to view or the John Hall Venice 2015 Student Newsletter

JOHN HALL
VENICE
2015
NEWSLETTER
Venice: What Not to Expect
Before coming on the John Hall Course I was, as I like to put it, a Venetian Virgin, in the sense that I
had never actually been to Venice. Nevertheless, as I sat on the kitchen sofa at home (Rutland) the
day before departing, my mother asked me that classic mummyish question: ‘so darling, what do you
think you’ll get out of the course?’ Being an adolescent, I scoffed at the question, and mumbled
something provocative about canals. In other words, after having heard so much praise for the
‘hallowed’ John Hall course, and that place called Venice – a jumped up town in a swamp – I was
feeling a little cynical. My only response to this now, is more fool me.
There are three things which have really taken me by surprise on John Hall, each of which can only
really be understood if you know Venice, and indeed the course itself. The first of these surprises is
more obvious, this is that John Hall is about as good a dry run for university as you can find. By this
I’m not so much referring to the lectures – which are a fabulous intellectual background for any
prospective student – but more the social aspect of the course. For in Venice you are thrown together
with a group of strangers, some British, some not, with whom you have to spend approximately a
term together, in a strange place, all within a vaguely academic context. After the restriction and
padding of school life, the course truly enables you to fulfill the gap yah cliché and ‘find yourself’
within in a new set of boundaries which mirror those of university life far more accurately.
The second surprise was spiritual (and don’t worry, I’m not going to perform the complete gap yah
experience and start banging on about Bali, and how indie it is to be Hindi). The surprise was simply
this: that given the sheer amount of religious iconography and architecture, painted and built by the
masters of their day that you see on the course, you inevitably find yourself thinking much more
profoundly about their subject. I realise that this may sound a bit melodramatic, but until you are
standing in front of Titian’s burning of St Lawrence, or face to face with the tomb of St Mark, the
disciple, this emotion is difficult to express.
Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, the sense of community on the course is rather special. Venice
is a small place, and the angle family within it is even smaller. Very quickly you find yourself absorbed
into the eclectic trilby sporting, chord wearing world of the expatriate. Whether swaying to blues in
Geoffrey Humphries’ glittering studio, painting, or booming out sturdy protestant hymns in St George’s
on Sunday, it is a colourful world; a world which keeps the best of Britain (tea and terriers) but then
reverts to Italy for almost everything else - wine being a key example. But what makes this community
all the more exciting is its link with the past. Beyond the gorgeous lapis lazuli of Nigel McGilchrist’s
egg tempura demonstrations, or steaming cappuccino in Lord True’s favourite coffee shop, one can
still spy a flannelled Henry James, honorary Brit, sauntering across St Marks on a sunny morning, a
red whiskered Ruskin discreetly painting a palazzo, Shelley eulogising under a bridge, or Byron
himself nipping down a side alley, wolfhound following conspicuously behind.
So with all due respect to a former self, still sat skulking about in Rutland, feigning insight, I hadn’t got
a clue idea what to expect.
Floreat Venezia!
Rory
An Introduction into British Society
The London Week of the John Hall Course flew by in an exciting blur of tube rides, drinks, and
absolutely amazing art. I remember flying into Heathrow feeling very jet lagged from my transatlantic
journey and meeting my wonderful and welcoming host family, the Essers. Their hospitality throughout
that entire week, hosting me and my new “mate” Harriet, was really extraordinary, and I am so grateful
to them for all their help.
At first, I was a little nervous about being one of only three Americans on the course, but everyone
was so friendly and we all got along instantly. After meeting all my new British friends in the beautiful
National Gallery, we listened to some very interesting lectures given by experts in the fields of art,
history, and restoration. Throughout the week, we also listened to lectures on current topics like the
Arab World today and Climate Science to help us look at art and at the world differently. All of these
outstanding lectures were further complemented by exclusive visits to places like the Tate Modern, the
Royal Collection, Christie’s, and the architecture studios of Rogers Stirk & Harbour. It’s safe to say that
I left London feeling very cultured, knowledgable, and excited to learn about art in Venice!
My favorite part of the London Week however, was exploring the city and bonding with the lovely
people that I would spend the next six weeks with. Despite being a bit disoriented by their driving on
the wrong side of the road and shivering from the brisk London weather, I loved all that the beautiful,
historic city had to offer. I became a tube master, shared some drinks at the pub, and began to
understand when my friends used words like “sorted” and “banter”. I expect to return to North
Carolina with a whole new vocabulary of British slang and an unsatisfied, deep craving for lunch at
Pret. Overall, the location, the art, and especially the people on the John Hall course made for a
wonderful, exciting week of fun that I will never forget.
Moira
Masks, have a ball..
When we all piled off the water-taxi from the airport, laden with luggage and dusted with tiredness,
little did we know that Carnival – the biggest festival of the year – was just kicking off.
To be perfectly candid: I'm a lover of beautiful things, and little did I know that I was about to be faced
with some of the most beautiful masks that I have ever seen. In fact, thank goodness for the masks!
For thanks to them, I managed to smile even during the freezing acqua altas we experienced on the
first week, since masks could be found on every street corner - some expensive, some cheap, but all
beautiful. I couldn’t help myself, and am rather guilty to admit that I settled for a conservative six(!) This
is of course to illustrate the beauty of the masks, and not my complete lack of self control...
Out of the six – one gold, one black, two multicoloured, a yellowypink and pink - the pink is by far my favourite:
But now to business. Masks have always been a prominent feature
of the Venetian carnival. Traditionally people were allowed to wear
them between St. Stephen's Day on December 26th, and the start of
the Carnival at midnight on Shrove Tuesday. However, considering
that masks were also allowed on Ascension and from October 5th to
Christmas, people could spend a lot of the year in disguise, which,
as Don Giovanni demonstrates, may have been rather useful...
There are many different types of masks, but the most popular are
called the Columbina; these are half-masks, meaning that they only
cover your eyes, nose and upper cheeks, and are often decorated
with gold, silver, glitter, crystals and feathers. Most masks are
attached using a ribbon, although some have a baton which you
hold to your face instead. The Columbina mask is named after a
popular maidservant in the Commedia dell'arte, an adored part of the Italian theatre for generations. It
is said that the mask was designed for the original actress because she did not wish to have her
beautiful face covered completely.
Caroline
Rome, Byzantium and Beyond: San Marco and Ravenna
The common group consensus the morning that we visited the Piazza San Marco was that it was a
rather inauspicious start. Not only were we welly-deep in acqua alta, but also had to contend with hail,
snow and rain. Huddled beneath the pillared peristyle that frames the whole square as our guide for
the morning, Nicholas True, passed around radio headphones, we waved to a group of neon-clad,
selfie-stick holding Japanese tourists, shuffling along the raised planks, their plastic galoshes no match
for the icy tidal waters. Apart from them, it was deserted.
The inside of the basilica - formerly the Doge’s private chapel - is hard to compare to anything else.
One could say that it is a more intact version of the Haghia Sophia in Istanbul, or that the gold
Byzantine mosaics which adorn the ceilings are reminiscent of those at Ravenna, only missing the
distinctive use of blue and the earlier, more naturalistic style of mosaic, or that acoustically it is as
good as anything that can be conjured by modern architects and their 21st century technology. And
all of this would be true, but it is a pale comparison. Coming back the same evening, with the lights
being slowly turned on, enabled us to appreciate this even
more.
For it is only by looking at the building itself and its
surroundings, that the whole import of this fantastically
grandiose private chapel can be fully understood. The walls,
both interior and exterior, are decorated with ancient marbles
taken from Constantinople, which in turn had been taken
from Ancient Rome. It was therefore emblematic of the way
the Venetian Republic wished to be seen: as the direct heir
of both Ancient Rome and Byzantium, with one foot in the
West and one in the East. It is of course attached to the
Doge’s Palace, but the surprising thing about both buildings
is that neither of them are fortified at all, contrary to the great majority of governmental buildings in
Europe built at the time.
When we saw the two great pillars in the square, one with the winged lion, symbol of the Venetian
Republic, and the other with the statue of Saint Theodore, patron-saint of Venice before Saint Mark,
we understood that the entire square was not only a collective show of political power, but also that
the buildings and columns had been placed in specific places for effect. After all, for centuries St
Marks Square had been the first important sight of Venice that foreign dignitaries had witnessed.
Moreover, the centre of political power being housed in buildings of such beauty, standing unfortified
on the waterfront, would have been a symbol of might like none other.
This was good preparation for going to Ravenna with the Lauritzens, where we had to make the
mental switch from looking for political symbols to religious symbols.
A particular highlight during this day filled with impressive sites was visiting the Mausoleum of Galla
Placidia. Unassuming from the outside, the interior of the Mausoleum is very impressive. The 5th
century mosaics are in remarkable condition: a blue sky with stars, and naturalistic representations of
animals and saints clearly visible, even by torchlight. We had fun deducing which saint was which
from our sometimes patchy knowledge of the Bible.
These mosaics also provided the missing link in our knowledge of the history of mosaic. We now
understood how naturalistic and geometric Ancient Greek and Roman mosaic gave way to Byzantine
iconographic mosaic. At Ravenna, the naturalistic style still remained, but with Byzantine gold halos
around the heads of saints. Of course, of major importance was the Byzantine religious emphasis on
icons, which also contributed to the gradual disappearance of naturalistic depictions, but seeing this
intermediary stage solidified our knowledge.
Visiting San Marco and Ravenna helped us to understand that
buildings and art of previous centuries often have political and
religious meanings that, in our far more secularised Anglo-Saxon
societies, are often not considered as important. Today, rarely are
political buildings signalled with more than classical columns, flags,
and miles of steel. Indeed function often stands over precedence.
In previous centuries, however, it was understood that form, rather
than merely having aesthetic impact, could also symbolically
strengthen function.
Alexia
Which Roman God are You?
With all the classical art and architecture
around in Venice, one cannot go to Venice
without at least wondering, which Roman God
would I have been??
1. When someone says Venice, what do
you think?
4. If you could be any animal what
would you be?
a.
b.
c.
d.
Romance at Piccolo Mondo
One euro Pinot Grigio at wine bar
The lagoon
Venice’s powerful 15th century
empire
e. The moon (...)
a. One with an elaborate mating
ritual
b. Sloth
c. Shark
d. Wasp
e. Panther
2. What is your favourite Titian?
5. What is your favourite food?
a.
b.
c.
d.
e.
a.
b.
c.
d.
e.
Titian’s
Who?
Titian’s
Titian’s
Titian’s
Venus of Urbino
Venus Anadyomene
Danae
Diana and Actaeon
3. What do you want to be when you are
older?
a.
b.
c.
d.
e.
Pornstar
Jog on mate
Michael Phelps
Head of MI6
An astronaut
Spaghetti (lady in the tramp style)
Olives, preferably with a martini
Oysters
Bread and butter
Space cake
6. Where do you most want to go?
a.
b.
c.
d.
e.
Paris
Ibiza
On a submarine
Into a video game
Space
SO ...
Mainly
Mainly
Mainly
Mainly
Mainly
As
Bs
Cs
Ds
Es
= Venus (goddess of love)
= Bacchus (god of wine)
= Neptune (god of the sea)
= Jupiter (god of war)
= Diana (goddess of the moon ((and feminism))
Jemima
Clubbing Correspondent
Venetian nightlife is certainly not underwhelming. I think it’s fair to say that none of us had high
expectations on arrival in the city, but I’m happy to report that they were all exceeded.
Piccolo Mondo is the one and only club in Venice; it plays chart music and you are given a heinously
alcoholic free drink with your 12 euro entry. You are pretty much guaranteed a good time at Piccolo if
you ensure that you head out with a big group of people, and are aware of the sleazy Italian men
who lurk on the side – often sporting Jolly Roger bandanas. My one crucial piece of advice, however,
is to pace yourself with visits to this infamous club, as there is definitely potential for it to become
repetitive, and for one night to merge with the next into a hazy fluorescent jumble.
Beyond Piccolo it is a good idea to experiment with the Venetian nightlife and go elsewhere. You
should really try to take advantage of the partying opportunities during Carnival before it disappears in
mid February. For example, we discovered a warehouse on the Arsenale which was hosting
numerous raves - from techno to retro - throughout the festivities. These are definitely worth visiting
and we all ended up having an extremely good time which provided a great contrast to Piccolo.
Of all the public spaces in Venice, Campo Santa Margarita is really the place to hang out in the
evenings; it has a large variety of lively bars and it is a fantastic place to meet other students from
both the university and other visiting courses. Overall, it is important to remember that there is no such
thing as a dull night in Venice, that is, of course, if you keep your eyes open..
Gigi
Match Report
On arrival in Venice, fresh(ish) from the playing fields of Glenalmond, Stowe, Eton, Shrewsbury,
Winchester, Marlborough, Ampleforth and St Steven’s Episcopal School Texas, the boys soon realised
that a little sport was going to be necessary to maintain their sanity - for whilst Venice is fabulously
beautiful, it is also extremely small.
Unsurprisingly, this sporting enthusiasm manifested itself in football (although there were a few
grumbles that suggestions of dodge ball and winkies were not taken seriously). Soon enough, the
DofE keenos among our number had scoured the maps, and found a suitable space for our revelry in
the Giardini, a series of gardens to the north of the city. After having slogged up there in an
impressive array of kit - including a really rather embarrassing pair of school regulation swimming
trunks, their owner shall remain anonymous - we came across an old AstroTurf, complete with
floodlighting, hidden in a beautiful lakeside wood.
After this initial discovery we regularly returned to the Giardini; consequently we even found some
Italian opposition. The first of these matches was, admittedly, a little embarrassing, with a final score of
13:3 to Italy, with four own goals... However! After some fairly vigorous hitting of the gym, and
inspirational sport-orientated renaissance art viewing, our dream – multi schooled - team did
eventually improve, and finally won a 5:3 victory against a team of local Venetian youths.
Egos reinforced, we all felt marvellous, and trudged back to Hotel Messner feeling like Gods, akin
perhaps even to Michelangelo’s David.
Will
Eggsemplary ...
All art forms have in common thought, skill and an aesthetic. Yet some art forms may be considered
more difficult than others, and we were privileged to have Nigel McGilchrist give us an egg tempera
painting demonstration. It is a way of painting that, for the most part, is a lost art form, practiced only
by a few in the West, and one, that at first glance, seems uncomplicated.
This, as we discovered, was far from the truth. The first difficulty is in obtaining the pigments
themselves, which often only come from a few places in the world, and are thus expensive. Far more
goes into the finished painting than one might suspect from simply looking at it. The wooden panel
must be cut from the tree in a particular way in order to ensure that it does not buckle and split,
thereby destroying the painting. Paint is not directly applied to the wood; but rather onto a smooth
white base on top of the wood itself, the creation of which is time consuming. Then comes the mixing
of the pigments with egg yolk and water to create the paint - a procedure requiring delicacy and
precision, as well as a large supply of tissues to dry hands.
Colour in tempera painting is created by pigment, of course, but also by the layering of colour, and
not always in the way one would suspect. We were shown cross-section scans of famous tempera
paintings, which revealed the complex layering of colours, often four or five colours, which had been
built up to create a final colour which bore little resemblance to the individual layers. The reason for
this is the translucence of the tempera paint. It was then that we understood the level of mastery of
colour and of optics which the artists of the early Renaissance had to have. Theory then gave way to
practice, and we saw not only how the lapis lazuli pigment from Afghanistan became brighter, yet
translucent, when used in paint, but also how gold leaf is applied.
Although tempera paintings may appear simple at first therefore, perhaps lacking in depth when
compared to oil paintings, such a simple surface hides painstaking work, reveals the wealth of the
commissioner, and a masterful knowledge of colour on the part of the artist. It was a reminder to us
all, that even when art strives towards realism, appearance belies reality.
Alexia
Modern Art in Venice, A Foreign Intruder
Marcel Duchamp’s infamous Fountain, an upturned mass-produced urinal, revolutionized the existing
definition of art by changing the relationship between art and craftsmanship. In the wake of WWI
scepticism Duchamp’s stark white urinal, purchased at a regular plumber’s store, turned 90 degrees
and inscribed with R Mutt 1917, cleaved the bond between artistic labour and merit. The meaning of
Duchamp’s work doesn’t depend on toil, and as a result the focus of modern art shifted from an
emphasis on physical craftsmanship to intellectual interpretation.
In Venice, all modern art stands out with the stark whiteness of Duchamp’s fountain against the city’s
historical context. Indeed given the shift caused by this new type of art, Venice initially feels like a
jarring place to examine it. Modern art seems more at home in a place like Berlin, New York or
London, where the constantly evolving, radical nature of urban life mirrors the extraordinary shifts
caused by this new art form. In Venice, however, every facet of life is inseparably linked to
craftsmanship, from mezzanines to masks, gondolas to glass, and, of course, in paintings. Modern art
would appear to contradict the mission of Venice, which is essentially the preservation and exhibition
of historical artifacts. In a city which sees Titian’s Pesaro Madonna as both sacred and the height of
artistic endeavour, surely Duchamp’s suggestion that we should figuratively urinate on art is an insult
which undermines the very existence of Venice?
Despite this initially jarring experience, I am fascinated by the experience of seeing modern art in such
a historic location as Venice. This is because the city offers thousands of examples of artistic
precedence that this new art form ultimately rejected, and conversely, because its presence in Venice
ultimately promotes a deeper understanding of the city’s traditional art. After all, where do fundamental
questions about the meaning of art hit us harder than in a graveyard littered with the elaborate
tombstones of the past? Essentially in Venice we are able to see modern art through the lens of the
past, not just where art is now, but also the extent to which it has changed. For example, when visiting
the Peggy Guggenheim collection and encountering Marini’s Angel of the City, the mock equestrian
statue of a man with an erection sitting on a horse, one cannot help but smile when just down the
canal the Church’s legacy lives on in Titian’s St. Mark Enthroned at the Salute. The mind struggles to
reconcile the two.
Ultimately, the result of this reconciliation is the realization that attempting to assert the truth of one art
type over another is fruitless. Instead of fixating on the definition of art, the observer should try to
evaluate and then admire the extent to which the artwork accomplishes its goal; for that process of
admiration then develops into a general love of artistic perfection of all genres. Therefore by including
collections of modern art in its repertoire, Venice promotes a deeper level of artistic contemplation,
and creates an intellectual atmosphere by which we can all learn to appreciate art as a whole.
Aidan
VENEZIA AND JOHN HALL
Across
3. WHAT SAINT IS THE TRAIN STATION NAMED AFTER?
4. ITALIAN TEACHER
6. BRIDGE THAT CROSSES THE GRAND CANAL
7. WHAT HAPPENED IN 1204?
9. CONSERVATION PROJECT IN VENICE
11. VENETIAN ARTIST BORN IN 1488
12. A POPULAR RELIGIOUS SUBJECT PAINTED BY BOTH TITIAN
AND TINTORETTO
13. VENETIAN ISLAND WHERE GLASS IS MADE
14. MEDIEVAL METHOD OF PAINT
15. POPULAR FORM OF DRESS UP
16. METHOD OF TRANSPORT IN VENICE
18. THE BEST HOTEL IN VENICE
19. A YUMMY DRINK AND FAMOUS ARTIST
Down
1. ARCHITECT WHO WAS A CITIZEN OF
VENICE
2. THE AREA OF VENICE WHERE THE
JOHN HALL COURSE LIVES
5. A TIME OF CELEBRATION IN VENICE
6. INCONVENIENT RISING OF WATER
8. THE NUMBER OF ISLANDS THAT MAKE
UP VENICE
10. THE ONLY CLUB IN VENICE
17. SAINT WITH A SYMBOL OF A LION
Bonnie
Valentinder Day!
As many of us were enjoying life as single Pringles, a large number of the group were eager to
experience the perfect Valentine’s Day in Venice. So here’s the first trick that we learnt - download
Tinder.
After all, Venice is the perfect romantic location, famed for its sunny promenades, meandering canals
and shimmering sunsets, accompanied, of course, by an Italian stallion. February has long been
celebrated as a month of romance and Valentine’s Day is a day to be enjoyed and shared with
another special person - where better a place to find your Valentine? Or so we thought.
This day in particular had been building up for us all, and so, inevitably, the girls rapidly downloaded
the infamous application in hope of finding a dashing suitor to sweep us off our feet. The boys,
however, were not so keen, claiming that ‘señoritas’ do not use Tinder quite so intensely in Italy, and
headed off to Harry’s Bar to drown their sorrows. Indeed, for some Valentine’s Day is exciting, one to
be anticipated; although for others, it can be a somewhat depressing experience, a reminder of yet
another year to be spent in solitude.
But this need not be the case! In the end we all had a tremendous time spent in the bosom of
friendship, without sleazy Italians breathing down our necks.
So, lesson two, dwell on friendships made, eat a heart shaped pizza, and watch Fifty Shades of Grey.
Done.
Annabel
Film, an awakening
Film, the most immediate of art forms, allowed for an enlightening and refreshing change to our broad
yet busy lecture schedule, enabling us to be educated in the ever-evolving importance and impact of
film in everyday society.
Ryan Gilbey, our lecturer, showed us the art of how to ‘read’ film, allowing us to view it in an entirely
different way. To read films we must question them, ask what it is in their aural and aesthetic elements
which affects us so much. Often we broke films down into elements: camera work, set design, music,
actors, directors, and the all-important viewer. We learnt that the vitality of the audience allows the film
in question to come alive - otherwise it cannot be enjoyed. Despite this, however, a film always goes
through the hierarchy of an author, director and viewer. This allows the viewer to enjoy the film relating
to their individual experiences; it may also affect certain people in differing ways.
Equipped with this knowledge, we were able to enjoy and entirely relate to the films shown; from the
politically fuelled Wadjda and The battle of Algiers, to comedies such as Y tu Mama Tambien, Annie
Hall, and that all time classic, La dolce vita. On the other hand, leaving us all disturbed was Jonathan
Glazer’s shocking film Under the skin, which explores gender roles, sexism and the power of lust, all
portrayed controversially. Yet perhaps the most moving and relevant of all the films, for us, was A
Room with a View by James Ivory. With all its similarities to our adventures in Venice, uncanny
resemblances to members of the course, and a young and beautiful Helena Bonham Carter, it made
my favourite film of all time, reminding me and reinforcing some of my fondest memories.
Harri
“Quick! Get your tartan trousers on!”
Venice: A Social Hub
The Grand Tour, popular with eighteenth century aristocrats, could have been considered as an
excuse for young men to “let loose” in the free and slightly naughty atmosphere that Venice, the Las
Vegas of its time, was famed for. Whilst the students on the 2015 John Hall course did not
necessarily choose to journey to northern Italy for the same reasons, there was a certain expectation
that the trip might involve a few drops of *ahem* alcohol and perhaps a couple of visits to the one
and only nightclub in Venice, Piccolo Mondo. Excitement therefore ensued when it was discovered
that Geoffrey Humphries, of life drawing classes’ fame, was to host a party to which we were invited.
Soon, a crowd of twenty- seven Cinderellas glided into his beautiful home. Beguiled by his chic Italian
friends and eagerly devouring the vast selection of canapés on offer we all felt very privileged to have
been invited and thoroughly enjoyed the evening.
By the time half-term came and parents from across the globe were flying into the misty lights of
Venice the students on the course had already established a strong, if slightly inappropriate, bond of
friendship. It was only to be expected that the parents would want to meet the impish “youths” that
their little darlings had been chattering so excitedly about. Thus, generous families promptly sent out
invitations for a whirlwind of drinks, lunches and dinners. These kind offers were received with a
mixture of excitement and slight nervousness; the anticipation for a full meal away from the infamous
Hotel Messner was great. Nevertheless there was an understanding that manners and general social
conduct had not been improved by weeks of eating pizza with fingers and a few rough nights at
Piccolo.
In the girls’ bedrooms, hours were spent carefully considering what type of makeup would work both
to “meet the parents” and answer the siren’s call of Piccolo once dinner was over. For the boys, I am
told, a frantic search for evening attire resulted in multiple tartan trousers making an appearance at the
various festivities. No word yet on how the Italians are taking this sudden change in the fashion
demographic of the city. Thankfully, the hosts were all warm and friendly and welcomed the gaggle of
noisy youngsters with open arms and a Bellini. A sincere thank you to all those who hosted events for
us; we really appreciated all of your generosity and we promise to return from Rome as suave and
sophisticated socialites rather than the somewhat spirited teenagers that we may have appeared at
your parties.
Advice for next year’s group? Never pregame drinks with the parents. They can tell.
Emer
Opera in Venice
From Vivaldi to Giovanni Gabrieli, and Monteverdi to Benjamin Brittain, Venice has been a place of
inspiration for many musicians, contributing to the way that classical music is composed today all over
the world. Venice literally has music springing out from every campo and church – you can’t avoid it.
In the 15th and 16th centuries, music was generally funded by patrons; these patrons where mainly
the church, orphanages and wealthy individuals. Orphanages would seek out talented young people
and train them in the art of music, with Antonio Vivaldi being one of the most famous. He was a
teacher of music at Ospedale della Pieta for 17 years at the beginning of his career. The main church
patron was of course St Marks Basilica: here they would use the choirs from the orphanages and
commission music to be played within the basilica. This was a reflection of the political and economic
power of Venice at the time.
Monteverdi was the mastermind who developed opera from Jacopo Peri who lived in Florence. His
style of music started to move away from religion and started to take on a role of depicting secular
stories. Naturally, this was unsuitable to be played in churches, and so performances started to take
place in private palaces. These buildings were not always suitable to put on increasingly lavish
productions and so the needs of the new operas eventually led to the building of the Fenice in 1792.
As Venice started to fail as an economic and political power, music was no longer funded by the
church or state. Instead, the city became a place where artists came to tap into the particular
atmosphere that is Venice. It could be said that the downfall of Venice started to become reflected in
the music written there as there are a number of composers who wrote their last pieces or died in
Venice - Montverdi and Wagner are good examples. Venice is also the burial place of Russian
composer Stravinsky, who spent a lot of time in the Serenissima. Benjamin Brittain’s opera Death in
Venice was also his last work, and was written after a long stay in a wheelchair pushed around by his
nurse.
We were very lucky to have lectures by Jeremy Sams whose endless charisma and enthusiasm
enlightened every person in the room. His vast knowledge of opera and musicals was fascinating and
it was a great privilege for him to share his passion with us. Over the course of five days we covered
some of the many different themes of opera: relationships, fidelity, forgiveness, jealousy, rage and then
on the final day, the transition from opera to musicals. Over the week we heard extracts from the great
founders of opera:
VERDI - Otello
BEETHOVEN - Fidelio
PUCCINI - La Boheme
RAVEL - L'Enfant et les sortilèges
PURCELL – Dido and Aeneas
…to some of the more modern composers of opera and musicals:
RICHARD STRAUSS - Der Rosenkavalier
ALBAN BERG – Wozzeck
JOHN ADAMS - Nixon in China
LEONARD BERNSTEIN - West Side Story
ANDREW LLOYD WEBBER - Love Never Dies
We were also honoured to have lectures from Peter Phillips, founder of the Tallis Scholars. He gave
us lectures on the development of choral music from the start as plainsong through to the
development of polyphony and the creation of the modern orchestra.
It was a great contrast to the lectures from Jeremy Sams, and provided an insight into a different area
of music, seen from a completely different point of view.
Above all, however, we have come to learn that here is a lot more to music in Venice than Vivaldi’s
wonderful – but rather overplayed – Four Seasons.
Freddy
Veni, Vidi, Vici
177 canals form 118 islands which, when connected by 409 bridges, lead to the city of Venice. With
a church on each island – yes that is 118 churches – Charlie set John Hall 2015 our ecclesiastical
dare: “find the thirteen churches on Venice’s chorus challenge, and there will be a Bellini on me at
Harry’s bar.” Easy, thought the idealism of youth, completely unaware that Charlie probably offered
such a generous reward knowing that the task was impossible.
Nevertheless, one sunny afternoon, my dormie and I set off down the twisting alleys of Venice, without
a map – “who needs a map, Venice is tiny, and we’ve already been here three weeks” – to find the
thirteen churches on the chorus challenge. Did we manage? Yes. But did we learn a few lessons
along the way? Yes. One, never set off in Venice without a map (which was purchased shortly after it
took us two hours to find the first church). Two, ice cream and pizza are necessities for intrepid
travellers to keep going through aforementioned twisting alleys. Three, even Venice’s lesser known
churches are stunning, both in terms of their design, and the works of art which are housed within
them.
Caitlin & Jemima
Cooking and the Contessa
Contessa Enrica welcomed us all with a glass of wine into her trendy apartment overlooking the
beautiful canal. Our cooking skills were greatly put to the test as we were divided into pairs, and
required to prepare different parts of our five course dinner. From seafood spaghetti to a very
delicious tiramisu, we were clueless, but Enrica always found a way to turn it around. There was never
a dull moment when cooking, with Enrica’s constant enthusiasm and her adorable dog, Soya. To our
great amusement we were all stunned when she threw open the windows and flung unwanted food
out into the canal - we just hoped that she wouldn’t throw us out too! Our sessions were the perfect
way to end the day, and I know that we have all come away with great, if not delectable, memories.
Serena & Caitlin
Improbable Postcards
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Georgia & Annabel
A Pastoral Interlude
It is not very often that I associate with the subject of a fresco, be it a camp centurion, flirtatious
nymph or bulbous cherub (sadly now all turned into handbags, in the immortal words of Dudley
Moore). You can therefore imagine my surprise when, on entering the annex to the Villa Valmarana on
our daytrip to Vicenza, I came face to face with a fresco which spoke straight to me. It was a pastoral
scene by Tiepolo, and for once, it seemed to mirror perfectly our situation - or perhaps we mirrored
the fresco?
The truth is that we were in heaven. After weeks spent rattling around the streets of Venice, suddenly
to find ourselves dropped into the ethereal halls of a Palladian villa, corridors leading seamlessly to
arches which in turn melted away into the milky, cyprus haunted landscape beyond, was magical. As I
studied the figures on the wall lounging about in straw hats, occasionally dipping their feet into a
conveniently placed lake, I looked out into the garden and saw the rest of the course reclining on the
lawns, hats shading faces, fountain trickling in the distance. Some things never change.
It seems to me now that it is precisely this sentiment which makes the villas of Palladio feel so
wonderful. For within their sun-baked walls there is a true sense of timelessness, a mellow perfection
which lends these premises a degree of eternity. In that sense, I suppose that the frivolous frescos
succeeded in their aim, for the intangible immortality of the gods which inhabit them becomes
something real on the brick in which they are set.
Rory
The Halls, Father and Son
The John Hall course is a once in a lifetime opportunity. On arriving in Venice you suddenly realise
how lucky you are to be on the course, seeing a new culture, spectacular scenery, and being in one
of the world’s most unique cities. Moreover, the company and mentoring that John and Charlie
provide is an extra comfort to being in a location that you’re not familiar with, as both characters
contrast one another providing a vast knowledge on a variety of topics.
John, Charlie’s father, founded the course in 1964. John is with us every day and always has a great
impact on the students, whether by additional information, conversation, or pointers on where to eat,
drink, and occasionally pray. Every year, early on in the course, John kindly invites small groups of
students to join him in a wine bar. It was there that we really got to know John, and he us, allowing
him an insight into what we would like to do in the future, and the opportunity for us to hear some
cracking anecdotes. Perhaps more importantly though, it was there that we learnt that John is an
exceptionally informed, considerate, and composed individual who gets the best out of everyone, and
whose company we were going to enjoy for six weeks!
Charlie, who also stays in the hotel, we got to know a little earlier when he gave us a series of city
tours in our first week, known by the course vernacular as ‘walkabouts’. From then I knew that we
were going to get on well, for Charlie, like John, is extremely patient – especially relevant after late
nights in – and also caring, offering comfort to anyone with so much as a hint of melancholy. He was
also very good at explaining things simply when visiting museums, exhibitions and galleries - which
was particularly appreciated under the fog of the occasional hangover.
So here I would like to make a special thanks to the indomitable Hall duo for being such fun, so
interesting (without ever being patronising or schooly) and generally, for making our stay on the
course so seamless.
Will
ODE A VENEZIA
A place for the the pauses
Moulded beauty sings silence
Pillared certainty mocks blood lost
In a dark distant violence
Hard graft glitters
Chained souls swim free
Smudged horizons dance, waiting
Remembered rectangle of stone, sun and sea
Time runs lazy, moonlight wanders
Red jasper nods to a hazy
Past, watching power reflected
Slow decline softened by paintstrokes fast
Frozen veins hint hearts on fire
Fifty thousand crafted eaves
Red-lipped, well-hipped sacridity
Kicks convention to the breeze
Revelation is eternalised
A second set in porphyry
The city sounds a hundred echoes
Knowing ripples glint in memory
Rosie
Life’s Little Adventures
Before my stay in Venice, I always figured that in order to get around, you would need a boat. Indeed,
all depictions of Venice tend to be with many canals; what you don't see is the tangle of walkways
and bridges that connect all of the islands which make up the city. Learning to navigate throughout
Venice can be difficult at first. Personally, I recommend trying to get to the churches on the chorus
card; for in addition to taking you through Venice, if you’re the first to visit all the churches on the
card, you get a free drink at Harry’s Bar. However, if you are not interested in going to the churches, I
suggest that you try and find some unexpected shops or a restaurant. For example, trying to find the
Chinese restaurant or a place that serves a full English breakfast were a popular option. For the bold go and explore some of the islands, especially the Lido, where you can rent a bike and ride it down
the island all day. The island of Burano is also very beautiful, where the houses are painted rather
vibrantly. But in general, try and fight the urge to stay in the same section of Venice; you'll find that it’s
a lot smaller than it seems! Enjoy your little adventures.
Max
The Very Golden Oldies
Throughout our stay in Venice, there was invariably one thing which linked the events to which we
were invited; this was prosecco – and plenty of it. After all, what better way to wash down a Titian, a
bit of Tiepolo and a hint of Monteverdi, than with a golden glass of cordially bubbling booze?
Well, the Old John Hall drinks was no exception to this rather wonderful rule, and the mixture of the
golden drink with the company of – what I have slightly cheekily referred to as – the Golden Oldies,
was fabulous. As I noted in my diary early on in the course: ‘it would appear that John Hall is more of
an institution than a course’, and this became apparent to us on meeting the exceptionally hospitable
gang of groovy OJH’s. In fact, they made us feel old! For their enthusiasm, laughter, and spontaneous
bursting into song was far beyond anything that we ‘youths’ could match.
This meeting reinforced something which we had all been feeling for some weeks: that the John Hall
Course is extremely special. Whilst our contemporaries may be raving on the beaches of SEA (South
East Asia), or saving the world in a Sloth Sanctuary, I somehow doubt that they will be flying out again
in 50 years-time for a reunion. Furthermore, only a week after the end of the course, I am already
noticing how it has changed my perception of many previously accepted things. In fact, the huge
increase in my frame of reference has probably changed me permanently.
So, in 50 years time (around the John Hall centenary!!) I am fairly sure that I, God willing, will be one
of the Golden Oldies, dishing out the prosecco…
Rory
Florence: the Lady with the Lamp
Before embarking on the John Hall Course, whenever I previously thought of a Florence it was
invariably of Florence Nightingale, the crinoline clad 19th century British nurse, famed for her
progressive nursing and for carrying a lamp through the crowded wards of the Crimean hospitals. At
first I realise that this might seem worlds away from the dusty town in Northern Italy which is to be the
subject of this article, but on reflection - and leaving crinolines aside - Florence (Nightingale) and
Florence (Firenze) have a lot more in common than I previously supposed…
When our bus rumbled into Florence on the penultimate
week of the course, fatigue was on a high. Indeed our
last few days in Venice had been intense with last
minute gondola rides, island expeditions, and the all
important 'piccolonic' farewell. Moreover, we were all
getting a bit bored of baroque - there, I said it - and
so the prospect of another two weeks intense art
appreciation was getting a bit much for some of the
weaker stomached members of the course.
Nevertheless, we were in for a shock; for Florence,
with its distinctively rustic charm, verdant countryside,
and hourly array of discordant chimes, all
interweaved by the gently flowing Arno, was a
hugely refreshing contrast to Venice. Cabin fever melted
away leaving a much more mellow, sympathetic note among the group.
However, not only were we to find Florence's vibe hugely refreshing to that of Venice, but also it's
artistic tradition. Over the following days, and in the stellar hands of our lecturer Ben Street, we were to
discover that the words 'renaissance' and 'Florence' are practically interchangeable (as I'm sure many
a smarmy art historian has commented before me). Indeed as we loped from baptistery to monastery,
Pitti to Uffizi, Duomo to Accademia and back through chapel and church, we all breathed a heavy
sigh of relief and, simultaneously, drew a deep breath (results in odd hiccuping noise) at the artistic
shift from Venice, and the magnificence of that change. Gone were the scores of chubby cherubs
which adorn the walls of Venice, and in their place were the masterpieces of Lippi and Giotto,
Pisano and Raphael, right up to Botticelli, da Vinci and Michelangelo himself. In
the light of these masters Florence became, to me, a positive
beacon of medieval artistic achievement which seemingly
burned up everything in its path.
At this point, you have most likely either despaired of my
tenuous comparison between Renaissance city and zealous
nurse, or stopped reading altogether. Nevertheless I hope
that I have at least pointed out three basic reasons as to
Florence is great. Firstly, that its general aesthetic restored the
group back to health; Secondly, that its art was stunningly
beautiful; and thirdly, that it was that art which laid the way for
one of the greatest cultural revolutions of all time. Comparison:
nurse, pioneer, light.
Rory
La Fine
Rome. Though once a great empire, an epitome of strength, even a paragon of fortitude, you can
never be fully prepared for your first arrival. In contrast to the dreamy, ethereal and almost gothic
quality of Venice, Rome is positively vibrant, and one cannot help but feel reenergised upon getting
there, particularly after the sweaty and slightly arduous coach journey. As a final week to the John Hall
Course, and with the foreknowledge of an inevitably emotional farewell, I felt it allowed us to embrace
what would be our final romance with Italy’s art history.
Of course, St. Peter’s Basilica, the Pantheon and the Colosseum deserve honourable mentions. The
amount of history, culture and beauty one experiences whilst carefully navigating one’s way through
groups of tourists or selfie-stick sellers is absolutely unreal, and not something you get everyday.
However, what was in my opinion the artistic highlight of our trip, without a doubt, was the Sistine
Chapel. To be in the presence of frescos by one of the most talented sculptors and painters of the
High Renaissance is in itself a privilege, but to have a private visit to see them is indescribable. The
Creation of Adam is the kind of thing you see as a pixelated screensaver, or on a poster of some
wannabe-edgy art student at school. To see it there in all its glory is what made Rome worth it.
The city certainly has other features that make it worth exploring. If you’re up for a night out Art Café,
Vibe or Elle are a good shout. If you’re too wrecked after Babylon (the really good one in Florence,
everyone says go to YAB but don’t it’s properly rancid), then Mood is also alright(ish) and right by the
hotel. I hope that part survives Rory’s censorship, but if not, one night thing I would wholeheartedly
recommend taking advantage of is the dinner at Trattoria Moderna; it is absolutely delicious, there
almost every night, and exactly what you want after a heavy day of sight-seeing and cultureabsorbing.
We ended with an incredible lunch and a spectacular view at Tivoli, and, though we finished on a sad
note, it was a fantastic way to end a fantastic course. If you’re on the fence about whether or not to
do the Rome extension, I would definitely do it – it was the perfect ending.
Michele
PHOTOGRAPHY
ARTWORK
JOHN HALL VENICE
2015
NEWSLETTER
Edited by Rory Fraser & Moira Shepard
Saskia
Thanks to all who contributed their beautiful pictures, articles, and artwork:
Aidan Caitlin Max Caroline Harri Freddy Serena Henry
Michele Poppy Rory Annabel Will Alexia Georgia Tobin Clementine
Emer Jemima Moira Iona Gigi Rosie Arthur Sam
Special Thanks to:
Patrizia, Charlie, and John
for being our fearless leaders and giving us a few short weeks
that we will remember for the rest of our lives.
The John Hall Venice Course
9 Smeaton Road
London
SW18 5JJ
UK
Telephone +44 (0)20 8871 4747
Email - [email protected]
Internet - www.johnhallvenice.com
Bonnie