Capriccio - Issuu

CAPRICCIO

Report To The Emily Harvey Foundation

Report of my project / Richard TaranskyFor The Emily Harvey FoundationJune 20, 2016

"The world in which we live is witnessing the crisis of all the current great cities: many cities are becoming unlivable; many cities will have to be renovated or constructed from the groundup according to plans closer to that of the Venetian model. I believe in the future of aquatic cities, in a world populated by innumerable Venices.” —Italo Calvino, "Venice, Archetype andUtopia of the Aquatic City," 1968-74

A Capriccio:

I was drawn back to Venice by Saint Giorgio, built as a votive Church, a reply by survivors of The Black Death.

Here, the architectural program is intertwined with notions of fortune, misfortune, lightness, weight and the iconography of memorial inherent in material enclosure.

The particular location of the residency apartment, anchored by the Fish market, led to walks like many Venetiana have walked. It was this quotidian space which anchored my study.

I began with the following poems. Built as lists and functioning as instructions. A kind of simplistic guide to construction. An invitation to wonder with my eyes.

The resulting “Fish Market”.

Pencil drawings of the market are enclosed.

I hope to return.

The Fish Market Program

1. Entry

Larry looked like he saw that door to the underworld Cave seeping shiny water on A table made of worm wood A fragile facade of sticks Supported the polished lintel Lightness caused by holding your breath. Sit tight lipped so as not to draw focus. The work word dead.

2. Cage

I mentioned the name aloud so his spirit would not confuse me with these characters. The media studies prof mater figure to defend her gender.The theory guy plays the field, raises his voice. forgotten in this world of image. The Consumer, Graduate Professional Testimonial. A lot is spent on this party for Poe. Larry tells the student that we play roles Which is unfair for those unavailable to reflect. I'm the exotic, by the way. I'm exhausted. A jester who brings bad news to the invited. Hey "The plague is at the door " Translated into privilege.

3. Memento Mori

Why not provide me with an elevated platform ? In this box I am soup The tea leaves reader If reading stains made imagined sites and replicated that surface that space a blank. The bells machined curve Wasted space Platonic space Drunken space cast aside the hammer's tilt Jingle and tinkle Strangers bow, bowl, and triumph Strangers feast on messages

High Tide Instructions ( Aqua Alta )

Arm slipped under where no tint of warm light ever baths the open book. He says, "being fortunate is no laughing matter”

His bounty evident, he assigned his subjects a bent space. Hollows filled with fresh water. Shouts of recognition, Tidal pools leaden.

Machined lines pull puddled rectangles. Linen with fiber greyed. Profiles of plaster drawn. The Private Room holding cloth and a pillow on top a crown.

Had he wished to speak of love. A Marriage of stone and weather. Rough where they rubbed. Looks back. Warns “ Haste makes waste". Her economies. His static game. The Fortunate Son.