In the post that preceded my expose on international toilets I promised a timely followup piece on the Venice Biennale Art Show. Seeing as that was in July and it we’ve only recently entered August, I hope you will let me slide.
In addition to the individual buildings assigned to each country there was a communal exhibit that mixed works and influences from all over the world. Rather than organization based upon borders, the more traditional approach of common themes, styles and mediums defined the landscape. This saved me the work of having to think of how one piece related to another. Sometimes though, I stumbled across something that stood completely on its own, unique among a mass of unique.
As far as I could tell, the boat pictured above wasn’t officially part of show, but my hostel mate convinced me otherwise.
- Him: That’s the most interesting thing I’ve seen
- Me: What do you think it means?
- Him: Probably some statement about Africa
Given there was no sign, there’s a chance that it wasn’t just a statement, but an actual shipment from Africa.
As part of a larger series these illustrations hinted at the existence of an entire other world. Much like The Far Side, each frame contained the entirety of narrative. Characters existed only in that moment, and yet far beyond. I couldn’t understand the words and there was no translation, but the mystery seemed only to deepen their resonance.
Through sheer force of my dumb luck, occasionally I was able to find connections that hadn’t even been arranged by the curators. Of course, it usually had to be literally spelled out for me.
Aside from the obvious link, the individual pieces seemed concerned with very different things. The artist responsible for the top piece had a whole series composed of neon lights and multiple reflections. I have taken to calling them infinity mirrors. Looking down the Bed Well, I felt the sensation of flopping onto a mattress when completely exhausted and falling, falling, falling.
The second picture shows a collection of beds from every four star hotel in Saudi Arabia. My initial reaction was shock, since I assumed there were many more than fourteen nice hotels in that oil giant. Then I felt a sense of familiarity, not only because I have slept in a bed a few times in my life, but also because I have been taking a picture of everywhere I’ve laid down my head during this trip. Someday I will collect them into a wonderful display and have the satisfaction of posting them on this website, not at an internationally respected art show.
As if on cue, my silent question, “What will other Germans think of this?” was answered when a German woman posed giggling next to the eagle while a stranger took her picture.
The thick layer of frost/snow was real and was slowly melting away. I had to wonder if this meant that Third Reich would soon awake from its hibernation. Or, more likely, that Germany’s sense of pride was finally coming out of hiding following WWII. What did the giggling German think?
For many of the critics, as well as the wise hostel mate, Venice’s highlight was the six month art happening put on by Iceland. Ragnar Kjartansson apparently decided that living in a recently bankrupt country wasn’t quite as enjoyable as living next to a canal, drinking beer and painting his friend.
Everyday a new painting and everyday the same swimsuit. David Bowie on the record player while visitors walk around an archetypal artist’s loft. Beer bottles on the floor, old furniture takes up space, and canvases fill the room. There is the sense that a party has just finished and another will soon begin. The good humor spreads throughout the room as the artist chats with onlookers and others make themselves at home.
There was a sort of double experience to the event. The most obvious was that of being in the room. When people are having a good time, it is visceral and inescapable. Art was in the air and everyone wanted to be a part of it. At the same time, you had to remember there were finished pieces lying all around. Composed in a singular style, they were all worth a few minutes of contemplation, especially if the dominant thought was, “Is the final product any better than the process?”
