Campo Sant Angelo

Venice comes alive in this sunlit view of the Campo Sant'Angelo, painted by Canaletto around 1742. That tall bell tower leaning ever so slightly belonged to the church of Sant'Angelo, a building that was pulled down in the early 1800s. So this painting holds onto a piece of the city that has since vanished. Canaletto made his name with the "veduta," a highly detailed cityscape that wealthy tourists snapped up as keepsakes of their travels through Italy. In a way, this was the deluxe postcard of its day.

The real charm here lies in the ordinary moments dotted across the square. Tiny figures wrapped in cloaks and tricorn hats wander, gather in little clusters, and go about their errands, while a small dog trots near the middle of the open space. Two stone wellheads sit on the paving, a reminder of how Venetians once collected their water. Canaletto was known for his sharp eye and skill with light, and he often relied on a device called a camera obscura to get his buildings just right. The outcome is a quiet, golden afternoon caught and kept, so many centuries later we can still picture ourselves crossing those weathered stones.