Nobody could fly in 1500, yet that year a woodcut appeared showing Venice as a bird would see it: every canal, bridge, campanile and moored ship laid out across the lagoon. It is one of the great objects of Renaissance printmaking. The best part is that you can now explore it online in more detail than any sixteenth-century buyer could have managed with a magnifying glass.

A print the size of a wall

The View of Venice was printed from six wooden blocks onto six sheets of paper, each about 66 by 99 centimetres, the largest sheets produced in Europe up to that time. Joined together, they make an image roughly 1.3 metres by 2.8. It was published in late 1500 by Anton Kolb, a merchant from Nuremberg. On 30 October the Signoria gave him an exemption from export duty and the exclusive right to reproduce the print for four years. In his application Kolb said the work had taken three years to prepare, but he did not name the artist. For a long time it was credited to Albrecht Dürer. Today it is firmly attributed to the Venetian painter and printmaker Jacopo de’ Barbari, who signs his work with a caduceus, the staff carried here by the figure of Mercury at the top.

It was not cheap. Kolb needed to sell copies for at least three ducats to recoup his costs, about a master painter’s monthly wage, so these were wall decorations for the wealthy. Only around a dozen copies of the original 1500 version survive. The six original blocks, in pear wood according to the Correr’s own account, are in the Museo Correr in Piazza San Marco.

How was it possible?

The romantic answer is that Barbari and a team of surveyors climbed the city’s bell towers, sketching one small section after another. Museum labels still tell it that way, and the print does show 103 of them. The scholarly answer is stranger. In a famous 1978 analysis, Juergen Schulz argued that Barbari seems to have begun at the eastern end, perhaps working from plans used for maintaining the city’s waterways. As he moved west he compressed the scale, apparently because he was running out of paper. The scale works out at roughly 1:1,250 east to west but only about 1:2,750 north to south. Buildings are simplified and towers exaggerated: the Doge’s Palace is drawn about half as tall again as it should be for its width.

Deborah Howard went further and suggested the distortion was deliberate. Three years of expensive work is not an accident, she argued, and the outline of the city has been shaped to resemble a dolphin, with its rounded head on the left and its tail on the right. Either way, this is not a photograph. It is a composition built from knowledge, measurement and imagination, and it is no less impressive for that. The Cleveland Museum of Art calls it the first attempt to render a city according to the laws of geometry, even if its perspective is not entirely consistent.

What to look for

Mercury, god of commerce, presides from the top edge, while Neptune rides a dolphin through the harbour. Eight wind gods stand around the border. Look at St Mark’s Campanile too. The original version, from 1500, shows it with a temporary flat roof after a lightning fire in 1489. The blocks were altered around 1514 to show it as rebuilt after the earthquake of 1511, and the date was removed. The campanile is the quickest way to date a copy. There is one notable absence: the Lion of St Mark, emblem of the Republic, doesn’t appear, which has been put down to the German origins of the man who commissioned it.

See it for yourself

Google Arts & Culture has two copies you can zoom into, both of the original 1500 version. One is the Minneapolis Institute of Art’s print, in unusually good condition. The other is the copy from the Museo Correr. Look closely and individual rooftops and chimneys resolve. Duke University’s library also hosts a high-resolution scan of the Minneapolis copy, created by its Digital Art History and Visual Culture Research Lab. If you’re in Venice, the Correr shows the blocks themselves alongside a surviving 1500 copy, and the Biblioteca Marciana holds a copy of the later version.

Here’s a challenge for the keen-eyed. See if you can find all 103 bell towers.

Sources

• Wikipedia: View of Venice, drawing on Juergen Schulz, “Jacopo de’ Barbari’s View of Venice” (The Art Bulletin, 1978) and Deborah Howard, “Venice as a Dolphin” (Artibus et Historiae, 1997)
• Minneapolis Institute of Art: View of Venice
• Google Arts & Culture: View of Venice (Minneapolis Institute of Art)
• Google Arts & Culture: Veduta prospettica di Venezia (Museo Correr)
• Cleveland Museum of Art: View of Venice
• Italian Art Society: the Kolb privilege of 30 October 1500
• Google Arts & Culture / Fondazione Querini Stampalia: The rarest book
• Duke Digital Art History & Visual Culture Research Lab: A Portrait of Venice
• Duke University Libraries: high-resolution image of the View of Venice
• Princeton Graphic Arts: Need a Project, no. 6? Venice

Header photo: Gianfranco Marotta, via Pexels.

A while back I was sitting next to an Australian chap on the flight to Venice. We started to chat and I asked him what he was planning to see and do and how he planned to get around. His one must-do thing appeared to be a gondola ride and he’d never heard of the Piazza San Marco or the Rialto. Odd to say the least.

As to how he’d get around he didn’t even have a clue how he was going to get from the airport into the city, or where his hotel was. Adventurous fellow. Don’t be like him though. Venice is unique when it comes to transport as well as everything else.

You probably know this already but let me repeat it: The city of Venice has no cars, no trams, and no buses. The Lido is different — there are cars and buses, more of the latter shortly. But as far as the city and the outlying islands — Murano, Burano and Torcello — are concerned everything that moves does so on water or on foot.

That’s the wonder of the place when you’re used to it. But this does mean you really need to get up to speed with how things work before you turn up. Everyone gets lost in Venice at some point — I still do after thirty years — but it’s best not to do that on the way to the hotel after a long journey.

From Marco Polo airport

The airport is on the mainland, about twelve kilometres from the city. You have five sensible choices.

The bus: cheapest and quickest. The ATVO express runs from outside arrivals to Piazzale Roma, the road terminus on the edge of Venice, in around 20 to 25 minutes. It costs €12 single or €20 return. There used to be a very simple website where you could book this and get a discount. But this seems to have disappeared and you now have to enter the destinations separately at this dreadful new site so I’d just buy a ticket when you’re waiting for the bus. There are two services an hour and they get very busy at the peak of the season. You can find what I hope is the current timetable here (the new ATVO site makes this very hard to find).

The ACTV Aerobus (line 5) goes to the same place at a similar price but unlike ATVO stops along the way, takes longer and isn’t so good for luggage. It is more frequent — you can find the timetable here — but a sight less comfortable. The two companies have almost identical names, which confuses everybody. From Piazzale Roma you’re on foot or on a vaporetto.

Alilaguna: the slow scenic option. This is the airport water bus, run privately and not covered by your vaporetto ticket. It’s €18 single, €32 return. It takes anywhere from 60 to 90 minutes, depending on where you’re going, but it drops you at a landing stage closer to your hotel than the bus does. Extra bags cost €4. The last boats leave the airport between about 23:00 and 00:20, so late arrivals need another plan. But — and this is a big but — the boats are terribly slow, quite old, and few offer anything in the way of a view. If you think the Alilaguna is going to give you a romantic entrance to Venice by water you are likely to be disappointed.

Water taxi: the grand entrance. A private water taxi takes 25 to 30 minutes and can drop you at the nearest landing to your hotel, or at its own water door if it has one. The official fixed fare is €110, but the Consorzio Motoscafi quotes €160 for 2026 and most sources put it at €110 to €160 per boat for up to about five passengers, so it pays to ask in advance. A night surcharge applies. It’s the best way to arrive in Venice, and for a group of three or four sharing the cost it’s not as extravagant as it sounds. But bear in mind the boat jetties are quite a long way from the airport on a first-floor travelator. It can take you as long to get from picking up your luggage at arrivals and getting to the boat as it does to get into town.

Shared water taxi: the compromise. If you’re one or two people who want the water arrival without the private price, a shared boat costs about €30 to €40 per person. The way it works: you collect your bags, meet at the dock, and the boat leaves once enough passengers have gathered, with a maximum wait of about 40 minutes. It then makes several stops, so you may be dropped near your hotel and walk the last two or three minutes rather than being delivered to its door.

Do people recommend the shared service? Mostly, yes. The GetYourGuide listing for the return trip to the airport has 4.3 stars from over 2,300 reviews, and one reviewer on the arrivals version called it great value for semi-private transport. The usual complaints are waiting time and crowding: one traveller waited 25 minutes and shared the boat with eleven others, another found it packed with eight aboard. A Tripadvisor poster also points out that for three or more people the maths no longer works, because a private taxi at the fixed fare comes out about the same. I’ve never used this so I can’t pass judgment but you can find the booking link here.

Road taxi. A land taxi will take you to Piazzale Roma in 20 minutes for a fixed fare of €40, which is good value if there’s more than one of you. You may have to wait for a taxi to arrive at times though. If they’re late just cross over the road and pick up the ATVO bus instead if that arrives. If you’re staying in Dorsoduro near Zattere bear in mind that for a fixed fare of €45 the taxi will drop you off by San Basilio at the small port. Walking distance to nearby hotels.

I always use either bus or taxi because they are quick and a sight cheaper than a water taxi.

Getting around: the vaporetto

Here’s the big tip: most of central Venice is walkable, and it’s the best way for short distances. Yes, you will get lost but both Google and Apple Maps are now pretty good with walking directions. Taking a vaporetto to go from San Marco to say Arsenale or Giardini is crazy frankly — just take the lovely promenade along the Basin of Saint Mark. But for longer distances and trips to the islands you will need the public water bus services run by ACTV.

Some etiquette on these. If you have luggage use the stowage areas to allow other people access to the deck and seats. The first rows in the boat are reserved for the elderly, pregnant women and people who aren’t terribly mobile. This is very visibly pointed out on the seats and if you’re one of the many tourists who ignore this expect and deserve a mouthful from a local. If you have a rucksack, take it off and carry it on your front or on the ground — again there are signs asking you to do this and it’s downright rude to ignore them.

Tickets. A single costs €9.50 and is valid for 75 minutes, with unlimited changes within that time on the water buses and, within the city, on the ACTV land buses, the Mestre tram and the People Mover. It does not cover Alilaguna or the airport routes. Unless you only take one or two rides a day you’re better off buying these passes:

• 24 hours: €25
• 48 hours: €35
• 72 hours: €45
• 7 days: €65

The best place to plan and buy all this is Venezia Unica where you can also buy tickets for the main sights.

Validate every time. Touch your ticket or pass to the reader at the stop before you board, every single time, even with a multi-day pass. Inspectors board without warning, and an unvalidated ticket draws a fine of around €60 on top of the fare. Tickets are also sold at machines, at ACTV booths and online, and at tobacconists (look for the blue sign with a white T). There is an ACTV app available for iPhone and Android but unless you’re a regular visitor I’d stick with a simple ticket.

The two busiest lines for visitors are Line 1, the slow Grand Canal service, calling at nearly every stop from Piazzale Roma to the Lido. It’s about 45 minutes from the station area to San Marco, crowded and a wonderful way to experience the Grand Canal for the first time, the cheapest sightseeing tour in the city.

Line 2 is the faster version, skipping minor stops between the station, Rialto and San Marco, then running on to Giudecca and the Zattere and the Lido during summer.

Bear in mind your ACTV pass covers the whole lagoon, boats out to Murano, Burano and Torcello and the buses on the Lido. So you can travel the length of the lagoon from Torcello in the north to Chioggia in the south on ACTV services without paying another cent.

Arriving by train

If you’re coming from Milan, Florence, Rome, Bologna or anywhere else on the high-speed network, you’ll arrive on a Frecciarossa or an Italo. Aim for Venezia Santa Lucia, which is on the island itself. Step out of the station and the Grand Canal is right in front of you, with the vaporetto stop at the door. It’s one of the great arrivals in Europe.

Journey times to Santa Lucia, roughly:

• Milan: about 2.5 hours
• Florence: about 2 hours
• Rome: about 3.5 hours

Check the name on your ticket. Venezia Mestre is the mainland station, about ten minutes from Santa Lucia by regional train, and many trains stop at both. Unless your hotel is in Mestre, you want Santa Lucia, because Mestre adds a transfer. And bear in mind that luggage space on Italian trains is often sparse. If you turn up with lots of cases you may regret it.

A few things nobody tells you

• Steps and bridges. Venice is full of them, and a heavy suitcase makes you wish you’d taken the water taxi. Pack lighter than you think you need to.
• Piazzale Roma and the station are separate stops. They are a short walk apart. The People Mover connects Piazzale Roma to the Tronchetto car park and is included in a standard ACTV ticket.
• Strikes. Italian transport strikes are common and usually announced in advance. Check before you travel.
• Late arrivals. After about midnight the airport bus and Alilaguna thin out and then stop. Book a taxi, shared or private, in advance.
• The traghetti. Gondola ferries cross the Grand Canal at several points for a couple of euros, standing up like a local. It’s the best value ride in the city.
• The day-tripper access fee. In 2026 it was charged on 60 peak days between April and July: €5 if booked in advance, €10 if late, for visitors without an overnight booking. It’s finished for this year, and the 2027 dates will follow. If you’re staying in an apartment you can circumvent the fee by filling in a tedious form for the whole — and pointless — process.

In short

You’re going to be in one of the few cities in the world where there’s no road traffic. Walking and taking vaporetti are both delightful. Just be prepared in advance.

Venice is full of statues. But none quite as terrifying as that of a military chap on a horse outside the imposing basilica of Santi Giovanni e Paolo in Castello. His story is quite something, a tale of conquest, treachery, a distinctly sneaky sleight of hand on the part of the Venetian Republic… oh, and possibly murder too.

Meet the very distinctive Renaissance warlord Bartolomeo Colleoni.

Colleoni was born around 1400 near Bergamo, into minor nobility with more pride than money. His father was murdered when Colleoni was two — killed by vengeful relatives while playing draughts. None of this was particularly out of the norm. Back then Lombardy was a patchwork of warring city-states, and for a young man with a title and no fortune, the obvious career was to pick up the sword and do something with it.

You pays your money, you gets your condottiere

Colleoni was a condottiere, a fancy title for a mercenary. Armour for hire, men who fought for the highest bidder and would switch sides at the drop of a big enough purse. He fought first for various other condottieri in the south, then entered Venetian service in 1431. When peace with Milan in 1441 made Venice less useful to him, he left to serve the Duke of Milan instead — who promptly imprisoned him, suspicious of a mercenary who changed allegiance so easily.

Released after the duke’s death in 1447, Colleoni returned to Venice, was passed over for the top command in 1451, and left for Milan again, this time to serve his old comrade Francesco Sforza. Venice, missing him more than it cared to admit, lured him back with money and titles… what else? In 1455 he was finally named Captain-General for life — a position he held until his death, fighting for Venice, growing rich from the Republic’s treasury, and never quite winning everyone’s trust.

His home in his later years, the castle of Malpaga outside Bergamo, became a lavish court of its own — painters, writers, and old comrades-in-arms gathered there, a smaller and rougher version of the cultural courts more usually associated with Renaissance princes than mercenary captains.

The trick with the statue

Colleoni died in 1475, leaving Venice a fortune — some 100,000 ducats, by most accounts, earmarked for war against the Turks. But this largesse came with a condition: the Republic had to erect an equestrian statue of him in Piazza San Marco.

It was never going to happen. Venetian law forbade monuments to individuals in the city’s main square — not even a doge, in life or death, was granted that honour, and Venice was not about to make an exception for a foreign-born mercenary, however useful. But the money was too good to refuse. The Senate found the loophole: a statue would go up, just not there — instead in the square facing the Scuola Grande di San Marco, a charitable confraternity named for the Republic’s patron saint. Technically, a statue “of San Marco.” Just not the one he’d asked for.

Andrea del Verrocchio won the commission and died before finishing it; his assistant Alessandro Leopardi completed the casting. The result — unveiled in Campo Santi Giovanni e Paolo, not Piazza San Marco — is now considered one of the finest equestrian statues of the Italian Renaissance, horse balanced on three legs, rider fixed in an expression of total, unmovable authority. Which is, depending on how you read it, either exactly the tribute he wanted or a very Venetian way of giving him almost everything except what he actually asked for.

Neither the statue nor the engraving above should be trusted as a true likeness of the man. Verrocchio wasn’t awarded the commission until 1483 — eight years after Colleoni’s death — and didn’t even arrive in Venice to work on it until 1486, dying there in 1488 with the casting still unfinished. He never had the chance to see the man he was sculpting. The engraved portrait above, made in the 1560s, is later still. What we’re left with, then, are two invented faces rather than one real one — and they don’t agree with each other. The statue gives Colleoni a look of total, glaring ferocity, jaw set and eyes fixed on some enemy in the distance; the engraved portrait is a far milder, more thoughtful-looking man altogether. Both are guesses; one just happens to be aimed at the fierce condottiere the legend demanded.

But was he poisoned?

There’s a persistent rumour that Venice didn’t just shortchange Colleoni on his statue’s address — it may have had a hand in his death too. He died at Malpaga in November 1475, ostensibly of natural causes, at about 75. A decent innings for the day and his background. But Colleoni had spent decades playing off Venice and Milan against each other, taking riches from the Doge’s Palace but never quite forgetting he could walk away if a better offer came along. That kind of leverage tends to generate enemies, and the Republic had form. Its Council of Ten was no stranger to assassinating inconvenient rivals abroad, and poison rarely left a trace, or scandal, and no obvious hand to blame.

The rumour has a curious pedigree. Giacomo Casanova — writing in his memoirs about standing watch near the Colleoni statue on a rendezvous — refers in passing to “the hero Colleoni” as having been poisoned, adding the caveat “if the secret history does not lie.”

It’s not proof of anything, and no serious historian treats it as established fact, especially from the dubious pen of Casanova. But if you’re headed for Venice Noir next month, try to take the time to look old Bartolomeo in the face, even if it’s not his at all. He certainly still scares the wits out of me, and you know you’re standing on the cobbles where Giacomo Casanova surely had the same thoughts.