CANALETTO

The picture showing traditional Venetian ceremony is from a series of 14 views of the Grand Canal painted by Canaletto and engraved by Antonio Visentini (published in 1735).

Venice’s reputation as a city of festivities was amply justified. This painting, along with its companion picture (Return of the Bucentoro to the Molo on Ascension Day, also in the Royal Collection), record two of the most spectacular. Here a gondola race which formed part of a Regatta held on the Grand Canal is depicted. Such events had been organized since the fourteenth century as part of the Carnival, and were also occasionally arranged to honour notable visitors to the city.

At the extreme left of the picture is the macchina (an ornate temporary structure) under which the winners of the races were presented with flags. It bears the coat of arms of Carlo Ruzzini who ruled as Doge of Venice from 1732 until 1735. Spectators fill boats along either side of the Grand Canal, and observe the race from the balconies of the palaces, many of which are decorated with hangings. The eight-oared barges have been specially decorated for the occasion, and a number of the figures, notably in the foreground, wear Carnival costumes, such as the tricorn hat with a white mask and black cape.

An engraving of this work was included in Canaletto’s Prospectus series of 1735. The composition was clearly popular — other similarly accomplished versions of it are in the collections of Woburn Abbey and the National Gallery, London.

The painting depicts the reception of the French Ambassador, Jacques Vincent Languet, Count of Gergy (1667-1734) in front of the Ducal Palace in Venice. The event took place on November 4, 1726 but the painting was executed later.

This is one of Canaletto’s most famous works and would be considered a masterpiece for its complexity and dimensions alone. Here Canaletto started to “dilate” space as if he were viewing it through a wide-angled lens. He obtained the panoramic effect by lowering the line of the horizon, something he was to repeat during his stay in England. Over half the canvas is taken up by the sky. This helps to increase the sense of solemn spectacle that the painting engenders.

In the 1730s Canaletto received many commissions from Great Britain, these included 24 vedute for the Duke of Bedford. These depicted the most famous sights of Venice, though a few of them are devoted to less well-known location, like the Campo Santa Maria Formosa, the View of the Entrance to the Arsenal and the Campo San Rocco.

In the 1730s Canaletto received many commissions from Great Britain, these included 22 vedute for the Duke of Bedford. These depicted the most famous sights of Venice, though a few of them are devoted to less well-known location, like the Campo Santa Maria Formosa, the View of the Entrance to the Arsenal and the Campo San Rocco.

Towards the end of his life Canaletto painted a number of small, imaginary views, often featuring small classical buildings somewhat incongruously placed in semi-rustic settings.

The painting shows a typically inventive view that highlights a taste for the depiction of ruins by mingling classical and Christian buildings. The painting met with a certain success and a number of copies were made.

This painting is probably the companion piece of the Capriccio with Classical Ruins and Buildings with which it shares its use of light and colour. The monument in the middle distance provides the greatest point of luminosity.

Toward the end of the 1730s fewer and fewer tourists came to Venice as a result of the increasing threat of war throughout Europe. That also spelled the end of the blossoming production of topographical souvenirs, which was the mainstay of Canaletto’s studio. Joseph Smith, the artist’s agent and protector, tried for several more years to attract commissions for painted series of ancient Roman monuments or so-called ‘vedute ideate’. A veduta ideata, or idealized view was based on an actual situation. This kind of veduta was beautified, however, or rather improved, by adding buildings from elsewhere or even entirely fictive architectural elements. Such land- and cityscapes illustrated the ‘ideal’ architecture practiced by the ancients and, in their footsteps, by the sixteenth-century architect Andrea Palladio.

In about 1740, besides vedute ideate, Canaletto began to invent much more fantastic variations on the buildings and landscapes he had long painted ‘al reale’ in the form of ‘capricci’. Nor was he alone in this. Tiepolo and Piranesi also published series of fantasy prints called caprices in the 1740s. A contemporary dictionary of art defined a capriccio as ‘an artificial and bizarre composition which opposes the rules and beautiful models of nature and art, but which pleases through a certain lively particularity and a free and bold execution.’ Conceived in that sense, the capriccio is the opposite of a veduta ideata, and both the etched and the painted caprices that Canaletto made during the early 1740s meet that description. The present canvas is one of the most beautiful examples.

Across two islands or peninsulas, connected by an impossibly fragile arched bridge, the eye is led toward a third, distant island in the Lagoon, behind which others appear. From the bridge a path leads to the right over a second, small bridge to a gate in Renaissance forms with a curious passageway placed crosswise, with a tiled roof crowned by a stone statue standing guard. To the right are the remains of a wall and a tower, like the gate partly decorated with stone facings. To the left of the bridge a path runs to a chapel with an asymmetrical roof, a tall aisle with a balcony and a loggia on the right side. Behind the campanile rises a fa�ade with a sign indicating that it is an inn. On the third island stands a heavy, square tower. The time is about sunset; on the left, a pale moon rises. A washerwoman, travellers and fishermen populate the scene.

On closer inspection it appears that, with his supposedly randomly selected elements, Canaletto actually ordered his composition entirely in accordance with traditional practice. The placement of the elements in space and the manner in which the eye is led into the distance along the imaginary buildings in leaps is harmonious rather than abrupt. The appealing melancholy evoked by the scene is new; it is the result of the ostensible purposelessness of these friendly structures which are arranged haphazardly in the quiet light of the setting sun and the rising moon.

In Canaletto’s art, a strict distinction between veduta ideata and capriccio seems difficult to maintain. No wonder he referred to his own series of etched landscapes as ‘views partly taken from life, partly imagined.’

This etching shows a landscape with three arches of an arcade in the foreground, behind which a country house and the ruins of Roman monuments can be seen. Francesco Guardi’s Capriccio with Venetian Motifs (Museo di Castelvecchio, Verona) is based on this etching. However, Guardi borrowed several motifs and omitted others. Guardi has taken the portico, which Canaletto showed intact, but reduced it to a dilapidated fragment; furthermore he has transformed the rectangular forms of the characteristic house in Canaletto’s etching into a much less stately, asymmetrical building with a slanted roof.

This is another fine example of the type of capricci Canaletto executed during his sojourn in England. It is one of a group of paintings known as the ‘Lovelace Canalettos’, so-called because they were sold in 1937 by the Earl of Lovelace. He had inherited them from Lord King who probably acquired them in the eighteenth century for his home, Ockham Place in Surrey.

This work is an ingenious combination of Italian and English influences - a fitting project for Canaletto to work on prior to his final return to Venice, after having spent nearly a decade in England. The general disposition of the hilly landscape and the vegetation appear English, and a bridge inspired by Westminster Bridge has been placed in the middle distance. The Corinthian column, however, decorated with an escutcheon and surmounted by a statue of a saint, and the triumphal arch, are clearly Italianate. The juxtaposition of these two sets of references cleverly and subtly encourages you to question what is real, and what is imagined.

Capricci are paintings in which Canaletto drew on his studies of identifiable sites and buildings, but combined them in an imaginative form to create a very consciously fictional and poetic image. Here he has brought together different architectural elements which seem to be both Roman and Paduan in inspiration. The dome on the horizon is reminiscent of that of St Peter’s in Rome.

Many versions of this composition exist and not all of them can be by Canaletto. The fact that such images were reproduced illustrates that there was a ready market for works of this type. In part they were inspired by the classical landscapes of the seventeenth century, but they also were conceived to appeal to the cult of ruins which developed during the eighteenth century - a trend fed by antiquarianism, archaeology and nostalgia.

In this work and its companion picture (Capriccio: A Palladian Design for the Rialto Bridge, also in Parma) Canaletto created two of his most complex and intriguing capricci. He had already depicted an unrealised scheme for the Rialto Bridge, but in these works went one stage further and painted alternatives to the actual bridge surrounded by a sophisticated and extensive group of invented buildings.

The bridge and extraordinary circular temple at the left appear to be almost entirely imaginary. Such spectacular flights of fancy may at root be based on reminiscences of details in works by Claude Lorraine (1600-82) and Giovanni Battista Piranesi (1720-78), but Canaletto has transformed possible sources of this type into a decorative creation all of his own.

The gilded bronze horses of San Marco are one of the great treasures of Venice. They are thought to be ancient, although their precise origin and date remains a matter of scholarly debate. It appears they were taken from Constantinople when the city was sacked by the Venetians in 1204.

In the 1740s the horses were above the loggia at the entrance to San Marco. They were only removed from this position in 1798 when Napoleon’s troops overtook the city and were then taken to Paris, but returned to Venice in 1815.

The dramatic arrangement of these horses on pedestals is entirely fictional. It is possible that it is intended to convey the frustration felt by many at not being able to study the horses properly above the loggia. For example, the Neo-classical sculptor, Antonio Canova (1757-1822), suggested that they should be set either side of the entrance to the Doge’s palace so that they could be seen to better advantage.

In the early 1740s Canaletto painted a series of 13 canvases which were described in early inventories as ‘overdoors’, in other words pictures intended to be set above doorways as part of a decorative scheme. They placed a particular emphasis on the works of the architect Palladio. Joseph Smith, for whom they may have been made, is known to have particularly favoured Palladian themes.

This austere capriccio is actually one of weakest of the ‘overdoors’ in terms of quality, but nonetheless of interest. The very fact that it is poorly executed is a useful reminder of Canaletto’s practice of employing assistants; he would probably have planned the composition, and then perhaps because of a need to finish the commission quickly allowed a member of his studio to carry out most of the work.

The view is shown as though seen from the Bacino: at the left are the state granaries, and to the right the Zecca, or Mint. Between them is the Ponte della Pescaria, and beyond, the rear of the Procuratie Nuove. The artist has made the little bridge look more theatrical and impressive by depicting on it statues by Aspetti and Campagna which are in reality at the entrance to the Biblioteca Marciana.

In this work and its companion picture (Capriccio: The Grand Canal, with an Imaginary Rialto Bridge and Other Buildings, also in Parma) Canaletto created two of his most complex and intriguing capricci. He had already depicted an un realized scheme for the Rialto Bridge, but in these works went one stage further and painted alternatives to the actual bridge surrounded by a sophisticated and extensive group of invented buildings.

While the bridge and the buildings appearing on the companion piece are almost entirely imaginary, in this picture it is possible to locate the origin of a number of the buildings. The bridge is the same in both pictures, and the large structure to the right of it is copied from Andrea Palladio’s Palazzo della Ragione in Vicenza. Part of the attraction of these works was clearly spotting such borrowings and in doing so displaying one’s knowledge.

Twenty kilometres to the west of Venice lies Dolo, a village on the river Brenta, which flows from Padua into the Lagoon at Mestre. The friendly Brenta, with its many country houses, was a favourite destination for excursions by boat. Canaletto immortalized the Brenta in numerous drawings, etchings and paintings.

This is one of the earliest and most beautiful of these paintings. The subject is the mills built in the Brenta River near Dolo. Canaletto represented the view towards the east from a tall house located on the dam in the river. The sun shines from the west, as indicated by the shadow of the house where the artist sat, which falls to the right in the foreground. On the left the quay, lined with the most prominent houses, the inn and the campanile of San Rocco, makes a wide curve. On the other side of the Brenta are some free-standing buildings and a covered wharf. In front of these on the right, outside the image, begins the canal through which the traffic is led round the mill by way of the sluices. Arriving in the background is a ‘burchiello’ with a striped cover glides along the bend at the right, and a third boat with a red roof disappears just around the corner. Boats and small barges are moored to the banks on either side of the river.

In the foreground we see the mill complex with a couple of unused millstones on the left and the basin which powers the paddles; the gates have been lowered. It is late afternoon and the villagers seem to have finished their work for the day. They take their ease on a sack of flour, do a bit of fishing or chat with neighbours. A lady dressed in red is greeted by a couple whose servant protects them from the sun with a parasol. This group in particular attracts our attention. They are apparently prosperous towns-people out for a leisurely visit in the country.

The serenity of the scene is achieved by means of the composition; in a very restful and astonishingly well-ordered fashion all the anecdotal and topographical elements have been grouped round the Brenta, which occupies only a small portion of the entire painting. Most of the composition is reserved for the blue and white of the sky, which harmonize wonderfully well with the browns and greens of the foreground, enlivened by the contrasting touches of red, white and blue of the elegant burghers.

The magnificent Baroque church of Santa Maria della Salute, designed by Baldassare Longhena, dominates the scene at the right. To the left of centre, in the middle distance, can be seen the Doge’s Palace, and further over the Campanile of San Marco.

Canaletto was to return to paint this view on a number of occasions, and it is instructive to compare this, his first interpretation of it, with a later treatment (in the Royal Collection, Windsor). In this picture the agitated brushwork effectively evokes a stormy sky and blustery breeze. By contrast, in the later painting the scene is one of far greater serenity, with no sails billowing in the wind, and all the architectural details clearly described. The comparison illustrates more than simply a shift in style, however; it suggests Canaletto found a challenge in reworking a familiar subject, so creating a quite different experience for the viewer.

Scale appears to be the dominant preoccupation in this work. The painting is one of Canaletto’s largest, and his intention seems to have been to convey a sense of the immensity of the church of Santa Maria della Salute, at the right.

In his earlier interpretation of the subject (c. 1725, Gemäldegalerie, Dresden) the artist included the whole of the great church, but in this work made the bold decision to crop it at the top, as though to imply that the building could not be contained within one picture. Its enormous size is contrasted with the groups of figures by the waterside: ladies and gentlemen enter the church through one doorway, while a senator, dressed in red, emerges from another.

This is one of the relatively few works that Canaletto signed; he has inscribed the initials A.C.F. on the low wall in the foreground. They stand for Antonio Canal Fecit (Antonio Canal made this). Close to the inscription are various traders selling seafood, and beyond it, to the right, is a neat row of gondolas.

The Molo is the busy area of waterfront on the seaward side of the Piazzetta. From this section of it is possible to get a splendid view of the church of Santa Maria della Salute and the customs house on the far side of the Grand Canal. Further to the left can be seen Palladio’s church of the Redentore, which dominates the Giudecca.

The college and its chapel are depicted as though seen from the east, across the river Thames. A number of the buildings near to them seem to have been invented by Canaletto, and the scene as a whole, which follows a composition established in a drawing by the artist, therefore appears to be a subtle capriccio. Canaletto had visited and painted nearby Windsor Castle in 1747, and could then have made a study of the college which he later chose to integrate with other features.

The view may not be an accurate record, but it is carefully composed, with the tree framing it at the left and a darkened foreground leading the eye of the viewer on into the middle-distance. The figures who fish, punt and stroll by the water effectively animate the scene.

The painting is part of a series of four vedute (now two are in the Thyssen collection and two in the Museo del Settecento in Venice). The four paintings reveals the influence of Marco Ricci.

Suggested listening (streaming mp3, 3 minutes):

Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy: Songs without Words op. 30 No. 5 (Venetian gondola song)

Canaletto has included a curious detail: a depiction of a boat on the wall of the building in the right foreground. Whether this was simply sgraffito or some form of trade sign is not entirely clear. Above it a woman looks down from a small balcony; Canaletto placed similar figures at the edge of a number of his pictures, in order to close off the scene.

The painting is part of a series of four vedute (now two are in the Thyssen collection and two in the Museo del Settecento in Venice). The four paintings reveals the influence of Marco Ricci.

In Canaletto’s day, the only crossing that spanned the largest waterway in Venice was the imposing Rialto Bridge, which consequently became the hub of both business life and traffic and a point of orientation amid the confusion of Venice’s smaller canals and alleys.

This is one of the largest canvases Canaletto ever painted. It shows the view from the first floor of Palazzo Garzoni on the Grand Canal at the corner of Rio di Sant’Angelo. To the left, on the opposite side of the water, is the entrance to the Rio di San Polo, with Palazzo Barbarigo della Terrazza in the lefthand corner and behind it the steeple of San Polo. At the end of the row of fa�ades in the distance is the Rialto Bridge and, on the far right, the corner of Palazzo Corner Spinelli and the entrance to the Rio di Sant’Angelo.

There are many gondolas on the water, busily crossing the Grand Canal and, in one case, nearly colliding with a rowboat. Directly in front of Palazzo Corner Spinelli lies a cluster of barges of various kinds, tied together for lack of space to dock; the narrow quay on the right is apparently reserved for gondolas. The northwestern light is pale and damp; the sky seems to be clearing after a rainy afternoon.

It would still be possible to enjoy this view, were it not for the fact that there are two views involved. The right half of the composition was taken from the northeastern corner window of Palazzo Garzoni, the left half from that in the northwestern one. Canaletto must have made two preparatory drawings and then combined them in one composition, with the result that the picture encompasses an angle of almost ninety degrees.

Various features of this picture are arranged like the lighting and props in an operatic production, in order to create a compelling rather than simply descriptive image. These features perhaps refer to Canaletto’s early experience in the theatre. The ominous sky provides an element of menace and restlessness rare in his work, and the unlikely grouping of boats in the right foreground seem to have been placed for picturesque, rather than a realistic, effect.

The grouping of boats in the right foreground of the painting seem to have been placed for picturesque, rather than a realistic, effect.

This is one of four paintings, executed for Sigmund Streit, a German merchant who lived in Venice and Padua, and dates from Canaletto’s return to Italy. Streit made a gift of much of his property to his old school in Berlin, and in 1763 compiled a catalogue of it which includes a description of the four Canalettos. He noted that the Palazzo Foscari which dominates the scene at the left was his home in Venice, and proceeded to discuss it in some detail, pointing out which rooms he used as his study and office, as well drawing attention to the presence of the chimney-sweep on the roof. Streit also described the ferry which crossed the canal, and the toll office for fish at the extreme right. Details such as these would have been of greater interest to residents of Venice than to visitors; the same could be said of the Campo di Rialto, a centre of commerce, which was the subject of another painting in the same group.

The painting presents the view of the Grand Canal from the Chiesa degli Scalzi to the Fondamenta della Croce, with San Simeone Piccolo.

The church of San Simeone Piccolo, at the left, was rebuilt between 1718 and 1738 after a design by the architect Scalfarotto. It is depicted here completed, hence the dating of the painting to about 1738. Canaletto had earlier painted other versions of the same composition, including a picture in the Royal Collection which was engraved by Visentini as part of the Prospectus Magni Canalis series of prints.

This view of the upper reaches of the Grand Canal is now considerably altered by the city’s modern railway station which dominates and disrupts its right side. The artist has depicted some craft plying their way across the canal, including a passenger barge at the left, but the scene is a relatively peaceful one. He seems to have been particularly preoccupied with the gently distorted mirror-image of the buildings reflected on the surface of the water.

In Canaletto’s day, the only crossing that spanned the largest waterway in Venice was the imposing Rialto Bridge, which consequently became the hub of both business life and traffic and a point of orientation amid the confusion of Venice’s smaller canals and alleys. The artist shows the bridge in the veduta that looks out to the north-east from Palazzo Balbi.

Canaletto shows on the far left a section of the Palazzo Balbi, to the right the Palazzo Contarini dalle Figure and the four palazzi of the Mocenigo family. In the distance we can see the Rialto Bridge, and beyond that to the right the roof of the church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo. In none of his other vedute has Canaletto placed such a curiously manned gondola in the foreground: the vessel, decorated with green twigs, contains two figures in Commedia dell’Arte costumes who seem to have escaped from the stage. The gondola, readied for a delightful picnic trip, is the scene of a marital drama, for the ugly old woman is clearly beating the man over his pointed hat with her oar, as he holds a tightly bundled infant out to her imploringly.

Canaletto generally favoured painting on canvas, but he also executed nine small works with copper supports, of which this is a fine example. Beaten copper sheets provided a very smooth surface upon which to paint, and were usually used by artists concerned with depicting fine details. The companion picture to this work, also in the same collection, shows the Grand Canal Looking East.

The dominant hues and tones are warmer and lighter than in the artist’s earlier paintings, and as such mark the direction his work was increasingly to take. The topography is accurate and the site a famous one - a combination particularly favoured by English Grand Tourists.

In the central distance can be seen the dome of the Salute and the masts of a number of large ships moored in the Bacino, while at the right is the church of Santa Maria della Carità, which also features prominently in ‘The Stonemason’s Yard’. It was converted into the city’s art gallery — the Accademia delle Belle Arti — in the nineteenth century. This view looks very different today because the foreground is dominated by the modern Accademia bridge and the bell tower no longer exists. The appearance of the impressive palace on the far side of the canal, the Palazzo Cavalli, has also been altered.

This painting is a good illustration of Canaletto’s achievement as a subtle colourist; he has effectively contrasted the powder-blue sky with the green water and the tan and orange brickwork and roof-tiles. In addition he has created formal interest by carefully observing how the Scuola to the far right of the picture casts diagonal shadows across the fa�ade of the church. This work was owned by Joseph Smith and while in his collection it was engraved by Visentini as part of the Prospectus Magni Canalis series of prints.

In the early 1740s Canaletto made an important journey outside of Venice along the Brenta canal with Bellotto towards Padua, and executed a number of drawings that were to form the basis of etchings and paintings. The stimulus of new surroundings seems to have had a very positive effect, because these works, although perhaps his least known, can in some cases be counted as the most innovative and attractive.

The etching in particular are noteworthy. He executed in total 34 plates, probably between 1735 and 1746, and published 31 of them together. The views included depictions of Dolo, Mestre, Padua, Venice and the lagoon - in fact almost the entire range of subjects Canaletto explored on canvas. The artist proved himself as adept at capturing the nuances of atmosphere, texture and visual anecdote in this graphic form, as in his more prolific paintings. But exactly how he learnt the art of etching is not known, he may have been essentially self-taught.

This spectacular view of Henry VII’s chapel in Westminster Abbey is one of Canaletto’s rare depictions of an interior. The artist captures with accuracy the magnificent Late Perpendicular style architecture and rich sculptural decoration for which the building is so justly famous. Canaletto has chosen a viewpoint from an angle along the central nave of the chapel looking towards the tomb of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York. The grille surrounding the tomb can be seen at the far end of the chapel.

Canaletto has chosen a viewpoint from an angle along the central nave of the chapel looking towards the tomb of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York. The grille surrounding the tomb can be seen at the far end of the chapel. Heraldic banners belonging to the Knights of the Order of Bath hang over the stalls and east end of the building. The awe-inspiring architecture is the main focus, though the artist has included a few figures who serve to emphasize the scale and grandeur of the interior.

The picture shows off superbly the fan-vaulted roof soaring high overhead with its hanging pendants and delicate lattice work of carved stone tracery, which is the chapel’s crowning glory.

This night view — one of two Canaletto is known to have made — represents the Feast of Saint Martha, a popular festival celebrated every year on the eve of the saints feastday (29 July) in the poor fishing neighbourhood around the church by the same name, situated on the extreme southwestern point of the city on the Canale della Giudecca. What made the festival unique was that here, for one evening of gorging and dancing, the strict distinction between the nobility, the burghers and the poor fisher-folk was suspended.

From the bank between the water and the houses the view is toward the west, where the church of Santa Marta closes off the buildings. To the left of the church the silhouette of the island of San Giorgo in Alga appears on the horizon, in the left corner is a house on another small island. Fishing boats decorated with balloons sail about, while tents and windscreens for the many musicians and cooks are spread over the grounds. A gondoliers assistant and his lady dance the furlana to the accompaniment of violin, guitar and tamborine, while a distinguished- looking foreigner is cajoled into dancing by a woman of the working class.

The multitude of diverse visual elements has been neatly arranged by Canaletto along two crossing diagonals, with the church at the point of intersection. The artist chose a somewhat elevated vantage point, making it possible to survey a wide variety of individual scenes at the same time. It is not clear whether such a point of view was indeed possible on the spot. What is certain is that Canaletto first drew the various parts separately on several sheets; of these, two have survived with fragments of the houses in the background, which the artist must have sketched from different spots. With the help of these he built up the composition, according to a scheme identical to that of the diplomatic receptions painted on various different occasions. The painting is something of a humorous commentary on this: the people’s festival supplants the public one, just as the moon does the sun.

Canaletto painted the canvas for the merchant Sigismund Streit, who was originally from Berlin. Streit had made his fortune in Venice after settling there as a young man in 1705. When he retired from business in 1750, he devoted himself to study and to the accumulation of a modest collection of paintings. Part of his painting collection has been preserved, including four canvases by Canaletto among them the Vigilia di Santa Marta and the Vigilia di San Pietro, another night view.

The Royal Hospital at Greenwich was completed in 1752, over half a century after it was begun. Canaletto painted this depiction of it soon afterwards. It shows the view, which has altered little, through the centre of the hospital complex to the Queen’s House, and on towards the Royal Observatory at the top of the hill beyond.

Canaletto has created a slightly ‘wide angle’ effect by combining what can be seen of the hospital from two separate viewpoints which are set a little way apart on the near side of the Thames. He has slightly broken the potential symmetry of the composition by studying the buildings from a little left of centre. In addition, the monotony of the river is relieved by the considerable variety of craft that is travelling up and down it, and also by the unrelenting verticals and horizontals of the design which are countered by the bold diagonal of the mast of the ship grounded at the right.

The river and architecture were established first by the artist, and the boats then painted over the top; it is just possible to see the buildings through the sails of the boat to the left of the centre of the picture.

Northumberland House at Charing Cross was the London residence of the Earl of Northumberland, who commissioned Canaletto to paint this picture. The house had recently been inherited and refashioned, and Canaletto concentrated his attention on its elegant and mellow fa�ade. The impressive appearance of the building is enhanced by its towers which are surmounted by gilt weather vanes, and the row of obelisks that support lamps on the pavement before it. The house was eventually demolished in 1873, making way for Northumberland Avenue, and the lion above the doorway was then moved to Syon House in Isleworth, Middlesex, where it can still be seen.

Canaletto created far more than just a celebration of a particular building, however; he also provides us with an invaluable record of its surroundings, and a vivid impression of the capital coming to life early in the morning. To the right is the statue of Charles I by Hubert Le Sueur (c. 1595-c. 1650) that now stands at the entrance of Whitehall from Trafalgar Square, and at the left is the entrance to the Strand and the Golden Cross Inn, which has a sign standing in front of it.

The painting was much copied and engravings were made after it; as a result of the distribution of these copies, it was to have a significant influence on the work of English artists who depicted urban scenes.

In the eighteenth century there were two main pleasure gardens in London - at Vauxhall and Ranelagh. The latter, which was situated in Chelsea, was regarded as the more respectable. Among its attractions was this Rotunda, which served as a public venue for various forms of entertainment. It became a fashionable place to dine, converse and listen to music, and Mozart performed there in 1764. Canaletto shows numerous groups of elegantly dressed figures either gossiping and creating their own amusement, or concentrating on the orchestra at the left.

This picture was painted for Thomas Hollis, a significant patron of Canaletto, who owned nine works by him. On the reverse it bears an inscription, which when translated from the Italian reads ‘Made in the year 1754 in London for the first and last time with the utmost care at the request of Mr. Hollis, my most esteemed patron - Antonio del Canal, called Canaletto.’ It may well be the case that Hollis requested that the canvas be inscribed in this way in order to certify its authenticity.

This very bold composition, with a view of the Thames framed by an arch of the bridge, influenced the work of a number of native English artists. It may have been inspired by a print by Piranesi, published in the early 1740s.

The arch has been used carefully so that it does not flatten the image. It is placed just off centre, looked through at a slight angle, and the uniformity of its shape is broken by the simple device of a bucket being lowered on a rope. It acts like a giant eye or lens and focuses attention on the cityscape beyond, which includes the Water Tower and York Water Gate at the left, and St Paul’s Cathedral at the right. In the centre can be seen the spire of the church of St Clement Danes. The delicate peach coloration of the clouds above, suggests this is a rare instance of Canaletto attempting to depict dusk.

The painting is thought to have been commissioned by Sir Hugh Smithson, who was to become the Duke of Northumberland. He was one of those responsible for overseeing the construction of the new bridge.

The majestic sweep of the river, leading to a skyline dominated by St Paul’s Cathedral, forms the focus of this canvas, which was made as a companion picture for The Whitehall and the Privy Garden from Richmond House. Canaletto has succeeded in creating an extraordinary sense of spaciousness: with the combination of calm water, bright clear morning light and an untroubled sky, he has brought to the London scene some of that clarity of vision, and pleasure in celebrating the attractions of a great city that he had earlier applied to Venice.

The terraces in the foreground belong to Richmond House and, at the left, Montagu House. The figures on them parade, converse, and in a leisurely manner watch the spectacle of the river in the sunshine. While a number of smaller boats skull about on it, two larger decorated barges belonging to the City of London, make their way upstream. A related drawing of the scene shows a broader view, with far more traffic on the Thames.

The vertical emphases of the church spires, chimneys at the left, and mooring posts in the foreground, all carefully anchor and balance the composition, which is principally ordered by the horizon and gentle diagonals of the river bank.

The terraces in the foreground belong to Richmond House and, at the left, Montagu House. The figures on them parade, converse, and in a leisurely manner watch the spectacle of the river in the sunshine. While a number of smaller boats skull about on it, two larger decorated barges belonging to the City of London, make their way upstream.

The Order of the Bath is one of the oldest English chivalric orders; it is thought to have been founded in 1399. Canaletto here has painted the procession of newly installed Knights of the Order from Westminster Abbey to the House of Lords which took place on 20 June 1749. He was commissioned to paint the picture by Joseph Wilcocks, Dean of Westminster, and it has remained since it was executed in the Deanery.

The knights have emerged from the west end of the Abbey and walk round past St Margaret’s church, beyond which can be seen the roof of Westminster Hall. The Abbey is shown after its recent restoration and the construction of the two west towers, an undertaking which was carried out by the architects Nicholas Hawksmoor and Sir Christopher Wren, and the picture in many ways acts as much as a commemoration of their achievements, as of the ceremony.

Canaletto may have based his depiction of the event on descriptions, rather than actually having witnessed it: the resplendent knights are impressive, but they are rather stilted in arrangement, and their scale in relation to the architecture is not completely convincing.

Canaletto is first recorded in England in spring 1746, and his earliest paintings of London are depictions of the new Westminster Bridge, a subject he was to portray from various vantage points. The bridge was not actually completed until four years after this work was painted.

In this picture he combines a view of its whole span with a depiction of festivities, which, although tamer than the Venetian spectacles he generally painted, partially recall them. The celebrations accompanied the appointment of the new Lord Mayor of London. The largest City Barge is shown taking him to Westminster Hall, by the Abbey at the right, where he will be sworn in. The prominent building on the horizon to the left of it is St John’s Church, Smith Square, and over on the other side of the river is Lambeth Palace, the London home of the Archbishop of Canterbury. All the other spectacular barges are those of the different city guilds (Skinners, Goldsmiths, Fishmongers, Clothworkers, Vinters, Merchant Taylors, Mercers and Dyers); a number of them are firing salutes to honour the Mayor. In order to encapsulate all of this activity within such a broad panorama Canaletto has adopted an imaginary vantage point high above the Thames.

This work and its companion picture (The Thames and the City of London from Richmond House), have become the most widely admired paintings executed by Canaletto during his stay in England. They were painted for the Duke of Richmond, and probably based upon sketches made from views from the upper windows of his London home, Richmond House. The Duke himself is depicted with a servant in the courtyard at the lower right.

Whitehall is shown as an open space surrounded by small buildings, unfamiliar to modern Londoners accustomed to vast government offices covering the area. The Tudor Treasury Gate at the left was demolished in 1759 to ease the flow of traffic, but the Banqueting House, left of centre in the middle-distance, and church of St Martin-in-the-Fields beyond and to the right of it, remain.

A sense of order has been imposed on the urban sprall; the main buildings lie parallel to the picture plane, and the perspective is conveniently established by the walls and pathways which run towards the centre of the composition. Everything - from the chickens in the foreground to the houses half a mile away - is observed with a crispness of equal insistence, so creating a vivid record of this unexpected view of the capital during the reign of George II.

Canaletto later reinterpreted the scene from a lower viewpoint, and produced an even wider panorama (one of his most spectacular), which includes a view of the Thames at the left.

The Old Horse Guards building at the centre of this work was demolished shortly after Canaletto painted it, and replaced by the New Horse Guards, which was completed in 1753. It has convincingly been suggested that part of Canaletto’s motivation in producing the picture was to record the view of a historic site prior to its alteration. He was to display similar instincts on other occasions.

This is, however, far from simply being a work of antiquarian interest. The painter has filled the scene with a variety of figures ranging from the regiment of the King’s Life Guard’s who drill in the background to the footmen at the right who beat a carpet, near to the entrance to Downing Street.

In the early 1740s Canaletto made an important journey outside of Venice along the Brenta canal with Bellotto towards Padua, and executed a number of drawings that were to form the basis of etchings and paintings. The stimulus of new surroundings seems to have had a very positive effect, because these works, although perhaps his least known, can in some cases be counted as the most innovative and attractive.

The etching in particular are noteworthy. He executed in total 34 plates, probably between 1735 and 1746, and published 31 of them together. The views included depictions of Dolo, Mestre, Padua, Venice and the lagoon - in fact almost the entire range of subjects Canaletto explored on canvas. The artist proved himself as adept at capturing the nuances of atmosphere, texture and visual anecdote in this graphic form, as in his more prolific paintings. But exactly how he learnt the art of etching is not known, he may have been essentially self-taught.

This bridge was paid for in 1747 by the Member of Parliament, Samuel Dicker, whose house is among the buildings on the far bank of the Thames, at the left. The view Canaletto has chosen shows the river from the Middlesex, or north side, looking upstream. He has peppered the scene with naturalistic details and human incident: a storm cloud with sheeting rain effectively contrasts with the white latticed wood of the bridge, over which an impressive carriage is drawn; in the foreground the mast of a boat has been lowered so it can travel beneath its arches, and a seated artist, who must be Canaletto himself, is depicted.

Old Walton Bridge was painted for Thomas Hollis; it bears the inscription on the reverse ‘Made in the year 1754 in London for the first and last time with the utmost care at the request of Mr. Hollis, my most esteemed patron - Antonio del Canal, called Canaletto.’ According to an old catalogue of the Hollis collection the three standing figures to the right of the artist are Hollis himself, his friend Thomas Brand who inherited the painting, and his Italian servant Francesco Giovannini; the little animal between them is Hollis’s pet dog, Malta.

In the early 1740s Canaletto made an important journey outside of Venice along the Brenta canal with Bellotto towards Padua, and executed a number of drawings that were to form the basis of etchings and paintings. The stimulus of new surroundings seems to have had a very positive effect, because these works, although perhaps his least known, can in some cases be counted as the most innovative and attractive.

In the early 1740s Canaletto made an important journey outside of Venice along the Brenta canal with Bellotto towards Padua, and executed a number of drawings that were to form the basis of etchings and paintings. The stimulus of new surroundings seems to have had a very positive effect, because these works, although perhaps his least known, can in some cases be counted as the most innovative and attractive.

This view of the Wharf and the Riva degli Schiavoni taken from the Docks of San Marco, which from the Zecca and the Libreria Vecchia embraces the Ducal Palace and the Prisons as far as the Palazzo Dandolo (now the Albergo Danieli), is one which Canaletto repeated many times. Today we know of more than ten autograph versions, the most important of which are those showing the departure or arrival of the Bucintaur in the foreground instead of the ordinary plying of boats, as here.

It is highly likely that for this composition Canaletto used the “optical camera”, an instrument which facilitated the control of perspective in such a wide and “unnatural” field of vision. The stamp of naturalness is produced in any case by the immediacy of the boatmen’s movements and by the temporary balance created by the boats crossing.

If the attention of Rosalba Carriera and Pietro Longhi was drawn to the life and customs of their own day, Canaletto left for posterity a panorama of the colourfully spectacular public life of Venice, all registered in his precisely drawn and perspectively accurate scenes. He soon turned his back on the confident virtuoso displays of scenery painting and designing which he had been given a start in by his father Bernardo. And after a period in Rome where he was struck more by the objective reporting of reality by Viviano Coduzzi and painters from the Netherlands like Berkheyde than the decorative vivacity of Pannini and Van Wittel, Canaletto applied himself to setting onto canvas scenes from Venice as later he was to paint views of London and the English countryside. In these paintings he conceded nothing to the episodic and the picturesque and concentrated his clearsighted vision instead on creating a space-light synthesis of extraordinary truthfulness.

The Perspective - donated by Canaletto to the Accademia in 1765 for his admission in the capacity of a painter of perspective in September, 1763 - is a fine example of his extraordinary recreation of real data in prodigiously stylized form. Even though here the subject is drawn from the imagination, each architectural detail is a fascinating concentration of images.

The subject - the entrance to a Venetian palazzo, complete with courtyard, grand staircase, and gallery - certainly gave the artist a vehicle for displaying his skill in perspective. Even so, an extraordinary chromatic luminosity also brings great impact to the architectural imagery, in which every last detail has been rendered with such analytical precision as to seem a quasi-record of reality.

Piazza San Marco, looking toward the basilica of the same name, is undoubtedly the most popular and most frequently illustrated Venetian cityscape. San Marco is the main church of the city and the Piazza its central open space, on which the chief government buildings are located: on the left of the painting the Procuratie Vecchie and on the right the Procuratie Nuove, with the adjacent Campanile, the bell-tower of the basilica.

The exhibited canvas is one of Canaletto’s earliest town views, but even in this youthful work his mastery of topography is manifest — all the more so since it involves in this case a most conventional scene, with an uncommonly modest figuration. Like his predecessors, Canaletto chose a central, fairly high point of view, as if the spectator were looking with him through the small hole of a peep-box. However, since the obviously accentuated gutters on the square are parallel to one another whereas the two Procuratie are not, there is a tension to the perspective that breaks the classic peep-box construction. The same can be said of the powerful vertical lines of the Campanile, which fastens, as it were, the entire composition securely on to the upper edge of the canvas. In the best baroque tradition, moreover, Canaletto manipulates the shadows in order to achieve a sense of depth and to arrange the composition, consciously omitting the shadow normally cast by the Campanile at this time of day.

From all this it is clear that Canaletto was trained in stage decoration in the tradition of baroque perspective painting. Nonetheless, the open construction, the loose but powerful handling of the brush and the warm colours make it clear that he was also inspired by the ‘natural’ stage decoration and paintings of Marco Ricci, which were considered the height of modernity at the time.

The painting is part of a series of four vedute, the earliest known vedute by Canaletto’s hand. (Now two are in the Thyssen collection and two in the Museo del Settecento in Venice). Most likely the series was painted for a local patron, to decorate the walls of a portego, or central hall, in a palazzo.

This hypothesis is supported not only by the large size of the four canvases, the broad plan of their compositions and the rather loose brushwork, but also by the combination of the chosen subjects. The identity of the patron is not known.

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The Piazza San Marco in Venice, with the Basilica di San Marco and the famous Campanile has always been recognised as one of the most famous of all European settings, and has come to occupy a central place in the work of Canaletto, the city’s most famous view painter. The number of variants of this view that Canaletto painted throughout his career is evidence of the popularity that it enjoyed with eighteenth-century visitors to Venice.

Canaletto executed numerous versions of this veduta starting in 1722. The 1723 masterpiece now at the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid, documents the work being done for the new paving on the piazza. In later versions the vantage point and perspective changed, though very little. Above all. these show Canaletto’s development in style and technique.

At the end of the 1720s Canaletto started to paint Venetian scenes flooded with sunlight, the details of the animated city were depicted with great care. The Piazza San Marco with the Basilica is an example.

Canaletto had earlier employed an arch to internally ‘frame’ a view in London (London: Seen Through an Arch of Westminster Bridge, 1746-47, private collection). He here uses such a device in a Venetian context, and effectively contrasts the darkened foreground with the brilliantly lit Piazza, so drawing the viewer into the scene. The flagstaffs before San Marco have been omitted, allowing an uninterrupted view of its facade.

The viewpoint complements that of the painting’s companion picture (Piazza San Marco: Looking East from the South West Corner), which is also in the National Gallery, London. Both pictures are painted in what has been called Canaletto’s late ‘calligraphic’ style, in which he employs a shorthand of dots and curved lines in order to place details such as highlights on figures.

The Campanile and San Marco are here seen from beneath the colonnade of the Procuratie Nuove, but it is not these architectural features which first draw your attention to the picture; it is more likely to be the figures in the foreground. Two seated men converse, while a third who stands to the right of them, holding a coffee cup, listens. He has presumably wandered from the nearby, although unseen, Cafe Florian, a famous centre of social life, which had been founded in 1720, and is still open.

A particularly attractive contemporary drawing, which can be associated with the composition (Royal Collection, Windsor), shows the view extending some way towards the left, so that it is possible to see the Torre dell’Orologio. This worked up sketch probably preceded the painting and a group of other related works by Canaletto.

This attractive contemporary drawing can be associated with the composition of a painting with identical title in the National Gallery, London. The drawing shows the view extending some way towards the left, so that it is possible to see the Torre dell’Orologio. This worked up sketch probably preceded the painting and a group of other related works by Canaletto.

Together with the Entrance to the Grand Canal: from the West End of the Molo, this view of the Piazza San Marco is thought to have been bought by the Earl of Carlisle, directly from Canaletto himself. Both works hung in Castle Howard in Yorkshire, one of the homes of the Carlisle family, until they were sold and presented to the National Gallery in Washington by Barbara Hutton in 1945.

The Piazza is here shown as a lively centre of commerce; stallholders cluster round the flag staffs and are protected from the sun by large colourful parasols. From left to right an impressive view of the San Marco, the Doge’s Palace and a view of the Bacino, forms a backdrop to their activity. From this vantage point the artist shows a clear view of horses of San Marco which are set above the main door of the church; they were later to become the subject of one of Canaletto’s most inventive capricci (The Horses of San Marco in the Piazzetta, Royal Collection, Windsor).

Even in his later works Canaletto did not tire of ceaselessly experimenting and innovating. Here he shows a ‘fish-eye’ view of the Piazza San Marco, which may well have been plotted with the help of a lens. The distortion is such that we are allowed to see an impossibly wide panorama that stretches from the end of the Procuratie Vecchie at the right to the Palazzo Ducale and San Marco at the left.

It has been suggested that the artist was consciously displaying his ingenuity in such works (there is another important example in the Los Angeles County Museum of Art), in order to impress the Venetian Academy of Fine Art which he was seeking to join at the time.

In the centre of the composition is the Torre dell’Orologio (clocktower) which was designed by Mauro Codussi (1496-99). Above the clock face is a sculpture of the Madonna, and on the very top of the tower are the two bronze figures, called the ‘Mori’, which strike the hours. On the left of the painting is the Loggetta at the base of the Campanile and at the right the fa�ade of San Marco.

The buildings are depicted accurately and in some considerable detail. Such precision contrasts with the liquid freedom of the application of paint used to place the cloud forms above. The figures in the foreground include oriental traders, shoppers, vagrants, servants, children and a youth who reclines nonchalantly in the sunshine.

This painting belongs to a group of seven views from the harbour side of Venice, all of them in the neighbourhood of the Molo or of the Punta della Dogana at the mouth of the Grand Canal. Nothing is known about the individual responsible for commissioning the series. All of the compositions are adaptations of somewhat older and more ambitious works. However, there is a strong stylistic unity.

Canaletto executed some paintings for the Imperial ambassador to Venice, Count Bolagnos, recording the ceremony of the presentation of his credentials to the doge in 1729. The resulting two paintings, the Reception of the Ambassador in the Doge’s Palace and the Bucintoro Returning to the Molo on Ascension Day, are now in private collection.

In this painting, Canaletto shows the Canale Grande teeming with boats, the gondolieri in their traditional costumes, the colourful decorations, the crowds lining the banks of the canal, the flags and pelmets on the windows and balconies. What is more, he conscientiously renders a specific location in Venice, seen from the Ca’ Foscari, with its palatial fa�ades, its simple houses, its stairways, rooftops, chimneys and terraces and between them all, the wide, azure expanse of the canal. He is fascinated by the contrast between the momentary pageantry with all its light and colour, its exhilarating presence, and the city itself, steeped in tradition, in which celebration after celebration passes through its ancient walls down the centuries.

The picture showing traditional Venetian ceremony is from a series of 14 views of the Grand Canal painted by Canaletto and engraved by Antonio Visentini (published in 1735).

The historical power of the Venetian Republic was dependent upon its mastery of the sea, both for trading and military purposes. Such dominance had waned by the eighteenth century, but past glories were symbolically recalled in ceremonies, such as the one depicted in this work.

Here, a naval victory over Dalmatia which took place in 998 AD, apparently on Ascension Day, is commemorated. During the event the Doge travelled in the Bucintoro, the golden barge, out into the Lido, where he cast a ring into the sea, as a symbol of the marriage or union between Venice and the Adriatic. Such a ring had been given to a twelfth-century Doge by the Pope in gratitude for his peacemaking.

The massive barge, designed by Stefano Conti and the last to be built before the fall of the Republic, has just returned from the Lido. The spectacle it creates, with its huge, brilliant orange flag fluttering before the sky, was clearly one that appealed to Canaletto. It is perhaps the archetypal Venetian scene, combining as it does elements of beauty, showiness, symbolism, and sheer delight in the physical appearance of the city.

The massive barge, designed by Stefano Conti and the last to be built before the fall of the Republic, has just returned from the Lido. The spectacle it creates, with its huge, brilliant orange flag fluttering before the sky, was clearly one that appealed to Canaletto. It is perhaps the archetypal Venetian scene, combining as it does elements of beauty, showiness, symbolism, and sheer delight in the physical appearance of the city.

This is one of a set of four paintings by Canaletto, usually regarded as his earliest surviving vedute (view paintings) of Venice. They may have been executed for a Venetian patron, possibly as decoration for the portego of a Venetian palazzo, but are first recorded in the collection of the Princes of Liechtenstein in 1806. It is a work of such extraordinary accomplishment that it is hard to believe it was not preceded by other, now lost, studies by the artist.

Unlike other pictures from the same set, it shows a part of the city not found on the itinerary of most visitors. This is an area where Venetians live and work, rather than a well-known site. At the left the footway runs along before the church of San Lazzaro dei Mendicanti and the Scuola di San Marco. A wooden bridge spans the canal, while beyond it can be seen the Ponte del Cavallo. The artist has particularly exploited the colourful laundry hung out from the rooftops and windows at the right. There is a heavy, ponderous atmosphere, achieved through the dappled treatment of the silvery light and feathery brushstrokes. This approach, which in part anticipates the work of the Venetian painter Francesco Guardi (1712-93), is characteristic of Canaletto’s earliest pictures.

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Canaletto was to return to paint this scene on no less than twelve occasions in the 1720s and 1730s. This is a view from beside the Campo San Vio, looking towards the Bacino San Marco, with the dome of Santa Maria della Salute above the palaces at the right.

Canaletto has included a curious detail: a depiction of a boat on the wall of the building in the right foreground. Whether this was simply sgraffito or some form of trade sign is not entirely clear. Above it a woman looks down from a small balcony; Canaletto placed similar figures at the edge of a number of his pictures, in order to close off the scene. He also perhaps was trying to convince us that there were in fact vantage points from which the panoramas he shows could be viewed.

This work is from a group of early pictures by Canaletto, now in Dresden, which were part of the Elector of Saxony’s collection during Canaletto’s lifetime.

The compositions of this work and its companion picture (The Molo: Looking West, in the same collection) complement each other very effectively; they both show dominant buildings in the foreground to one side of the picture, from which the eye meanders both across the painting and into the distance. Their subjects are also complementary; they depict views of the waterfront on either side of the Molo, the seaward part of the Piazzetta. In this painting the view extends from the Doge’s Palace right along the quay known as the Riva degli Schiavoni. Boats of all sizes throng the water, and Venetians are shown either in the lofty pursuit of trade and politics (a group of officials energe from the Doge’s Palace), or the equally fascinating, although more down to earth business of begging and gossiping. The other painting shows the view from the Column of San Teodoro over towards Santa Maria della Salute on the far side of the Grand Canal.

These subjects became extremely popular and were rethought by Canaletto and his studio with small variations for a number of other clients. Canaletto executed related drawings which both he and his assistants could use as a guide when plotting these views.

This attractive view of the Forum comes from the same series of paintings as The Arch of Constantine. Like the other three works from the group it is prominently signed and dated.

The Forum was the site of the political and religious centre of ancient Rome; attempts to excavate it were made throughout the eighteenth century, and the ruins revealed were consistently revered by visitors to the city. The tourists shown here mainly scrutinize the remains of the temple of Castor and Pollux which dominates the foreground. One man, at the right, is so intent upon the ruin that he appears to be ignoring the cleric in black who is attempting to converse with him. Further back, at the left, between the columns can be seen a knife grinder, and over towards the right, the Temple of Saturn. Rising up above it is the Palazzo Senatorio which dominates the Capitoline Hill. These topographical elements have been depicted with considerable care, but elsewhere the artist has taken liberties with his subject - some of the houses at the left are invented, and their chimneys appear characteristically Venetian, rather than Roman.

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This is one of a series of five impressive paintings of Roman subjects that Canaletto executed for Joseph Smith. It is not entirely clear whether they were based on a new visit to Rome, or sketches the artist had made there in 1720. It is possible that he could additionally have been inspired by prints of Roman subjects in Smith’s collection.

The arch was built by the Emperor Constantine in the fourth century, to commemorate his victory over Maxentius. The view is playfully manipulated; the friezes and inscriptions he chose to depict are those which can be seen on the north side, but it is painted as though looked at from the south. Through it can be seen the church of San Pietro in Vincoli, and to the right the edge of the Colosseum. The main group of figures in the foreground, one of whom points with his stick, are probably Grand Tourists who have come to admire the ancient glories of the city.

The seated figure at the left, who has beside him a portfolio and ruler and is either writing or drawing, may well be intended as a self-portrait. This is particularly suggested by the figure’s proximity to Canaletto’s rather grand inscription asserting his authorship and the date of the painting, in a manner that replicates the carvings on the arch.

The seated figure at the left, who has beside him a portfolio and ruler and is either writing or drawing, may well be intended as a self-portrait. This is particularly suggested by the figure’s proximity to Canaletto’s rather grand inscription asserting his authorship and the date of the painting, in a manner that replicates the carvings on the arch.

In some of Canaletto’s sketches in pen and wash, like this picture, unpretentious views of rooftops become complex and almost abstract studies of tone and form.

The colourful and picturesque San Giacomo di Rialto, also called San Giacometto, is considered by Venetians to be the city’s oldest church. Though its present appearance dates from 1601, the original, small church was erected in the eleventh or twelfth century for the merchants trading on the market square near Rialto. The famous clock dates from 1401. The stucco and the medieval portico extend into the adjacent house, giving the church an unusually asymmetrical appearance.

To judge from the commercial success of Carlevaris’s print series Le Fabriche, e vedute di Venetia of 1703, a lively interest existed in what might be described as portraits of actual buildings and in the more broadly conceived townscapes. However, Canaletto only began producing work in this genre in the 1730s, at the instigation of English patrons. Of his early work this painting comes closest to being an actual portrait of a building, although the church is set in a somewhat more spacious architectural scene. In this and other respects as well the painting is very reminiscent of the Santi Giovanni e Paolo and the Scuola di San Marco and the Grand Canal near Santa Maria delta Carità, made for Stefano Conti. For instance, the most important building is not centred. There is a strong contrast between the heavily shaded area on the right and the brightly lit fa�ade of the small church, which is emphasized as a result.

Canaletto made a precise graphite or chalk drawing of the church using a ruler and compass in order to achieve as accurate a likeness as possible. The brushwork is loose but careful, with particular attention given to subtle nuances in the coloured surfaces, such as the reddish-ochre stucco on the church fa�ade.

It is remarkable that Canaletto devoted so much attention in his early work to Venetian ecclesiastical architecture of the Middle Ages and Renaissance in particular, and so little to the more modern architecture of his own day. It was only in the 1730s that he turned to contemporary architecture, and this thematic shift runs parallel to and may also be connected with a fundamental change of style.

The colourful and picturesque San Giacomo di Rialto, also called San Giacometto, is considered by Venetians to be the city’s oldest church. Though its present appearance dates from 1601, the original, small church was erected in the eleventh or twelfth century for the merchants trading on the market square near Rialto. The famous clock dates from 1401. The stucco and the medieval portico extend into the adjacent house, giving the church an unusually asymmetrical appearance. In Canaletto’s day the Campo di Rialto still functioned as a market square and in his painting we see merchants with poultry and paintings, as well as gold and silver shops on the Ruga dei Orefici to the right. The Rialto Bridge is in the background.

“I Zuane Antonio da Canal, made the present drawing of the musicians who sing in the ducal church of San Marco at the age of 68, without spectacles, in the year 1766.’ This inscription, at the bottom of the sheet, seems to indicate the artist’s defiance in the face of oncoming old age, and the work itself, which is his last dated picture, certainly illustrates no lessening of his skills as a draughtsman.

He had first recorded a similar view of the interior of the church in oil, over thirty years earlier (Royal Collection, Windsor). In the painting Canaletto showed it thronged with people, in contrast to the drawing where he has concentrated on the careful placement of a few legible figures. In the drawing the choristers can be seen enthusiastically following the music in the enormous book which is propped up before them, while below a beggar is seated beside an altar, and to the left a kneeling man holding a rosary performs his devotions. Close to him a little dog - a by now indispensable detail in Canaletto’s works - listens to the music.

The artist died two years later, but he was not sufficiently revered to be buried in a church as magnificent as this. He was instead interred in the more modest surroundings of San Lio, where he had been baptized.

Canaletto rarely depicted interiors; this is one of only two paintings by him of the inside of San Marco. It was probably executed soon after he returned from England to Venice, and was painted as a companion picture for a depiction of the Scala dei Giganti in the courtyard of the Palazzo Ducale.

Canaletto painted a view looking towards the rood screen, decorated with garlands at the east end of the church, from a point near to the entrance. Beneath the arcade to the left of the nave a priest can be seen officiating at a small altar. Canaletto has effectively captured that most elusive of effects - the way the little light which enters the building plays upon the extensive mosaic decoration above. Many people are shown at prayer, and two small dogs cower in the right foreground.

Santi Giovanni e Paolo, the most important Dominican church in Venice, is depicted at the right, with the equestrian monument to Bartolommeo Colleoni by the Italian sculptor Andrea Verrocchio in front of it. Beside the church and in the centre of the composition is the Scuola Grande di San Marco, the wealthiest of the six major philanthropic confraternities in the city. The square before it is teeming with a variety of figures: beggars, a mother and child, traders, elegant ladies and dogs.

It is probable that this work was acquired by the Ambassador of the Holy Roman Empire to Venice at the annual exhibition of paintings held outside the Scuola di San Rocco, which Canaletto later depicted (National Gallery, London). Works were displayed at such exhibitions by many leading painters of the time.

This painting belongs to the second pair of the four paintings ordered by Stefano Conti in 1725 from Canaletto. The first pair of waterscapes were joined by two views of church squares, compositions that Canaletto was to re-use frequently. The popularity of the subject is hardly surprising. The Scuola di San Marco, decorated with paintings by Gentile Bellini and Carpaccio, the large Dominican church of SS Giovanni e Paolo, and Verrocchio’s statue of the famous condottiere Bartolomeo Colleoni, were among the best-known monuments of the city; the combination of the three in one composition therefore made perfect sense. Carlevaris had included a similar view in his series of etchings entitled Le Fabriche, e Vedute di Venetia of 1704.

As is often the case with Canaletto’s compositions, the original idea was Carlevaris’s, but the older master had lacked the talent to do much with it. Here Canaletto opted for the traditional vanishing point on the central axis, which irresistibly draws the eye into the depth of the composition. In the exhibited work the vanishing point lies just behind the lefthand corner of the Scuola di San Marco; the massive structures that constitute the main subject of the picture are thus situated almost entirely to the right of the central axis. At first sight the fa�ade of the Scuola seems to close off the scene in the distance, but the small bridges along its left flank guide the eye an astonishing distance from the city, as far as the trees on the island of San Michele.

To the left, the composition is balanced by the darkness of the Rio dei Mendicanti and the heavy shadow which hangs over the area behind it; a cloud outside the perimeter of the painting provides a pattern of light and darkness in the sky. Again, the sunlight is sultry rather than radiant.

This painting, painted from life, is probably one of the artist’s last pictures in Venice.

This is a preparatory drawing for a painting (now in a private collection).

The painting is presumably a replica, painted by Canaletto himself, of the painting executed for the Count of Gergy in 1726 and subsequently lost. The painting was executed on the occasion of the reception of the French Ambassador, Jacques Vincent Languet, Count of Gergy in Venice.

Processions and festivals, ceremonies and regattas - even Gentile Bellini’s 15th century paintings bear witness to the brilliant pageantry of La Serenissima. Canaletto not only continues in this tradition, but actually revives it, adding to it his own views and temperament and clothing it in the garb of his own era. Whether he portrays the city’s Ascension Day celebrations, the symbolic marriage of Venice with the sea, or the arrival of the Doge: it is no longer with the grand choreography and dignified regularity that dominates Bellini’s paintings.

Canaletto executed some paintings for the Imperial ambassador to Venice, Count Bolagnos, recording the ceremony of the presentation of his credentials to the doge in 1729. The resulting two paintings, the Reception of the Ambassador in the Doge’s Palace and the Bucintoro Returning to the Molo on Ascension Day, are now in private collection. The latter is considered to be one of Canaletto’s highest achievements.