While in Venice last week on vacation, I checked out the 55th edition of the Biennale (for which OC contributor Ben Barron did a photo diary, Part 1, a few months back). As you may already know, the guest artistic director Massimiliano Gioni chose the theme "The Encyclopedic Palace" referring to the Italian-American artist Marino Auriti, who envisioned an imaginary museum that would house all worldly knowledge. In fact, Marino Auriti even drafted plans and constructed a model for his imaginary museum, which were also on view at the Biennale.
Universal knowledge is a broad theme, and the quest for the synthesis of all relevant information in the world gathered in a single room has remained an utopia for centuries. Now that we know that all of the world's information can fit into four micrograms of DNA, maybe the quest is over. But Gioni was probably more interested in all the artistic forms that he calls "personal cosmologies," which try to "fashion an image of the world that will capture its infinite variety and richness."
I was a little worried about stepping into a giant catalogue show, and the Giardini central pavilion was perhaps a little disappointing because of the systematic approach of the artists' series. I did nonetheless find a few fantastic works (see the images). Among the national pavilions, the Austrian one, where an animation called Imitation of Life by artist Mathias Poledna was screened, really stood out to me. The piece evoked the 1930s' golden era of American animation but incorporated many other elements, resulting in a totally alien film.
Off to the Arsenale. I think my favorite piece there was a video by Neïl Beloufa titled Kempiski, which was described as an "ethnological sci-fi documentary." In the film, which takes place at night in Mali, people are asked to describe the future in the present tense. They answer mentioning things like telepathy, solar energy, teleportation, and so on. Even if the video is a fantasy, it gives the idea that future of mankind isn't technology, but some sort of supernatural intelligence.
A few rooms away was a section curated entirely by Cindy Sherman. It was interesting to see that all the influences and enigma present in her work were on display, in a fragmented way. For example, there is a whole series of Pierre Molinier's photo-montages, depicting him and his friends in his studio in the South of France enjoying some dark but playful eroticism. Pierre took pictures of himself dressed as a woman, and would retouch them afterwards to make his body look more feminine. He always laughs in the photos, his face almost like a mask of happiness. His take on identity definitely echoes Sherman's approach to ambiguous identity.
In the next room were four videos by Ryan Trecartin, always packed with hysteria and lots of fun. As a matter of fact, identity is no longer a question there. Rather, it seems to have exploded into colors, body paint, and madness. The Arsenale exhibition climaxes in the following room, with Bruce Nauman's Raw Material with Continuous Shift-MMMM, where artist, covered in blue paint, spins around while humming with his eyes closed. Clearly, this quest for universal knowledge has taken me to the edges of sanity.
Finally, a calm, clear, and magnificent room displaying an elegant Apollo's Ecstasy by Walter de Maria (who recently passed away) releases all the tension brought by the frenzy of the last pieces in an uplifting way. Now off to Lido beach with my dear Audrey,
Universal knowledge is a broad theme, and the quest for the synthesis of all relevant information in the world gathered in a single room has remained an utopia for centuries. Now that we know that all of the world's information can fit into four micrograms of DNA, maybe the quest is over. But Gioni was probably more interested in all the artistic forms that he calls "personal cosmologies," which try to "fashion an image of the world that will capture its infinite variety and richness."
I was a little worried about stepping into a giant catalogue show, and the Giardini central pavilion was perhaps a little disappointing because of the systematic approach of the artists' series. I did nonetheless find a few fantastic works (see the images). Among the national pavilions, the Austrian one, where an animation called Imitation of Life by artist Mathias Poledna was screened, really stood out to me. The piece evoked the 1930s' golden era of American animation but incorporated many other elements, resulting in a totally alien film.
Off to the Arsenale. I think my favorite piece there was a video by Neïl Beloufa titled Kempiski, which was described as an "ethnological sci-fi documentary." In the film, which takes place at night in Mali, people are asked to describe the future in the present tense. They answer mentioning things like telepathy, solar energy, teleportation, and so on. Even if the video is a fantasy, it gives the idea that future of mankind isn't technology, but some sort of supernatural intelligence.
A few rooms away was a section curated entirely by Cindy Sherman. It was interesting to see that all the influences and enigma present in her work were on display, in a fragmented way. For example, there is a whole series of Pierre Molinier's photo-montages, depicting him and his friends in his studio in the South of France enjoying some dark but playful eroticism. Pierre took pictures of himself dressed as a woman, and would retouch them afterwards to make his body look more feminine. He always laughs in the photos, his face almost like a mask of happiness. His take on identity definitely echoes Sherman's approach to ambiguous identity.
In the next room were four videos by Ryan Trecartin, always packed with hysteria and lots of fun. As a matter of fact, identity is no longer a question there. Rather, it seems to have exploded into colors, body paint, and madness. The Arsenale exhibition climaxes in the following room, with Bruce Nauman's Raw Material with Continuous Shift-MMMM, where artist, covered in blue paint, spins around while humming with his eyes closed. Clearly, this quest for universal knowledge has taken me to the edges of sanity.
Finally, a calm, clear, and magnificent room displaying an elegant Apollo's Ecstasy by Walter de Maria (who recently passed away) releases all the tension brought by the frenzy of the last pieces in an uplifting way. Now off to Lido beach with my dear Audrey,