A full Moon, strong winds and a vicious cyclone combined to hit Venice with its second-worst flood in history in 2019. Today, books saved from the water tell a story of loss and resistance.
On the night of 12 November 2019, photographer Patrizia Zelano saw the tragic news that one of the worst floods had hit Venice. The next morning, she left her home in Rimini, drove two-and-a-half hours north-east, parked on the mainland, and finally arrived by train to the stricken city, which was still in a state of emergency.
Due to a perfect storm of factors – a sirocco wind surge combined with a full Moon tidal peak and a fast-moving cyclone – the sea level had risen by 1.89m and 85% of the centre of the city had gone underwater. The disaster was second only to the catastrophic 1966 Acqua Granda, which first called the world’s attention to the issue of Venice’s survival.
On her two-day adventure, Zelano salvaged 40 books. Though most are now unreadable, her photographs of the ruined books tell the story of the fragility of the lagoon and its cultural heritage – as well as a push towards possible solutions.
Wearing rubber boots, Zelano waded from the train station through Strada Nova, which was still about 40cm (1ft 3in) underwater. She went to the house of a friend of a friend. The tide had retreated by the time she got there. “All sorts of objects, pieces of furniture, chairs, were piled up, like trash, everything was completely drenched,” she tells the BBC. As the homeowners were busy saving the salvageable, Zelano focused on their books, which struck her as beautiful in their decay and symbolism. One of the books from the house (pictured above) looks like “an archeological find from the Stone Age,” she says. “It doesn’t open anymore, it’s cemented.”
Zelano decided that she needed to save more books. She called Lino Frizzo, a bookseller in Venice, whose store is aptly called Acqua Alta, “high water”, the Venetian name for floods. Frizzo recently told her that, because of the hectic activity of those days, he doesn’t remember her being there. Together with his employees, they worked non-stop to clean up and save the inventory. They gave Zelano books beyond repair. Most were from the early 1900s, which for Italian and Venetian standards is old but not antique. They were beautiful though, like this poetry anthology which had a lush red fabric cover. “An injured book”, says Zelano.
Zelano took 40 books and put them in big black plastic bags. At 55 years of age, she was alone on this trip. “There was no way I could carry them all by myself, and it was hard to find people to help.” She stopped a gondoliere on the canal and convinced him to take her back to the station by gondola. “Some of the books, like this one, would crumble just at the touch of my hand,” she says. “You see the hole to the right.” She adds that this particular volume looks precious, like lace, and that one day she would love to explore the fantastical words created by the fragments of several pages pressed together.
Back home in her studio, Zelano, who had been a student of the Italian photography master Guido Guidi, photographed the books using only natural light. She didn’t open them but placed them just there as they were. This one was a Treccani encyclopedia from 1949. “I like that [on the top right-hand corner] you can see the image of a genie, a Pagan entity. It’s the Genius of the Catacombs of Domitilla in Rome, who is a symbol of protection, and that is reassuring to me.”
The shape of another encyclopedia Treccani volume from 1951 reminded her of sea waves. Events like the 2019 are expected to happen increasingly often because of rising sea levels and the city’s subsidence. With these photos, Zelano wants to create “a eulogy to culture, to our history. They practically enshrine cultural memory, universal knowledge. So, there is loss. But with this photograph, there is healing, and there is also resistance”.
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“This book is crying. You see the tear?” says Zelano. The encyclopedic volume was still wet when she took the picture, so much so that a drop of water is visible in the front. Its shape is a metaphor of the tidal movement of the sea. In 2024, global sea levels rose by around 5.9mm (0.23in) a year according to Nasa, though rates vary in different oceans. In addition, Venice is losing around 1.5mm a year through land subsidence.
“I put these books together and they look like waves, or like letters written down, or you can see heart shapes,” says Zelano. She wishes she could have carried more books home. “When we experience personal or environmental storms, we are able to understand what we need to save, that is, what is indispensable to us.”
These encyclopedias of art history from 1978 showcase the work of iconic 18th Century Venetian artist Canaletto, who painted the city’s most famous views. After the catastrophic events of 2018 and 2019, Venetians accept floods as part of their life, especially in autumn. But they are aware that the city’s Mose flooding defense system controlling the tides, is only a partial solution.
“Photography is fundamental because it can bear witness, but at the same time also evoke something else,” says Zelano. “It opens up new perspectives, new thoughts. Mine is a symbolic work, meant to provoke reflection. A visual memory, where photography preserves knowledge and transforms destruction into hope and meaning. It is a form of awareness aimed at finding solutions.”
Credit: BBC
