With the smell of dead bull still fresh in our nostrils and ten stone heavier than prior to the journey, me and Cesca headed back to the U.K. In what I ca only describe as a flash it was three days later and myself and two friends were venturing to the uncharted lands of Europe. First stop Pisa. It's absolute waft don't go.. After spending the night in Pisa where our hostel was owned a crazy drunk Italian man named Carlos we swiftly departed to Venice via Florence. We were only in Florence for a few hours but were impressed from what we saw, we attempted to get into the Ufitzi but there was a queue of tourists a mile long, mostly Americans may I add, tut. So instead we headed to the Mvseo di Palazzo Vecchio (the palace) instead although didn’t have all the priceless works of art we wanted to see, did have a sick cartography room and great rooftop views of Florence. We also witnessed a bit of home, away from home. On the continent it would seem it is normal practice if your a middle aged male to ask every Tom, Dick and Harry if they have a cigarette that they can 'borrow'. My usual response to one of these scrounging foreigners is to tell them where to go stick it, but on this one occasion when a pissed Italian who was drinking a nice bottle of export Tennants special brew approached me I gladly obliged. The respect you demand for drinking Tennants special brew anywhere in the world is worth at least one cigarette if not the whole packet so they can smoke themselves to death before the repocussions occur.
Soon after this cultural encounter our voyage continued, to probably the maddest place I have ever been, Venice. I've never been to a more claustrophobic and packed destination either. Literally chocker with tourist traps and pit falls, 10 euros for an ice tea, no thank you, I don’t even like the shit. Elbows were used, people were hurt, it wasn’t pretty. Despite this, we got done what we really had wanted to achieve, in true rock star fashion may I add. We saw the Venice Biennial in a day. This was a feat that felt like no other human being had done before, we'll by anyone that has lived to tell the tale. There's nothing greater than the experience of running from the Giardini to the Arsenale stopping briefly for a baguette stuffed with miscellaneous meats and then catching a packed boat to a deserted island. Jesus Christ, it was worth it though. I'd rate Venice in terms of ideas and inspiration bigger than Issac Newton's apple. There was more art than I can physically and mentally handle, far too much for five years let alone one day. I instantly regret dragging a non-arty friend along, however, us old timers were having a brain hemorrhage at the end of the day, I can't even imagine how she felt. I have to say the French and the Iraqi Pavilion’s were the two areas that really stood out. The French Pavilion included one artist alone, Christian Boltanski, who without a shadow of a doubt was the most accomplished artist there. The piece, The Wheel of Fortune, filled the whole of the immediate interior space in the french pavilion. The work included a range of various materials: scaffolding, printing machinery, counters, photography, projectors even a doorbell. The machine works on a repetitive cycle, long strips of what looked like newsprint were whirring noisily around the room as you walk through the maze of metal scaffolding and wire fencing. If you looked closely upon the strip were hundreds of portraits of babies faces. Every so often the bell would ring and the machine would randomly stop. The fixed camera would then take a photo of the baby that happened to be under it at the sound of the bell, this image would then be put up on a monitor in the space. The whole work encompasses the element of chance, as does his three other works in the Venice Bienalle; Last News from Humans, Be New and Talking Chairs. Last News from Humans consisted of two large computer counters, on one the red numbers indicate the average number of people who die in a day and on the opposing counter green numbers would show the average number of humans born in a day, the poignant tag line for this particular work is 'We will not be replaceable, but we are, happily, replaced'. The last of Boltanski's work I saw was entitled Be New, This was located at the back of the pavilion in a black out room with a single tiled projection on the far wall, it works much like the game where you fold a piece of paper up each draw a body part of a person, at the end opening the paper to reveal the freak that you have produced. The projection consisted of 60 new born Polish babies and 52 deceased Swiss people all split up into three parts. Each section was moving at speed and if stopped had the potential to make a million and a half hybrids. As a viewer you could stop the fleeting images and create a new being. If it happened to match all three parts of an original person the visitor wins a work. You can also play online here right up until the biennial ends in November for the chance to win a surprise sent by Boltanski himself. Sick idea.com. (http://www.boltanski-chance.com/index.html).
While on the subject of the Giardini, I will have to mention Great Britain's Pavilion, put together by installation artist Mark Nelson. I have seen Nelson's work before in the Tate Britain, I like to describe his work as total art, fully encompassing and involving the viewer on multiple levels. Walking through Nelson's total artworks reveal a series of subtle narratives through the vast amount of detail he includes in his work, this could range from decor of the rooms for instance to the contents of a cupboard. Initially in Tate Britain I quite liked Nelsons work, I seemed new and exciting, but after the Biennial, I am not so sure. The British pavilion was naturally the only pavilion we had to queue for, whether this was just to enhance the Britishness of the pavilion or it was just for dramatic effect, it remains a mystery. After about half an hour of queuing we finally reached the front of the queue. There stood a typical spindly, London art scene, bohemian type handing out pamphlets. In another truly British twist he seemed to be offering his well rehearsed knowledge on the health and safety regulations of the art work, 'mind your head', 'be careful of slight inclines' among other wise words to the same effect. Entering the building your eyes had to adjust to the dimly lit rooms and corridors of the work. As I wandered aimlessly perplexed throughout the work I could not fathom any sort of narratives. There were suggestions that people had potentially once been there, beds and bits of old machinery for instance, but there was no continuity or underlying narrative as far as I was aware. It might as well just been a squat for a group of skilled tramps. The most loaded of the rooms was one containing one hundred or so photographs hung all over the ceiling and lit with that dim red light you would usually associate with film processing rooms. After banging my head and falling over slight inclines for about 5 more minutes we decided to leave the pavilion rather jaded and frustrated at our experience. After this perturbing visit to our homelands pavilion we moved on to some of the more exciting works by other countries. I will only name a few that really stood out such as Greece, Switzerland and Denmark. Diohandi's work for Greece was interesting as she had taken a more DIY, grassroots approach to the immediate aesthetics of the work. The entire pavilion building was encased in wooden planks which initially looked boring and unimpressive but as you walked inside we were greeted with a simple white and narrow pathway through gray and murky looking liquid, which gave the strange illusion of infinite depth. At the far end of the room there is a sheer strip of white light that filled the vast space with a eerie yet soft ambiance. I would describe the work as simplicity in its most effective form. It was a well earned rest bite from the hectic feel of the thousands of other pavilions at the biennial.
The Swiss and Danish pavilions stood out because of the controversial content of the exhibitions. Denmark was a group exhibition which focused on the ever present conundrum of freedom of speech. The exhibition tried to highlight some of the problems with delimiting freedom of speech, it contained sometimes racist and controversial comments and works that I had never seen being allowed to be released in the public domain with such a nonchalant attitude before. Interesting, if not a little close to the bone. And talking of close to the bone, we moved to the Swiss pavilion and Thomas Hirschhorn's work The Crystal of Resistance, like the Greek pavilion on first impression the work looked childlike and raw, glitter, sellotape and tin foil were evidently the materials of choice for Hirchhorn, the entire space was covered from ceiling to floor with vast foil constructions, pillars, strange surfaces and constructions. In and among this there were miscellaneous objects, chairs, tables and kitchen utensils to name just a few. As we looked closer, however, there were vast amounts of secondary source imagery, clippings from celebrity magazines and glossy woman’s gossip columns, in and amongst this garbage were images of a much darker nature. Hundreds of internet images of the dead from various wars, horrific and debilitating injuries graphically presented so that once we had cottoned on you no longer saw the rest of the work, these images were all your eye was drawn to. A powerful piece that looks at the borders between parental control, censorship and the everyday media, suggesting that these horrific images are as easy to come by as a trashy teen magazine. You could draw parallels with the themes of the Danish pavilion, exploring freedom of speech, although in this case it could be rephrased as exploring freedom of content.
The Iraqi pavilion was more surprising than controversial, considering the fact that Iraq, and lets face it has had its problems, war, dictatorships and poverty. I am going to be brutally honest, I wasn’t expecting much. The pavilion was located outside of any of the official venues at the Gervasuti Foundation between the Arsenale and the Giardini. You could easily walk past it if you didn’t look at your map. Inside it was dark, dusty and run down, the floor boards were showing extreme ware, a thick layer of dust covered all most all of the flat surfaces and there was a solitary desk behind which a shadow of a receptionist was dimly illuminated. The title of the exhibition is Acqua Ferita/ Wounded Water, where six Iraqi artists interpret the theme of water although the themes surpass this rather bland and unimaginative theme. Adel Adibin's video work plays cleverly with themes of tedium war and Americanisation through quite a comical video that has some quite serious undertones. Halim al Karim Hidden Revolution 2010 was on the other hand quite an unnerving piece, large scale blurred figurative imagery covered the walls of a small room to the east of the building, which gave the sense of containment and voyeurism. This was heightened by an spotlit image of a blurry naked woman at the end of the room, your eyes literally couldn’t escape it. There was recently an interesting programme on BBC 2 about the Iraqi Pavilion. Presented by Alan Yentob, it followed the Iraqi artists making work for the Venice Bienalle. It contained some insightful interviews with the artists in question, their thoughts, their views and their beliefs about modern day Iraq. Karim was the most politically motivated and passionate about his country. So the story goes, Karim lived a crude hut in the desert for 6 years, on the run from the authorities. He was brought food and water supplies once every two weeks by a curious old Iraqi woman whom he described as the goddess of the desert. In the interview he described how his works often convey his belief in nature and how women in his work often represent deities, the blurring of the images is used to add a veil of mystery. Washing your hands of a country by Walid Siti on the other hand was less an invasion senses but revealed some interesting themes and interxtual references. He is the only artist in the pavilion that actually has based the majority of his practice on the theme of water. The work Beauty Spot 2011, depicted a blown up Iraqi note with a video of a waterfall playing through a crudely ripped hole in the middle. It reminded me of Banksy's work on the wall between Israel and Palestine from a few years ago. The depiction of paradise through what is such a restraining object, be that physical like bricks and mortar or a financial barrier that lay in your path. Siti's recent work focuses on how the Iraqi government used the natural resources of the country to make money, in what I have recently learned in the most bizarre fashion. Basically there is a famed river and waterfall in Iraq, one of its national treasures and pride of the country. It's one of the main tourist attractions in Iraq and one particularly hot summer the waterfall dried up, severe drought was all over the country, people were struggling for drinking water. The government, to keep face and to generate money kept pumping water into the waterfall despite the fact people were dying of dehydration. This seemingly inconspicuous natural landmark had been turned into a powerful symbol of corruption.
The Iraqi pavilion was more surprising than controversial, considering the fact that Iraq, and lets face it has had its problems, war, dictatorships and poverty. I am going to be brutally honest, I wasn’t expecting much. The pavilion was located outside of any of the official venues at the Gervasuti Foundation between the Arsenale and the Giardini. You could easily walk past it if you didn’t look at your map. Inside it was dark, dusty and run down, the floor boards were showing extreme ware, a thick layer of dust covered all most all of the flat surfaces and there was a solitary desk behind which a shadow of a receptionist was dimly illuminated. The title of the exhibition is Acqua Ferita/ Wounded Water, where six Iraqi artists interpret the theme of water although the themes surpass this rather bland and unimaginative theme. Adel Adibin's video work plays cleverly with themes of tedium war and Americanisation through quite a comical video that has some quite serious undertones. Halim al Karim Hidden Revolution 2010 was on the other hand quite an unnerving piece, large scale blurred figurative imagery covered the walls of a small room to the east of the building, which gave the sense of containment and voyeurism. This was heightened by an spotlit image of a blurry naked woman at the end of the room, your eyes literally couldn’t escape it. There was recently an interesting programme on BBC 2 about the Iraqi Pavilion. Presented by Alan Yentob, it followed the Iraqi artists making work for the Venice Bienalle. It contained some insightful interviews with the artists in question, their thoughts, their views and their beliefs about modern day Iraq. Karim was the most politically motivated and passionate about his country. So the story goes, Karim lived a crude hut in the desert for 6 years, on the run from the authorities. He was brought food and water supplies once every two weeks by a curious old Iraqi woman whom he described as the goddess of the desert. In the interview he described how his works often convey his belief in nature and how women in his work often represent deities, the blurring of the images is used to add a veil of mystery. Washing your hands of a country by Walid Siti on the other hand was less an invasion senses but revealed some interesting themes and interxtual references. He is the only artist in the pavilion that actually has based the majority of his practice on the theme of water. The work Beauty Spot 2011, depicted a blown up Iraqi note with a video of a waterfall playing through a crudely ripped hole in the middle. It reminded me of Banksy's work on the wall between Israel and Palestine from a few years ago. The depiction of paradise through what is such a restraining object, be that physical like bricks and mortar or a financial barrier that lay in your path. Siti's recent work focuses on how the Iraqi government used the natural resources of the country to make money, in what I have recently learned in the most bizarre fashion. Basically there is a famed river and waterfall in Iraq, one of its national treasures and pride of the country. It's one of the main tourist attractions in Iraq and one particularly hot summer the waterfall dried up, severe drought was all over the country, people were struggling for drinking water. The government, to keep face and to generate money kept pumping water into the waterfall despite the fact people were dying of dehydration. This seemingly inconspicuous natural landmark had been turned into a powerful symbol of corruption.
After stumbling upon one of the biennial’s hidden wonders we sped through the narrow allies and over the crowded bridges of Venice to the Arsanale. This large industrial area contained a few pavilions as well as some more select artists and works from around the world. Included in this complex was the Padiglione Italia, in which I think there was work by every Italian artist, known to man. I am by no means an expert but my personal opinion was that Italy's contribution the Biennial was terribly curated. It was more like an art fair or a junk sale, the walls were full of a miss match of everything from textiles to prints, photographs to paintings. This had to be the biggest art hurdle of the day, as the dehydration and hunger were kicking in my dry eyes were suddenly attacked by a wall of art which really did finish me off for the day. Suffice to say I didn’t really see much after that, or at least remember much. The work that probably stood out most was Cristian Marclay's, The Clock which not only had great content but also had sofas and it was dark for those fatigued biennial visitors that couldn’t handle the pace. After this gargantuan yet exhausting day the rest of our time in Venice was spent sitting in squares drinking water then playing cards. The stake being that the looser had to pay for the other two to go to the toilet. I really should end this post with a heath and safety tip inspired by our wiry friend at the Great British Pavilion. Don't try to do the Venice Biennial in a day, as it could cause fatalities, or failing that severe brain damage.
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