On Venice, Reflections & Seeing | The Sunday Journal No.9

Venice has been painted for centuries. One might imagine there is little left to say.

And yet, looking around our Artists Abroad exhibition this week, I was struck by how no two artists seem to have returned with quite the same memories. Venice, perhaps more than any other city, appears to offer itself differently to everyone. Some find grandeur, others bustle and theatre. Some are captivated by reflections, others by the strange melancholy that seems to hang in the air.

Perhaps that's why artists keep returning.

YJ Han's Reflections series feel almost dreamlike. Working in her familiar palette of blues and reds, she renders the architecture with a slightly ghostly quality, as though the buildings are emerging from the water rather than sitting upon it. What really holds the eye are the reflections - ripples of colour and light that dissolve certainty and lend these small oil studies an almost ethereal atmosphere.

YJ Han, Reflections V, 2017

Elizabeth Cameron, too, finds something quieter and more mysterious in Venice. Despite her bright and confident use of colour, there is an unmistakable sense of stillness in these works. The city appears less as a collection of landmarks and more as a memory, softened by light and imbued with a melancholy that feels entirely fitting for a place suspended between water and sky.

Elizabeth Cameron, Gondolas Overlooking Isole San Giorgio Maggiore, Venice, 2026

In Venice Dusk, Ken Ferguson captures that fleeting hour when day gives way to evening. His mastery of watercolour allows the skyline to dissolve into washes of colour, evoking all the romance and transience that seem inseparable from Venice itself.

Ken Ferguson, Venice Dusk, 2025

Craigo brings yet another interpretation. His bold, graphic style lends the scene a wonderfully cinematic quality. There is a quietness to the painting, but also a touch of the uncanny that feels entirely appropriate in a city where reflections and shadows constantly play tricks on the eye. Bold colour and strong graphic rhythms create a work that is atmospheric, beautiful and unmistakably his own.

Craigo, Venice at Dusk, 2026

Where others dwell on stillness, Roddy Lakin embraces the theatre of Venice. His bustling piazza scene has all the exuberance of a festival. At its centre, one of Venice's elegantly dressed waiters glides through the crowd with remarkable poise, tray held aloft in a gesture that feels almost balletic.

Roddy Lakin, Evening in Venice, 2025

And then there is Tom Watt, whose understanding of light never fails to impress. His sweeping view of the Grand Canal is both expansive and intimate, playing with perspective, colour and reflection to luminous effect. It is one of those paintings that rewards simply standing still and looking.

Tom Watt, Grand Canal Venice, 2023

Tom Watt, Evening, Grand Canal, 2023

Looking at Tom's work alongside that of Alan Cameron is a reminder that two artists can stand in almost exactly the same place and yet return with entirely different paintings.

Alan's Canal Grande, rendered in his inimitable pastel technique, shares a similar viewpoint but captures light in a completely different way. Sky and water merge seamlessly, creating an extraordinary sense of calm and stillness.

Alan Cameron, Canal Grande

In Acqua Alta, meanwhile, the city appears under cloud and rain. There is mood here, certainly, but none of the saccharine romance Venice sometimes attracts. Instead, it feels authentic and quietly observed.

And in Gondolas, a break in the clouds allows light to sparkle across the water with that magical quality which so many artists have sought to capture and so few truly manage.

Alan Cameron, Gondolas

Having never visited Venice, I found myself thinking, standing amongst all these paintings, what version of Venice might I encounter one day?

The real subject in these works is seeing. Not the city, but the act of looking at it. The same canals, the same bridges, the same shifting light and yet, every artist returns with something entirely their own.

Which perhaps tells us that art is less about places than people.

About what catches the eye. About what lingers. About the peculiar ways in which we each make sense of the world around us.

No two artists seem to arrive in quite the same city.

And perhaps that is why, centuries later, Venice continues to reward looking.

Until next Sunday, Adam