Gallerie dell’Accademia

Hardly academic, these galleries contain more murderous intrigue, forbidden romance, shameless politicking and near-riots than the most outrageous Venetian parties. The walls of the former Santa Maria della Carità convent complex maintained their serene composure for centuries, with the outstanding architectural assistance of Bartolomeo Bon, Palladio and Carlo Scarpa – but ever since Napoleon installed his haul of Venetian art trophies in this convent in 1807, there’s been nonstop visual drama inside these walls. To guide you through the ocular onslaught, visits are loosely organised by style, theme and painter from the 14th to 18th centuries, beginning with Paolo Veneziano’s c 1350 Coronation of Mary, which shows Jesus bestowing the crown on his mother with a gentle pat on the head as an angelic orchestra performs overhead. For shimmering gore that seems alarmingly fresh, there’s no topping Carpaccio’s Crucifixion and Glorification of the Ten Thousand Martyrs of Mount Ararat in Room 2 – Harry’s Bar was quite correct in naming its bloody raw beef dish after this painter. Andrea Mantegna’s 1466 haughtily handsome St George and Giovanni Bellini’s sweet-faced Madonna and Child haloed by neon-red cherubs highlight Venice’s twin artistic tendencies: high drama and glowing colour. Rooms 6 to 10 include such Renaissance-Mannerist masterpieces as Tintoretto’s Creation of the Animals, a fantastical bestiary that suggests that God put forth his best efforts inventing Venetian seafood (no arguments here), and one of Titian’s last efforts possibly finished posthumously by Palma il Giovane: a 1576 Pietà where form is secondary to raw emotion, with smears of paint Titian applied with bare hands. The Accademia’s scene stealer dominates Room 10: Paolo Veronese’s controversial Feast in the House of Levi, originally called Last Supper until Church Inquisition leaders condemned Veronese for showing drunkards, dwarves, dogs and (most alarming of all) Reformation-minded Germans cavorting amid the apostles. Veronese refused to change a thing about his painting besides the title, and Venice stood by this act of artistic defiance against Rome. Follow the exchanges, gestures and eye contact among the characters here, and you’ll concede that not one Moorish trader, stumbling servant, gambler or bright-eyed lapdog could have been painted over without losing an essential piece of this Venetian puzzle. At this point you’re only halfway through Venice’s contributions to art history – phew – but don’t skip rooms 16 to 18, which feature Canaletto’s sweeping views of Venice, and Giorgione’s 1508 The Storm (La Tempesta), a highly charged scenario involving a nursing mother, a passing soldier and a bolt of summer lightning. Adjoining portrait galleries can scarcely contain larger-than-life Venetian characters, including Giorgione’s decidedly un-Botoxed Old Woman, Lorenzo Lotto’s 1525 soul-searching Portrait of a Young Scholar, Rosalba Carriera’s brutally honest self-portrait c 1730, and Gian Battista Piazzetta’s saucy socialite in his 1740 Fortune-Teller. Room 20 reprises Gentile Bellini and Vittore Carpaccio with multi-culti crowds of Venetian merchants embedded in Venetian versions of Miracles of the True Cross, before the grand finale: Titian’s 1534–39 Presentation of the Virgin, with the young Madonna dutifully trudging up an intimidating staircase as onlookers point to her example.