Venetian Architecture PDF
Venetian Architecture PDF
Venetian Architecture PDF
History, 1400–1797
Edited by
Eric R. Dursteler
LEIDEN •• BOSTON
2013
Religious Life
Cecilia Cristellon and Silvana Seidel Menchi ....................................... 379
Deborah Howard
This city, amidst the billowing waves of the sea, stands on the crest of the
main, almost like a queen restraining its force. It is situated in salt water,
and built there, because before there were just lagoons, and then, wanting to
expand, fijirm ground was needed for the building of palaces and houses.1
Sited on a series of marshy islands in a shallow lagoon, Venice developed
unique architectural characteristics in direct response to the peculiar
needs of the amphibious terrain. Its architecture therefore reflects the
complex interaction of physical and human forces. After the inhabitation
of the fijirst few islands of the archipelago before the year 1000, even the
land itself was mainly reclaimed artifijicially.2 Land for building was an
expensive, hard-won commodity, and the structures themselves were a
technological feat on the poorly consolidated sandy ground battered by
the tides. Through legislation and the constant monitoring of the size and
position of infijills, the Republic had the power to determine the overall
shape of the city.3 This is the stage upon which the spectacle of the
Republic’s last four centuries was played out.
Architectural Fabric
The most eloquent source for the study of Venetian architecture of the
early modern period is the fabric of the city itself. Free from the impact
of trafffijic, Venice has changed far less than most of the historic cities of
Europe, at least in terms of its physical materiality. Many of the spaces
and structures depicted in Jacopo de’ Barbari’s huge bird’s-eye view of the
1 Marin Sanudo, De origine, situ et magistratibus urbis Venetae, ovvero la città di Venetia
(1493–1530), ed. Angela Caracciolo Aricò (Milan, 1980; rev. edn, 2011), p. 20. Translation from
David Chambers and Brian Pullan, eds., Venice: A Documentary History (Oxford, 1992), p. 4.
2 Elisabeth Crouzet-Pavan, “Sopra le acque salse”: Espaces, Pouvoir et Société à Venise à
la fijin du moyen âge, 2 vols (Rome, 1992); Wladimiro Dorigo, Venezia origini: Fondamenti,
ipotesi, metodi, 3 vols (Milan, 1993); idem, Venezia romanica: La formazione della città
medioevale fijino all’età gotica, 2 vols + map folder (Verona/Venice, 2003).
3 Crouzet-Pavan, “Sopra le acque salse,” pp. 72–96; Richard J. Goy, Building Renaissance
Venice: Patrons, Architects and Builders, c.1430–1500 (New Haven/London, 2006), pp. 36–37.
Figure 20.1. Jacopo de’ Barbari, bird’s-eye view map of Venice, woodcut on six
sheets, 1350 × 2820 mm., detail of Grand Canal (Venice, 1500).
city, published in 1500, are still easily recognizable (Fig. 20.1). Despite the
19th-century attempts at modernization by fijilling in canals and creating
new streets, the urban layout is largely unchanged.4
Over centuries of land reclamation, Venice gradually acquired the
shape of a fijish—perhaps, more specifijically, a dolphin—with its gaping
jaw towards the west and tail fijins spreading out beyond the Arsenal ship-
yards in the east.5 Through its body, the Grand Canal traced an inverted
“S” like a giant alimentary canal. Before the mid-19th century, only the
Rialto Bridge and a series of 13 traghetti or gondola ferries straddled the
Grand Canal, and the street plans evolved in response to these crossing
points. In the oldest settlements, the city developed a dense, labyrinthine
4 On the 19th-century alterations to the urban plan, see Giandomenico Romanelli,
Venezia Ottocento: Materiali per una storia architettonica e urbanistica della città nel secolo
XIX (Rome, 1977).
5 Deborah Howard, “Venice as a Dolphin: Further Investigations into Jacopo de’
Barbari’s View,” Artibus et historiae 35 (1997), 101–12.
6 Deborah Howard, Venice & the East: The Impact of the Islamic World on the Architecture
of Venice 1100–1500 (New Haven/London, 2000), pp. 6–7, likens this dense urban texture to
that of medieval Islamic cities.
7 Dorigo, Venezia romanica, 2:10–17.
8 Crouzet-Pavan, “Sopra le acque salse,” pp. 111–14, 119–20; Dorigo, Venezia romanica,
1:581–89.
9 On building materials and house construction in Venice, see especially Sansovino,
Venetia città nobilissima, fols 140r–142r; Abraham Rogatnick et al., Venice: Problems and
Possibilities, special issue of the Architectural Review 149/891 (1971); Richard J. Goy, Venetian
Vernacular Architecture (Cambridge, 1989); Goy, Building Renaissance Venice, pp. 79–97;
Dorigo, Venezia romanica, 1:113–16. On the construction trades and the building process, see
Goy, Building Renaissance Venice, pp. 65–77; Giorgio Gianighian “Building a Renaissance
Double House in Venice,” ARQ: Architectural Research Quarterly 8 (2004), 299–312.
most walls were constructed of the local reddish brick, using a traditional
lime mortar to allow flexibility. Being cheap, lightweight, and porous,
brick perfectly suited the challenging conditions of the lagoon. Roof tiles
of terracotta enhanced the russet hue of the townscape. Many walls were
originally protected by a thin layer of stucco, colored with brick dust or
even frescoed, though modern restorers often remove these traditional
surfaces, applying renderings that are too thick, too rigid, artifijicially col-
ored, and too impervious.10 Within the houses, horizontal beams and roof
trusses of spruce, fijir, or larch tied the vertical load-bearing walls together;
these coniferous soft woods were lightweight, elastic, and protected from
the damp by their high resin content.
Perhaps the most precious asset of all was the pure white limestone
from Istria, easily imported by boat straight from the quarries to the build-
ing site. This fijine-grained stone, almost completely impervious to water,
was the most desirable material for damp-proofijing courses, steps, gutters,
window-frames, and a multitude of other purposes. Its uniformity and
durability made it ideal for carved ornament on traceries and balconies.
As a walling material, Istrian stone was always applied as cladding over a
brick core to save expense and weight.
Canals permeate the whole city like veins in a leaf, providing water
access for the transport of merchandise, building materials, and people.
Amid the tidal, brackish channels of the lagoon, however, fresh water sup-
ply was in short supply. In response, traditional builders developed an
ingenious method of conserving rainwater, inspired by the underground
water-conservation systems of the Levant. Water falling on rooftops and
paved surfaces drained into underground cisterns—whether in the court-
yards of houses or in parish campi—where it was fijiltered through sand to
ensure drinkable quality. It has been estimated that in 1856, cisterns still
underlay 11 per cent of the entire surface area of the city.11
In recent years, building restoration projects have encouraged a more
detailed examination of the building fabric—for instance, work on the
Scuola Grande della Misericordia in the 1990s revealed the existence
of experimental arched foundations, installed by the architect Jacopo
10 E. Danzi et al., “Research for Conservation of the Lagoon Building Culture: Catalogue
of the External Plasterwork in Venetian Buildings,” in, C. A. Fletcher and T. Spencer, eds.,
Flooding and Environmental Challenges for Venice and its Lagoon: State of Knowledge
(Cambridge, 2005), pp. 193–98.
11 Giorgio Gianighian and Paola Pavanini, “Il tessuto gotico,” in Francesco Valcanover
and Wolfgang Wolters, eds., L’architettura gotica veneziana (Venice, 2000), pp. 157–73, on
p. 158.
Imago Urbis
12 Gianni Fabbri, “Dal progetto di Sansovino alle catastrofiji del moderno” in G. Fabbri,
ed., La Scuola Grande della Misericordia a Venezia: Storia e progetti (Venice, 1999),
pp. 101–43, on pp. 105–09.
13 See, for example, Albert J. Ammerman and Charles E. McClennen, eds., Venice before
San Marco: Recent Studies on the Origins of the City (Hamilton, N.Y., 2001).
14 Juergen Schulz, “Jacopo de’ Barbari’s View of Venice: Map Making, City Views and
Moralized Geography before 1500,” Art Bulletin 60 (1978), 425–74; idem, La cartografijia
tra scienza e arte: Carte e cartografiji nel Rinascimento italiano (Modena, 1990), pp. 13–63;
Howard, “Venice as a Dolphin”; Giandomenico Romanelli, Susanna Biadene, and Camillo
Tonini, eds., A volo d’uccello: Jacopo de’ Barbari e le rappresentazioni di città nell’Europa del
Rinascimento, exh. cat. (Venice, 1999).
15 As defijined by Patricia Fortini Brown, Venetian Narrative Painting in the Age of
Carpaccio (New Haven/London, 1988), p. 4.
16 See, for example, Andrew Wilton and Ilaria Bignamini, eds., Grand Tour: The Lure of
Italy in the Eighteenth Century, exh. cat. (London, 1996).
In addition to the rich body of visual and textual description from the
early modern period, the city possesses unrivaled archival resources.
Despite the ravages of two fijires in the Doge’s Palace in 1574 and 1577, a
large proportion of the Republic’s written records now fijills the shelves
of the Archivio di Stato, housed in the former Franciscan friary of Santa
Maria Gloriosa dei Frari.18 These codices, ledgers, and fijiles reveal that
state bodies often engaged in lively debate over architectural issues.19
Meanwhile, the institutional patronage of the confraternities and guilds
(the scuole grandi e piccole) is often meticulously recorded, despite some
frustrating lacunae. Just as the elected magistracies of the Republican
government were constantly re-elected, so too the boards of the scuole
rotated annually, leading to bizarre discontinuities in building policy.20
Although relatively few family archives have been preserved, profuse
information on private individuals survives in the notarial records, in
the form of testaments and records of legal disputes.21 These sources are
amplifijied by further caches of documents left by those who entrusted
their afffairs to the Procurators of St Mark’s on the death of the head of
22 Richard J. Goy, The House of Gold: Building a Palace in Medieval Venice (Cambridge,
1992).
23 See, for example, Silvio Tramontin, “La visita apostolica del 1581 a Venezia,” Studi
veneziani 9 (1967), 453–533.
24 Emanuele Cicogna, Iscrizioni veneziane, 6 vols (Venice, 1824–53). Giuseppe Tassini
collated local oral tradition with historical data to inform his lively compendium Delle
curiosità veneziane, fijirst published in 1863, which ran into numerous editions, including
modern reprints.
Print Culture
31 Juergen Schulz, “Vasari at Venice,” Burlington Magazine 103 (1961), 500–10.
32 Bruce Boucher, The Sculpture of Jacopo Sansovino, 2 vols (New Haven/London, 1991,
1:160–62.
33 Giorgio Vasari, Le vite, ed. Gaetano Milanesi, 9 vols (Florence 1878–85), 7:502–03;
English trans. from Giorgio Vasari, Lives of the Artists, vol. 2, trans. George Bull (London,
1987), pp. 325, 328.
34 Christopher Cairns, Pietro Aretino and the Republic of Venice: Researches on Aretino
and his Circle in Venice, 1527–1556 (Florence, 1985).
35 Aretino’s letters were published in Venice in six volumes between 1538 and 1557.
See Ettore Camesasca, ed., Lettere sull’arte di Pietro Aretino, with commentary by Fidenzio
Pertile, 3 vols (Milan, 1957–60). Francesco Marcolini published the fijirst volume of Aretino’s
letters in 1538, as well as books 4 and 3 of Serlio’s treatise on architecture in 1537 and 1540
respectively, and the Liber quinque missarum Adriani Willaert in Venice in 1536. For the
other side of Aretino’s correspondence, also issued by Marcolini in 1551, see Gonaria Floris
and Luisa Mulas, eds., Lettere scritte al signor Pietro Aretino da molti signori (Rome, 1997).
On Marcolini, see Paolo Procaccioli, Paolo Temeroli, and Vanni Tesei, eds., Un giardino
per le arti: Francesco Marcolino da Forlì, la vita, l’opera, il catalogo, Atti del Convegno
internazionale di studi, Forlì, 11–13 ottobre 2007 (Bologna, 2009).
36 Francesco Colonna, Hypnerotomachia poliphili (Venice, 1499); idem, Hypnerotomachia
Poliphili: The Strife of Love in a Dream, trans. Joscelyn Godwin (London, 1999).
37 Marcus Vitruvius Pollio, De architectura, ed. Fra Giovanni Giocondo (Venice, 1511).
38 This edition seems to have been well received, for it was republished in Venice in
1535.
39 John Onians, Bearers of Meaning: The Classical Orders in Antiquity, the Middle Ages,
and the Renaissance (Princeton, 1988), pp. 263–309; Christof Thoenes, ed., Sebastiano Serlio
(Milan, 1989); Myra Nan Rosenfeld, Serlio on Domestic Architecture (New York, 1997).
Figure 20.2. Sebastiano Serlio, The Five Orders of Architecture from his Book IV,
the Regole generali dell’architettura (Venice, 1537).
the Loggetta—that were rising in Piazza San Marco in the same years.40
Later, Andrea Palladio created the woodcuts for Daniele Barbaro’s Italian
translation of Vitruvius in 1556, providing a canonical version of Vitruvian
theory.41 Palladio’s I quattro libri dell’architettura (1570) refijined the legacy
of Serlio, presenting his own portfolio of domestic designs alongside the
works of antiquity.42
In 16th-century architectural culture, the printed treatise furnished a
body of theoretical knowledge that continually interacted with practice.43
The use of the vernacular, the role of images, and the relative cheap-
ness of the editions allowed architectural theory to permeate down the
social scale. No longer the preserve of princes, churchmen, and humanist
scholars, architectural theory became accessible to the educated public,
the architect, and even the proto [supervisor of building works]. More-
over, the printed treatise embodied the authority of the editio princeps:
the unchanging consistency to be found in every copy of each edition,
ready for annotation by the owners who formulated their own responses
as marginalia. Although theory and practice followed parallel tracks, each
with its own narrative, at the same time information and ideas passed
continually to and fro between them. The ultimate victory of classicism
over the Gothic style in Venice was assured by its support in print cul-
ture. Subsequently, the treatises of Scamozzi, Bertotti Scamozzi, and Mili-
zia developed the orthodox classicism of Palladio from an increasingly
academic perspective.44
40 The Mint (Zecca) was begun in 1536, the Library in 1537, and the Loggetta in 1538.
Deborah Howard, Jacopo Sansovino: Architecture and Patronage in Renaissance Venice
(New Haven/London, 1987), pp. 8–47; Manuela Morresi, Jacopo Sansovino (Milan, 2000),
pp. 182–227.
41 I dieci libri dell’architettura di M. Vitruvio, trans. and ed. Daniele Barbaro (Venice,
1556). The publisher was Francesco Marcolini.
42 Andrea Palladio, I quattro libri dell’architettura (Venice, 1570).
43 Jean Guillaume, ed., Les traités d’architecture de la Renaissance (Paris, 1988); Vaughan
Hart and Peter Hicks, eds., Paper Palaces: The Rise of the Renaissance Architectural Treatise
(New Haven/London, 1998).
44 Vincenzo Scamozzi, L’idea della architettura universale, 2 vols (Venice, 1615); Ottavio
Bertotti Scamozzi, Le fabbriche e i disegni di Andrea Palladio (Vicenza 1796); Francesco
Milizia, Le vite de’ più celebri architetti d’ogni nazione e d’ogni tempo, precedute da un saggio
sopra l’architettura (Rome, 1768); idem, Principi di architettura civile (Finale [Vicenza],
1781). See also Daniel McReynolds, Palladio’s Legacy: Architectural Polemics in Eighteenth-
Century Venice (Venice, 2011).
Typologies
More than that of any other Italian city, the architecture of Venice lends
itself to study by typology. During the last four centuries of the Republic,
building plans and typologies changed little, for the exorbitant cost of
new foundations discouraged radical changes in plan. At the same time,
social conventions, both private and public, remained far more constant
than in many other Italian cities, reducing the need for new spatial
arrangements. During the 20th century, the study of typology became a
favorite practice of Modernist architects and critics, who sought universal
themes based on the search for truth to function.45 Yet typology is not
an invention of Modernism. From antiquity onwards, treatise writers—
including Vitruvius, Alberti, Palladio, and Scamozzi—tended to organize
their chapters typologically. Similarly, Francesco Sansovino’s guide of 1581,
while arranging the religious buildings by geographical area, discussed
most of the other monuments according to their type.
The most distinctive typology in the townscape was the Venetian palace,
although in deference to republican values, only the palaces of the doge
and the patriarch were given the denomination of palazzo. Meanwhile,
the rest of the patrician homes—however magnifijicent—were known as
case [houses]. In 1549, a Welsh visitor admired the profusion of palaces
that lined the banks of the Grand Canal, remarking that “in Venice be
above 200 palaces able to lodge a king.”46 The façade of the palace defijined
its public identity, striking a delicate balance between individuality and
conformity. It is now clear that the wealthiest cittadini occupied houses
that resembled those of rich members of the patrician class, while many
patricians lived in relatively impoverished circumstances.47 The constant
subdivision of family patrimony over the generations, combined with the
decline in overseas trade, whittled away the wealth of many Venetian
noble lines. During the last two centuries of the Republic, however, a num-
ber of rich new families were admitted to the offfijicially “closed” nobility,
and their effforts to create a sense of lineage and assert their integration
stimulated some of the notable design innovations in the period. At the
same time, many formerly powerful clans witnessed the fragmentation of
45 Nikolaus Pevsner, A History of Building Types (London, 1976). Richard J. Goy, Venice:
The City and its Architecture (London, 1997) adopts a typological framework.
46 William Thomas, The History of Italy (1549), ed. G. B. Parks (Ithaca, 1965), p. 65.
47 Blake de Maria, Becoming Venetian: Immigrants and the Arts in Early Modern Venice
(New Haven/London, 2010).
48 Paolo Maretto, La casa veneziana nella storia della città: Dalle origini all’Ottocento
(Venice, 1986), pp. 76–139 (with useful plans); Goy, Venetian Vernacular Architecture,
pp. 126–35; Dorigo, Venezia romanica, v1:298–333, 352–95; Juergen Schulz, The New Palaces
of Medieval Venice (University Park, Pa., 2004), pp. 10–21.
49 The term casa fondaco, suggesting a hybrid between the house and the warehouse,
is a 20th-century term (Richard Goy’s variation, “palazzo-fondaco,” as introduced in his
Venetian Vernacular Architecture, p. 123, has not gained wide acceptance). On the use
of palaces for storing merchandise, see Howard, Venice & the East, pp. 133–37; for an
alternative interpretation, see Schulz, The New Palaces, pp. 23–27.
50 Elena Bassi, Architettura del Sei e Settecento a Venezia (Naples, 1962); eadem, Palazzi
di Venezia: Admiranda urbis Venetae (Venice, 1976).
51 Brian Pullan fijirst analyzed the social functions of the scuole in his seminal work, Rich
and Poor in Renaissance Venice (Oxford, 1971); brief histories of the important scuole are
charted in the catalogue of Brown’s Venetian narrative painting. Sohm, The Scuola Grande
di San Marco, gives a useful account of the architectural functions of the Scuola grande
on pp. 50–79.
52 See the chapter on the “Scuole grandi” in Manfredo Tafuri, Venezia e il Rinascimento:
Religione, scienza, architettura (Turin, 1985), pp. 125–54; in English as Venice and the
Renaissance, trans. Jessica Levine (Cambridge, Mass./London, 1989), pp. 81–101.
53 Deborah Howard, “La Scuola Grande della Misericordia di Venezia,” in Fabbri, ed.,
La Scuola Grande, pp. 13–70, on p. 41.
54 The study of the architecture of the religious orders is still patchy. No parallel exists
for the early modern period to Herbert Dellwing’s studies of the mendicant orders in
the Veneto: Studien zur Baukunst der Bettelorden im Veneto: die Gotik der monumentalen
Gewölbebasiliken (Berlin, 1970) and Die Kirchenbaukunst des späten Mittelalters in Venetien
(Worms, 1990). A valuable contribution on the Observant Franciscans is Antonio Foscari
and Manfredo Tafuri, L’armonia e i conflitti: La chiesa di San Francesco della Vigna nella
Venezia del ’500 (Turin, 1983). Even such well-studied orders as the Jesuits have been
relatively little explored in the case of Venice. See Mario Zanardi, “I ‘domicilia’ o centri
operativi della Compagnia di Gesù: Venezia,” in Mario Zanardi, ed., I Gesuiti e Venezia:
Momenti e problemi di storia veneziana della Compagnia di Gesù (Padua, 1994), pp.
97–153; Howard, Venice Disputed, pp. 109–10. Much valuable information on the Counter
Reformation orders, though not specifijically concerning architecture, is to be found in
William L. Barcham, The Religious Paintings of Giambattista Tiepolo: Piety and Tradition in
Eighteenth-Century Venice (Oxford, 1989).
Architectural Hierarchy
55 Ennio Concina, Fondaci: Architettura, arte e mercatura tra Levante, Venezia, e Alemagna
(Venice, 1997); Olivia Remie Constable, Housing the Stranger in the Mediterranean World:
Lodging, Trade, and Travel in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages (Cambridge, 2003).
56 Ennio Concina, Ugo Camerino, and Donatella Calabi, La città degli ebrei: il ghetto
di Venezia: Architettura e urbanistica (Venice, 1991); Donatella Calabi, “Gli stranieri e la
città,” in Gino Benzoni and Antonio Menniti Ippolito, Storia di Venezia. Dalle origini alla
caduta della Serenissima, 14 vols (Rome, 1992–2002), vol. 5 (1996): Il Rinascimento. Società
ed economia, ed. Alberto Tenenti and Ugo Tucci, pp. 913–46. Useful historical background
is to be found in Brünehilde Imhaus, Le minoranze orientali a Venezia 1300–1510 (Rome,
1997).
57 Egle Renata Trincanato, Venezia minore (Venice, 1948).
58 As proposed in Goy, Venetian Vernacular Architecture, pp. 150–71. For detailed studies
of traditional middle-rank housing, see Maretto, La casa veneziana; and Dorigo, Venezia
romanica, 1:334–52.
59 Giorgio Gianighian and Paola Pavanini, Dietro i palazzi: tre secoli di architettura
minore a Venezia 1492–1803 (Venice, 1984); Giorgio Gianighian, “Building Castelforte,” ARQ:
Architectural Research Quarterly 9 (2005), 51–68.
66 Pamela O. Long, Openness, Secrecy, Authorship: Technical Arts and the Culture of
Knowledge from Antiquity to the Present (Baltimore/London, 2001), pp. 89–96.
67 Pioneering studies are Ennio Concina, Venezia nell’età moderna: Struttura e funzioni
(Venice, 1989); and Donatella Calabi, “Magazzini, fondaci, dogane,” in Storia di Venezia,
vol. 12: Il mare, ed Tenenti and Tucci, pp. 789–817.
68 Daniele Barbaro, ed., I dieci libri dell’architettura di M. Vitruvio (Venice, 1567),
pp. 463–64.
69 See, for example, Vannoccio Biringuccio, De la pirotechnia: Libri X (Venice, 1540); and
Bonaiuto Lorini, Le fortifijicationi (Venice, 1609).
70 Useful overviews are André Chastel et al., L’architettura militare veneta del
Cinquecento (Milan, 1988); and Ennio Concina and Elisabetta Molteni, La fabrica della
fortezza: L’architettura militare di Venezia (Verona, 2001).
71 See especially the city gates designed by Sanmicheli, analysed in Paul Davies and
David Hemsoll, Michele Sanmicheli (Milan, 2004). On those of Falconetto in Padua, see
Giuliana Mazzi, Adriano Verdi, and Vittorio Dal Piaz, Le mura di Padova (Padua, 2002).
defense against Turkish invasion, never had to prove its military worth,
but its form became celebrated across Europe through maps and engrav-
ings (Fig. 20.4).72 Such was the skill of the military strategists and archi-
tects in the 16th century that fortifijications evolved relatively little over the
next three centuries.
In the last few decades, research into public building in Venice’s over-
seas colonies and on the terraferma has begun to allow a fuller understand-
ing of the ways in which architecture both projected Venetian authority in
the empire and sought the loyalty of the subject peoples.73 As if to afffijirm
the reorientation of the focus of study in this direction, a recent study
of Venetian architecture of the Quattrocento devotes the fijirst third of its
72 A useful introduction to the erection of Palmanova is Silvano Ghironi and Antonio
Manno, Palmanova: Storia, progetti e cartografijia urbana (1593–1866) (Padua, 1993). See also
Howard, Venice Disputed, pp. 193–211 (with further bibliography).
73 See, for example, Maria Georgopoulou, Venice’s Mediterranean Colonies: Architecture
and Urbanism (Cambridge, 2001).
Style
During the fijirst two-thirds of the 20th century, the history of architecture
was treated as a history of style. A useful tool for connoisseurship, style
describes and defijines the visible characteristics manifested by a period,
artistic center, or architect.75 According to this model, tradition becomes
the antithesis of style, that is, the conservative element in culture that
resists stylistic change. Whereas tradition is static through time but varies
geographically, style changes through time but is relatively independent
of regional context. Modifijications in style are led by artistic innovation
from a perceived center, encountering varying degrees of resistance as
they spread out, and this preoccupation with the new has led critics to
attribute negative characteristics to tradition.
Because of the distinctive nature of Venetian building types, fostered
by the conservative reuse of foundations and the relative social stability,
innovations in architectural design tended to concern superfijicial stylistic
changes: from Gothic to Renaissance and thence to Baroque and Rococo.76
Interestingly, all these style names originated with negative connotations.
In Venice, stylistic transformations manifested themselves in the design
of windows, portals, altars, and interior decoration, and it was here that
both artists and patrons concentrated their inventiveness.
Figure 20.7. John Ruskin, The ‘Orders’ of Gothic Architecture, from The Stones of
Venice, 3 vols (London, 1851–3).
Architectural Patronage
83 This is underlined by Ralph Lieberman who chose a Gothic palace for the cover of
his Renaissance Architecture in Venice.
84 These influences are discussed in Howard, Venice & the East; and Bernard Aikema
and Beverly Louise Brown, eds., Renaissance Venice and the North: Crosscurrents in the
Time of Dürer, Bellini and Titian, exh. cat. (London, 1999).
85 See, for example, Howard, Venice & the East; Stefano Carboni, ed., Venice and
the Islamic World, 828–1797, exh. cat. (New York, 2007) (also available in French and in
shortened form in Italian); and Concina, Tempo novo.
86 Dennis Romano, The Likeness of Venice: A Life of Doge Francesco Foscari 1373–1457
(New Haven/London, 2007), pp. 245–53.
87 Sansovino, Venetia città nobilissima, fol. 149r–v.
90 Anna Pizzati and Matteo Ceriana, eds., Tullio Lombardo: Documenti e testimonianze
(Verona, 2008); Alison Luchs, et al., Tullio Lombardo and Venetian High Renaissance
Sculpture, exh. cat. (New Haven/London, 2009). See the fundamental study of Pietro
Lombardo’s life and career by Matteo Ceriana, ‘Lombardo, Pietro’, in Dizionario biografijico
degli italiani, 65 (Rome, 2009), available on-line as http://www.treccani.it/enciclopedia/
pietro-lombardo_(Dizionario-Biografijico)/; and also Deborah Howard, “Space, Light and
Ornament in Venetian Architecture: Pietro Lombardo Reconsidered,” in Blake de Maria
and Mary Frank, eds., Reflections on Renaissance Venice; A Celebration of Patricia Fortini
Brown (Milan, 2013), pp. 94–103.
91 Because the attribution of buildings according to stylistic criteria is more difffijicult
than that of painting and sculpture, relatively few monographs on architects emerged
from the golden age of connoisseurship in the mid-20th century. The large square-format
volumes on published by Marsilio in the late 1960s and early 1970s brought the fijirst modern
architectural monographs on Jacopo Sansovino by Manfredo Tafuri (Padua, 1969) and
Michele Sanmicheli (Padua, 1971) by Lionello Puppi. These volumes drew together existing
knowledge, analyzing the architecture within a framework of Marxist criticism. Excited
by the new possibilities of the telephoto lens, their photographers gave new prominence
to unfamiliar details, but also created some deceptive foreshortening efffects. Meanwhile
the comprehensive researches of Giangiorgio Zorzi led to the publication by Neri Pozza
in Vicenza of four richly documented volumes on Andrea Palladio’s work in Venice and
the Veneto. See below, note 94. The fruits of recent decades of documentary research have
been synthesized in the new series of architectural monographs published by Electa.
92 Vasari, Le vite, 2:434–35, 7:505; Sansovino, Venetia città nobilissima, fol. 144r.
These texts are analyzed in Deborah Howard, “Renovation and Innovation in Venetian
Architecture,” Scroope: Cambridge Architecture Journal 6 (1994), 66–74.
93 Deborah Howard, “Four Centuries of Literature on Palladio,” Journal of the Society of
Architectural Historians 39 (1980), 224–41.
the Royal Institute of British Architects in London.94 The effforts of the Cen-
tro Internazionale di Studi di Architettura in Vicenza, founded in 1958 to
promote the study of Palladio, have not only stimulated academic research
and debate through conferences, seminars, exhibitions, and publications,
but also have encouraged the restoration of long-neglected buildings.
Following in the footsteps of Elena Bassi, other authors have produced
monographs on architects of the 17th and 18th centuries, but although
Scamozzi, Longhena, Gaspari, and Sardi now profijit from new scholarly
research, the situation in the case of individual Settecento architects is more
patchy.95 The interdisciplinary perspective of the pioneering new series,
Storia dell’architettura nel Veneto, promoted by the Palladio center in Vicenza,
offfers a hybrid of thematic, typological and monographic approaches,
launched by the fijirst stimulating volume on Il Seicento in 2008.96
94 Giangiorgio Zorzi, Disegni delle antichità di Andrea Palladio (Venice, 1959); idem, Le
opere pubbliche e i palazzi privati di Andrea Palladio (Venice, 1964); idem, Le chiese e i ponti di
Andrea Palladio (Vicenza, 1966); idem, Le ville e i teatri di Andrea Palladio (Vicenza, 1969).
95 Bassi, Architettura. On Scamozzi, see especially Franco Barbieri and Guido
Beltramini, eds., Vincenzo Scamozzi. 1548–1616, exh. cat. (Venice, 2003). On Longhena, see
in particular, Andrew Hopkins, Santa Maria della Salute: Architecture and Ceremony in
Baroque Venice (Cambridge, 2002; published in English by Yale University Press); Martina
Frank, Baldassare Longhena (Venice, 2004); and Andrew Hopkins, Baldassare Longhena
(1597–1682) (Milan, 2006). A useful short study is Paola Pifffaretti, Giuseppe Sardi architetto
ticinese nella Venezia del Seicento (Bellinzona, 1996). For the 18th century, Antonio Massari,
Giorgio Massari architetto veneziano del Settecento (Vicenza, 1971) offfers general coverage.
A recent update is provided by Martina Frank, ed., Da Longhena a Selva: Un’idea di Venezia
a dieci anni dalla scomparsa di Elena Bassi (Bologna, 2011).
96 De Amicis, ed., Il Seicento.
97 The fundamental study of this topic is Patricia Fortini Brown, Venice and Antiquity
(New Haven/London, 1996).
98 Aretino, Lettere sull’arte, 2:321–22.
99 Brown, Venice and Antiquity, pp. 11–45.
100 Gaius Suetonius Tranquillus, “Life of Augustus,” in The Twelve Caesars, trans. Robert
Graves (Harmondsworth, 1957), pp. 51–108, ch. 28 on p. 66.
101 On the iconography of the “Myth of Venice,” see especially Rosand, The Myths of
Venice.
102 See especially Howard, Jacopo Sansovino, pp. 8–47; Manfredo Tafuri, ed., “Renovatio
Urbis”: Venezia nell’età di Andrea Gritti, 1523–1538 (Rome, 1984); Manuela Morresi, Piazza
San Marco: Istitutioni, poteri e architettura a Venezia nel primo Cinquecento (Milan, 1999);
Morresi, Jacopo Sansovino, pp. 182–227.
that the full-blown classicism of Sansovino’s design for the Scuola Grande
della Misericordia overstepped the social rank of a confraternity of citta-
dini and that this failure of decorum may account for its unfijinished state.103
At the same time, it could be argued that this remarkable statement of
artistic ambition by the citizen class may have itself stimulated the patri-
cian oligarchy to initiate the renovatio in Piazza San Marco a few years
afterwards.
Whereas “imperial” architectural projects were mainly confijined to
Piazza San Marco and the Grand Canal, on peripheral sites the myth of
the simplicity of the fijirst settlers encouraged a simpler mode of expres-
sion. A crucial text for the ideals of republican architecture was the letter
of the Roman offfijicial Cassiodorus, written in 537 c.e., which claimed that
all Venetians “have abundance only of fijish; rich and poor live together
in equality. The same food and similar houses are shared by all; where-
fore they cannot envy each other’s hearths and so they are free from the
vices that rule the world.”104 Mentioned by Sanudo and published in
full in Sansovino’s guidebook of 1581, Cassiodorus’s text orchestrated the
“memory” of the city’s foundation myth.105 Even wealthy members of the
ruling elite sought to emulate the simple lagoon life in their palaces on
the margins of the city—the palaces of Doge Andrea Gritti, the Senator
Leonardo Moro and Doge Leonardo Donà (Fig. 20.8) all display reticent
exteriors in local vernacular language.106
Ever since the fijirst edition of Pompeo Molmenti’s lively work La storia di
Venezia nella vita privata, fijirst published in 1880, curiosity about life within
the walls of Venetian houses has continued to grow.107 The difffijiculty in
gaining access to domestic interiors, combined with the need to subdivide
and modernize dwellings has highlighted the threat to the preservation
110 Guido Beltramini and Howard Burns, eds., Andrea Palladio e la villa veneta da
Petrarca a Carlo Scarpa, exh. cat. (Venice, 2005).
111 Goy, Venetian Vernacular Architecture, pp. 172–250; Patrick Monahan, “Sanudo and
the Venetian villa suburbana,” Annali di architettura 21 (2009), 45–64.
112 Edoardo Demo, “Le attività economiche dei committenti vicentini di Palladio.
Nuove suggestioni sulla base dei recenti ritrovamenti archivistici,” in Franco Barbieri
et al., Palladio 1508–2008: Il simposio del cinquecentenario (Venice, 2008), pp. 25–28.
113 Brian Pullan, “The Occupations and Investments of the Venetian Nobility in the
Middle and Late Sixteenth Century,” in J. R. Hale, ed., Renaissance Venice (London, 1974),
pp. 379–408, on pp. 388–89; Lucia Bullian, “La villa come centro di credito rurale: il caso dei
Barbaro a Maser,” in Renzo Derosas, ed., Villa: Siti e contesti (Treviso, 2006), pp. 211–20.
The impact of the fall of the Republic on ecclesiastical life has already
been mentioned, and its full implications must be carefully borne in mind,
for it was at this point that the understanding of the functions of diffferent
types of churches fell into near oblivion. In the early years of the 19th
century, some churches were transformed into sterilized art-historical
“monuments”: the church of Santa Maria dei Miracoli, for instance, was
stripped of all its nave altars and post-Quattrocento fijittings.114 Others were
converted into factories, munition stores, or prisons.115 Churches designed
for use by mendicant friars, such as the Frari, San Francesco della Vigna,
and the Redentore, became parish churches, while many altarpieces were
either removed or transferred to other locations. The effforts of medieval
Venice to fashion itself as a Holy City—the fijirst stage on the pilgrimage to
Jerusalem—were forgotten, as relics and precious liturgical objects were
moved or lost.116
At the same time, St Mark’s became the cathedral of Venice in 1806,
a function formerly held by the church of San Pietro di Castello on the
eastern margins of the city. Originally both a palatine chapel and a shrine
for the evangelist’s body, the building of St Mark’s had been modeled on
the Justinian church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople (destroyed
in 1457). As Martino da Canal remarked in the later 13th century, “hav-
ing built such a beautiful church, the Venetians decided that it should be
embellished every year for ever and ever, and this is what they do.”117 Thus
the church, though deeply rooted in Byzantine tradition, was continually
modifijied by later accretions and alterations that continued throughout the
lifetime of the Republic. In the 16th century, a major modifijication to the
interior was implemented by the proto Jacopo Sansovino at the request of
114 Deborah Howard, “The Church of the Miracoli in Venice and Pittoni’s ‘St Jerome’
altar-piece,” Burlington Magazine 131 (1989), 684–92.
115 Alvise Zorzi, Venezia scomparsa, 2 vols (Milan, 1977).
116 Howard, Venice & the East, pp. 189–216.
117 Cited in Howard, Venice & the East, p. 99.
Doge Andrea Gritti.118 Overweight and sufffering from gout, Gritti became
unable to climb the steep narrow stairs to the octagonal porphyry-rimmed
pulpit just outside the rood-screen. In consequence, Sansovino installed a
new ducal throne in the chancel, surrounded by new seating for the high-
est dignitaries of state. The clergy were thus forced to move to the back
of the chancel near the high altar. The transfer of the ducal party into the
presbytery gave added sanctity to the role of the doge.
Recent attention to the relation of liturgy to its architectural setting has
opened up new approaches to the study of ecclesiastical space.119 Inves-
tigations into institutional patronage, complemented by new research in
religious history, have encouraged a more interdisciplinary approach to
research in ecclesiastical architecture. Church interiors may now more
easily be viewed as settings for devotional practices and cults, their spaces
brought to life by music and liturgy. The interaction between lay and reli-
gious patronage, too, informs the study of tombs and monuments, cha-
pel decoration and works of art. Francesco Sansovino’s list of the ducal
andate—the doge’s annual visits to 11 particular churches—highlights
their former prominence in the liturgical calendar, but even the surviv-
ing ceremonial books are often tantalizingly reticent about the spatial
choreography of these visits.120 Lively snippets in Sanudo’s diaries record
some of the uses of individual churches, and the apostolic and patriar-
chal visitations of the Counter Reformation help to reconstruct devotional
practices, but the positions of musicians, clergy, and singers are not easily
disentangled.121
* * *
Venice and the Veneto offfer unrivaled opportunities to the architectural
historian in their historic patrimony and rich archival resources. The
profusion of research over the last few decades has opened up new
approaches, ranging from micro-history to broader thematic studies, and
from theoretical enquiries to surveys of building fabric. But architectural
history is far more than the history of architecture: in urban life it is the
118 Deborah Howard, Sound and Space in Renaissance Venice: Architecture, Music,
Acoustics (New Haven/London, 2009), pp. 26–42, with further bibliography.
119 Jorg Stabenow, ed., Lo spazio e il culto: Relazioni tra l’edifijicio ecclesiale e il suo uso
liturgico dal XV al XVII secolo (Venice, 2006); Iain Fenlon, The Ceremonial City: History,
Memory and Myth in Renaissance Venice (New Haven/London, 2007); Howard and Moretti,
Sound and Space.
120 Sansovino, Venetia città nobilissima, fols. 193v–206v.
121 Howard and Moretti, Sound and Space.
setting for all human activity, and it is the potential to weave architecture
into the warp of broader historical discourse that creates exciting research
possibilities for the young scholars of the future.
A Note on Sources