View of the market square near the church of San Giacomo 1763

Editor: Here we have Giovanni Battista Brustolon’s 1763 engraving, “View of the market square near the church of San Giacomo,” currently residing at the Met. I’m immediately drawn to the contrast between the lively market scene and the rigid architecture that frames it. It’s like the buildings are observing a play unfolding below. What do you see in this piece? Curator: Oh, I see a memory, a ghost of Venice past clinging to the ink. For me, it’s not just architecture and trade, but a conversation between order and chaos, isn't it? Look how Brustolon teases the eye, leading us from the detailed foreground figures, each one a miniature drama, back to the echoing arches. Do you feel that gentle nudge toward infinity too? It’s like Venice whispers, "I'm more than you see at first glance." Editor: That’s beautifully put. The infinite aspect really hits home now that you mention the repetition in the arches. But do you think that feeling might also come from the lack of strong shadows? The light seems so evenly distributed, giving it a somewhat ethereal quality. Curator: Yes, a beautiful point! The even light lifts the scene somehow. Like it’s a stage set, forever frozen in that perfect pre-performance stillness. And that raises a delightful question, doesn’t it? Is it Venice, or an idealized version of it, forever just out of reach? What do you think? Editor: Wow, I never thought of it like a stage set, but it makes perfect sense. It makes you wonder about the true Venice, beyond the art. I see the engraving more completely now. Thanks! Curator: The pleasure was all mine. Isn't it glorious when art gives back with gentle whispers of wisdom?