'If the form vanishes its root is eternal'

I stare at the sculpture, a detailed armchair made of stone, and realise I have fallen into my own reverie.  Outside of these walls I could be anywhere in the world and not even know it.

I have left behind the Venice of nomad travellers, of the Piazza San Marco, of tacky souvenirs and sweet-talking gondoliers on the other side of the turquoise-coloured Grand Canal.  The buzzing vitality of an entire trade city built on water is no longer, instead replaced by peaceful contemplation and the occasional deep sigh of content.  I don’t feel like a foreigner anymore, such is the serene cocoon of the Peggy Guggenheim Collection. 

Housed in the 18^th century Palazzo Venier dei Leoni, the collection presents American heiress Peggy Guggenheim’s (1898 – 1979) personal collection of 20^th century modern art.  A building of meticulous neo-classical style and Peggy’s home for thirty years, its white stone exterior simultaneously startles and soothes the Byzantine architectural traditions of Venice mostly characterised by the Basilica of Saint Mark.  The reality of Venice is not too far away however; the Palazzo remaining unfinished – never built past the ground floor due to the marshy ground beneath which could not support anymore weight.

After having travelled from Rome, even as an avid art lover, I am sated with frescoes, marble statues and religious iconography.  The Collection offers a welcome breath of fresh air, and as far as my eye can see there are no traces of gold or the Virgin Mary.  Today, under the ownership of the Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation, the Collection stands alongside the Guggenheim Bilbao in Spain and the Guggenheim Museum in New York as one of the finest museums of modern art in the world.

I’ve never been in a Palazzo before.  Like a hidden gem, the immensity of the Collection sneaks up on you.  It might be on the Grand Canal, albeit a quiet part, but I doubt those passing by on the vaporetti (water taxi) and traghetti (gondola taxi) know what they’re missing out on behind the creamy façade that blends seamlessly into the anatomy of Venice. 

Visitors walk the rooms of the Collection like they have a secret.  The Peggy Guggenheim Collection is definitely well known, however, its removal from the tourist ‘triangle’ of the Basilica of Saint Mark, the Rialto Bridge and the Galleria dell’Accademia culls the cultured from the tacky.  Those willing to escape the tourist traps will experience a different side of Venice, one where time slows down to the quiet lapping of canals and where locals actually exist.

The Collection of over 300 objects exhibits an important selection of Cubism (Pablo Picasso, Georges Braque), European abstraction (Piet Mondrian, Vasily Kandinsky), Surrealism (Joan Miró, Salvador Dalí, Max Ernst – whom Peggy was briefly married to) and American Abstract Expressionism (Jackson Pollock, Mark Rothko).  The Solomon R. Guggenheim Foundation also exhibits works given to its Venetian museum since Peggy’s death, as well as long-term loans from private collections – the Gianni Mattioli Collection of Italian Futurism is well worth a look, even if just for the intense use of colour so blinding and exotic it assaults the senses.  

The rooms are littered with plaques detailing aspects of Peggy’s life; most interestingly, the hollowed-insides of a gas heater remain in what was once the kitchen.  While somewhat eerie, there is a sense of connection made between the viewer, standing where Peggy once stood, and her artwork. 

Although modern art may not be valued by some visitors to a country so highly esteemed in thousands of years of history, spaning antiquity and the Renaissance, the Peggy Guggenheim Collection is sure to challenge your perception and interpretation of art.  On the day I visit, a temporary exhibition of the American surrealist and expressionist artist Adolph Gottlieb has just opened, and I am posed the perennial question: is a dot on a canvas really a work of art?

Outside, the Nasher Sculpture Garden provides the perfect backdrop to a mid-afternoon espresso at the Collection’s museum café, the ivy-dripped balcony overlooking the outdoor room in a clever consideration of installation and experimentation.  Visitors freely inspect sculptures, touch them and take photos with them, while others just sit and breathe it all in. 

I could easily forget everything that is outside the walls of the Peggy Guggenheim Collection.  The calm I feel is deep and surreal.  I think I can just hear the faint sound of ‘Gondola! Gondola!’ too. 

Written for a professional writing class in 2010.