The Venice Venice Hotel is a one-of-a-kind stay, melding post-modern and Italian Renaissance art

I am standing at the edge of the private dock at The Venice Venice Hotel, taking in Franco Mazzucchelli’s monumental Abbandono sculpture — an oversized inflatable chain made of grey PVC displayed incongruously along the narrow stone pathway. 

Surreal and oddly poetic, this 1969 artwork was first exhibited in the city’s Canale Gallery and its permanent return to Venice, this time as a part of the hotel’s collection, feels so apt.

Just as I am contemplating big concepts of rebellion, resistance, and control, a sleek, polished wooden motoscafo (water taxi) pulls up. Out steps acclaimed photographer Steve McCurry, looking entirely at home in this tableau of creative crosscurrents.

It is a fitting arrival scene for a hotel that has become a magnet for aesthetes and iconoclasts alike.

Post-Venetian juxtaposition

Occupying a 13th-century warehouse turned palazzo situated a stone’s throw from the iconic Rialto bridge, The Venice Venice Hotel is far from your typical Venetian stay.

Instead, conceived by Golden Goose founders Alessandro Gallo and Francesca Rinaldo — who arguably made distressed sneakers a thing — the hotel is a deliberate reimagining of the city’s narrative. 

“Venice is often seen through the lens of romance, but the city also has a powerful avant-garde soul. For example, the Biennale is a global platform for experimentation and bold expression. Historically, Venice was a city of exchange on the Silk Road, where merchants brought back ideas and influences from around the world, shaping a rich, layered identity,” says general manager Simone Cherin.

So, instead of a baroque, lace-curtained period fantasy, what The Venice Venice offers is a self-described “post-Venetian” vision that blends radical design, conceptual art and a sprinkling of fashion-world attitude to create a living gallery that captures Venice’s lesser-seen cutting-edge soul.

The tone is immediately set in the entryway, where a reimagining of Michelangelo’s Pieta by Italian sculptor Fabio Viale quietly captures one’s gaze. But here, as Mary sits in quiet grief, Jesus Christ’s body is absent from her lap and instead lies across the room on its own plinth, turning the foyer into a meditation on absence, faith, and devotion.

It is disorientingly beautiful and deeply intentional — much like the rest of the hotel.

Sleeping with art

“We wanted to revive that spirit of embracing contemporary inspiration and creative ‘contaminations’ from around the world, while honouring the soul of this palazzo. Every detail, from the restored architectural elements to the over 400 works of contemporary art, reflects our desire to create something that lives between the past and the future,” adds Cherin.

That same spirit of curated contrast continues upstairs, where each of the 42 rooms and suites has been conceived as a standalone artwork, with some collaborations with luminaries such as Bruce Nauman and Hanne Darboven. 

Social media-savvy guests might be drawn to a split-level suite inspired by photographer Renato D’Agostin’s New York loft, filled with his prints and equipped with a film camera guests can borrow. The best part? D’Agostin personally develops the rolls after the stay, turning fleeting memories into lasting artefacts.

Another standout is the Venice Suite, an ode to Italy’s radical and minimalist Arte Povera movement, anchored by a striking iron wall sculpture by Jannis Kounellis.

I stayed in Room 41, a serene, light-filled sanctuary that felt like an artist’s private retreat. Its scenographic windows frame hypnotic views of the Grand Canal, where the light shifts from pewter to gold as the afternoon slips into evening.

Inside, the space pays tribute to Italian art from the 1960s to the 80s, complete with a cheeky inflatable by Mazzucchelli floating above the bathtub — playful, irreverent, and totally on brand.

Another highlight is the hotel’s Felix Anima Spa, a one-room sanctuary created by artist Victoria Zidaru. Here, contemporary art elevates bespoke ritual: The space is enveloped in a sculptural, floor-to-ceiling woven hemp fabric installation that evokes the Tree of Life, its “branches” filled with medicinal herbs that release a subtle, grounding aroma. 

The immersive artistry flows seamlessly into the hotel’s public spaces. On the first floor, the Venice Bitter Club bar is a striking study in contrast with its sleek, futuristic counter set against an elaborate wall tapestry by contemporary artist Francesco Simeti in a witty take on 18th-century pastoral scenes.

Water-side front row seats

At water level, the hotel’s main restaurant and bar command one of the city’s most enviable Grand Canal views. Evocative black-and-white portraits of the restaurant’s local food suppliers hang on the walls like gallery pieces in a celebration of provenance and place.

For breakfast, I savour plump summer strawberries and a properly bracing espresso as gondolas glide past the terrace.

By evening, as the light softens, the beauty of the lovingly designed setting calls for an indulgent ritual. Order a classic Venetian spritz, crisp and bittersweet, followed by a few cicchetti — briny green olives and toasted coppa and cheese — the kind of small, satisfying bites that Venetians have mastered.

Truthfully, I am already overwhelmed by the city’s sensory experience. No matter, because I will be back. After all, The Venice Venice is a hotel so nice, I now understand why they named it twice — which is why just one visit will never suffice.