Winged lions and other animals
Never has there been a place more committed to its branding than Venice. There must be more winged lions in the city than there are tourists, and that's saying something. Many of them are sensible, noble-looking proud beasts. Naturally, these I spurned, and instead photographed their more comical cousins.
A winged lion from the base of a flag pole in St Mark's Square. I think he's indulged a little too much in the over-priced beer and ice cream.
The lady in yellow is the personification of Venice, who is doubtless receiving the gift of a new conquered territory or stolen relic from a proud doge. (I can't remember this exact picture, but most pictures including Venice show her receiving some pilfered property or other.) Why she is doing this sitting on an unconvincing lion, I do not know.
This is not a lion. I think it is best not to ask what on earth is going on here, but I did like the fact that the chap is being ecologically sound and bringing along his own string shopping bag while busy doing... whatever it is he's doing.
This is not a lion, either, and shouldn't have appeared in this album at all, but I might as well post it while here. Many people would have you believe that this whole adult colouring thing is a very recent fad, but here you can see that Albrecht Durer, way back in the 16th century, was producing adult colouring books for the people of Europe.
This is a lion. Not a winged lion, but a lion with a fox(?) on its back and a little dog's head issuing from its chest. Together they form a jug. The question here is why?
Again, not lions, and again, like the Durer, a stray from another album. I thought these angel musicians - the ever-reliable backing singers who appear in almost every piece of religious art we saw in Venice, and we saw a LOT - looked particularly, A, bored, and B, thick. Doubtless if they reach the finals of the X-Factor, they will be given a makeover and taught how to do fake smiles.
Here you see one lion and two horses participating in an ancient Venetian "what big eyes you've got" competition.
Four stone winged lions, of varying standards. The fourth one appears to be trying to steal a relic from some innocent pilgrims and then whop them over the head with it. It's the Venetian way. He'll probably charge them for the privilege.
Outside the Arsenal, Mummy Lion and Daddy Lion have had a horrible argument, and are now living the sorrowful aftermath. There was a baby lion nearby, neglected and forgotten by its angst-ridden parents, but he didn't fit into the picture.
This is not a lion, either, but I so liked this eagle dancing in a grass skirt that I defied the camera ban inside the Frari church to capture him. Everyone around me was blatantly defying it left, right and centre, but I'm a law-abiding soul, so limited myself to one dancing eagle, photographed with that sort of furtiveness that doubtless made me ten times more obvious than all the blatant law-breakers around me.
Back to lions, this time from the stonework of the old ducal palace. The hairstyle remained unexplained.
Not a lion. I can't remember who was depicted in this picture, but it wasn't anyone who I felt ought to have a pet Cerberus at their side. We did wonder if the artist had dithered about which way to have the dog facing, and had forgotten to rub out the previous, failed attempts.
Tiny lions standing guard over the Grand Canal, and looking very depressed about their duty, and quite cross with their neighbours, too.
This lion is quite clearly plotting something. Trying to find another ancient Empire to sack, probably.
Uncharacteristically, I only photographed one St Michael. I'm very fond of St Michaels, because their devils are usually so comical.
A sneaky Venetian lion, busy doing what medieval Venetians did best: stealing relics. I don't know why it's entirely covered with little eyes, but all the symbols of the evangelists were like this in this particular picture.
Whereas this one is just having a sulk.
A winged lion from the base of a flag pole in St Mark's Square. I think he's indulged a little too much in the over-priced beer and ice cream.
The lady in yellow is the personification of Venice, who is doubtless receiving the gift of a new conquered territory or stolen relic from a proud doge. (I can't remember this exact picture, but most pictures including Venice show her receiving some pilfered property or other.) Why she is doing this sitting on an unconvincing lion, I do not know.
This is not a lion. I think it is best not to ask what on earth is going on here, but I did like the fact that the chap is being ecologically sound and bringing along his own string shopping bag while busy doing... whatever it is he's doing.
This is not a lion, either, and shouldn't have appeared in this album at all, but I might as well post it while here. Many people would have you believe that this whole adult colouring thing is a very recent fad, but here you can see that Albrecht Durer, way back in the 16th century, was producing adult colouring books for the people of Europe.
This is a lion. Not a winged lion, but a lion with a fox(?) on its back and a little dog's head issuing from its chest. Together they form a jug. The question here is why?
Again, not lions, and again, like the Durer, a stray from another album. I thought these angel musicians - the ever-reliable backing singers who appear in almost every piece of religious art we saw in Venice, and we saw a LOT - looked particularly, A, bored, and B, thick. Doubtless if they reach the finals of the X-Factor, they will be given a makeover and taught how to do fake smiles.
Here you see one lion and two horses participating in an ancient Venetian "what big eyes you've got" competition.
Four stone winged lions, of varying standards. The fourth one appears to be trying to steal a relic from some innocent pilgrims and then whop them over the head with it. It's the Venetian way. He'll probably charge them for the privilege.
Outside the Arsenal, Mummy Lion and Daddy Lion have had a horrible argument, and are now living the sorrowful aftermath. There was a baby lion nearby, neglected and forgotten by its angst-ridden parents, but he didn't fit into the picture.
This is not a lion, either, but I so liked this eagle dancing in a grass skirt that I defied the camera ban inside the Frari church to capture him. Everyone around me was blatantly defying it left, right and centre, but I'm a law-abiding soul, so limited myself to one dancing eagle, photographed with that sort of furtiveness that doubtless made me ten times more obvious than all the blatant law-breakers around me.
Back to lions, this time from the stonework of the old ducal palace. The hairstyle remained unexplained.
Not a lion. I can't remember who was depicted in this picture, but it wasn't anyone who I felt ought to have a pet Cerberus at their side. We did wonder if the artist had dithered about which way to have the dog facing, and had forgotten to rub out the previous, failed attempts.
Tiny lions standing guard over the Grand Canal, and looking very depressed about their duty, and quite cross with their neighbours, too.
This lion is quite clearly plotting something. Trying to find another ancient Empire to sack, probably.
Uncharacteristically, I only photographed one St Michael. I'm very fond of St Michaels, because their devils are usually so comical.
A sneaky Venetian lion, busy doing what medieval Venetians did best: stealing relics. I don't know why it's entirely covered with little eyes, but all the symbols of the evangelists were like this in this particular picture.
Whereas this one is just having a sulk.