Francesca Bortolotto Possati on the magic of Venice

last updated 27 January 2017

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I was born and grew up in Venice, in a home along the Grand Canal surrounded by the Lagoon, a place that was exotically stunning. I drove a boat before I could ride a bike. I learned to swim in the lido, with the Adriatic lapping at my toes. I was taken to school, to dance class, to the market and to visit friends via the waterways that traverse our city. For as long as I can remember, those aquatic passages presented us with an entirely different perspective on city life. Quite apart from the relationship to our urban surroundings afforded by the streets, we had – and still have – a world of hidden entrances, chance encounters and new opportunities, underscored by a wonderful sense of blurred boundaries as architecture literally gives way to the sea.

The water's spiritual symbolism is constantly fluctuating and deeply nourishing, yet should never be taken for granted. As a result, this force has always been at the heart of my understanding of the world, as well as my very intuitive personal aesthetic. I tend to turn very definitely to either the sun or the shade whenever I'm designing for the hotels and residences – Il Palazzo, Il Palladio, Villa F – or for gardens, or even simply planning a dinner party. But it's always with an appreciation of the fleeting moment, as well as a need to create a sense of harmony.

There is a depth of feeling attached to that pursuit of harmony and appreciation of spontaneity, which I've always believed to be born directly of my Venetian heritage. In many ways, Venice was founded on the magic of transience – a fragile, beautiful jewel. It's important to remember that this city is in constant peril from the threat of erosion, a fact that generates an immaterial sense of intensity.