Yesterday I attended a workshop/roundtable/symposium at Columbia that addressed the issue of research in Venice and the Veneto in terms of what's left to be studied, and what needs to be re-examined. The scholars on hand included my advisor, Tracy Cooper; Guido Beltramini, who runs CISA, the Palladio center in Vicenza; David Rosand, probably the foremost Titian scholar in the field right now; and Deborah Howard, who teaches at Cambridge and literally wrote the book on the architectural history of Venice. Despite the august crowd, it was fairly informal, as each shared their ideas on how wide the field still remains. Howard ticked off a list of problems she feels haven't been addressed by her own generation of scholars, while Rosand gave us a look at his current research on the painter Veronese as an architectural designer, which involves re-evaluating some of his own conclusions on Veronese from decades earlier.
They also focused a bit on 'ways and means': finding (or stumbling upon) a research topic, and the trials and tribulations of archival research. Dr. Cooper told us that the sign-in book at an archive or library is your best friend--skim through it and see if anyone you've always wanted to meet is lurking in the reading rooms somewhere, and then go track them down (I personally would imagine that eminent scholars might not totally appreciate being jumped in the stacks by an eager junior colleague, but that's me). She also advised scoping out for local scholars who speak the language and probably know how everything works, and asking for their help in getting situated. Jasmine (who attended with me) was called upon to talk about her experience with the Medici Archive Project's online paleography course, in which every week she and two dozen other scholars around the world do a round-robin translation of a 15th century document. It's a pilot program right now, but one which I hope to participate in in the future before I enter archives myself.
Deborah Howard really endeared herself to me not only in terms of being absolutely adorable (a trim, proper little Englishwoman in a grey ensemble with pearls) but in terms of her sheer, bubbly enthusiasm for art history and research. I'm sure she's more reserved when she gives formal presentations, but she was practically bouncing in her chair as she told us about a time when she was in Venice studying documents referring to this destroyed 16th-century building and thought she would just go to the site and check out the area, only to find that the building had never been destroyed at all! She "discovered" a building that had been "lost" for centuries, just on the basis of people forgetting what it was and then later scholars, many of whom didn't have the luxury of just walking across the city to
check, relying on an incorrect document. The coda to this exciting anecdote, she told us wryly, is that today no one remembers that it was ever lost, much less that she was the one to find it again.
Howard also contradicted the received wisdom that discourages working on a topic that another student or scholar is pursuing. She pointed out that you'll never wind up saying the same thing as someone else, and if you publish books simultaneously, you can be reviewed together and add to each other's prestige. When she was preparing to write her book on Venice and the East, she found out that Rosamond Mack was planning a similar project; they got together and informally divided up the material (Howard took architecture, Mack material culture) and then when their books came out, they were reviewed jointly and were both tremendous successes. She also pointed out that sometimes someone "lays claim" to a particular topic (which you do by publishing a topic or abstract in CAA or another major association journal) and then never produces anything. You can't copyright an unformed idea, so I see her point.
As Jasmine and I said our goodbyes to Dr. Cooper, she suggested (read: instructed) that I introduce myself to Beltramini and ask him if he had any contacts in Bergamo. I looked over--he was in conversation with Howard and there was already another student lurking hopefully off to one side. There is nothing I hate more than the awkward self-introduction in a crowded room, especially when you have to introduce yourself to someone who is more important than you and whom various other people are also eager to meet. I countered Dr. Cooper by saying perhaps I would just email him, and she said "That's fine. Now go introduce yourself and tell him you're going to email him!" Sigh. There was nothing to be done at that point, and seeing him begin to move off in the room I flung myself in his path, shook his hand, told him who I was, and asked him about Bergamo. Turns out, he knows nothing about Bergamo, he's never worked there, but he said "your idea is good" (I bet they have to say that to all the students) and rattled off some scholar's name who works in Brescia and might know something. Now I just have to get Dr. Cooper to decipher my scribbling of this name, and who knows, I might have something.
The session was only two hours, but I came away from it much more enthusiastic about research and my scholarly future in general. One of the points that Rosand, in particular, was emphatic about is the continuing importance of Renaissance studies as "the place where it all began," and about the fact that we need to combat "the rolling-up of history" that places all the focus on the most recent events and neglects the past. It reminded me, if I really needed reminding, that what I'm interested in is
deserving of study. The humanities are all-too-often placed in the position of having to justify themselves as fields, but I feel confident in saying: The Renaissance is fun! And what's more, it's where we begin as modern society. Studying the past is studying ourselves.
Gerome, The Snake Charmer, 1870
