Assignment: Campo: The Familiar Campo Santa Maria Formosa
For this assignment, I was tasked with analyzing architectural elements in a campo of my choice. I chose Campo Santa Maria Formosa primarily because this was the campo that I walked through almost every day, so I saw it from many different lenses. An analysis of the architectural elements is shown below.









On our first day in Venice, Dr. Felluga led all ten of us on a walking tour of the city. One of the beauties of Venice is that it facilitates getting lost within it. There is no clear structure in the streets; some are curved while others are placed at diagonals. Although we were supposed to be learning the lay of the land, I was mainly focused on not agitating my sprained ankle and staying awake after the plane ride. However, when we entered Campo Santa Maria Formosa, I was immediately entranced. The white stone façade of Santa Maria Formosa dominated one side of the square while children chased a soccer ball around the lion statue. The sound of rolling suitcases mixed with conversations from locals seated on nearby benches.
Then, Dr. Felluga led us to the left of the Church of Santa Maria Formosa toward a gondolier stop. Excited for the promise of a ride in a famous Venetian gondola, I immediately became alert. Venice is a very unique city in the sense that it was built on a marsh, so it contains canals instead of roads. In a city where transportation must be either by foot or by boat, gondolas (a flat-bottomed rowing boat) became increasingly popular. In Venice’s history, they used to be an effective mode of transport throughout the city, but we did not experience it that way. Our gondola ride was purely performative. Don’t get me wrong; it was a remarkable experience. The ride was a visual tour of the city, but we ended exactly where we started. While I enjoyed the experience greatly, we were not using the gondola the way it was originally intended. This can be explained through technological advancements; as motor-powered boats became popularized, there was less of a market for gondolas as transportation because these new boats could transport people further and more quickly. Gondola rides, rather, are an effort for Venice to remain connected to its history while also providing tourists with a scenic activity.
Living as a tourist in Venice was a very interesting experience, particularly within Campo Santa Maria Formosa. When Geertz was in Bali, he mentioned how the locals “acted as if we simply did not exist, which, in fact, as this behavior was designed to inform us, we did not, or anyway not yet” (Geertz, 56). This sentiment was also very true in my experience in Venice. I was never truly approached by local Venetians unless they were trying to sell me something. Within the campo, I felt as if I was an outsider.
However, I was still amazed by the amount of people I had seen in Campo Santa Maria Formosa. My favorite group of people was a small group of boys playing soccer around the lion statue with their moms sitting at a bench a few feet away. One night, a few of us were waiting outside of a bar for our friend to use the restroom, and I began to notice how the campo was a very intermediary place. Campo Santa Maria Formosa accommodated tourists, but it did not belong to them. Tourists would take a gondola ride or use it as a checkpoint before making their way through to San Marco. However, with locals, Campo Santa Maria Formosa became an intermediary social environment. The boys I had seen earlier used the space as a playground after school. Mothers talked to each other as they watched their boys. Men outside the bar used the campo as a way to destress from a long day’s work. Like Geertz, “[it] gave me the kind of immediate, inside-view grasp of an aspect of ‘peasant mentality’ that anthropologists…do not get” (Geertz, 59). I was able to separate myself from the tourism of Venice in order to see the quotidian lives of local Venetians in this campo. This gave me a deeper understanding of how the campos are utilized as truly public spaces for locals. Venice is an incredibly touristy city, but campos provide a space for both tourists and locals to come together. While tourists use campos as a physical intermediary between two destinations, locals treat campos as a resting spot between times of work and sleep.
My favorite aspect of Venice is demonstrated heavily with Campo Santa Maria Formosa, and it is known as com’era dov’era. Com’era dov’era is the Italian motto that translates to “as it was, where it was,” and Venetian campos echo this statement. There are so many eras of architecture placed next to each other throughout Venice. Within Campo Santa Maria Formosa, the church was originally built in the 7th century, but Venice kept the structure during its 15th century rebuilding. A similar event occurred many centuries later with the Querini Stampalia. Built in the 16th century, it was renovated and expanded in the 20th century, ensuring to maintain the original architectural elements it was built upon. There are so many different types of buildings and architecture throughout the campo, and it looks completely different at every angle you enter. In a way, they act as a sort of heterotopia. According to Foucault, heterotopias are where “other real sites that can be found within the culture, are simultaneously represented, contested, and inverted” (Foucault, 24). By maintaining the types of architecture from many Venetian eras, campos are a reflection of Venice’s past cultures. Similar to a museum, a tourist can learn about Venice through simply walking through and noticing these campos.
Campo Santa Maria Formosa became a staple during my stay in Venice. Since it’s very easy to get lost in Venice, when I could see Campo Santa Maria Formosa, I felt a sense of peace because I knew my way back to my vaporetto stop from this campo. Although I was a tourist, the campo provided a familiarity within me. I no longer felt like a tourist when I went through Campo Santa Maria Formosa. I began to appreciate Venice not only as a beautiful feat of architecture and engineering but also as a social space. I slowly developed into a mix between a tourist and a local over the two-week stay. Through Campo Santa Maria Formosa, I began to notice aspects of Venetian culture that tourists often overlook: slow daily conversations, after-school routines, and the ways public spaces connect residents to one another.
Citations:
Foucault, Michel. “Of Other Spaces.” Diacritics 16.1 (1986): 22-27.
Geertz, Clifford. "Deep Play: Notes on the Balinese Cockfight." Daedalus 134.4 (2005): 56-86.




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