What I Liked at the 2024 Venice Biennale
‘Foreigners Everywhere’ is a fitting title for Venice. So many people descended on the charming city for the biggest event in the art world’s calendar. Myself included. I didn’t see everything in the biennale (is that even possible?!) but, in no particular order, here is a snapshot of what caught my eye.
The Swiss Pavilion
Immediately eye-catching, the courtyard of the Swiss pavilion was dominated by a liberated female figure standing proud on top of a huge tree stump, with fallen pillars at her feet. It felt distinctly feminist, hugely symbolic and very simple. Female Power? The crumbling of man-made civilisation? Whatever its interpretation, I found it very striking.
Britain
I didn’t have high expectations for the British Pavilion, but I was pleasantly surprised. John Akomrah’s ‘Listening all Night to the Rain’ was, by nature, distinctly British. (It’s pissing it down as I write this.) Upon discovering deeper messages about climate change, all the water felt even more fitting. I particularly liked the ground floor, where videos of flowing water mirrored images of historic paintings submerged in water. It felt very visceral and highly atmospheric. Undercurrents of colonial issues forged a meaningful link with the Biennale’s title, as well as an ironic comment on what it means to be ‘British.’
The USA’s pavilion
A funky shade of coral-red drenched the American pavilion, grabbing attention a mile off and positively glowing in the Italian sunshine. The whole building was incredibly, unexpectedly joyous. A stark contrast to the doom and gloom of the US’s bleak political landscape. The building was full of life and vibrant energy, and it seemed that everyone who entered it left with an uplifted mood. Jeffrey Gibson drew his inspiration from indigenous and queer histories, producing and melting pot of vibrant expression, brimming with life. There was a room painted entirely in bright yellow, which was a personal favourite.
Israel
In a striking contrast to the USA’s pavilion next door, I will let the photograph of Israel’s display speak for itself. It was very powerful.
Austrian Pavilion
My favourite part of Austria’s space was a row of old-fashioned phone booths. I made my first ever phone call using a working payphone! It felt very retro and to be honest, I found it thrilling. (I know, I’m so Gen-Z.) There were girls giggling and making calls, and an elderly Italian man who looked very happy. It was only after making my call and thinking ‘this is cool’ that I went on to read the information on the wall. The artist, Anna Jermolaewa, arrived in Austria in 1989, spending time in a refugee camp. These were the actual payphones from the camp. Asylum seekers wrote the graffiti on the walls, and almost all of the international calls made in Austria came from these booths. Jermolaewa used these exact phones to contact her family back in Russia after her displacement. I couldn’t quite believe the significance housed in these simple structures. By making a call, I was a part of their history. A sign read ‘Feel free to call someone.’ It made me think about connections, and the network of people in the lives of every user of the phones. I wondered who people here were calling- friends? Loved ones? People’s lives happened in the booths. The art was facilitating real connections; all too rare in our digital world. A lot of the art on show at the Biennale is highly conceptual and abstract. This one was simple and real, and thus (for me) one of the most impactful.
Bolivia & Russia
Since the 2022 invasion of Ukraine, Russia hasn’t participated in the Biennale. I have no idea why Bolivia took over the pavilion, but I’m not against it- Bolivia had no space to exhibit and Russia an empty space. Its win-win I suppose; just a bit random.
Lebanon at Arsenale
Lebanon’s display was in the Biennale’s other location, Arsenale. This itself raised questions for me. It seems that only Westernised or wealthy countries get their own pavilion at Giardini. Other countries wanting to be involved have to find their own space, which is presumably what Lebanon did. I read a very interesting article in Frieze Magazine about Africa’s lack of presence at the Biennale. How can it call itself a global exhibition when almost a whole continent is missing? I was shocked and yet not surprised; the art world is notoriously self-interested and rubbish at inclusivity. But a whole continent? We need to do better. The very nature and setup of the biennale doesn’t make space for different forms of art that are common in many African countries. They don’t want to exhibit, because they rightfully refuse to change themselves to fit the brief. If the biennale was more flexible and accommodating to global art, it would only intensify its power. That said, a few African countries did present this year for the first ever time, so hopefully change is on the horizon.
Back to Lebanon; despite not being in its own building this was one of my favourites. Titled ‘A dance with her myth’ and created by visual artist Mourina Al Solh, it explored challenges faced by modern Lebanese women, through the lens of ancient mythology. By examining the mistreatment of women in traditional mythology, a light was cast on women’s continuing struggles. I found it very powerful and relevant to all women, no matter when or where they are living. Looking at past stories felt like an interesting and relevant way to explore unconscious narratives that women continue to live with.
© Nik Macey 2024
All images taken by Author