Cover Design, Part 4

The cover for the forthcoming edition of The Last Free City was in some ways the easiest I've ever made, and in others the most difficult.  To my eyes it's certainly the best.  Here is the cover, slightly altered from the earlier version:

I had been fairly clear that I wanted a cityscape as the cover image, and I had a number of pictures of Dubrovnik that I'd been working from for topography and atmosphere when writing the book.  I liked this one because it had an expanse of flat colour which would have been perfect for the lettering.

Again, though, too photorealistic and too static.  I tried superimposing another image--crossed swords--but it soon became apparent that this was the domain of trained graphic designers; the scheme was soon abandoned.

Then I had the idea of using an actual painting of a historical picture.  The constraint here was to find a copyright-free image in high enough resolution to print out clearly.  This representation of Venice from Bellini soon presented itself:

In some ways it's excellent - it captures the feel of a Renaissance city and there's plenty going on.  Too much, in fact.  It's hard to see how it would work as a cover without being impossibly cramped and busy.  But Venice put me in mind of my old friend Canaletto.  And there were several fine Canelettos out there, but the research reminded me that in many ways I preferred the work of his nephew Bellotto.  And so, after some more Googling, I came across this: not Venice at all, but Dresden, where Bellotto spent much of his career.

On finding this, naturally I wanted to use it immediately.  It has enough life to avoid being a static picture of buildings, a magnificent austere chill light, and the v-shaped patch of sky on the left of the picture is ideal for text.  No need to faff about with recolouring and artistic effects here - Bellotto's choices are already the optimum.  Is that cheating?  Maybe, but if so, just about all Penguin Classics are cheats too.

So there we have the cover of The Last Free City, with a little help from Bernado Bellotto...

Last Chance to See...

Last week I took a trip to the National Gallery to see its exhibition Venice: Canaletto and His Rivals.  If you want to do the same, be quick!  It closes on 16 January.  It's well worth a visit.  Art exhibitions are not always exciting, but this one is a must-see.

Venice has always held a fascination for me, despite (perhaps because) never having been there.  It's no secret that Mettingloom in The Dog of the North was conceived as a frozen Venice, with its mesh of canals and polished intrigues.  Canaletto's paintings were a major inspiration, even though they date from a period some 200 years later than the 'high Venetian' period which so delighted me.

From that perspective alone, a Canaletto exhibition would have been worth a couple of hours of my time, but the National Gallery show offered a great deal more.  His paintings were juxtaposed with those of his contemporaries to demonstrate how different artists had dealt with the same landscapes.  18th century Venice was popular as a 'Grand Tour' destination, and in an age before cameras, paintings of the city were much in demand as souvenirs.

At the start of his career, Canaletto's work is contrasted with that of Luca Carlevarijs.  Canaletto's pictures are clearly more precise and vibrant.  Later on we see contrasts with other artists working out of his own studio (and issuing canvasses in Canaletto's name).  The most prominent of these was Canaletto's nephew, Bernardo Bellotto.  Many of Bellotto's works are all but indistinguishable from his uncle's until they are displayed side-by-side, where Bellotto's more saturated colours and emphasised buildings become apparent.  I found myself preferring the pupil's work to the master's.

Bellotto, The Piazetta, c.1743

Later in his career, Canaletto's work is set alongside Francesco Guardi's.  Guardi is deliberately less precise than Canaletto, looking ahead towards the 19th century rather than working in the Canaletto tradition.

I can't recommend the exhibition too highly: a cluster of beautiful paintings, liberal historical context and a real sense of 18th century Venice.