Behind closed doors

Most of the palazzos on the Grand Canal rise directly out of the water with no more than a landing stage to moor up against. Very few have gardens visible from the water, but as our barge took us daily up and down the Grand Canal one garden shone out, a cut above any other, by virtue of having swags of white and pink roses spilling and billowing down to the water over a stone balustrade. In a city of water, stone and brick this was a touch of softness that trees or shrubs could not emulate. With each pass, the desire to go and see the rest of the garden tantalisingly glimpsed between the balusters as we sped by became more urgent.

The garden belongs to Palazzo Cappello Malipiero and is private. Too private, it seemed, to be visited or photographed, let alone filmed by the film crew I had with me. Every day we passed it and every day it looked lovelier. So we asked nicely, pulled strings, asked again, but all to no avail. Then, the day before we were due to leave, word came that we could visit for half an hour that afternoon. So plans were hastily rearranged and at the allotted time we duly presented ourselves at the side entrance on Salizzada Malipiero.

The palazzo itself and its neighbouring buildings form a tight frame of ochre walls but it is the fourth wall, the view across the canal to the palazzos on the other side, that transforms it.

The width of the canal creates room enough to give them balance and remove any sense of being overlooked and overwhelmed whilst retaining proportion and intimacy. It is the most perfect urban setting that any garden might have on this earth.