Description
Everything here has turned to silhouette. The resting gondolas, lined up between their mooring posts, raise their prow ironwork like a row of calligraphic signs; the lanterns on the quay, unlit or barely lit, trace their iron arabesques against the sky; and the lagoon, smooth, takes on the exact tint of the sunset, from copper to powdery pink. On the horizon, the opposite shore stretches into a thin dark band from which the dome of a church emerges, a discreet landmark in the blaze. Only a small boat, far out, still animates the surface. The photograph plays on this suspended moment when Venice ceases to be architecture and becomes a shadow theatre: the gondolas, relieved of their function, become pure forms once more, and the whole city seems to await the night in a silence the image lets us sense.
