De Biblioteca Marciana te Venetië 1707 - 1768

Editor: Here we have Canaletto's etching, "De Biblioteca Marciana te Venetië," dating from somewhere between 1707 and 1768. It feels incredibly detailed, almost like a photograph despite being a print. The architecture is so precise, and yet there's a looseness in the figures that gives it life. What catches your eye when you look at this piece? Curator: What captures me...well, it's more of a feeling than a specific detail. It's like stepping into Venice of the past. The lines vibrate, don’t they? Canaletto wasn't just depicting the architecture. It's a staged memory. Note the people - mere actors in Canaletto's Venetian theater, existing only to enliven the scene, and the sky which hints that something else entirely is more important. Does the blankness unnerve you at all? Or do you feel liberated from some conventional pressure? Editor: Liberated, actually! I hadn't thought of it that way, but the sky *does* make the Library seem to jump forward. So, he's kind of playing with perspective by leaving that space open? Curator: Precisely! It's as if he is saying, “Look, not just at this magnificent edifice, but at the essence of Venice, it's timeless energy." His technique in printmaking allowed him to replicate and distribute these scenes, which further cemented Venice as the destination of dreams. Do you think he achieved that here? Is your appetite to visit, to see more, sated or stirred? Editor: Definitely stirred! I want to walk right into that scene. It’s funny how a blank sky can be more inviting than a realistically rendered one. I would have never thought about it that way if we hadn't talked about it. Curator: Exactly, and sometimes art asks us to dream a little, to be active in the experience and let the work speak to your dreams in response!