A collective ritual of controlled madness: freedom, mystery, and social equality

The book “The Magic of Masks” by Massimo De Santis

When the opportunity arose to include the photography book Venice: The Magic of Masks in our catalog, an important work that recounts the Venice Carnival through artistic images, we didn't let it slip away.

The artistic project bears the signature of photographer and journalist Massimo De Santis, an author with a prestigious resume, who wanted to give shape to his unconditional love for Venice in this book.

There is so much love in this work: the same love that I, like so many others, feel viscerally for Venice and for the immense history of the Serenissima. A feeling made up of places and names that inhabit us: the Arsenale, Lepanto, Casanova, Vivaldi... right up to Carnival, which over the years has become a fixed appointment for me, almost a ritual.

This love takes shape in a truly impressive work: measuring 50 × 40 cm and weighing 13 kg, don't worry, you don't need a gun license to take it home. A series of splendid photographs, hand-decorated in gold, with one detail that immediately catches the eye: all the eyes of the masks are blackened...

The Venice Carnival

It has a very long history, dating back to 1094, when Doge Vitale Falier first mentioned it in an official document. In 1296, it was recognized as a public holiday with an edict declaring the day before Lent a day of celebration.

It is a tradition that has its roots in the Saturnalia of ancient Rome and in the Greek Dionysian cults.

In the centuries that followed, Carnival grew to become one of the most famous events in Europe. Venice, with its international character (merchants, ambassadors, travelers, artists), was the ideal place to transform a traditional festival into a major attraction.

An interesting detail is that, for long periods of history, the Venetian Carnival did not end after just a few days: it was often experienced as a real “season,” with prolonged celebrations and a city constantly enlivened by entertainment, music, parties, and performances.

One of the most evocative traditions associated with the Venice Carnival is what we now know as the Flight of the Angel. Its roots lie in the ancient acrobatic feats performed in St. Mark's Square: one of the most famous episodes tells of an acrobat who crossed the square suspended on a rope, completing an “impossible” journey to the Bell Tower and then to the heart of Venetian power.

Over time, that spectacular event changed in form and rules, but the idea remained intact: a theatrical and dizzying gesture that perfectly sums up the city's theatrical spirit.

Un’altra tradizione recuperata in epoca moderna è la Festa delle Marie. La festa ricorda l’episodio delle giovani spose rapite dai pirati istriani, poi tratte in salvo da una missione di soccorso guidata dallo stesso doge il giorno successivo. Per commemorare l’accaduto fu istituita la Festa delle Marie, durante la quale dodici giovani veneziane, bellissime e indigenti, venivano “adottate” nel senso letterale, cioè dotate di dote, da dodici famiglie patrizie per facilitarne il matrimonio. Oggi viene riproposta come rievocazione, con cortei e momenti simbolici che richiamano l’immaginario storico della Serenissima.

With the end of the Republic of Venice in 1797 and the subsequent political changes, Carnival gradually lost its central role. For reasons of public order and social control, the festival was scaled back and, in various forms, suspended or greatly reduced: the political and cultural context that had made such a large-scale and “public” celebration possible had disappeared.

After a long period, Carnival was officially relaunched in 1979, returning to being a major cultural event for the city. Since then, Venice has revived many of its historical traditions, including the Flight of the Angel and the Festa delle Marie, but in forms compatible with the contemporary city and an international audience.

The Masks

Bauta

The Bauta is the quintessential Venetian mask: the most traditional and one of the most famous. It is comfortable to wear for long periods of time, and its protruding shape allows you to eat and drink without removing it. Furthermore, by distorting the voice, it ensures complete disguise and absolute anonymity.

Moretta or Servetta mute

Oval-shaped and covered in black velvet, this mask, traditionally reserved for women, completely concealed the wearer's features. It is called a “muta” (mute) because, in order to wear it, the wearer had to bite down on a small internal support, thus rendering them unable to speak: a detail that adds to its charm and mystery.

Gnaga

The Gnaga mask is one of the most curious masks of the Venice Carnival and, in some respects, represents the popular alter ego of the Moretta. Its origins are not entirely clear, but tradition links it closely to Venice; it quickly became popular and even today it is easy to see “cat faces” in the streets during Carnival.

The term gnaga, in Venetian dialect, refers to a female cat: it is no coincidence that the mask has feline features. Traditionally, the Gnaga was a male disguise: men dressed as women of the people, sometimes as courtesans, completed the costume with a cat mask, often with a white bonnet and a basket on their arm, sometimes with a kitten.

What really distinguished the Gnaga was its interpretation: a high-pitched voice, mocking meows, and exaggerated gestures. Hence the Venetian saying “ti ga na vose da gnaga” (you have a cat's voice). It is the mask of role reversal, the perfect symbol of the spirit of the Venetian Carnival: for a moment, reality is turned upside down and identity becomes a game.

Colombina

This elegant half mask covers mainly the eyes and part of the face, leaving the mouth free. It is often richly decorated with ribbons or sometimes with a small support. The name refers to Colombina from the Commedia dell'Arte.

Plague Doctor

The famous “beak” mask: originally part of the protective clothing worn during plagues, documented mainly in the modern age/17th century, it later became one of the most recognizable figures in the carnival imagination.

The Magic

In Venice, masks were not just ornaments: they were civil magic, a key capable of opening doors that remained closed when faces were uncovered. Simply covering one's face was enough to change the city's rules, tones, and even looks. And in that change there were three powers, closely linked to each other: anonymity, freedom, and equality.

Anonymity: disappearing to become whoever you want to be

During the Venetian Carnival, identity was no longer a fixed label: name, class, and reputation could dissolve behind a mask. Anonymity allowed people to move around without being recognized, listen without being noticed, and speak without fear of consequences.

This is the first spell: no longer being “someone,” but being anyone. And when anyone can be anywhere, the city is transformed into a theater where encounters become possible and glances become bolder.

Freedom: controlled, but real

The Serenissima was a rigidly organized society, attentive to decorum and order. This is precisely why the masquerade worked: it was a freedom that was granted, limited, but intense. With a mask, one could play with roles, flirt, provoke, exaggerate. It was not “anarchy”: it was a temporary suspension of the rules, an exception that made the rule more bearable. Carnival did not cancel out order: it gave it breathing space.

Social equality: when the upper class stops talking

Perhaps the most surprising miracle is this: the mask made a form of social equality possible, at least in appearance. In Venice, social class was visible (clothing, manners, companions), but the mask confused it: a patrician could look like a bourgeois, a merchant could look like a nobleman, a foreigner could go unnoticed. At certain moments, words, gestures, and audacity mattered more than rank.

This truly changed the city: because equality was not proclaimed, it was practiced for a few hours, in a street, in a square, in a candlelit living room. People talked to those they would never have approached with their faces uncovered. They mingled. They did business. They formed bonds. They experienced a different Venice.

The real “magic”: the game of identity

In the end, the mask was powerful because it posed a simple and dizzying question: who are you when no one recognizes you?

During Carnival in Venice, identity became a serious game: not to lie, but to explore. And perhaps this is its most enduring magic: reminding us that despite social, religious, ideological, and opinion differences, there is always a space for tolerance where we can be different and meet as equals.

And then there are the black eyes of the masks...

In the images in the book, they look like wells, passages, quiet abysses. They tell of the human infinity that dwells in each of us and, at the same time, the most radical act of masking oneself: losing one's face to finally find oneself as part of a whole.

We will discuss this in more detail in another article: Venice, the magic of masks: black eyes.