Making worlds in Venice

TEN hours (this figure has been rounded off to the nearest 10), two painfully sore feet, a mountain of literature, brochures and exhibition catalogues later, and it’s over. Well at least the Venice Biennale’s Arsenale and Giardini have been seen, analysed and photographed by the under(or over)signed with a quasi scientific eye.

But that is not taking any of the collateral events into consideration. And there are many, believe me, including the opening of the newly restored Punta della Dogana museum, by Japanese architect Tadao Ando, housing a portion of François Pinault’s massive contemporary art collection. Not to mention the Emilio Vedova museum or Yoko Ono’s exhibition in relatively close quarters.

Probably if I had to sum up my experience in a single sentence, it would have to be “That was effing amazing!” I had read copious amounts of literature regarding the world-famous Venice Biennale, yet I admit (although I am somewhat embarrassed in doing so), that this was my very first experience of Venice and the Biennale. Granted, I knew what it looked like (approximately), and had a good idea of what to expect, but nothing could have prepared me for the magnitude of it all. I simply had to see with my very own eyes what the “fuss” was all about, and whether the standards of the visual arts were on a completely different level to the “Maltese product”.

I am the first to agree that there is still a lot of mediocrity when it comes to art, but we can’t and should not dismiss all of our propagators and place them under one umbrella. In fact, the very first thing I have to say, even though I wrote an entire article about the very thing just under two months ago, is that I can’t, for the life of me, understand why Malta missed the boat, or rather why we keep missing the boat and not participating in the Biennale. Who is the authority, the almighty in charge of taking such decisions? There is no valid reason as to why Maltese artists cannot contend for space in the Biennale, or even why they shouldn’t be showcased in one of the many venues available.

While roaming the many streets in search of the relevant exhibition venues, and on entering said venues, I kept thinking of and picturing the works of Norbert Attard, Raphael Vella, Austin Camilleri and a few others, gracing the walls, floors and any other surface areas available. I could picture them taking over a warehouse, building or structure, as they had done for their Borders, Cityspaces, Blitz or Über exhibitions. I so long to be roaming Venetian quarters once again with the purpose of searching for the Maltese pavilion. And honestly, I don’t think we should let this boat – this gondola – drift away with the tides. Thousands of people from all over the world visit the Biennale on a daily basis, why shouldn’t they be viewing the works produced by Maltese artists too? After all, it is one of the most extensive and longest running art events across the continents, the duration of which caps most of the months from June through to the end of November (The Biennale ends on November 22, so there’s still time if you’ve missed out so far).

The first Biennale was held back in 1895. As the name dictates, it is held every two years, making the present show the 53rd edition, which has been collectively titled Fare Mondi (Making Worlds). Swedish curator Daniel Birnbaum was appointed artistic director for this edition, and was responsible for a large section of the show (38 exhibition halls showing separate shows by individual artists) held in the Palazzo delle Esposizioni at the Giardini di Venezia.

Besides the curated gallery, there are another 29 pavilions in the area of the Giardini alone. The Arsenale comprises another large portion of curated shows, and a few pavilions, among which the new Italian pavilion can be found, featuring no less than 20 artists. However, a number of other pavilions are scattered around Venice and form part of the vast number of collateral events. In all there are some 77 countries participating in this year’s edition, with most countries using rented or leased spaces, some of which had been vacant and “lying dormant” (or under-utilised) for a number of years. Gets that brain fluid flowing, doesn’t it?

There are truly many parallels to be drawn between Venice and Malta: the rich culture, the surrounding seas, the maritime history, a tourism-centred industry and more. Yet why is tourism never a problem for Venice and always high on the agenda for Malta? There must be something we’re doing wrong...! The weather conditions didn’t make it easy to visit the never-ending series of shows. Imagine 38°C and levels of humidity persistently over the 90 percentile. Enough said. In fact, the sheer heat emanating from many pavilions and especially from the built, sound-proofed structures for the video installations, prevented the enjoyment of the works. This resulted in many visitors simply scanning the works momentarily. Few were the countries/pavilions that invested in portable air-conditioned devices, in the other venues and spaces many visitors simply couldn’t take the heat in the greenhouse-like pavilions.

I also feel I have to comment on the general upkeep and maintenance of the pavilions. Although a number were top-notch spaces, possessing all that could have been required in terms of facilities, layout, distribution, flow of works, interpretation, etc, others were quite decidedly shabby. Perhaps my expectations were a tad too high; then again I could not have imagined that “leftovers” from previous Biennales, random boxes and other bits, could be stashed in such conspicuous corners. The Biennale is the kind of event that once experienced, becomes an integral part of one’s cultural calendar. Venice is simply alive with art – it’s in every corner, palace, abandoned warehouse, church, public space or boatyard. And therein lies a lot of valid and important information.

Many might be under the impression that in order to participate in the Biennale, a country must indulge in the expense of building and maintaining a pavilion. Yet there are a number of venues/sites which can be rented out for the duration of the show. For example, I was quite surprised (to put it mildly) when I visited the Moroccan pavilion, which is held in the Chiesa Santa Maria della Pietà – on Riva degli Schiavoni. It is refreshing to see that religious or political boundaries are totally done away with in some circumstances, because the juxtaposition of these works, exhibited in a church, felt so uncanny and jarred to such an extent due to all the socio-cultural implications that it resulted in quite a perfect marriage of sorts.

Processing the Pavilions

I’ve taken the liberty of “jotting” down a few personal notes: I can’t help starting off by mentioning the NY Arts pavilion which is found in the Consorzio Cantieristica Minore Veneziana area known as Giudecca. What a marvellous place it is, and how apt that Patrick Fenech’s piece be exhibited in a pavilion located within a boatyard. Although not up to the standards of some of the other pavilions, I was proud that Malta was somehow represented in this 53rd Biennale – albeit indirectly. Although I have to say that some of our artists’ work could have easily occupied an entire pavilion. Some seem to think that Malta doesn’t have a quality product in terms of the visual arts to export to an event such as the Biennale. As I said earlier, our only problem is lack of participation. Vince Briffa, Norbert Attard and Raymond Pitré were the last to participate in the Biennale in 1999, and Malta only participated one other time. It’s high time to get the ball rolling. Malta has enough “soul” worth exportation to make an impression.

The Danish and Nordic countries pavilions

These pavilions were by far my favourite of the lot. They were engaging and interactive, having a simple yet clear concept while simultaneously being fun in a tongue-in-cheek manner. Collectively titled The Collectors, the pavilions were curated by long-time collaborators Elmgreen and Dragset. The merging of two pavilions in neighbouring venues was a first in the Biennale’s history. Transformed into not-so-typical domestic settings, the pavilions possess particular introspective qualities into the collecting habits of the respective owners. The one represents a house for sale, apparently immaculate but on closer inspection clad with cracks, faults and voids. While the other abode belonged to a seemingly camp individual who decided to take his own life and floats calmly (face down minus his expensive shoes) in his moderately-sized outdoor swimming-pool. Nosing around another person’s house, “all access areas”... what more can one ask for?

The US pavilion: Bruce Nauman

Ok, fine, dedicate a whole pavilion to a single artist; he’s good, he needs no introduction, but was there really the need to spread out the show in three separate venues? Especially when the said venues are nowhere near one another! I found that a bit too much. And as a friend pointed out... why, oh why, was the US pavilion the only one in which visitors could not take any photos? Homogeneity!

The British pavilion: Steve McQueen

This was the stellar pavilion for many visiting the Biennale, and also one of the most highly anticipated shows, what with the release of McQueen’s first feature-length film Hunger late last year. Like Nauman, an entire pavilion was dedicated to McQueen, which was “converted” into a small cinema. His video installation, titled Giardini was essentially a reflection on the first of the Biennale venues, during its “off” period. Funnily enough even Dominque Gonzalez-Foerster approached this subject in her own video installation which was basically a memoir of the five occasions she participated in the Biennale. The poignant visual narrative, which is entirely lacking of any actual narrative, follows the environs of the Giardini from awkward viewpoints. The desolate surroundings depicted in different seasons, is quite revealing and moving to a certain extent. McQueen proves himself yet again, although the audience was not all keen to sit out the 30-minute screening. Pity.

Padiglione Italia: Collaudi

It’s extremely difficult to sum up 20 artists and 1,800 square metres of contemporary art into a few sentences. I simply can’t, but here goes nothing: Painting was given fair prominence, the best exponent of which was probably Nicola Verlato with his titular neo-Baroque renderings of James Dean in bullfighter mode. Aaron Demetz presented a number of life-size raw wooden nude sculptures partially coated in resin – very effective and quite eerie to look at. My favourites, though, were by far the neo-surrealist photographs of Matteo Basilé collectively titled The Fall of the Gods and Giacomo Costa’s Private Garden – an “avenue” of backlit photos depicting the co-existence of nature and man-made structures and the slow thwarting of one over the other.

The Spanish Pavilion: Miquel Barceló

This is the first pavilion one encounters when stepping into the Giardini and it sets quite a standard, as well as raising expectations. It also proves that painting is still high and ripe as an art form, at least in some countries. The strongly textured works of this artist are a joy to inspect and absorb, and the space feels like a proper contemporary art museum rather than a single example out of 29 pavilions in the surroundings.

Palazzo delle Esposizioni

One of the exhibits that most impressed me was not in a pavilion but rather in the Palazzo delle Esposizioni. This was Swedish artist Nathalie Djurberg’s Experiment, whom I later learnt won the Silver Lion for Promising Young Artist. Her work comprised a grotesque garden, where overgrown monstrous flowers dribble blood-like paint onto the floor. The “garden” was also the environment for one of her signature animation video installations, which verged onto the erotic although not explicitly so. And this is the point where I ask whether there should be some form of a classification attached to the more audacious of exhibits. I couldn’t help feel uncomfortable that young children kept gawking at the seemingly cartoon-like characters performing all sorts of lurid acts. Not everything is acceptable in the name of art.

Definite disappointments!

For starters the Serbian pavilion was closed. On the door a small hand-written note announced they were encountering technical difficulties of some sort. Nothing was written as to when the pavilion would be up and running again. I also found this kind of a “notice” in the Greek pavilion, where a section, having countless small flat-screens, was cordoned off. It’s not onlyinmalta.com. The Austrian pavilion was one of the worst, a garishly graffited space full of badly proportioned pretty-boy-Jesus-lookalike-nudes, which was quite frankly just tasteless. The France pavilion was a bit of a waste of time and space. Too much metal and too pretentious, and add a touch of melodrama while you’re at it. I expected better from the country which has churned out artists such as Pierre Soulages, Niki de Saint-Phalle and Yves Klein! Then there’s Romania... oh Romania! They conjured up a labyrinthine structure within their pavilion full of plants (not sure they were all real) and at every juncture there was a video installation. This created an almost greenhouse effect.

■ Ms Baldacchino travelled to Italy courtesy of Air Malta.