BIENNALE: FROM VENICE WITH LOVE
The 57th Venice Biennale offers a topical fusion of fake fun and tough tension. Whereas the 85 national pavilions, spinning out of the original 19th century Giardini into the Arsenale and Palazzos all share a mood of reflective anxiety, the central pavilion lives up to its title: ‘Viva Arte Viva!’ Its curator Christine Macel declares that ‘the artistic act in contemporaneity is an act of resistance’ yet her selection rather suggests acts of compliance to the art world mode for relational aesthetics. It lacks the politicised rigour of the previous curation by Okhui Enwezor, criticised for its stress on activist art.
After the thrill of the joint Indo-Pak pavilion in 2015, this Biennale presents no pavilion from either nations and only three artists from South Asian origins: Rasheed Araeen, Rina Banerjee and Shezad Dawood, all of whom are diasporan. What is not happening in the exchange between the West and the South Asian art world?
In spite of Alfredo Jaar’s hilarious mechanical maquette drowning the Giardini in 2013, the formidable trio of colonial hegemony — Britain, France and Germany — still dominate the lay out, with the US further down and Russia in between. Most of these powerhouses surprise by the force of their anti-capitalist, geo-political subtexts referring to the current refugee crisis.
Only France, with Xavier Veilhan, manages to appear coolly distant by building the prefect recording studio, a refuge where musicians can experiment, away from the noisy outside world that, paradoxically, John Cage would have loved, as does Mark Bradford in the US pavilion. Outside ‘Tomorrow is Another Day,’ litter decorates piled up gravel outside the blocked main entrance, forcing the viewer to enter a side door and circumnavigate a suspended hulk of a painting before moving towards a dilapidated grotto. All is layered with detritus and black paper, like a palimpsest of ruins. Bradford’s energetic spiel claims his subject to be cellular change, the vulnerability of the micro individual to the instability of the macro state.
Officially called Viva Arte Viva, the 57th Venice Biennale is too bland for the post-Brexit and post-Trump world
A similar scenography of decay frames Phyllida Barlow’s ‘Folly’ — the British pavilion whose six rooms are filled to the roof with cardboard, plaster, wire-mesh and wooden slats — rubbish in the guise of Shakespearian theatre sets. Whispers of Gormenghast and Gothic horrors are ominous, yet the echo of melancholy is countered by the cheeky bravado of her pieces, wild in scale and imagination, pushing Arte Povera to an absurdist level.