Material Culture: Regarding a Small Volume About Venice

A book is indeed a little world unto itself, an object enjoyable to hold and to see in the midst of one's home, a repository of knowledge calling out from dusty shadows. I consider this as I explore the pages of a volume on European travel.

Charms of an ancient and venerable city. . .

A space concealed by waterways and dark history. . .

Things Seen in Venice is the seventh book in a series published by the Bowering Press of Plymouth. Part of a travel writing collection, this fascinating and lively volume about Venice was released in 1957. Although there is a listing for the publisher in the National Archives of the United Kingdom, the archival box containing its ledgers, type specimen books, correspondence, and papers is only available through a different agency, the Plymouth City Council Arts and Heritage Offices. I mention this because a rewarding journey through history is available to those who visit.

As one of the volumes I chose to accompany me on my motorhome travels, it remains close to my heart, ever compact yet filled with copious amounts of information and art, a treasure I share with you today.

Here, we see a travel calendar included on the endpapers of the book, the kind of thing modern publishers rarely include.

And we find a beautiful cloth cover beneath the dust jacket, all the more charming for its age.

My knowledge of the book's provenance is limited, but my connection begins with a visit I made to Maxwell's House of Books in La Mesa, California roughly five years ago. The owner received Things Seen in Venice from a large collection and thought to put it aside for me. And, after payday, I happily received the book into my library, surprised and delighted by the richness of my discovery.

Upon opening the cover, one is transported to the days of postwar tourism, when Italy embraced travelers from the United States, as well as the United Kingdom, hoping to generate income while emerging from the shadows of fascism. Now, we pause to consider the eloquence of English travel writers from that period; their role as gracious victors led them to venture abroad with leisure rather than war in mind, firing words instead of bullets. We learn from an explorer of Venetian promenades:

The left bank of the Grand Canal, as we move in this direction, is flanked by buildings quaintly picturesque, relieved by the green patch of the Papadopoli Garden. What was once an iron bridge has long since been replaced by an Istrian stone bridge, built by Miozzi in 1934. (p. 32)

The joys of travel come easily to mind with such invigorating prose. As for the work of Miozzi, we can digress for a moment to learn about his influence.

Born in 1889, Eugenio Miozzi became head of the Directorate of Works and Public Services for Venice in 1931. Although known for expertise in hydraulic engineering, aesthetic talent largely established his reputation, Miozzi's 1937 casino design standing as a glorious example of modernist architecture. On The World of Interiors website, we learn that he wanted to celebrate Venice for its splendid new constructions as well as its museum heritage, using marble from various regions of Italy and, quite importantly, employing master craftsmen to decorate his vision. In Miozzi's mind, the Palazzo del Casinò was to become the most beautiful gaming palace in Europe. Over time, as wealthy travelers began to visit season after season, his dream became a glittering reality and a symbol of midcentury modernism.

Beyond Miozzi's world of luxury, the book describes walking tours of the Riva dei Sette Martiri, a locale of charm, where the "gentle exercise" of sightseeing prevails. I enjoy this section for its vivid architectural descriptions and, no less, its rich collection of photos. As environments change, and cities are redeveloped by succeeding generations, old travel books provide us with a record of the past.

Things Seen in Venice reflects the elegance of yesteryear, when travelers moved through history with a sense of awe, a bit more so than in our present age. In my estimation, this modest volume reminds us to explore the world mindfully and with patience, favoring analog encounters rather than digital--you might say.

Books bring the far reaches of our world a little closer, page by page. Thank you for joining me!