I decided to ask a few Venetians what, if anything, such places could tell us about Venice in the here and now. Is a fresh and sweetly scented breeze blowing across the old lagoon?
One eminent gallerist told me flatly that within 20 years Venice would be creatively redundant, a mere vitrine for luxury goods, unaffordable to and uninhabited by actual Venetians.
The most diplomatic response I got was from Felicite Morgan, the twentysomething Venice-born-and-bred daughter of an expatriate American artist, Robert Morgan. “Venice understands the effectiveness of soft power,” she said. “Its resilience is its greatest quality. It’s a city that remains true to its nature. Its most valuable asset is itself, and other people’s idea of it. So it’s not a place that will indulge in what it sees as needless change. A hotel with a concept store like the Venice Venice isn’t radical in London or New York. But it’s quite radical here.”
The most charming response I got was from Isabella Vincenti, whom I met in the showroom of Laguna B, the Brandolini family’s glassware company. We were surrounded by row upon row of exquisitely made, radiantly colourful glasses. A frozen rainbow of good vibes. Glassware, though, is a Venetian staple. Could such an old-fashioned medium be seen to be participating in any kind of creative revival? “Oh, yes!” came the reply. “Look – the proof is here.” And really there was no arguing with that. The medium was traditional, but the effect of these examples was entirely up-to-the-minute.