Nuovi territori: Natura sull’ Acqua

Since fate forces me to go elsewhere, the grief of leaving you, o beautiful nest, continually grows within me and weighs me down… from that tranquil and fair Adria, unequaled by any other in the things that adorns paradise on earth; from those golden mansions of marble and carved stone built upon the waters in such a manner that the sea quietly returns to contemplate their exceeding beauty; and thus send its waves, purged of their fury, to irrigate the noble city, queen of the seas, upon the seas ensconced, at whose feet the water humbly subsides, and by varied and torturous channels flows through her along countless paths…

The entire world comes to admire her as a unique miracle in nature, more beautiful for those who linger to gaze at her, and, without encircling walls, a site more inaccessible than a fortress, strong and safe though unarmed. To Adria I return with my innermost and devoted thought… Chapter 22, Terze Rime. Veronica Franco

Nuovi Territori: Natura sull’Acqua

The myriad faces of Venice have perpetually been the source of both fantasy and fiction. Known as Virgin Queen and Courtesan, the city is portrayed as an idealistic landscape. In chapter XXII of Terze Rime, renowned poet and courtesan Veronica Franco personifies the relationship between stone and water as that of Adria[1] and Neptune who are involved in an intimate and indispensable love affair that defines all aspects of place. Their union can be traced in the erosion of Piazza San Marco’s marble from its constant flooding and in the decayed wooden piles that mark the passages for boats. -It seems impossible to interrupt such a narrative that filters through archways, loggias, columns and canals.

In this context, architecture must be ephemeral:  a veil suspended from the very foundation of the city.  Like Venice it must rise from piles. Veronica Franco represented Venice as a liberated or depraved city according to the whims of the nobles of her time. Architecture must be perceived similarly: at times as a chameleon blending in with its surroundings and at others it must stand in stark contrast. It must belong to both the city and the sea, for it could not exist otherwise. It is architecture born of the absorption and not just adoption of customs and beliefs. This mask must be worn forever; it must become the illusion that is seen reflected in the mirror-like surface of the water every morning.

We propose a garden married to the sea[2]; another layer added to the complex network of channels that carve their way through the lagoon. Connected by water, it is a garden unlike any other. Rising from the surface as it does by San Giorgio Maggiore or by the Isola di San Michele, it is a place where the fisherman ties his nets, the birds make their nests, and wisteria hangs from the canopies that offer cool relief from the sweltering heat of the summer. Passages of wooden decks create markets one day and simple meandering paths the next. Crops are grown on waves. Venice is truly irrigated by the sea. The symbiosis that characterizes the mainland now permeates the waters. The sea no longer admires the golden mansions of marble; it inhabits them.

The introduction of the garden will naturally be questioned.  Though hesitant at first, eventually Venetians will come to feel as much a part of it as they do of the stones that