Another thing that made Venice so magical, much like Paris, was that it was home to what has since become one of my Favorite Art Museums Ever. The Peggy Guggenheim Museum did not have any artwork that directly related to what we were studying in our art class at the time, per se. Our professor simply wanted to go because she had never been. So we went just because. And it was amazing.
The museum today is located in what used to be Peggy’s actual house. She collected art from everywhere, mostly modern art, and tucked it away and on the walls and in the hallways of her very own and similarly very modern home. There were Calders hanging from the ceilings, Kandinsky’s displayed in her dining room, and sculpture upon sculpture speckling her garden outside. And it was all hidden beside a major Venetian canal behind ivy covered walls, if it wasn’t already special and wonderful enough.
Peggy herself was also dope as heck, we all collectively decided as a class. She befriended and/or slept with all of the artists whose work she had obtained and put on display. And there were a lot of hecking artists represented. So rock on, Peggy.
Furthermore, there were pictures of her in each of the rooms, in each of the rooms. So, in the living room, there was a photo of her in the living room, as it had looked when she lived there. She looked sad in most of these photos, and was sad most of her life, but seeing the snapshots from such a time was art in and of itself as well.
There was a little bit of everything everywhere we looked. I wished that we could have stayed longer, and that I could have better admired the Picasso sketches or Warhol prints. But I am so happy with the chance to have visited this museum, and so happy with everything we almost didn’t and hadn’t been supposed to learn. Sometimes it definitely pays to throw your syllabus out the window and into the water of the canal below. And sometimes it’s incredibly rewarding and amazing when your professor does the same.