A Reverse Grand TourThe Owl
Dear Inquiring Traveler, Most Grand Tourists traveled southwards to Paris, Italy, Sicily, sometimes even Greece and Turkey. And most aspiring artists made the trip to Italy to study classical antiquities and learn from the masters of the Venetian and Florentine schools. But Antonio Canaletto, the veduta (landscape) painter we met last week, followed a different itinerary. Read on to find out why.
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The Venetian Experience (Part 2) by Catherine Lapp While visiting the Baltimore Museum of Art a few weeks ago, I went straight to the old European masters room and paid my usual homage to Titian’s Portrait of a Gentleman—a fine example of a late work by the Italian artist that would delight any amateur of the Venetian school of Renaissance painting. Next to Titian’s Portrait were two views of Venice by Francesco Guardi. They instantly took me back to the Grand Canal, but with an uneasy feeling. Yes, this was Venice, but the perspective was awkward and the colors somehow dark—perhaps the paintings need cleaning? This was not the Venice I like to remember with its exquisite light and the ever eye-pleasing architecture of the palaces, churches, canals, and even the more popular streets. I silently wished the paintings were by Canaletto instead. Master of LightAntonio Canaletto makes “the sun shine in his pictures.” Alessandro Marchesini, a contemporary painter, made such a statement when Canaletto was just 28 years old and recommended him to a wealthy textile merchant in search of art for his collection. Canaletto has an inimitable way of capturing the colors of his native city.
Born in 1697 near the Rialto Bridge, Antonio first followed in the footsteps of his father as a painter of theater décor. But after a trip to Rome, where he possibly met Roman veduta painters, he started painting views of Venice. This move would secure his international reputation as well as his fortune. His first patrons were Italians who enjoyed depictions of little-known corners of Venice. But he quickly acquired an enthusiastic British clientele who ordered views of the great sights of Venice by the dozen as souvenirs of their stay. It would be a mistake, though, to think that Canaletto painted realistic views of his city. He recreated the city in each of his paintings in order to produce the most impressive view, obtain the best angle, include more monuments, or just catch the brightest light, as if flying above water. His paintings are art, not photographs. They recreate reality, not reproduce it.Moving to London The British tourists flooding the City of the Doges would probably have assured Canaletto a comfortable income for the rest of his days, had not the War of the Austrian Succession began in 1740. The pretext of the war was that a woman, Maria Theresa of Austria, wanted to succeed to the Habsburg throne. Most European countries soon became involved. International travel became difficult. Venetian trade declined. And Canaletto stopped being in demand.
Canaletto struggled for a few years, relying on the generosity of his agent Joseph Smith, but eventually decided that if the Brits would not come to him, he would go to them. The artist headed for London in May 1746 and stayed there 10 years. He reinvented himself, painting local curiosities from the recently completed Westminster Bridge to Westminster Abbey, Old Walton Bridge, Windsor Castle, Warwick Castle—and whatever private residence his patrons would commission. Modern opinions on the quality of his work during this period vary—suffice it to say that a Venetian may have found it challenging to adjust to the damp climate of a dreary northern capital. He eventually returned to Venice where he spent the last years of his life, was elected to the Venetian Academy, and died of fever on 10 April 1768. Canaletto left few belongings: a property, some clothes and household goods, some cash, and 28 paintings that would be of incommensurable worth in today’s art market.
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