The most beautiful house in the world?

I’m on vacation until April 22. In the meantime, I’ve set up some old favorites on this blog. Since I’m off traveling, it seemed appropriate to post something about one of my previous jaunts. This post is about the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen.

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Much as I love creating books, my main artistic inspiration these days derives from architecture. Surprised? Well, it’s not just the abstract idea of architecture that does it for me (though I do think of books as structures requiring balance and harmony, just like a building). To be precise, it’s Italian villas that are making me swoon — especially if they have interiors profusely decorated with tromp l’oeil frescoes.

It all began during my last visit to Venice in 2000. While my love for Venice is well documented by my illustrated novel, The Lover’s Path, this time I expanded my explorations to beyond that city. A day trip to the Brenta River valley introduced me to the villas of Andrea Palladio. It also brought me face-to-face with what many consider the most beautiful house in the world.

The Villa Foscari, better known as La Malcontenta (more on that below) was built by Palladio in 1558. While La Malcontenta belies its nickname to be a happy model of architectural perfection, what took my breath away was the whole of the interior: the furniture, the terrazzo floors and, most of all, the frescoes, which careen with color and light and life.

What’s the story behind La Malcontenta? One story claims that the villa received this name because the owner’s wife was locked up in the house after she failed to live up to her marital duty. A variant of this tale blames the wife’s unhappiness upon the humid summer weather of the Brenta River, which brought her discomfort and disease — an Italian Renaissance version of Washington’s Foggy Bottom.

Is La Malcontenta the most beautiful house in the world? It is for me. On my bulletin board in my studio, I have several color postcards of it that I glance at periodically during my work day. A friend joked that these photos represent my “happy place” — a metaphorical place that I can visit to center myself, to remind myself that perfect beauty does exist.

Now that you know about my not-so-secret obsession, it makes sense that my Cupid and Psyche painted violin from last year was a homage to the Villa Malcontenta. As I painted it, I was attempting to capture in a very small way the all-encompassing beauty I felt in that architectural structure.

I mean, isn’t that what art’s about? An attempt to channel our experiences into something tangible?

photos of Villa Foscani © Courtauld Institute of Art. All rights reserved.

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