April 20, 2008 2:53 PM
Surreal. The sensory delight. The beauty of the decaying buildings amongst the gilded ones and the sounds of music and crowds and water water water. A thin man with a soprano voice singing opera on the street for coins. A woman laying motionless, face down on the street and arms spread above her head begging. The art museums and galleries everywhere. The sheer crush of life in delirium. A dog on a bow of a boat motoring by in the seeming chaos of big water taxis and gondolas. Peggy Guggenheim’s house and grave site. Massive outdoor cafes. The smile of recognition when I see posters for a concert of Fred Frith ! (I met him when he played on the Swans “The Burning World” album.) I find this “Ode To V” wondrous, sinister, elegant, fantasy, laughter ,tears, trickery, orderly, madness. It is the echo of Hemingway and Proust. ! It is Venice.