
A Regatta on the Grand Canal
Canaletto, 1740
From €29Museum-quality print, also on canvas and framed.
Frequently asked questions
Which size should I choose?
This work is available in 30 × 40 cm, 50 × 70 cm, 70 × 100 cm. As a guide: 30 × 40 cm (about 12 × 16 in) for shelves, corners or gallery walls; 50 × 70 cm (about 20 × 28 in) above a dresser, a headboard or a desk; 70 × 100 cm (about 28 × 39 in) as the centrepiece of a living room or the wall above the sofa. Below the buy buttons you can see it to scale above a 2-metre sofa.
Does it come framed?
The print arrives unframed with a white border, ready to frame. If you choose a black or oak frame, it arrives mounted behind acrylic glazing, ready to hang. Canvases come stretched on a wooden frame.
When will it arrive?
Printed to order at the lab closest to your address. It arrives in 4–8 working days in Spain and the EU, and in 6–12 working days in the US, Mexico and other destinations.
What if it arrives damaged?
Email us a photo within 30 days of delivery and we will send you a new one free of charge or refund you.
Can I send it as a gift?
Yes. At checkout you can write a gift message and ship it to the recipient's name and address. The parcel shows no prices.
About the work
- Artist
- Canaletto
- Date
- 1740
- Medium
- Oil on canvas
- Dimensions
- 122.1 × 182.8 cm
- Collection
- The National Gallery, London
- Print up to
- 70 × 100 cm
- Reference
- XDV-0646
What the museum label doesn't tell you
Look closer: many faces here have no face at all. Dozens of spectators wear the bauta, that white mask and black cape of Venetian carnival, and Canaletto renders them with the same precision he gives Palazzo Balbi or the Rialto in the distance. There's a nice tension in that: obsessive, near-documentary detail in the architecture, total anonymity in the crowd that fills it. The February 2nd regatta was a show within a show, and this souvenir-for-the-rich sold so well Canaletto painted the scene more than once, an earlier version also ended up at the National Gallery. Was he selling Venice, or selling its anonymity?










