Old pirate at Carnivale

...he's still got a trick or two up his sleeve. There ought to be a Tom Waits song.

Venice Shop Window

This window makes me think of E.T.A. Hoffman's story about the man who fell in love with a beautiful automaton. Hoffman is known as the German Poe. I frequently reread his story "the Golden Flowerpot" at this time of the year, when the borders between the worlds grow thin.

Venetian Scene#2

Some posts I am pleased about are coming up for next week. On Tuesday I will be posting narrative and photo about the destination of the first stick to be placed. One stick is going to be a collaborative effort due to the fact that it did not arrive at its destination whole. Otherwise, the illustrations will be resuming. The illustration friday challenge this week is pretend, something will be going up Sunday for that. Have an inspiring weekend, everyone!

Venetian Scene

Looks like the sun broke through for a little while here.

Rain in Venice

This table had been left out in a ittle square after some communal celebration.

Islands of the Lagoon, continued

Another dissolving statue on Torcello

Islands of the Lagoon, continued

The island of Burano is mostly known for its easter-egg-colored buildings, but it also has a charming Lace museum. I still vividly recall a piece of story lace with figures and paths woven into it. I liked the humbleness and scale of this museum, and ended up not searching out the glass museum on Murano simply because I wanted to keep the memory of smaller place not shouted down by the large, gaudy glass museum. I would rather be moved than have my socks knocked off.

Islands of the Lagoon, continued

I don't know how much time I'll have this week, so I'm posting photos from my stay in Venice three years ago at this time of year. It was wonderfully misty with occasional gentle rain. Here is another photo from the Island of Torcello, where there was a monastery with romanesque mosaics.

Ruins

I visited Torcello in the Venetian lagoon a few years back. What is so compelling about ruins? Is it their ambiguity, that leaves the past as unknown as the future? Venice itself seemed to me like a place half-remembered in its elusive familiarity.