Venice Uncovered: Your Essential Guide

Venice Journal: Dive into the heart of Venice with our curated insights. From the rhythm of local life to the best-kept secrets of hotels and eateries, discover the authentic charm of La Serenissima with every read

November 16, 2011

On tow

November 16, 2011/ Marco Secchi

.HOW TO LICENCE THIS PICTURE: please contact us via e-mail at sales@xianpix.com or call our offices in Milan at (+39) 02 400 47313 or London +44 (0)207 1939846 for prices and terms of copyright. First Use Only ,Editorial Use Only, All repros payable, No Archiving.Â© MARCO SECCHI (Marco Secchi) In the winter, Venice is like an abandoned theatre. The play is finished, but the echoes remain. (Quote by - Arbit Blatas)

Marco Secchi

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There are mornings in Venice when the city feels like it is still deciding whether to exist. San Marco, usually loud with footsteps, voices, and cameras, reduced to the sound of water moving across stone. The cafés empty. The chairs waiting. The arcades fading into the fog as if they had no real edge. And then, a small interruption. A man walking. A dog crossing the flooded square, unconcerned by history, architecture, or the fact that this place will soon belong again to thousands. Moments like this never last. Not because the light changes, but because the city wakes up. The illusion closes. Photography, for me, has never been about documenting Venice as it is seen by everyone. It is about being there in the few minutes when it belongs to almost no one.

First morning. First workshop. Carnival 2026 is officially underway for me. Venice did that thing it does when you arrive early enough, blue hour still holding on, the arcades glowing, water turning the whole square into a mirror. No crowds yet, no rush, just masks, reflections, and that quiet agreement that this is worth waking up for. This was from the very first stop of the very first Carnival workshop of the year. A good omen, I’d say. 🎭✨

The February full moon is traditionally called the Snow Moon. Not because it makes things beautiful, but because it arrives when winter is at its most honest. Cold, slow, stripped back. For centuries it marked a pause in the year, a moment to endure rather than push forward. A reminder that not all time is for growth or progress. Some of it is simply for being here, exactly as things are.

Ljubljana, Carnival time. For a few days the city belongs to bells, fur, horns, and something much older than tourism. Kurenti passing through Ljubljana during Carnival, bells and fur echoing a ritual that comes from Ptuj, not the city streets. a ritual meant to chase winter away and invite spring back in. Heavy costumes, animal skins, loud cowbells, and that slightly unsettling energy you only get when folklore is still alive, not staged. What I love is the contrast. Brutal masks, sharp horns, serious faces… and then kids wearing them like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Tradition handed over without explanation. Shot with a Leica, because this kind of moment does not need tricks, just presence and a bit of respect for what is unfolding in front of you. Sometimes Carnival is not about colour and confetti. Sometimes it is about noise, weight, history, and letting winter know its time is up.

Venice, Carnival season. Everyone thinks the masks are the spectacle. The real theatre is the dance between photographers, tripods, bad knees, questionable dignity, and a shared agreement that this moment is worth looking ridiculous for. This is what it looks like when curiosity wins over comfort. Also, nobody was harmed. Pride maybe. Knees definitely.

Venice, Carnival, and a full week immersed in photography. From this Saturday until next, I’ll be in Venice running my 3-day Carnival workshops. Slow mornings, long walks, masks, light, conversations, mistakes, small victories. The kind of days where you actually see, instead of just collecting images. If you’re here this week, say hello. If you’ve been thinking about joining me in the future, bookings for 2027 are now open. I keep these workshops small, by design, and they always fill earlier than expected. No rush, no pressure. Just an open door and an honest invitation. Details via link in bio.