THE ART OF NOTICING: VENICE EDITION.
We arrived in Venice on a cold December day by boat, one of those old wooden water taxis that immediately feels tied to the history of the place, as if it has been ferrying people across the water for generations. The sun sat low in the sky, just beginning to dip and the water was that unmistakable blue green, glistening and alive, catching the light and reflecting it back onto the buildings in a way that made the entire city feel illuminated. From that very first moment, it was obvious to me. This place is magical. Undeniably so. It was love at first sight for me.
Venice feels old in the best possible way. Ancient, almost medieval, with narrow streets that intersect and weave together, worn cobblestones smoothed down by centuries of footsteps and buildings leaning ever so slightly toward one another as if they’ve been standing together for a very long time. There is visible patina everywhere you look, on doors, along window frames, across walls that have been shaped by weather, water and time washing across them time and time again. Nothing feels polished or perfect and that is exactly what makes it so beautiful. Everything feels lived in, layered and real.
My eyes kept returning to the water. And how could they not, as this entire city is quite literally sitting in it, held by it and reflected by it. That blue green hue shifts constantly throughout the day, sometimes cloudy, sometimes clear, always sparkling, mirroring buildings, sky and movement back at you in fragments. Even sound behaves differently in this city, echoing through alleyways, drifting across canals and bouncing off stone. Conversations seem to travel farther than expected, carried through the narrow spaces between walls and water.
That sense of movement followed us as we explored. What I loved most was the wandering around Venice, exploring with my family in a way that fully engaged the senses. Walking without a destination. Turning down streets simply because they were there and looked interesting. Allowing curiosity to lead instead of a prescriptive plan. Sinking into the gratitude of having vacation time in this magical place where minutes slowly stretch into hours. Finding small neighborhood cafés tucked into corners, places that feel local and ordinary. Long, casual dinners that end with chilled limoncello. Sitting, watching, lingering, with no rush to see everything and no pressure to capture it all, just the sheer delight of being there, fully present, together with the keen awareness that you don’t want the fleeting moment to end.
As we wandered, patterns began to repeat themselves and I started to notice how much of Venice’s beauty comes from repetition and history layered on top of one another. Doors and windows appear again and again, each one slightly different. Arches, ironwork, stone, water. Light hits textured walls in a way that makes the colors feel muted and rich at the same time. Soft creams, weathered whites, deep reds, warm browns, with touches of green and blue everywhere you turn. And then there is St. Mark’s Basilica, layered and ornate, gold and stone and pattern stacked upon pattern, with intricate mosaic floors beneath your feet just as captivating as the ceilings above, majestic in every detail yet grounded by age and time. When I close my eyes, I can still see myself standing there, simply observing, my eyes lingering on small details, absorbing it all.
Travel has always been a huge inspiration for me. It shapes how I live and how I see the world. What I experience doesn’t stay neatly contained within a trip. I bring pieces of it back with me, the culture, the way people live, the beauty found in everyday details, the colors, textures, sounds and rhythms of a place. Those impressions show up later in my art, in my home, in how I notice and move through my own life. Travel expands my visual language and weaves itself into who I am and how I create. It lives inside of me.
Looking back, Venice feels less like a memory and more like a feeling I still carry. One that shows up when I’m paying attention, when I’m noticing details, when I’m creating. And a place I will return to both literally and figuratively. If you ever find yourself there, allow yourself to wander and be captivated by this unique city.
xx,
Michel