Coming and going to Venice has been and is ‘the journey’. The journey to the water city, the city of turquoise or leaden skies, with its reflecting buildings and its suspension bridges.
Arriving by train from the mainland, I realize I always look out of the window on my left, the one which opens towards the islands and then the city, with its domes and distant buildings. On the right I can catch sight of the towers and chimneys of the refinery of Porto Marghera. I’ve been thinking about it far-back: the coming book about ‘places’ will be Venice looking right.
Photocopy, gum-print, collage.