Joana Vasconcelos, "Dorothy", Portugal
David Altmejd, Canadá .jpg)
David Altmejd, "A bird-headed man", Canadá.jpg)
El Anatsui, "Dusasa I", Rep. do Gana.jpg)
Felix Gonzalez-Torres (Cuban dead artist), "America", EUA.jpg)
Francesco Vezzoli, "A still from democrazy" (video installation), Itália
Isa Genzken, "Oil", Alemanha
Isa Genzken, "Spacewalkers", Alemanha.jpg)
Yinka Shonibare, "The work how to blow up two heads at once", Nigeria.jpg)
Mounir Fatmi, "Save Manhattan", Marrocos.jpg)
Riyas Komu, "Petro-Angel", India.jpg)
Yukio Fujimoto, "Ears with chair", Japão.jpg)
Nordic Pavilion, "Three interactive toilets - Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité.jpg)
Jason Rhoades, "Tijuanatanjierchandelie" (2006), dead american artist, EUA *
*
Robert Storr, director of the 52nd Venice Biennale, now a professor and for a long time a senior curator at New York's Museum of Modern Art, seemed an ideal director: urbane, sensitive, a good writer, hard-nosed, open-minded. He has also been guided, it appears, as much by his personal affinities and sensibilities as by theory, and there's nothing wrong with that. Whatever clever arguments there always are for including one sort of art or another, they have long ceased to matter by the time the next biennale comes along. The art itself is what counts, and what is memorable.
The lessons Storr gives us are that war is bad, utopian dreams persist, and that we're all gonna die. But these perhaps have been the Venice Biennale's irreducible themes ever since it began in 1895.The one thing that Storr seems to lack - and it really does matter - is genuine flair for exhibition-making, the telling juxtaposition, the twist and the surprise. He warns that biennales are not for people who are in a hurry, and that he would like us to slow down. But tell that to the art-consuming hordes who come for the opening days, and who in the heady rush for the next spectacle hurry through the Arsenale, and from pavilion to pavilion. Slow down too much and we might notice the tired alignments, or how dreary Robert Ryman looks, and how Storr is shaky when it comes to photography and sculpture.
The Arsenale is, usually, the liveliest area of the biennale. This time, the spaces feel dulled by war and the weight of artistic responsibility. We begin with memories, film clips and interviews with the descendents of the Italian futurists, and end, hours, if not days later, with Ilya and Emilia Kabakov's intricate models of the fabled and quite fictitious city of Manas in the mountains of northern Tibet.
There is then a contentious Africa Pavilion, the contents of which all come from a single collection (and not all of which are by African artists). And then, teetering over the far end of the docks, the Italian Pavilion proper, where Francesco Vezzoli has installed his disappointing spoof US election campaign films. Starring Sharon Stone and an unlikely Bernard-Henri Levi, Democrazy points out what we already know about the media-managed vapidity of election campaigns, and not just in America. Vezzoli's "remake" of Gore Vidal's Caligula, at the last biennale, was much superior. (ler +)
The lessons Storr gives us are that war is bad, utopian dreams persist, and that we're all gonna die. But these perhaps have been the Venice Biennale's irreducible themes ever since it began in 1895.The one thing that Storr seems to lack - and it really does matter - is genuine flair for exhibition-making, the telling juxtaposition, the twist and the surprise. He warns that biennales are not for people who are in a hurry, and that he would like us to slow down. But tell that to the art-consuming hordes who come for the opening days, and who in the heady rush for the next spectacle hurry through the Arsenale, and from pavilion to pavilion. Slow down too much and we might notice the tired alignments, or how dreary Robert Ryman looks, and how Storr is shaky when it comes to photography and sculpture.
The Arsenale is, usually, the liveliest area of the biennale. This time, the spaces feel dulled by war and the weight of artistic responsibility. We begin with memories, film clips and interviews with the descendents of the Italian futurists, and end, hours, if not days later, with Ilya and Emilia Kabakov's intricate models of the fabled and quite fictitious city of Manas in the mountains of northern Tibet.
There is then a contentious Africa Pavilion, the contents of which all come from a single collection (and not all of which are by African artists). And then, teetering over the far end of the docks, the Italian Pavilion proper, where Francesco Vezzoli has installed his disappointing spoof US election campaign films. Starring Sharon Stone and an unlikely Bernard-Henri Levi, Democrazy points out what we already know about the media-managed vapidity of election campaigns, and not just in America. Vezzoli's "remake" of Gore Vidal's Caligula, at the last biennale, was much superior. (ler +)
Adrian Searle, The Guardian
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