The Venice Biennale is upon us again, which reminds me that I know too many people in the contemporary art world who only visit that beautiful city once every two years, and then only for the purpose of what they consider to be work: networking in the pavilions; feigning familiarity with the latest trends in Iranian conceptual art; sipping warm white wine in the cavernous spaces of the Arsenale while being baffled and bombarded by all kinds of installations and interventions, with never an intermission. So if any of you are reading this, I suggest that this year you take a leaf out of my book, or at least one of my favourite books: namely, Venice for Pleasure by the late-lamented J.G. Links, self-taught Canaletto expert and self-avowed hedonist.
Links spelled out his approach to Venice in the admirably concise introduction to his book: “The pure indulgence in pleasure is something denied to all but a handful of travellers willing to devote themselves to seeking nothing else. Their gondola photographs will be inferior to those of their friends… they might not even have entered the Doge’s Palace, preferring to leave it until next time, or next time but one. But they will have enjoyed themselves; Venice will have woven its spell around them and they will be captives for life… It is for them that this book is written.” It was Links’ firm belief that Venice was best enjoyed on foot, so he organised his book as a series of four, leisurely walks through the city. With his example in mind, I would like to suggest my own modest itinerary for anyone exhausted by the Biennale’s whirl of contemporary art. Think of it as a truant’s escape from the Venice of contemporary art, the Venice of now, into the...
