An Oar Maker in Venice

A young craftsman and the ancient rhythm of the lagoon

A rower working his way out into the Venetian lagoon

Venice is one of the most popular and crowded tourist sites in the world. For those who come for a day – or even less – and see the major sites of Piazza San Marco, the Basilica, the Doge’s Palace, and the Rialto bridge, it may seem overwhelming. Overwhelmingly beautiful, of course, but also fraught with so many other visitors that it can become too much to bear.

But like so many other things in life, once you get beneath the surface and start to explore the less obvious parts of the city, you find places that are quieter, more human, and more purely Venetian. You also meet people who live and work outside of the way most tourists experience this floating dream of a city.

Piero Dri

One of them is Piero Dri, a remèr — a Venetian oar and oarlock maker.

There are only a handful of remèri left in Venice, carrying forward a craft that has been essential to the city’s life for centuries. Gondolas and other lagoon boats may appear simple to the casual eye, but the relationship between an oar (remo) and its oarlock (forcola) is anything but. Every curve, angle, and plane is carefully shaped to suit the way the rower moves through the water, the way the boat carries itself, and the way Venice itself demands to be navigated.

Patterns for forcule, or oarlocks

There are only a handful of remèri left in Venice, carrying forward a craft that has been essential to the city’s life for centuries. Gondolas and other lagoon boats may appear simple to the casual eye, but the relationship between an oar (remo) and its oarlock (forcola) is anything but. Every curve, angle, and plane is carefully shaped to suit the way the rower moves through the water, the way the boat carries itself, and the way Venice itself demands to be navigated.

Today, in his workshop — Il Forcolaio Matto — Piero shapes long oars and the sculptural, almost abstract forms of forcole. His hands guide the wood with practiced pressure, each shaving falling to the floor in curled ribbons, each pass of the plane a reminder of the centuries-old dialogue between craftsman, tool, and city.

The forcola, in particular, is a work of art. It looks almost like a piece of modern sculpture, all twists and angles, but every curve has a purpose. The rower leans into it, shifts against it, slides the oar into different notches depending on whether they need power, precision, or grace. No two are exactly the same, because no two rowers or boats are exactly the same.

A completed forcula, signed by Piero Dri

To watch Piero work is to glimpse Venice beyond the postcards. His oars are not just functional — they are conduits of connection, keeping alive a way of moving through the lagoon that defines the city itself. Out on the canals, when you see a rower guiding a slender red boat with steady strokes, you realize that each movement carries with it the quiet labor of a craftsman in a small workshop, surrounded by wood shavings and the scents of paint, varnish and polish.

Venice may be known for its grandeur and spectacle, but in the hands of a young remèr like Piero Dri, it is also known for something else: continuity. A living thread between past and present, carved in wood, moving silently across the water.

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During this challenging time, we all need to do what we can to keep our spirits up. I post my photographs and thoughts here to show that there is still beauty in the world and to promote the idea that there is grace, positivity and inclusivity in the everyday.

Throughout history, goodness most always wins, and the arts can lead the way in reflecting the good all around us. There is still light in the world.