11 August 2007

Biennale di Venezia



What draws someone through heavy black curtains into a tiny dark room to watch black and white video of people crawling through forest snow? Or better yet, looping footage of a naked woman perched in a tree mimicking the squawking of nearby birds? (Believe me, the initial intrigue of her nudity is quickly overwhelmed by the exuberance of her squawking.) I've seen these videos and I can tell you that the one thing they've taught me is that if I ever knew the value of video art, I've long since forgotten.

The convenient benefit to my (and our) lack of appreciation for this art medium is that it makes the Venice Biennale easier to attend. Once you realize you don't care about what's behind the curtains, you stop having to look behind them. This may sound like the lack of an open mind, but in reality when you have an already limited amount of time to focus on art, this technique gives you more time to focus on the art you just might like.

Easily the coolest and most economical attraction in Venice these days, the Venice Biennale is a sprawling showcase of contemporary art that's really amazing. There is just so - much - art. The exposition is organized in two major zones of Venice: the Giardini della Biennale and the Arsenale; and both are interesting places in their own right.



The Giardini della Biennale is basically the grounds for a World's Fair. Gravel paths and promenades arrive at diverse buildings in every style, each built by a specific country and housing that country's official art exhibit. For example, the United States' building is straight off the grounds of Thomas Jefferson's Monticello and features the art of Felix Gonzalez-Toress. What's most compelling about this work is it's interactivity; one piece is a carpet of black candies that is replenished daily, replacing the pieces removed by the passing audience.



The Arsenale is a colossal shipyard in the midst of Venice's sprawling waterside. The building you walk through never seems to end and the art is everywhere. This part of the exhibition is as intriguing for its structure as for the art on display -- rails from the previous transport systems and cisterns once filled with flammable liquids share the space with contemporary arts biggest names. For a split second on entering the Chinese pavilion, you don't know what is art and what is structure. I'm hardly the person to ask about what this means to contemporary art.

We took in the exhibition over a weekend - one day devoted to the Giardini and another to the Arsenale. At 15 euro for admission to both I'd say this ticket is one of the best buys in Venice, if not all of Italy. The Biennale closes on November 21 and if I had the time I'd truly consider going back for more.



Most Powerful Moment: Eric Duyckaerts, Belgium
(AKA: Most Likely To Injure Small Children)

The most compelling moment of the entire exposition was one split-second in the Belgian exhibit. We were inside the curving confusion of a glass and mirror maze. Each turn you took confused your position not only by simple geography but because the mirrors and glass created virtual copies of you and everyone else in the room.

It was very difficult to know where anyone was, and where the glass stopped and real space began. This confusion is best enjoyed at a slow, wandering pace. The only person who didn't know this was the very small boy who became so excited by the reflections and light that he ran straight for the exhibit - and straight into a glass wall. You heard the contact before you saw him standing there, confused and in pain. His joy and excitement had been crushed in one upsetting instant and in that moment every piece of lofty art fell right back down to what human feeling really means.



Reason To Start A Fanclub: Sophie Calle, France

Forget croissants and the Eiffel tower and head straight for Sophie Calle. This French artist caught us both by surprise and we couldn't help gravitating to the witty and smart simplicity of what she's up to. Her showcase piece, entitled "Take Care of Yourself," was a sprawling examination of a break-up email she'd received from a lover. But - and here's where she trumps the expected alone-in-this-world artist pathos - this exhibit showcases the perspectives of 100+ women who she asked for their own analysis of the message. Each woman responded in her own way; one grammatically diagrammed the sentences, another turned it into textured Braille, while still another responded with a comic monologue delivered while chopping onions. This is multi-media at its best and sheds so much light on the email that in the end it matters far less than the conversations about it. We bought it hook, line and sinker. And we also bought the book.



Best Left For The Experts: Various Video Artists

As previously mentioned. Even if you call your video piece "Fun Palace" we're not going in. I promise.



Strongest Motivation To Move Quickly: Nordic countries (Finland, Norway, Sweden)

A long tall wall in this exhibit is blanketed with never-ending yellow and black dart boards. Like a stationary storm of bumble bees the wall seems to pulsate and throb. And every few seconds a dart pierces the surface. And then another. And another. Until the dart-thrower has no darts left in hand.

At this point the individual must decide to brave the firing wall, and quickly get close enough to retrieve a handful of darts. Except that the darts are hard to find in the excess of pattern and this is not the place to dawdle while other dazed art-lovers, wanting to be a part of this great moment in the history of art, hurl more darts at the wall.

So run, quick to the dartboard wall. Notice that there are a great many darts resting high on the boards, where they aren't easily reached. Decide that you can reach them if you just jump high enough. Jump. Reach. Grab one. Jump. Reach. Again. Then quick, run back to where it's safe. Where the hipsters in all black and designer tennis shoes can't take out their espresso-fueled angst on you by missing the wall of dartboards, and instead, lodging a dart in you.



Lose Your Husband Here: Padiglione Italia

The Italian pavilion is a very large space. By function, it has to be. It has to provide enough emptiness and open space to display a great many pieces of wild and wooly art without having the pieces turn on each other. Yes, yes, I know; the art needs to breath, the open areas need to mirror the energetic ones. Ok, great. But wouldn't the appreciation of the art be increased if people didn't lose the folks they came with? Or better yet, shouldn't the folks we came with not wander off? Any ideas there, Stefano? In the meantime I guess I can just hang out with the Italian hipsters... Maybe they know what I should like about video art.



Best Coffee Break Background: Paula Trope (BRA)

Think of that one crazy neighbor in town who has a backyard filled with an obsessive collection of some single object. There are piles of this object colonizing and suffocating every available space with pockets of brave weeds and grass growing up through the voids. Now imagine if those piles were of bricks and concrete blocks painted to look like the vivid buildings of a sprawling Latin American city. Drop these piles into the center of the Giardini della Biennale and put some chairs and tables nearby. This, my friends, is the best place in all of Venice for an espresso. (And far easier than climbing over the crazy neighbor's fence.)

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