The Yiddish phrase "ungepatchke" comes to mind at first glance of Basilica di San Marco. That's a function of history more than aesthetics, however. Think of the decorations as religious barnacles that accumulated over a millennium. During that time St. Mark's Cathedral absorbed Byzantine, Romanesque, Islamic and Gothic influences, to say nothing of the personal agendas and tastes of more than a hundred doges.
Look up for the "Dome of Creation" when you enter
. . . and down at the mosaic depicting what looks like a dog with hooves.
The portable chairs are an awful 21st century touch.
The Twelve Apostles, the Virgin and Christ on the Cross peer down from a Gothic altar screen beneath gold-embellished domes. Originally, the cathedral was built to house the relics of Venice's second patron saint, whose body had been removed from Alexandria in the ninth century by a couple of the city's savvy merchants. They undoubtedly recognized a marketing opportunity both spiritual and secular in nature.
As I soon would learn, many of the most precious items have been removed from Italy's cathedrals for preservation and security reasons, usually to museums maintained by the churches, but many glorious architectural details remain.
The altar itself isn't particularly impressive.
But my ticket included behind-the-altar access to the bejeweled Pala d'Oro (or "golden panel").
What a difference a camera angle makes. At the center, the four Evangelists surround Christ.
Votive candle sconces and marble floors are patterned almost as intricately.
Wall mosaics comprise the most pervasive decorative element both inside and outside the cathedral.
It amazes me how the placement of small colored stones can add up to human expression.
These bronze horses, two of four plundered from Constantinople during the Fourth Crusade, stood in front of the museum until 1974.
Copies now neigh in their places high above St. Mark's Square.
Even on a drizzly afternoon, the views, including the Clock Tower, were dramatic. Two Moors, one old and one young to reflect the passage of time, ring in the hours. Summertime includes amazing close-ups of the two figures. The tower can be seen from the lagoon although I don't recall hearing the bell.
Believe me, the Piazza di San Marco was a lot more crowded before the rain started. Winged lions decorate the top of the flagpoles, erected during the Renaissance.
The two ancient columns in the distance form the gateway to Venice, with the much larger winged lion representing St. Mark on the left and a statue of St. Theodore, who preceded Mark as the city's patron saint. Because of their height it's very difficult to get a good shot of either.
But the Doge's Palace displays the original statue of St. Theodore that topped the column. Sorry, Ted, but the winged lion is much more effective branding.
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