VENICE RISING O n a quest to uncover an authentic, l iv ing culture—one where

traditional craftsmen's studios coexist wi th forward-thinking museums and hotels—MARIA SHOLLENBARGER looks beyond the city's touristy veneer.

PHOTOGRAPHED BY SIMON WATSON

GUIDE + MAP > PAGE 176

O n a particularly pellucid afternoon last

June, at the tai l end of the opening of the 55th

Venice Biennale, I am chatting w i t h Bianca

Arrivabene Valenti Gonzaga i n her garden

by the Grand Canal . We sit i n the shadow of

the Palazzo Papadopoli, the beautiful i6th-

century palace that is the ancestral home

of her husband, Giberto; shards of light glint

off the gently ruffled water and reflect on

its newly plastered fagade. Caref u l ly tended

gravel borders a preternaturally perfect

lawn at the garden's center. Sleek, bleached-

oak tables and steel-wire chairs line its

perimeter; mirrors i n dark wood frames are

leaned, one precisely equidistant from the

other, against an immaculate brick wal l . In a

city whose reputation was built on extravagant

displays of wealth—not least among them

the palazzo towering next to us, s t i l i one of the

largest privately owned ones on the Grand

Canal—and whose beauty today is more of

a crumbling, decadent sort, this is a curiously

austere space. But then, the garden isn't

precisely Arrivabene's anymore. It is now

under the management of the Singapore-based

Amanresorts, and her husband's ancestral

home goes by a new name: A m a n Canal Grande.

Not long ago, Arrivabene recalls, things

here skewed decidedly more toward the shabby

chic end of the maintenance spectrum, w i t h

wisteria growing i n unchecked profusion.

No longer: shabby chic—an aesthetic w i t h

which Amanresorts, as anyone who has visited

one w i l l know, has exactly zero truck—has

left the bui lding. In its place has come

an unassailably tasteful merger of 2ist-century

design and neo-Renaissance and Rococò

splendor. Layered i n ornate cornices and

originai Murano chandeliers, A m a n Canal

From left: The library at Aman Canal Grande; the 14th-century eastern facade of the Doge's Palace, with the Campanile on the left.

Grande's public salons and 24 suites were painstakingly refurbished

i n an 18-month renovation requiring an average of 100 artisans

on site daily. Elaborate plasterwork and freshly abluted gilt contrast

w i t h angular, contemporary furniture i n gunite gray, studio white,

and other shades on the not-quite-color wheel. In my suite, chubby

putt i gambol across frescoes attributed to the school of Tiepolo;

on the piano nobile they are the work of the master himself, crowning

a d i n i n g room covered i n vermi l ion damask and hung w i t h portraits

of Arrivabene ancestors.

For anyone who's been paying even perfunctory attention to

Venice's evolution over the past several years, a slick, Asian-based hotel

group taking over the Palazzo Papadopoli makes perfect sense.

It's a pivotal moment here right now: at one end of the tourist profile

are the rarefied spectacles of the Biennale and the Venice F i l m Festival,

which see the Guidecca Canal grow thicker every year w i t h super-

yachts, and certain quarters of the city teeming w i t h VIP's from

Beverly H i l l s and Basel, Kazakhstan and Kuala Lumpur. This year's

Biennale is the biggest to date, w i t h 88 countries exhibiting. L u x u r y

From left: Hotel Cipirani & Palazzo Vendramin's head doorman, Roberto Senigaglia; pink-grapef ruit soup with vanilla crème brùlée and lavender ice cream at II Ridotto.

hoteliers have responded, establishing presences (as i n Aman's case); debuting

new properties (like Francesca Bortolotto Possati, the Venetian-born owner of

the venerated Bauers hotels, w i t h the exclusive V i l l a F); or upping their game w i t h

ambitious mult imi l l ion-dol lar renovations (among them the venerated Gri t t i

Palace and the Hotel Danieli , both f ly ing Starwood's L u x u r y Collection flag).

At the other end is a less glamorous, more worrisome phenomenon: the

thousands i n the Piazza San Marco and on the Riva dei Schiavoni jost l ing for

their photo of the Bridge of Sighs to post to Pinterest (or, increasingly, Weibo).

Most are day-tripping cruise passengers and tour groups, and their numbers

increase by an a larming amount each year. Fears that this demographic doesn't

spend enough to compensate for the damage their aggregate droves are doing

to historic Venice—flood-prone; weak of foundation; as physically vulnerable as

a metropolis can be—are growing.

This is why the future, here, is as much i n the hands of those who visit as of

those who cal i it home. Between the art diva and the day-tripper, there is room—

indeed. there's the need—for the tourist who partakes of another Venice: the

l iv ing city that hums w i t h m o d e m culture, locai artisanal cuisine, craftspeople

Keeping traditions alive, and authentic neighborhoods.

For though its geographic nature

is finite, Venice s t i l i allows for felicitous

accidents of discovery—and even,

surprisingly, of solitude, despite a daily

tourist in f lux i n the Centro Storico

that outnumbers the actual population.

You can, for instance, carve a route

through the labyrinth of calli radiating

east from the Doge's Palace, and w i t h i n

15 minutes be i n Castello, the once

mariner-class sestiere that surrounds the

Arsenale. Its low-rise houses and tiny

squares are humbly pretty, strung w i t h

laundry pirouetting i n the Adriat ic breeze

Masterworks by the schools of Tintoretto.

Be l l in i , and Veronese are casually

sequestered i n churches and chapels like

multi-carat gemstones scattered across

garden soil. In the V i a Garibaldi , you can

stop for a t iny tramezzino of baccalà anc

artichoke puree at Bar M i o , or stroll down

to Serra dei Giardini , a hybrid café-

nursery-event space, for a glass of R i b o l l i

Gial la or a freshly blended vegetable juice-

Similarly, over by the Rialto Bridge a n ;

market—brimming sometimesjoyfully.

sometimes claustrophobically, w i t h life—

a handful of strategie turns w i l l take yc--_

deep into the quietude of San Polo. Here r your map (and/or the directions from

your hotel's concierge) has served you w e l

172 3 C T O B E R 2 0 1 3 T R A V E L + L E I S U R E

From left: Inside Palazzo Grassi; Francois Pinault Foundation director Martin Bethenod at the Teatrino Grassi, the museum's new concert and lecture hall.

you' l l reach Antiche Carampane, where diners convene under rustie beams

and lighting that's just a shade too bright, tucking i n to soft-shell crabs

(sublime, when i n season, i n late spring and early fall) and a signature

berry pavlova (deadly delicious, year-round). Antiche Carampane shares

an ethos of locai produets and traditional preparation w i t h a handful of

other restaurants, recently gathered into a loose officiai alliance k n o w n as

La Buona Accoglienza ("the w a r m welcome"). They include some of the

city's all-stars, such as tiny A l l e Testiere, w i t h its fish dressed w i t h tender

violet Sant'Erasmo artichokes or tart radicchio from organic allotments on

the island of Vignole. A n d also A l Covo, whose Italo-American owners,

Diane R a n k i n and Cesare Benelli, have just opened a new bacaro, CoVino,

where you can sample what they cal i terroir d ining: small courses from al i

small-scale producers, served from an open kitchen i n an informai

atmosphere, w i t h wine pairings and tastings.

Which is not to say la cucina veneziana isn't being contemporized i n

adventurous new ways. At II Ridotto, 39-year-old chef Ivano Mestriner—

who left the Michelin-starred Dal Vero, i n Treviso, i n 2011—does a

spaghetti neri—squid-ink pasta remixed w i t h sea urchin , v i v i d green

monk's beard, and minced pepper—that is as vibrant and sophisticated

as the setting: w a r m brick walls; sleek leather chairs; glass-topped tables

w i t h sculptural Murano highballs and vintage porcelain teacups.

Venice has been contemporizing cultural ly for some time, too. The

Biennale's breadth emphasizes this, of course. M a r t i n Bethenod, who

since 2010 has been director of the Francois

Pinault Foundation, the public art collection

established by the luxury-goods magnate,

notes the number of Biennale events that are

showeased i n the city's prominent historic

buildings, l ike a delightful aesthetic treasure

hunt that marries the (occasionai) shock of the

new to the venerable old i n a way only Venice

could achieve. We're talking over a pair of

Spritzes—what else?—on the terrace of the

Bar Longhi , at the G r i t t i Palace. In February,

the Gr i t t i emerged like an exceptionally ornate

chrysalis from its own 15-month, $55 m i l l i o n

renovation—one that, as w i t h the A m a n

Canal Grande, was overseen by municipal

bodies. There, however, the s imi lar i ty ends.

Its designers enlisted the 155-year-old Rubell i

textiles f i r m to reproduce fabrics from its

archives expressly for the hotel; the new

Gri t t i hews entirely, and elegantly, to historical

context, down to the last bit of s i lk

passementerie. Not surprisingly, it also has

V I P cred i n spades: few views i n town can rivai

the one from the 2,690-square-foot terrace

of its three-room Redentore Terrazza Suite.

But contemporary culture now extends

far beyond Venice's social-calendar highlights.

Palazzo Grassi, as well as the newer

Fondazione Prada—established i n the i8th-

century Palazzo Ca' Corner della Regina i n

2011—are cornerstones i n a robust year-round

offering. Bethenod and I bond over our admiration of the new Stanze del Vetro at the Fondazione Giorgio Cini, on the Isola San Giorgio Maggiore—a space for exhibiting Venetian glass and glassmaking techniques of the I9th, 2 0 t h , and 2ist centuries that was designed by Annabelle Selldorf; and the Fondazione Querini Stampalia, a house-museum that's a four-story, five-century palimpsest of the city's history: "You have one of the most beautiful Bellinis in the world there," Bethenod says, "but also Carlo Scarpa," the 20th-century architect who redesigned the palazzo's garden and ground floor to Modernist, symmetrical perfection.

Earlier in the day, Bethenod had shown me the just-opened Teatrino Grassi. Restored, like the Palazzo Grassi itself, by Pritzker Prize winner Tadao Ando, it will bring conferences, performances, lectures, and cinema series to the city on an ongoing basis. En route to the Gritti, we stopped in at the tiny art gallery of Giorgio Mastinu. Its vitrines hold prints and posters, small paintings, rare monographs, and objects—beautiful installations in and of themselves. ("Giorgio is outside of the market," noted Bethenod, a definitive art insider, approvingly. "He's not about making a big show. He's about the right archive, the right photograph.") Farther down, at the Campiello della Feltrina, we carne upon the Store—a Biennale-timed pop-up shop which sold, among other things, exquisite textiles by Chiarastella Cattana, whose name is a by word for distinctive modera Venetian design. Her fabrics, table linens, and accessories can be had at her namesake atelier in the Salizada San Samuele. She is one of a handful of locai designers who honor the essential heritage of Venetian craft through contemporary forms that play perfectly in 2ist-century settings.

The next day I visit another locai craftsperson, the jeweler Alberto Nardi, whose family's showroom has been a cornerstone of the Piazza San Marco since the 1920's. Nardi's formai, erudite demeanor softens markedly when the city he loves is the topic of conversation. "My advice is always to get out of this area," he says, smiling slightly, presumably at the irony of sending potential clients away from his place of business. "Walk; get out with a guide; or get lost. In the ephemeral zones"— Castello; Canareggio; Giudecca—"you see Gothic and Renaissance palaces, important frescoes. But you also see the living city." For decades, Nardi adorned royalty—both the genuine crowned sort and its Hollywood and Park Avenue correlates—in custom jewels

fabricated by hand. Today, tastes have changed; Nardi, like so many others, has evolved his business apace. I admire a line he is preparing to launch called Mosaico. Rough stones—brown diamonds; blue topaz; citrine; peridot—are set in abstract patterns on chunky cocktail rings and wide cuffs. Though their designs are an homage to the traditional terrazzo flooring found in six- and seven-hundred-year-old palaces around the city, they are utterly contemporary.

An hour later, I am standing on the Fondamenta delle Zitelle on Giudecca island. Behind me is Villa F, which opened in mid 2011. It's the latest project from Francesca Bortolotto Possati; Il Palladio Hotel and Spa. which she opened in 2007 in a former convent, is a few doors down the quay. Villa F's rambling one- and two-bedroom apartments are set around a l'/S-acre walled garden, lush with climbing vines and hydrangeas. Their interiors are subdued, some nearly Flemish in their spare sobriety. with wide-plank floors and rough beams overhead. Though there is a jewel-box bar on the ground floor, and a restaurant at nearby II Palladio, the flats are self-catering, with slick steel kitchens hidden behind thick linen draperies or fitted into elegant armoires. For the repeat visitors among her guests. they provide an ideal redoubt from the press of humanity across the canal.

Bortolotto Possati is deeply involved in the well-being of her city (she and Alberto Nardi are two of only three Venetians on the board of the Save Venice organization). She rattles off lists of Venice's impressive endowments: 33 museums, over 150 churches ("and because of the

humidity here, the churches aren't frescoed but

hung w i t h paintings—so basically hal f the time

you are i n a pinacoteca," or gallery). She details

future plans to host symposia and visiting-artist

programs for guests—bringing, say, the Chinese

or Azerbaijani representing his or her country

back to the city for lectures and private visits, to

diffuse the Biennale's appeal throughout the year.

Without storytelling, she says, contemporary art

is useless. "This is true of everything, though.

The day-tripper may not even know why he is

here; a l i he knows is he is hot, bored of crowds,

disappointed by what he sees. Without

background and context, Venice may well not

make sense toyou, either."

Two-hundred-odd yards east on the quay, the

flicker of candlelight on a tented overwater

platform signals your arr iva i at Cip's Club, the

canal-side restaurant of the Hotel C i p r i a n i . This ,

of course, is Venice's most storied hotel (The pool!

The Bell inis! The garden, where Casanova

reputedly deployed his irresistible charms!), and

is its only genuine resort. H a l f the staff would

seem, by the way they discuss the upcoming f i l m

festival, to be on a first-name basis w i t h George

Clooney; but then they are a l i so competent, so

energetic, so very simpatici, that you have no

trouble believing it.

Over the past three-odd years, the hotel has

quietly remade almost a l i its rooms and suites.

T+L Guide

Venie 7 < ^

RIALTO BRIDGE

Beyond a particularly bold Murano-glass design here, a swath of

extra-rich embroidered si lk or delicately veined marble there,

everything is much as it has always been. A l i is elegant, light-suffused,

eminently private, though nothing is slick or chic.

There can, however, be few more perennially stylish places to enjoy

an aperitivo than over the water at Cip's—an experience open to

non-guests as well . Across

the Giudecca Canal, the

voluptuous domes of St.

Mark's Basil ica are rosy i n

the evening light. Crossing

the square earlier i n the day,

I'd watched volunteers clad

i n orange jerseys politely

instructing backpackers not

to nap on the stairs;

reminding foreign tour

groups to b i n their garbage.

In the throng of thousands,

the basilica had looked

unreal—like the past seen i n

horizontal split screen,

irreconcilable w i t h the

cacophony of the present

below it. F r o m here, the view

is gentler, the only sounds

the lapping of water on the

quay and the low chug of a vaporetto motor as it passes. The basilica,

the light, the square: a l i exist i n balance. A well-judged change of

perspective has, for a moment, rescued Venice. +

The Hemingway Suite at the Gritti Palace.

SAN PO

Weather

I W Oln

Getting There and Around There are nonstop flights to Venice from New York, Philadelphia, and Atlanta. Otherwise, you'll have to make connections through Milan or Rome. Once there, you can travel by ferry, water taxi, or bus.

f i STAY Aman Canal Grande 1364 Calte Tiepolo; amanresorts.com. $$$$$ Gritti Palace, a Luxury Collection Hotel 2467 Campo Santa Maria del Giglio; starwoodhotels.com. $$$$ Hotel Cipriani & Palazzo Vendramin 10 Giudecca; hotelcipriani.com. $$$$$ Oltre II Giardino A six-room contemporary gem in quiet San Polo. 2542 San Polo; oltreilgiardino-venezia.com. $$ Venissa Ristorante Ostello On the island of Mazzorbo, this stylish inn has a Michelin-starred restaurant. 3 Fondamenta Caterina; venissa.it. $ Villa F 50 Giudecca; bauerhotels. com. $$$$$

XEAT Alle Testiere 5801 Castello; osterialletestiere.it. $$$ Antiche Carampane 1911 San Polo; antichecarampane.com. $$$

Bar Mio 1820 Via Garibaldi; 39-041/521-1361. CoVino 3829A-3829 Castello; covinovenezia.com. $$$ Il Ridotto 4509 Castello; ilridotto.com. $$$ Serra dei Giardini 1254 Viale Garibaldi; 39-041/296-0360.

IM DO Fondazione Giorgio Cini 864 Dorsoduro; cini.it. Fondazione Prada 2215 Santa Croce; fondazioneprada.org. Fondazione Querini Stampalia 5252 Castello; querinistampalia.org. Palazzo Grassi Campo San Samuele; palazzograssi.it.

É SHOP Chiarastella Cattana 3357 San Marco; chiarastellacattana.it. Giorgio Mastinu Fine Art 3126 San Marco; giorgiomastinufineart. it. Nardi 69 Piazza San Marco; nardi-venezia.com.

H O T E L S SLess than $200 %%$200to$350 $$$ $350 to $500 $$$$ $500 to $1,000 $ $ $ $ $ More than $1,000

R E S T A U R A N T S %Lessthan$25 %%$25to$75 %%%$75to$i50 $$$$ More than $150

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