This, my sixteenth travel / photo book, features the scenes behind and from beyond what the tourist sees when visiting Venice. Off the beaten path, wandering the backstreets in December, one witnesses how the working class Venetians experience life, work, love and old age.
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The book cover features a half of a sarcastic Italian graffiti seen on a wall near the university. The other half of the saying is on the back cover of the book.
Translated: "Art is dead. Venice is the tomb."
Calli Veneziane – Venetian Backstreets
"For hundreds of years, these small islands on the northern Adriatic Sea have witnessed the invasions of armies, politicians, pirates and tourists. Over six million tourists walked ashore last year alone. Over one and a half billion snapshots were walked away of bridges, canals, and gondoliers.
Islands without roads or four wheeled vehicles, native born Venetians learn at a tender age the footpaths, the waterways, the ebb and flow of invaders that appear with the seasons.
Living on land that is slowly sinking into the sea, fifty thousand Venetian inhabitants survive by adhering to the fishing customs and merchant traditions of their forefathers while maintaining their Venetian identity."
- ITALY 2025 -
This photo of the Basilica della Salute was captured by photographing its reflection in a shop window.
While the Venetian gondola is the iconic symbol for Venice, it is the working barges and water taxis that move people and merchandise. Without either, Venice could not survive.
The December fog hangs heavy over the city as bundled workers trudge off to work.
Some work as gondoliers, but with the summer tourists gone,
many seek other employment.
Walking away from the popular tourist spots, enter the Venetians world.
Leaves have long fallen, only a few souls brave the morning cold.
Slowly, as the winter sun rises, warming the day.
The elegant architecture and iron work give way to the narrow neighborhood walkways.
One walks close to the buildings, as the cold wind blows in from the Adriatic Sea.
That same wind that dries the Monday laundry
Being a Monday, it must be wash day.
Wet clothes are hung in available patches of sunlight.
Now when you think of Venice, your mind will return to Monday clothes hanging to dry.
These are the neighborhoods of residents. not tourist photo opps.
Being a Catholic country, Venetians take their faith seriously with holiday pagents, concerts, operas and processions.
Before the sun rays can warm the streets, the morning espresso warms the mind and soul.
Indoor smoking is now banned in Venice, so one braves the cold for a smoke with their caffé.
The rattle of wheels on cobblestone awaken the day.
Workers with pushcarts deliver the daily supplies to restaurants and shops. Due to the many very narrow walkways, even bicycles are discouraged here.
The tradesman look for his next assignment.
A smartphone with a street map is essential to find your way around Venice. Even the locals get lost here. But being small islands, one gets reoriented quickly.
A craftsman waits with his rolling toolbox for the foreman with a key to appear.
In the openmarket, workers prepare the day's catch for customers
demanding the freshest fish.
Adrian, the fishmonger, sorts the shrimp by size, pricing each appropriately.
Dominic finished butchering his first shark of the day,
now oversees the unloading of a large tuna he ordered.
Luncheonette owner rushes to open his shops for the day.
A retiree finds a dropped lotto ticket
With fresh fish in hand and warm bread from the oven, he heads back home
Even though the islands are flat, crossing the 435 bridges
can be a challenge for the elderly. One cannot go anywhere without having to climb the steps of a bridge.
For those who live on island Burano, their daily commute is on the Vaporetto,(water taxi)
to reach the center of Venice.
Her dog finds the warm bakery inviting.
Even the cold winds do not stop love from blossoming.
In Europe, pledges of enduring love are locked onto iron railings, keys tossed into the canals.
A warming sun brings love into the open.
Entangled lives breeds love. Love grows, matures and endures.
For some, their decision is to step up and cross that marriage bridge,
others step down and silently glide away.
In all of Venice, this is the only covered gateway with steps on the left rising to a bridge
and on the right down to a gondola stop.
Ah, the dangers of love, hiding behind a mask of romance and intrigue.
Venice is famous for its mask making artisans.
Spurned by suiters, Italian passions run deep and unforgiving.
Others call for an end with a wave
Fickle love laughs, the mask falling away to expose, nothing. All is an illusion...
And yet the quest to find true love rekindles, is eternal.
Some walk alone...
Others together...
For some love is never found...
For others it survives a lifetime
We are born alone into a family,
we die leaving family behind.
Venetians are a people like you and I.
Alone... taking it a day at a time.
A lonely waiting game, fishing... for love or a meal.
Widowed, the professor finds his solace dining alone with a book,
not far from the university where he still teaches.
Stood up, acheing for a love that never shows.
What a lonely game.
The custom of placing flowers from the casket on the stoop of the deseased
is a common practice in many cultures.
Which brings us to the end of my Ventian story. Life is the same in every culture, every continent, every race. We are all human, all the same, yet all individuals.
Which is what makes us all so fastinating to observe.
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That concludes our book reading for today. Thank you for taking the time to stroll along with me as we learned the Venetian backstreets as seen through the camera's lens.
Jan H Daub
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