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WHERE AESTHETICS IS EVERYDAY LIFE

94 falstaff May 2026

Between tradition and modernity, Venice reveals a quiet strength. We spoke with Venetian-born Count Giberto Arrivabene about the delicate balance of heritage, craftsmanship, and the art of living.

INTERVIEW ANGELIKA ROSAM

FALSTAFF Your work is deeply shaped by craftsmanship and materiality. When you hold an object in your hands, one of your wonderful glass pieces, ceramics, or textiles, for example, what tells you right away that it embodies true craftsmanship?

GIBERTO ARRIVABENE Craftsmanship reveals itself immediately through a certain honesty: when I hold an object in my hands, I can feel the dialogue between the hand, the material, and time. With glass, for example, there is a tension between fragility and control.True craftsmanship is never overworked; it radiates a quiet confidence, an integrity that does not need to be loudly displayed.

Venice has always been a city of great workshops: Murano glass, textiles, books, perfumes. Do you think this culture of craftsmanship has also shaped your own aesthetic sensibility?

Absolutely. Growing up surrounded by the heritage of Venetian workshops deeply shaped my aesthetic sensibility. Venice teaches you that beauty is not an abstract idea, but something lived, woven into everyday life, into objects, and into gestures. The refinement of Murano glass or historic textiles instills a respect for detail and a love of materials that I bring into everything I do.

Is there a Venetian craft (apart from your glasswork) that moves you personally in a special way, perhaps because it tells a story that could only have been born here?

Venetian textiles have always moved me deeply, especially the magnificent historic fabrics made on old looms. They tell stories of trade routes, of cultural exchange between East and West, of a city that once stood at the center of the world. And I am deeply grateful that my daughters, Viola and Vera, are bringing Venetian fabrics to the world through their Friulian shoe brand, ViBi Venezia, which only recently opened its first boutique in Venice, right next to my own shop by the Rialto Bridge.

People from all over the world travel to Venice to experience this beauty. You, on the other hand, wake up in this city every morning. Is there a moment during the day when you think: How extraordinary it is to live here?

Yes, often, but perhaps most intensely in the early morning. When the city is still quiet and the light begins to reflect on the water, there is a moment of awakening, almost like in a dream. Venice then reveals itself not as a place, but as a feeling, something timeless and deeply intimate.

When friends from other countries come to visit, what would you want to show them first so they can understand what Venice is really about?

I would not take them straight to the obvious landmarks. Instead, I would invite them to get lost. Venice must be discovered slowly, through its narrow streets and squares, through unexpected views and quiet corners. Only then can one begin to understand its true nature.

Many visitors only see the great landmarks such as St. Mark’s Basilica or the Grand Canal. Where do you personally find the quieter, perhaps even more intimate sides of the city?

The quieter Venice lives in its outer districts, in places where daily life continues almost untouched by tourism, such as Sant’Elena or the beach of the Lido on sunny winter and spring days. There, the city breathes differently, slower, more authentically. In those places, I feel closest to its soul.

In Venice, the line between art and everyday life seems to blur, even on a simple walk, you pass masterpieces. Has this constant closeness to art changed your view of beauty?

Living in Venice inevitably shapes the way one perceives beauty. When art is not confined to museums but becomes part of everyday surroundings, it changes your expectations. Beauty becomes something natural, almost necessary, a standard against which everything else is measured.

Do you think Venetians develop a special sensitivity to aesthetics simply because they grow up here?

I do believe so. Growing up in Venice means developing an instinctive sensitivity to proportion, light, and harmony. It is not something you consciously learn; you absorb it like a language.

Is there a place in the city, a palazzo, a church, or a narrow alley, perhaps, that especially embodies the essence of Venice for you?

A place that is especially symbolic to me is a small alley whose name says it all: Calle Stretta, near Campiello Albrizzi. Stretta literally means “narrow,” and that captures the essence perfectly.

Your family has been connected to Venice for generations. When did you first feel that this history was also part of your own identity.

I believe you become aware of it gradually. As a child, it is simply the world you live in. Later, you begin to understand the depth of this heritage, the responsibility, but also the privilege. At some point, it stops being history and becomes part of your own life story. The Venetian nobility has always been somewhat different from that of other parts of Europe, less courtly, but more closely connected to trade, diplomacy, and culture.

What fascinates you about this tradition?

What fascinates me is precisely that balance between refinement and pragmatism. The Venetian nobility was never purely ceremonial; it was connected to the world. That gave it a certain openness, a cosmopolitan spirit that still feels very relevant today.

Venice has always been known for its international outlook and openness to the world, and its palaces, the result of centuries of cultural encounters, bear witness to that.

Do you think this old republican elite still shapes the city's identity today?

I am afraid that kind of world no longer exists; history has taken a different course. So, to answer your question, I believe that aspect has been lost in the way the city presents itself today.

Is there a season when you love Venice most, perhaps in the winter fog, during high water, or on a quiet summer night?

Winter, without hesitation. When the fog softens the outlines of the city and the crowds disappear, Venice returns to itself. There is a quiet melancholy that I find incredibly beautiful.

When you want to be completely on your own, where do you go in the city?

I often seek solitude simply by walking, with no direction, no destination. Venice allows you to disappear into it. There are always places where you can be alone, even in such a heavily visited city.

I also love stepping into churches; Venice has 240 of them, so you can always find a moment of peace and admire their beauty with fresh eyes.

Venetian cuisine is surprisingly subtle, lots of fish, lots of lagoon influences, often very simple. Which dish, in your opinion, best captures the soul of the city on a plate?

Granseola alla Veneziana, a dish that one simply has to try if one has never had it before. Venetian cuisine is about essentials, about letting the ingredients speak for themselves. It reflects the city itself: subtle, layered, and deeply connected to its surroundings.

And finally: which three restaurants or bars in Venice are your personal favorites, the places where you always feel truly at home?

There are a few places where I always feel truly at home: intimate, understated, and full of character, places where time seems to move more slowly and where the spirit of Venice has remained beautifully intact, such as Do Forni and, of course, Aman Venice in Palazzo Papadopoli.

Every Monday, I enjoy escaping the city to visit my nanny, la Clemi, who is like a second mother to me, and enjoy a wonderful lunch at Osteria al Castelletto.