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I had never been to Italy before. So having a friend working at the Hong Kong Pavilion at the Venice Biennial was a good enough excuse for me to visit for the first time. The Venice Biennial consists of a central, international exhibition along with the national pavilions. The central exhibition this year is ILLUMInations, directed by art historian and critic, Bice Curiger. Many of the pavilions are within the Giardini (the ‘Garden’), and some are in the Arsenale, the old shipyard. There are other official national pavilions scattered around the city, and collateral events that take place throughout the Biennial months.
My first stop was the Arsenale. I cannot say that there were many pieces that particularly caught my eye in the central exhibition, though I did spend over half an hour watching this year’s Gold Lion winner, Christian Marclay’s The Clock. The Clock is a 24-hour long film made up of clips from many different films that include a reference to time. The time referenced in each clip reflects the actual time in which it is played. I was a bit wary of the piece – I felt there was enough media hype around it already. However, I must admit that it lives up to all the attention. The video is shown in a large, cavernous space of its own, with multiple couches positioned for large audiences. Most people, including myself, were deeply absorbed in the surprisingly suspenseful film. I experienced several layers of tension: the anticipation embedded within the clip itself (some action hero hanging off the clock face of Big Ben, for example); the playful excitement of being the first at correctly guessing which movie the clip was pulled from; and the suspense from the heightened awareness of time passing while watching the video, as it corresponded with real time. I would have gladly stayed longer with the film, perhaps even seeing the full day of it, if it weren’t for the rest of the Biennial that I wanted to see.
I then headed over to another section of the Arsenale, where the Chinese and Italian Pavilions were. I felt obligated to take a look at both pavilions, being Chinese and being in Italy and all. Unfortunately, they were both fairly disappointing. The theme of the Chinese pavilion was ‘Pervasion’, featuring five artists with works that deal with the five elements or senses. Unfortunately, the pieces were entirely overwhelmed by the architecture and dusty smell of the venue in which they were placed, which I believe is the old Arsenale cistern. One piece that I felt had some potential was Scented Air by Yuan Gong. It was located on a patch of green outside the pavilion. At regular intervals, water vapor with the smell of Chinese incense is released from tubes hidden in the grass, highlighting the show’s theme of ‘senses’. However, the sharply delineated shape of roped-off grass undermined the nearly mystical effect created by the fog, to the extent that it seemed comical and forced. As for the Italian Pavilion, I felt that it resembled a trade show – disparate works by many, many artists tightly jammed into the space. There seemed to be a lack of curatorial direction, and I can’t imagine a worse way of showcasing art (note the curvy ‘monkey bars’ on which the paintings were hung).
Having seen enough of the Arsenale, I then headed over to the Giardini. The two pavilions that interested me most were the American and Danish Pavilions. In previous years, the American pavilion housed works by renowned and somewhat ‘safe’ American artists (it was Bruce Nauman in 2009). This year, the pavilion hosted fresh talent and its first artist couple, Jennifer Allora and Guillermo Calzadilla. Not only that, but they are also the first to be based outside America, in Puerto Rico (Allora was born in Philadelphia, Calzadilla in Cuba). More significantly, the two artists create works that are intensely political, and their irony is oftentimes directed towards the US – their exhibition at the Biennial, Gloria, is no exception. I felt that the highlight of the show was “Track and Field”, an aptly titled piece consisting of an overturned military tank outside the pavilion, same as those used in the Korean War, with a treadmill on top. Satirical when static, the piece comes alive when an Olympic gold medalist, donned in signature red and blue with ‘USA’ emblazoned over his chest, starts running on the treadmill. Photo documentation doesn’t do the performance justice – a large part of the piece is the obnoxiously loud sounds made by the tracks of the moving tank, resembling an overturned cockroach struggling to flip over.
While Gloria involves American Olympic athletes and a blockbuster million-dollar budget, in strong contrast, the Danish pavilion is extremely effective in its own way. Much more discreet in its setup, the strong curatorial direction of Speech Matters is what sets it apart from all the other national pavilions. The Venice Biennial is like the FIFA World Cup of the art world with all the attendant nationalism, so I thought it was very progressive and clever of the Danes to actively ‘rethink national representation in a globalised art world’ by putting together an international group show. Organized by Greek curator Katarina Gregos, 17 artists from around the world, including Robert Crumb, Zhang Dali and Jan Švankmajer, put in work that dealt with the theme of ‘free speech’. The controversial Danish cartoons of Mohammed have led to much debate over freedom of expression in Denmark, but it is also an issue that ‘is being contested in the light of transformations taking place globally’ (page 8 of Speech Matters exhibition catalogue). The pieces in the show demand patience, unlike the sensational American pavilion. For example, selections from Taryn Simon’s series of photographs, American Index of the Hidden and Unfamiliar, 2007, require some reading before comprehension. At times, the overriding curatorial theme verges on the pedantic; an interview with political philosopher Antonio Negri is included in the exhibition catalogue. However, I thought it was the most engaging pavilion of all, standing out against the other pavilions in the Biennial.
Other noteworthy pavilions include Japan’s, which features multi-panel animations by Tabaimo. Her weird and creepy illustrations are projected onto curved panels and extended with mirrors throughout the venue. France showcased Christian Boltanski, a solid choice, and his giant installation dealt with the usual themes of chance, luck and misfortune that pervade his oeuvre. The German pavilion, which won the Gold Lion for Best Pavilion award, was breathtaking albeit fairly morbid and stifling. It focuses on the theatrical productions and films by Christoph Schlingensief, who died of lung cancer last year. The pavilion was set up like the inside of a church, dimly lit, with an alter-like video projection, pews and distressing sounds. It was a multi-sensory installation, and I felt a little overwhelmed by the intensity of it.
As I was shuttling from one venue to the next, I stumbled upon the Iraqi pavilion, which is actually not within the Arsenale or the Giardini. This is the first year Iraq participated in the Biennial in 35 years. The theme of the exhibition is Acqua Ferita, which translates as ‘wounded water’, and the artists involved interpret the theme of water in their works. I didn’t really know what to expect from the show, but I was pleasantly surprised by a piece called Consumption of War by Adel Abidin. It is a video set in a corporate office in which two men engage in a Star Wars-esque battle involving fluorescent light tubing as light sabers. The video is well shot and paced, and really amusing. When I saw it, I wasn’t sure how it related to the theme of water, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
My Biennial tour ended at the Hong Kong pavilion, which has been transformed by artist Kwok Mang-ho (aka Frog King) into Frogtopia, an intense mixed-media wonderland of toilet rolls, ink drawings and dress-up. Here, visitors can put on costumes made by Kwok, choosing from an array of ‘froggy glasses’ and clothing decorated with his signature frog logo. According to my friend working there, grown-ups and children alike spend hours playing with the various items found in the pavilion. Many of the visitors end up returning for some more froggy dress-up, and the pavilion has become a place where people mingle. Intentional or not, I felt that the space, crammed with objects and people, was a welcoming and somewhat accurate representation of Hong Kong itself. It was a satisfying conclusion to my whirlwind tour of the Biennial.
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