representation to the individual. Bodies are often drawn in an exaggerated sexual style containing overly emphasized body parts, risqué clothing, and bodily fluids among other things. Once these scrolls are created they are displayed on a wall at the university, a copy is often taken home to be hung by the parents in their home or perhaps a family business, and another copy is saved for the celebration.

Upon completion of the exam, the graduate is met by fellow classmates, friends, and family, and is given an interesting appearance. An essay entitled Literacy Practice in the Piazza: An Analysis of Italian Graduation Scrolls explains that, “graduates are then stripped to either a bathing suit or underwear and put in various costumes such as cross-gender clothing, garbage bags, and animal suits” (Molè, Texas Linguistic Forum, 2004). In addition to the clothing, students are adorned with duct tape, eggs, face paint, or other substances. The final piece of the puzzle is to be crowned with a laurel wreath, the general symbol for graduation, complete with a red bow. Once in costume, the graduate is presented with their scroll.

The next step is the reading of the scroll. Walking around Padua and Venice I have seen this done several times. In the majority of instances the graduate stands on top of a park bench, a bridge, or another elevated surface and reads aloud the narrative created for them. According to Molè again, the scrolls are written in a mixture of standard Italian and the Veneto dialect. Because of this, it is often difficult for the graduate to audibly read the papiro. While commonly spoken, the dialect is not often written. Throughout schooling the students are taught to read and write in the classic Italian. The tradition is that when a word is mispronounced or stumbled upon it is suggested that the reader take a drink of wine. In many instances, the graduate is quite intoxicated by the end of the narrative. After the reading of the scroll the graduate may be asked to complete other tasks, which are chosen by the friends and family involved, and are often absurd tasks such as pouring milk on themselves.

Throughout the celebration and after the other traditions have taken place, a common song is sung numerous times while the graduate walks through a town center, down a street, or into a highly public area. The words to the song are as follows: “Dottore, dottore, dottore nel buso del cul, vaffancul, vaffancul”. Translated, this expression is incredibly vulgar and in instances other than graduation, the expressions used would not be socially acceptable. However, the tune is rather catchy, and can stick in your head for several hours. The simple fact that the majority of these traditions occur speaks a great deal about the Italian culture in general. Any given day in Italy, I can be made aware of just how relaxed the Italian way of life is. Whether it be the break in the middle of the day when shops close so that the workers have an opportunity to rest at home, the lack of pressure waiters put on customers to leave, or the simple lack of promptness Italians have when meeting up with one another, the culture is easy going. Quite possibly the Laurea only occurs in northern Italy because it is one location where the culture allows for the occasional immodest clothing and vulgar tunes.

After all festivities, the graduate returns to their normal clothing and often enjoys the company of their friends and family at a local caffè or restaurant. Confetti is often thrown and a graduation gift of wrapped almonds is sometimes passed out as a parting gift to guests.

While many cultures partake in graduation celebrations, the Italian festivities are outrageous and extremely public. The whole concept is similar to the Venetian Carnevale which Casanova mentions in his memoirs. “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.” Casanova associates this idea of tomfoolery with Carnevale. Carnevale is also commonly associated with the ability to escape reality and create a temporary identity. In the same way, the Laurea allows the student to be temporarily out of character in order to celebrate their liberation from schooling. It is a chance for chaos to ensue in a controlled situation and amount of time. The most rebellious and rambunctious Carnevale attendees are those who tend to be the more conservative ones, so it should be no surprise that the students earning some of the highest degrees are the same half naked students stumbling down the streets of northern Italy.

Breaking down the Language Barrier

Having now been in Europe for a month and a half, I am starting to understand the true importance of language. It may irritate the locals, cause some inconveniences, or even lead me to order something grotesque from the menu, but in all reality, it has been possible to get through my travels without ever having to stray away from the English language which I speak. I can get by with little to no problems. Perhaps it is because the United States is a world superpower as Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri discuss in their work, Empire. They speak about this idea that the United States not only affects its own territories, but also influences other areas of the earth.  In this instance, the influence is reflected through language.  Many people in other countries speak English, and I have been able to travel comfortably without having studied a European language. Through Germany, Austria, and Italy, I was always able to find several people to communicate with. With that said, I especially noticed this week how much richer my travels have become now that I am able to speak the native language (or at least attempt to).

In the past in Italy, I have been excited to use my Italian. I think this was more of an excitement that came about because I was able to formulate a sentence than it was an excitement to have the key into the Italian culture. It wasn’t until I traveled to London that I realized how much of a barrier this lack of language in Italy created between the culture and me. While there, I was able to communicate completely. People even stopped and asked me for directions because they heard me speaking the country’s language.  I have such fond memories of London and I think a large portion of this was the comfort I experienced due to communication. I was able to really taste the culture of London. These experiences and realizations have encouraged me to spend more time and effort practicing my Italian this past week. I have always known that it is important to know the language while in Italy (hence the reason we are taking an Italian course), but now I really can feel the importance.

The city where I practiced the most and seemed to get the most out of the experience was Siena. This town was nowhere near as touristy as say Venice or Florence, and therefore had far fewer English speakers. It was nice to be able to speak in Italian and have the locals speak back in Italian. In the touristy cities I often find myself discouraged because I am immediately marked as an English speaker. Whether they are irritated by my poor Italian or they are trying to convenience me because of their ability to speak both languages, it still takes away the opportunity that I could have to practice the language. By truly having the opportunity handed to me in Siena, I felt like I was more immersed into Italian culture then I have been at any other point since I arrived in Italy.

Communication is the foundation of a culture. It leads to relationships, the ability to read the news, and many other things.  In Siena it gave me the opportunity to interact with locals and to feel as though I wasn't a burden to them.  They did not have to change their lifestyle or their language, I had to change mine.  It gave me a new outlook which is what the purpose of studying abroad is. 

It was so enjoyable to hear what people in Siena had to say, but at the same time it was very challenging. Speaking to them made me realize just how far away I was and just how narrow minded I have become throughout my life. Having never traveled out of the country before, I had these preconceived notions of how difficult communicating would be.  I was worried about reading signs and ordering in a restaurant. Once I arrived and realized how accommodating other countries were of English speakers, I almost instantly began to expect this ease everywhere that I went. Regardless of whether it was the idea that all signs would have the English translation, or that all store owners would speak English, I had my expectations fairly instantaneously upon my arrival to Europe.

Experiencing a small town such as Siena took me for a spin. I was not in the least bit disappointed by the lack of tourism or American comforts. Instead, I was so grateful. It opened up an entire new level of immersion that I am now striving to reach. The tiny sample of genuine communication has left me desiring to immerse myself more fully into the culture, something that I have been resistant to do so far in my journey.

Tour of Tintoretto's Last Suppers

On Tuesday, we were treated to a guided tour of Venice by Professor Gregory Dowling. This professor teaches here in Venice at Ca’ Foscari. He seemed to know just about everything there was to know about Venice. He had dedicated his morning to us in order to share his expert knowledge on Tintoretto’s Last Supper paintings which are scattered across the entire city. We spent the day heading in and out of many churches to analyze Tintoretto’s work. After hours of this tour, we ended at San Stefano for one last painting.

Although I could write an entire blog on the collection of paintings in itself, it is not what struck me the most about this morning. What I found to be the most beneficial was the walking aspect of the tour.

In Urry’s work Consuming Places, he spends a great deal of time explaining this idea of the tourist gaze. “The gaze is directed to features of landscape and townscape which separate them from everyday and routine experiences (Urry, Consuming Places, 132).” In many aspects, I still feel as though I am a tourist in Venice, and more importantly, a tourist who is guilty of this “gaze” that Urry speaks so much about. I find it more interesting to see those things which are different then what I am used to. The local grocery store in Venice is not nearly as intriguing as the bakery filled with traditional Venetian desserts. The inner tourist in me still stops to take pictures, look at the fish market, and stand in awe of the canals.

What I found so captivating about this walk that Professor Dowling led us on was how incredibly interesting the “normal” things in Venice were. These are things that would traditionally not ensnare the tourist gaze. Simple things such as a sign above a building, a plain bridge, or a tile in the sidewalk have so much meaning behind them which Professor Dowling shared.

Perhaps my favorite of these items was a small plaque above a window. This plaque was located in a small alley just off of Piazza San Marco in the side of an apartment building. Any tourist walking down the street would not stop to take a picture of this, and let’s be honest, probably wouldn’t even notice it. Professor Dowling told us that it represented the place where a woman threw a brick out of her first floor window (second floor in the United States), and in turn killed a man linked to the Venetian Revolution. Wow! Who would have known??

Professor Dowling helped me to even further see past the tourist façade of Venice. His knowledge about the little things in Venice, as well as his passion for sharing these, showed how much he as a person appreciated this city. It inspired me to look past the commonly touristic things and to begin to embrace the “normal” in Venice. As I’ve said before in my blogs, every week I can see a difference in the way I view this city. I find more respect and appreciation for it each and everyday. The whole theme of this course is to realize that the beauty of Venice is in the details, and how true I’m finding that statement to be!