By Thea Hawlin
Marcantonio Brandolini remembers prohibited barbecues in the garden of Palazzo Giustinian Brandolini best: “We were mostly cooking potatoes so the neighbours wouldn’t smell the meat, then exploding fireworks into oranges or yoghurt pots,” he says. Set behind the wisteria-covered palazzo, where his mother, Marie, founded the glassware company Laguna~B in 1994, the garden, which is divided into a courtyard and a raised garden, has always been a centre of activity.
Archive images show birthday parties stretched out on a lush green lawn, an ancient statue cradling a handblown glass. Marie's first collection, “Goto”, took inspiration from the traditional goto de fornasa glasses made by glass masters from colourful, mismatched scraps. The modern take on the humble tradition was an instant hit. When Brandolini took the reins of the company in 2016, three years after his mother’s death, he moved the offices into a modern extension in the garden: “Little by little, we’re moving out.”
The high walls and herringbone brickwork underfoot only add to the sensation of the courtyard and garden, which are joined by a small staircase with 17th-century statues of Circassian warriors, as external rooms; just as lived in as the rest of the palazzo. In recent years, the garden has hosted numerous gatherings, whether the 30th anniversary party for Laguna~B in 2024, where people drank mojitos from brightly coloured glass tumblers and danced between the trees, or more recently, a book launch by the Italian publisher Marsilio Arte, appropriately, about Venetian gardens.
“Gardens have great acoustics,” says Brandolini, “people can actually talk seriously and not small talk . . . in a garden, you hide yourself with somebody you particularly like, you can contemplate by yourself without seeming crazy.” This awakening of the garden as a social space, where people come together, is also reflected in the placement of the Laguna~B offices. “You’re immersed in green,” says Alessandro Trevisan, the brand’s in-house photographer.
Several members of the team recall the trauma when, shortly after they started, the neatly trimmed hedges were abruptly removed and covered over with gravel. Yet without the botanical spiral, a new iteration of their very own private “piazza” came to life. A large marble table flanked by potted plants and lemon trees established a new kind of centre. Less formal, not a puzzle to work out or a path to follow, but an invitation to sit: a new season. Caterina Capelli, head of communications at the glassmaker, describes outdoor lunch breaks, setting the table naturally with Laguna~B.
Brandolini praises the “great style” of his paternal grandmother, Cristiana, for the change: “Nostalgia is a prohibited word in our vocabulary.” Today, the space also showcases his artworks. In a secluded corner, a sculpture hangs above a table, in the shade of a twisted web of jasmine. “It’s full intuition,” he notes of the tangle of glass shards and rocklike cotissi (leftover glass fragments), that hang in an alien meteorite-esque oval. “I feel the energy of the garden outside my studio window . . . it’s alive, and I think the point of an artist is to immortalise emotional energy in something, and nature helps you do that.” His pieces often begin as a knot of lines sketched out on paper; translating these into a three-dimensional sculpture becomes, by his own admission, a process of “manic intensity”.
For next year, plans are under way for a larger, more extensive installation within the garden that will coincide with the Venice Biennale. Though the details are currently under wraps, when spring comes, one thing is certain: the garden will bloom in more ways than one.
Photography: Alessandro Trevisan/Laguna~B/Laguna~B Archive
