William Walcot (British, b. Ukraine, 1874–1943), Venetian Boatyard, 1914. Etching on paper, 4 1/4 x 7 1/16 inches.
Jundt Art Museum, Gonzaga University; The Bolker Collection: Gift of Norman and Esther Bolker, 1984.5.317.
A
few of his notes on sites and
vistas depicted in the show may
suggest sympathy with sensibilities the
old Grand Tourists might have shared.
”
In the Pantheon it was pleasant,
looking up to the circular opening,
to see the clouds flitting across it,
sometimes covering it quite over,
then permitting a glimpse of sky, then
showing all the circle of sunny blue .
. . the great slanting beam of sunshine
was visible all the way down to the
pavement, falling upon motes of dust
. . . Insects were playing to and fro in
the beam, high up toward the opening.
There is a wonderful charm in the
naturalness of all this, and one might
fancy a swarm of cherubs coming
down through the opening and sporting
in the broad ray . . .
Nathaniel Hawthorne
The Pantheon, May 1, 1858
36
ART CHOWDER MAGAZINE
Clifford Isaac Addams (American, 1876–1942), The Great Square in Venice, 1942. Etching on
paper, 7 7/8 x 14 3/4 inches. Jundt Art Museum, Gonzaga University; Gift of Dr. and Mrs. Paul
Manoguerra in honor of Margaret Manoguerra, 2018.1.
Venice was essentially spared during the ravages on WWII. This view, included here in
reference to the Henry James quotations at the top of the article, is of the famous Carnival
there, though perhaps less populated than normal.
”
The mediæval fortress, with its antiquity of more than a thousand years, and having
dark and deep dungeons of its own, is but a modern excrescence on the top of
Hadrian’s tomb.
We now ascended towards the upper region, and were led into the vaults which used
to serve as a prison . . . We crept down to them through narrow and ugly passages,
which the torch-light would not illuminate . . . into a small, vaulted room – not a
room, but an artificial cavern, remote from light or air, where Beatrice Cenci was
confined before her execution. . . . All these prison vaults are more horrible than can
be imagined without seeing them . . .
Castel S. Angelo, March 25, 1858