It’s a warm morning in the Venice Ghetto. A street cleaner is sweeping the main piazza, Campo di Ghetto Nuovo, where photographer Judy Goldhill is staying at a fifteenth century guesthouse.
Not that she has slept much – Goldhill been up for much of the night, creating images for an exhibition that opened this week at Visioni Altre gallery on the other side of the square, right next to the Chabad centre where women in long skirts and men in white shirts enthusiastically welcome in Shabbat week in, week out.
In addition to its blossoming Lubavitch community, the ghetto, established by the Venetian Senate in 1516, has five ornate synagogues built between between 1528 and the mid-seventeenth century: the German synagogue, Schola Francese (built by Jews from the South of France), the Italian synagogue, the Levantine and the Spanish synagogue. They are all on the upper floors of buildings because Venetian authorities required Jewish places of worship to be inconspicuous. And while they might, looking up, appear to form a cohesive whole, they were not. Cohabiting in such a tightly packed space with people whose traditions, customs and ways of worship were not your own must have brought some cacophonous and claustrophobic challenges.
Goldhill’s work depicts the dense, layered architecture of Europe’s first ghetto in tension with the sky. “I was trying to express the confinement of the ghetto.”
Venice Ghetto (Credit: Judy Goldhill)[Missing Credit]
Venice Ghetto (Credit: Judy Goldhill)[Missing Credit]
Venice Ghetto (Credit: Judy Goldhill)[Missing Credit]
Venice Ghetto (Credit: Judy Goldhill)[Missing Credit]
Venice Ghetto (Credit: Judy Goldhill)[Missing Credit]
But it wasn’t a straightforward assignment. As well as the hazard of light pollution, there were armed police insisting she needed a permit to take photographs or use a tripod, even though she had confirmed earlier that day with Dario, the genial historian who works in the ghetto’s ticket office, that this would not be necessary.
Even so, her photographs do successfully contrast the vast reaches of the sky with human construction — brick-and-stone buildings as well as the social segregation. And the windows in her images invoke the glassmaking with which Venetian Jews were associated for centuries.
In the wall of Judy’s hotel, underneath the Italian synagogue, is a sign in Hebrew: Zecher le Churban, “in memory of the destruction”. The word churban evokes both the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem and the destruction of European Jewry. In the 1940s, 246 Jews were deported from Venice; only eight would return.
It is sad that this Jewish quarter requires armed police to protect it, but also not exactly surprising either.
The artist at work (Credit: Naomi Gryn)[Missing Credit]
Mirror/Rispecchiare is at Visioni Altre gallery in the Venice Ghetto until October 15 www.visionialtre.com
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