



source:
This lovely little exhibition, entitled Timeless Elegance, Dior in Venice in the Cameraphoto Archives, is currently on display at Villa Pisani, in Stra, on the Brenta Canal in the Veneto. I enjoyed seeing it very much.


From the website of the Villa:
1951 was a magical year for Venice. Some of the most intriguing views of the city co-starred in the campaign that publicised the creations of the couturier who was capturing all the world’s headlines at the time: Christian Dior.
On 3 September of that same year, Palazzo Labia hosted the “Ball of the Century”: the Bal Oriental, organised by Don Carlos de Beistegui y de Yturbe, attracted around a thousand glittering jetsetters from all five continents. This masked ball saw Dior, Dalí, a very young Cardin, Nina Ricci and others engaged as creators of costumes for the illustrious guests, in an event that made the splendour of eighteenth-century Venice reverberate around the world.
Silent witnesses of both of these events were the photographers of Cameraphoto, the photography agency founded in 1946 by Dino Jarach, who covered and recorded everything special that happened in Venice and beyond during those years.
We have Vittorio Pavan, the current conservator of the imposing Cameraphoto Archives (the historical section alone has more than 300,000 negatives on file) and Daniele Ferrara, Director of the Veneto Museums Hub, to thank for the project to show the photographs of those two historical events to the general public. The location chosen for them to re-emerge into the light of day is one of extraordinary significance: Villa Nazionale Pisani in Stra is the Queen of the Villas of the Veneto and it is no coincidence that it is adorned with marvellous frescoes by Giambattista Tiepolo, the same artist whose work also gazed down on the unforgettable masked ball in 1951 from the ceilings of Palazzo Labia.
For this exhibition, Pavan has chosen 40 photographs of the collection shown in Venice by Christian Dior.
In those days, every fashion show would present just under 200 models, calculated carefully to achieve the right balance between items that would be easy to wear and others that made more of a statement. Dior was the undisputed master of fashion in those post-war years. The whole world looked forward to his collections and discussed them hotly. No fewer than 25,000 people are estimated to have crossed the Atlantic every year, just to see (and to buy) his collections. Every time he changed a line (and every new season brought such a change), it was accepted with both enthusiasm and ferocious criticism: the former from his clan of admirers, the latter from those who opposed him.
In any case, no woman who aspired to keep abreast of fashion could afford to ignore the dictates issued by the couturier from his Parisian maison in Avenue Montaigne, where he already employed a staff of more than one thousand, despite having being established only five years before. Dior’s New look evolved with every passing season.
In 1950, he introduced the Vertical Line, in 1951 – as the photographs on show in Villa Pisani illustrate – no woman could avoid wearing his Oval Look: rounded shoulders and raglan sleeves, the fabrics modelled until they clung like a second skin. The essential accessory was of course the hat, for which Dior that year drew his inspiration from the kind traditionally worn by Chinese coolies.
For that autumn, though, he created the Princess line, which gave the illusion of extending below the breast.
In the breathtaking photographs from the Cameraphoto Archives, beautiful Dior-clad models perform a virtual duet with Venice, whose canals, churches and palaces are never a mere backdrop, but co-stars on a par with the great designer’s creations.
The second nucleus of this fascinating exhibition is devoted to the Grand Ball at Palazzo Labia, possibly the most glittering social event of the century.
All the bel monde flocked to Venice on that legendary 3 September. Don Carlos, popularly known as the Count of Monte Cristo, sent personal invitations to a thousand people. Dior, together with a veritable army of young tailors and accompanied by Dalí, was engaged to create the most alluring costumes, all designed to refer to the eighteenth century when Goldoni and Casanova lived here. There were costumes for men and women, but also for the greyhounds and other dogs that often accompanied their owners.
The torches that on that legendary evening illuminated the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, several Grandees of Spain, the Aga Khan, King Farouk of Egypt, Winston Churchill, many crowned heads, princes and princesses, a host of millionaires, such artists as Fabrizio Clerici and Leonor Fini, fashion designers of the calibre of Balenciaga and Elsa Schiapparelli and leading jetsetters Barbara Hutton, Lady Diana Cooper, Orson Welles, Daisy Fellowes, Cecil Beaton (whose photographs, published in Life magazine, gave the world something to dream about), the Polignacs and the Rothschilds.
Welcoming them in the midst of clouds of ballerinas and harlequins was the master of the house and host, who dominated the scene as he promenaded back and forth dressed as the Sun King on a 40 cm high platform. The heir of an immense fortune created in Mexico, Don Carlos spent some of his time living in Paris, where he owned a house designed by Le Corbusier and decorated by Salvador Dalí, and the rest at a chateau in the country. He had bought Palazzo Labia and restored it and was now offering it to his friends.
The aim of this exhibition is therefore to contribute to improving the appreciation and value of the Cameraphoto photography archives, which have been declared to be of exceptional cultural interest by the Italian Ministry of Cultural Heritage and Activities, since they constitute an inestimable legacy for the wealth and variety of images.
It was with this in mind that the curators chose this nucleus of photographs depicting the clothing designed by one of the most ingenious and iconic fashion designers in history, who in his turn, through his creations, enabled a spotlight to be focused on a tiny fragment of the more than one thousand years of history of the city of Venice, helping us reconstruct the collective memory on which our present day is based.
Curated by Vittorio Pavan and Luca Del Prete, the exhibition is organised by the Veneto Museums Hub e Munus.

































I recently posted about this day-long cruise here (here, here and here) and now I pick up where I left off. Our first stop on the cruise after leaving Padua was in Stra at Villa Pisani. This incredible villa is now a state museum and very much work a visit. It was built by a very popular Venetian Doge.

The facade of the Villa is decorated with enormous statues and the interior was painted by some of the greatest artists of the 18th century.

Villa Pisani at Stra refers is a monumental, late-Baroque rural palace located along the Brenta Canal (Riviera del Brenta) at Via Doge Pisani 7 near the town of Stra, on the mainland of the Veneto, northern Italy. This villa is one of the largest examples of Villa Veneta located in the Riviera del Brenta, the canal linking Venice to Padua. It is to be noted that the patrician Pisani family of Venice commissioned a number of villas, also known as Villa Pisani across the Venetian mainland. The villa and gardens now operate as a national museum, and the site sponsors art exhibitions.


Construction of this palace began in the early 18th century for Alvise Pisani, the most prominent member of the Pisani family, who was appointed doge in 1735.
The initial models of the palace by Paduan architect Girolamo Frigimelica still exist, but the design of the main building was ultimately completed by Francesco Maria Preti. When it was completed, the building had 114 rooms, in honor of its owner, the 114th Doge of Venice Alvise Pisani.
In 1807 it was bought by Napoleon from the Pisani Family, now in poverty due to great losses in gambling. In 1814 the building became the property of the House of Habsburg who transformed the villa into a place of vacation for the European aristocracy of that period. In 1934 it was partially restored to host the first meeting of Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini, after the riots in Austria.



From the outside, the facade of the oversized palace appears to command the site, facing the Brenta River some 30 kilometers from Venice. The villa is of many villas along the canal, which the Venetian noble families and merchants started to build as early as the 15th century. The broad façade is topped with statuary, and presents an exuberantly decorated center entrance with monumental columns shouldered by caryatids. It shelters a large complex with two inner courts and acres of gardens, stables, and a garden maze.
The largest room is the ballroom, where the 18th-century painter Giovanni Battista Tiepolo frescoed the two-story ceiling with a massive allegorical depiction of the Apotheosis or Glory of the Pisani family (painted 1760–1762).[2] Tiepolo’s son Gian Domenico Tiepolo, Crostato, Jacopo Guarana, Jacopo Amigoni, P.A. Novelli, and Gaspare Diziani also completed frescoes for various rooms in the villa. Another room of importance in the villa is now known as the “Napoleon Room” (after his occupant), furnished with pieces from the Napoleonic and Habsburg periods and others from when the house was lived by the Pisani.
The most riotously splendid Tiepolo ceiling would influence his later depiction of the Glory of Spain for the throne room of the Royal Palace of Madrid; however, the grandeur and bombastic ambitions of the ceiling echo now contrast with the mainly uninhabited shell of a palace. The remainder of its nearly 100 rooms are now empty. The Venetian playwright Carlo Goldoni described the palace in its day as a place of great fun, served meals, dance and shows.




Check out this sunken bathtub below:












































Bear with me: in the next few photos I am trying out all of the fancy settings on my new camera:














To be continued.
Would you ever want to sail down a canal in Northern Italy that was built during the Renaissance? I really wanted to and I did!
The Brenta Canal stretches for many miles between Chioggia on the coast, to Padua where it turns into the Brenta River. Created in the 15th century, the canal expanded trading routes for Venice and the other major cities in Northern Italy.
I was lucky enough to cruise through the canal last week, beginning at Porta Portello in Padova and ending at San Marco, Venezia. A day to remember! It was a beautiful fall day with mild temperatures. A great day to be on the water. And, what waters! OMG.



My cruising companions and I met our boat, il Burchiello, on the stairway at Porta Portello, the ancient river port of Padua. We would cruise along the original course of the old Venetian Burchielli of the 18th century, passing in front of the beautiful Villa Giovanelli at Noventa Padovana.
Below: we are departing Padua itself, just outside the Renaissance era city walls:




Below, coming upon the first of so many villas located along the canal.






We glided through the Noventa Padovana and Stra lock systems. This system of locks on the canal were really interesting to experience and to watch from the boat. The next 2 videos show the locks closing behind the boat.
We passed under some low bridges and buildings! Watch you head!



Now, at the front of the boat, the locks are opening:
Scenes along the canal on such a peaceful September Sunday morning. A lot of fishing going on:



A sighting of the next villa:








My next post will talk about the villa seen below:




To be continued, here, here and here.
A couple of weeks ago I had the immense pleasure of cruising the Brenta Canal from Padua to Venice. I will be posting about that day soon, here, here and here. In the meantime: spoiler’s alert! In this post I chronicle our sailing out of the Canal and into the Venetian Lagoon.
I can promise you that everything changes immediately: the scale, the weather, our speed, the traffic, the feeling.





















Even after almost 3 years of full-time life in Italy, I am still learning. I recently was able to open a kind of bank account here. This means that after 3 years, I can pay my rent online for the first time! What an accomplishment! It’s a long story about why it took this long, but most of it is that no Italian friend can truly understand how confusing it is to do something as simple as opening a bank account here for a foreigner. And, btw, bank accounts are expensive in Italy. They charge you a lot for holding your money.

Be all of that as it may, I now have an Italian account that comes with a debit card and the ability to withdraw cash from certain ATMs across the country.
What I didn’t know was the etiquette involved. Yesterday I went into the small room off a major street, within which I had spotted the correct ATM. Someone was in the small room (it’s the size of a small walk-in closet), but there was no line, so I entered the room. The man who was already at the machine turned to stare at me, and for a split second, I thought he was offering to let me go in front of him to use the machine.
Then, I realized that he was not happy because I was in the room at all with him. I found out that entering the closet with another person is not acceptable, even though I was nowhere near him and the machine. But, at that moment, before the gravity of this sunk it, I just waved at him and said, “go ahead.” Then I turned completely around and looked out the window so he wouldn’t think I was after his PIN. Ha ha…little did he know that I could watch him from close up and never remember the digits if my life depended on it. Numbers don’t compute in my brain.
The comedy of this situation is that I was lugging 3 large plastic bags full of wet laundry to a nearby laundromat. I have a washer in my apartment, but nobody has a drier. I was on my way to dry towels and blankets–since fall is setting in–at the laundromat. I specifically entered the glass bank ATM closet so I could set down these heavy bags.
The man finished his top secret transaction and left. I took my turn at the machine and tried 4 times to withdraw cash and, of course, I couldn’t get the machine to work for me. When I finally accepted defeat (as I have become adept at doing here in fair Italia), I turned to leave, and picked up my 3 heavy laundry bags. I noted that there were about 4 or 5 relatively patient people waiting just outside the glass door to use the ATM when I finished. As I left, I wanted to tell them thank you for waiting outside the glass closet, but of course I don’t know the Italian words for any of this. My baby Italian would not deliver the sarcasm I would have wanted to portray.
Lesson learned: in Italy, where the concept of personal space doesn’t exist in lines at the supermarket, the pharmacy, the airport, the train station…that concept is alive and well at the ATM glass closet. Silly me.
The brochure tells the story. I couldn’t make this stuff up!






You must be logged in to post a comment.