Welcome to Venice. It's been a few days, and I am settling into a rhythm now.
The first couple of days were spent on housekeeping - reloading the vaporetto pass, getting a new phone card, stocking the larder, shopping for art materials, and settling into the studio. All done now and I have started working on some plates. The studio deserves it's own post, later.
Venice is soothing, despite the many tourists. Yes, I acknowledge that I am one. There is a gentle rhythm to the city, created, I think, because you have to walk.
The sounds are, on the whole, a background hum - voices, footsteps, the chink of crockery from the cafés, the regular clunk of suitcase wheels across the pavers, seagulls, motors nearer the canals. And I have the sound of Vivaldi wafting through the apartment window all day, as the Museo is just across the campo.
I walk to the studio, and I have time to think. I stop for my morning macchiato and drink it at the bar - the barista speak to me in French, but that's ok. [I speak my few words of Italian with a French accent, apparently]. And I catch the number 2 vaporetto home, hopefully when it's not too crowded.
And some images of life on the Grand Canal, seen as I ride it morning or evening.
The first couple of days were spent on housekeeping - reloading the vaporetto pass, getting a new phone card, stocking the larder, shopping for art materials, and settling into the studio. All done now and I have started working on some plates. The studio deserves it's own post, later.
Venice is soothing, despite the many tourists. Yes, I acknowledge that I am one. There is a gentle rhythm to the city, created, I think, because you have to walk.
The sounds are, on the whole, a background hum - voices, footsteps, the chink of crockery from the cafés, the regular clunk of suitcase wheels across the pavers, seagulls, motors nearer the canals. And I have the sound of Vivaldi wafting through the apartment window all day, as the Museo is just across the campo.
I walk to the studio, and I have time to think. I stop for my morning macchiato and drink it at the bar - the barista speak to me in French, but that's ok. [I speak my few words of Italian with a French accent, apparently]. And I catch the number 2 vaporetto home, hopefully when it's not too crowded.
And some images of life on the Grand Canal, seen as I ride it morning or evening.