DOING THINGS
I’m sorry if you were expecting a list of “icons to tick off” in Venice.
You want the best 20 things to do? Go to TikTok, someone already made that video for you.
This is not that kind of guide.
In this section, you’ll find how I actually spend my time in Venice — a mix of art, design, and deliberate boredom.
Because I like art. I like design. And I like doing nothing. A lot.
01/ARTVenice has a lot of art institutions. Maybe too many. They pop up like mushrooms after the rain, and it’s almost impossible to keep track of how many there really are.
So instead of giving you a full list, here are the ones I actually care about.
- Spazio Punch — a small, independent art space on the island of Giudecca. It shows emerging artists in a context that feels alive and a bit weird in the best way. If you’re into contemporary stuff that isn’t screaming for attention, this is a good place to stop.
- Scuola Piccola Zattere — a relatively new project that turns a quiet palazzo into a kind of cultural living room. You can catch a small show, read, talk, eat, or just sit there with a beer and a cigarette at sunset, watching the light slide over the water.
- Collezione Pinault venues — Venice has two main spaces for this private collection, and the program is usually solid. Some shows are great, some are meh, but if you care about contemporary art, they’re usually worth a visit.
If the current shows suck, that’s not my fault.
The Biennale, and why you should wander
Every year, Venice hosts the Biennale — a big, messy, sprawling exhibition that alternates between art one year and architecture the next. If you’re in Venice during Biennale season and you care at all about either, you should not skip it.
The main venues — Giardini and Arsenale — are the official heart of the Biennale. You need a ticket, they’re crowded, and they’re exactly the kind of places the city tries to show off to the world.
But they’re also worth it. In the Giardini, each country basically has its own pavilion designed by a famous architect. It’s like a mini‑architectural world tour.
Then there are all the “off” venues — the collateral events, side projects, shows in old palazzi, warehouses, and half‑abandoned spaces across the city.
Here’s the good part: most of them are free. You don’t need a Biennale ticket, you just walk in when they’re open. Some of the most interesting work ends up there, in those quiet, non‑touristic corners.
So if you’re in Venice during Biennale, my advice is:
- Do the Giardini and Arsenale once, if only to see how the whole thing works.
- Then get lost in the off‑venues all over the city. They’re usually better, cheaper, and less crowded.
02/DESIGN
If you’re into design — especially clothes, books, magazines, and objects with personality — Venice has a few spots that quietly make the day better.
- Bruno — in Calle Lunga San Barnaba (Dorsoduro). A small, (personal favourite) carefully curated bookshop that feels like a design‑lover’s hideout. If you like the smell of paper and a well‑made magazine, this place is for you.
- La Toletta — a small bookshop‑style space that feels like a design‑lover’s hideout. Nice books, good vibes, quiet enough that you can actually browse without feeling rushed.
- Duca d’Aosta — a concept store in Venice that focuses on clothing and accessories. It’s more avantgarde fashion‑oriented, curated with taste.
- High‑end fashion boutiques — Venice is full of them, and a lot of them are very well‑designed inside. The interiors alone can be a mini‑museum of Italian retail architecture.
From a personal taste point of view, I especially like the ones by Maison Margiela, Jil Sander, and Dolce & Gabbana. Even if you’re not buying anything, just walking through them is a low‑budget architectural tour. - Olivetti Showroom by Carlo Scarpa — this one is for anyone who cares about architecture. Designed by Carlo Scarpa, my favorite Venetian architect and a kind of unofficial “messiah” at the architecture school here.
The Olivetti showroom in Venice is a small, calm, perfectly orchestrated space where every detail — the light, the materials, the way objects sit on the shelves — feels considered. It’s a place where “shopping” almost becomes a form of design contemplation. - Laguna B — a workshop and showroom of elegant Venetian glassware. Their glasses are expensive, but they feel like something you’d actually want to use every day, not just photograph once.
03/ROWING
If you want to do something that feels uniquely Venetian, without the usual “tourist‑gondola” cliché, there’s voga veneta.
It’s the traditional way of rowing in Venice — standing up, facing forward, with a single oar in your hands. It’s physical, a bit awkward at first, and strangely beautiful once you get into the rhythm.
There are associations in Venice that organize short courses and group rowing sessions — usually one‑day or weekend‑type workshops. You go out on a small boat, learn the basics, and slowly start to feel how the city moves from the water, without the noise of engines or the price tag of a water taxi.
It’s not glamorous, but it’s real. You’ll see Venice from a completely different angle, and you’ll also feel what it’s like to actually move the city with your own hands.
It’s a way of pacchiare, in the true Venetian sense — not in the “I’m drunk and annoying” sense, but in the “I’m doing something that belongs here” sense.
04/DOING NOTHING
There's a version of Venice that most people never find.
Not because it's hidden, not because it's secret, not because you need a local contact or a special ticket.
It's just that most people are moving too fast to see it.
They're checking lists, taking photos, eating on the go, running from one landmark to the next.
And meanwhile, the real Venice — the slow one, the quiet one, the one that actually makes you feel something — is just sitting there, waiting for someone to stop and notice it.
This is that chapter.
The art of doing nothing — I should write a book about it (in fact I am)
I've said it before and I'll say it again:
Doing nothing in Venice is a skill.
Not laziness. Not boredom. A deliberate, conscious choice to slow down and let the city come to you instead of chasing it.
Venice is one of the few places in the world where sitting on a bench for an hour feels like an actual activity.
The light changes constantly — morning fog, afternoon glare, golden hour that lasts forever, blue evening falling over the water.
The sounds shift too — boats, footsteps, church bells, someone arguing three floors up, a kid laughing somewhere you can't see.
If you sit still long enough, the city performs for you.
Where to do it
Giardini della Biennale — even outside exhibition season, this is one of the few places in Venice where you can actually walk under trees, sit on a bench, and breathe.
It's green, it's quiet, and it's the kind of place where nobody is trying to sell you anything.
Isola di San Servolo — one vaporetto stop from San Marco, and it feels like a different world entirely.
A small island with a park, a view of the lagoon, and almost nobody around.
Go there on a weekday, bring something to read, and stay as long as you can.
Parco di Sant'Elena — a proper neighborhood park at the eastern tip of the city.
Dogs, kids, old people on benches, a football pitch, a few cafes.
It feels like a place where people actually live, not a place built for tourists.
That alone makes it worth the walk.
Campo San Giacomo — one of my favorite spots in the whole city.
Benches under big trees, a quiet campo that occasionally turns into a kids' football pitch in the afternoon.
I've sat there more times than I can count, watching the local kids play while their parents talk at the benches.
It gives me a strange mix of nostalgia and hope — hope that Venice is still, in some small corners, a place where kids grow up being kids, not iPad kids, not content kids, just kids.
The rive — the long waterfront stretches, especially the ones away from San Marco or the one called “Zattere”.
Find a quiet section, sit on the edge with your legs hanging over the water, and just watch the boats go by.
It costs nothing.
It fixes most things.
A FINAL NOTE ON PACE
Look, objectively speaking, there are a million things you can do in Venice. You’ll find them in any guidebook, on any blog, in every TikTok / IG list.
You can check every museum, every church, every “must‑see,” and then come back home with a full camera roll and an empty feeling.
Venice is not a city you conquer.
It's a city you surrender to.
The more you try to optimize it, schedule it, and extract from it, the less you'll actually get out of it.
The best moments I've had in Venice — and I've had many — were never planned.
They were the ones where I sat down somewhere with no intention, and the city just showed up.
A conversation with a stranger. A light that hit a building in a way I'd never seen before. A cat sleeping on a doorstep. A boat passing so slowly it barely made a sound.
That's what you're here for.
Not the checklist.
Not the photos.
Not the "I was there" feeling.
Just the city, doing what it does, and you being present enough to catch it.