i just had to do a u-turn to picture this ...

the extra-ingenious bit is the edge between the blue and white which seems ( very approximately ) to follow the map of the south coast

pan di doge ... you wouldn't want to fall into the grand canal if you'd just eaten even one half

 

... and here's one i missed earlier ...

 

the venetian problem ... a modest proposal

on the one hand, you have lot of sinking islands

on the other, you have the italian concrete producers and the murano glass makers

my solution is to concrete in the lagoon and the waterways,

and then cover it all in beautiful glass from murano to imitate the water

this should keep everyone busy for the next fifty years

no doubt they're designing a stained glass window glorifying my image at this very moment

q.e.d.

bastille day

and another thing ...

as we were flying back from venice across france towards the ruddiest afterglow of a long slow sunset, nebulous puffs of colour and glitter seven miles below us told us that the french had begun their celebrations of bastille day

venice, by the slow boat from the airport

 

the fabulous arsenale gate

 

looks comfy

 

new bells

 

nice sign

 

a sweet fancy

 

reclining lady by botero

 

nice shop front

 

although i'd copied this zodiac from photographs before, i'd failed to notice the face on the scorpion's back

 

jeff koons nine foot high balloon dog

 

peggy guggenheim

the photo was taken by david seymour of magnum

there are some fantastically good things in her museum

 

peggy's giacommetti ... possibly his best

 

peggy had all these glass figurines made in imitation of figures created by picasso

 

what's he so happy about ?

 

away from the steam bath of venice by train into the dolomites

 

stazione per l'alpago, an old station on the railway from venice to calazo de cadore

the terminus at calalzo de cadore

must be about seventy miles from venice ...

the journey takes two and a half hours but cost only fifteen euros

at the house where titian was born

while we were in this house, in pieve de cadore, about three miles up the hill from calalzo, a young red haired woman was speaking to her red-haired sons in gaelic

their father was a wood carver taking part in a carving festival at Auronzo de Cadore, farther up the valley beyond the railhead

he said it was a competition to see who could carve the best piece in five or six days

light and shade

 

in the window of a bar where divers meet

 

as poised as gondoliers