Boxo Goes to the Biennale (Giardini)

Day 0 - Around the Giardini
A banner moment for BoxoFFICE as we received an invitation to the previews at the Venice Biennale. In a flash, Boxo found himself at the Oranizing Secratariat's window in the Giardini to pick up his accreditation.



The weather was beautiful, and remained so throughout the four days of the trip. There was a lot of action on the water, alongside the entrance to the Giardini. First, the official entry of the Comores Islands - a traditional fishing boat with an upended cargo container inside of it, bobbing in the lagoon. Some men in national garb doing a performance with sticks. Free beer. A poetic clash of first and third world priorities.



Suddenly, Boxo's eye was drawn to a strange flotilla that came sailing into view. Three boats made of trash, er recycled items. These were part of a project devised by Swoon of Deitch fame. They had been transported from the US to Slovenia and then made their own way across the Adriatic to appear at the Biennale. Boxo met Swoon and some of the crew, who let him know that they could not get a permit to sail up the Grand Canal. Boxo admired the Burning Man aesthetic, the daring of the artists and the contrast of the flotilla against the superyachts anchored yards up the quay. He also wondered at the lack of sanitary, sleeping or cooking facilities.



That evening, Boxo met with a couple of friends who had already had the lay of the land to get some hints. And they were really helpful - mainly the tip to be at the Great Britain pavilion right at opening to get a time slot for viewing the work by Steve McQueen. Boxo also learned that starting off at a party (Canada) in the Giardini, and then meeting folks at Accademia for a chat can lead to an evening without dinner. Luckily, a snack of yogurt and apples was on hand to save the day (night).

Day 1 - Giardini
The first day got off to an interesting start. Boxo was approached at the entrance by an Albanian art student who asked if he could be taken in on the pass which admitted two people. Boxo was impressed at the chutzpah and complied. Then straight to Great Britain for a 3.30pm sticker. Phew - task one accomplished.

Next was the US pavilion. Historic works by Bruce Nauman, the great conceptualist. The pavilion was well curated, the works beautifully installed. Disembodied heads rotating, others serving as fountains. Severed arms reaching for the ceiling. And poetic neon covering the facade. While it was great to see Nauman recognized at this level, the question remained as to how this contributed to the notion of biennale which really stands for "an international manifestation of contemporary art". Two contemporary works created specifically for the Biennale were housed in remote locations - more on these later.







Next up was the host pavilion, Italy. Newly expanded, the pavilion felt somewhat like the last Documenta. There were several groupings of works by artists known and lesser known, contemporary and historic. Many were not Italian. The works were installed such that you came across each artist several times, in different locations around the giant pavillion, and thus came to recognize the work and era. Again, given the multitude of nationalities of the artists and the varied chronology, it was not clear how the pavilion supported the idea of highlighting contemporary developments in a nation's artistic practice.

Some highlights included the amazing spiders web/model of the Universe by Tomas Saraceno, the beautiful film sculpture by Simon Starling, the animations and installation by Nathalie Djurberg and the beyond psychedelic cafe design by Tobias Rehberger.





Noon chimed, jetlag nagged and it was time for delicious pannino and cappuccino at the outdoor cafe. Good people watching too.



Speaking of people, there were long lines at several pavilions, and it was time to line up for the show at the Danish and Nordic Pavilions. Titled The Collectors, the exhibition was a fine example of Scandinavian tongue in cheek. A real estate agent provided a tour of the Danish Pavilion on the premise that it was for sale. A strange assortment of artworks were hung, imitation Stella's with names like Arbeit Macht Freiheit for instance. Apparently, the owners had "left in a hurry". The adjacent Nordic Pavilion contained an assortment of homoerotic art as well as two hot looking guys said to be hustlers. Upon enquiring, Boxo was told that they were in fact actors although a real hustler had been on site at the opening. Tant pis.










Onward to the next line at the Dutch Pavilion. A quick meet and greet with a friend from NYC while waiting and then in to see the video works by Fiona Tam. A gallery of what looked to be black and white photos turned out to be video portraits. Beautiful if not groundbreaking. A multi-screen projection dealing with memory and aging was captivating. The title piece, Disorient was somewhat too national Geographic for Boxo.



With time ticking toward the appointed hour for Steve McQueen, Boxo headed to the pavilions clustered near Great Britain. The Czech Pavilion had been recommended. A beautiful marble arch. A short forecourt and then inside. Or was it? The path continued straight through with mature foliage matching that of the Giardini around. And then outside.





Somewhat confused, Boxo headed to the next doorway down the path only to find that was in fact the Autsralian Pavilion. Nice one. And so, inside to witness more video work, this time by Shaun Gladwell. Mad Max goes to the outback - picture a leathers clad motorcyclist carrying kangaroo roadkill across a highway, shot at an extremely oblique angle. Yowza.

3.30pm. Let the show begin. The Steve McQueen film was another split screen affair. Titled Giardini, it was a revealing look at what goes on in the Gardens when the Biennale is not in session - dogs scrounging, elderly residents on a stroll, men cruising, rainfall dripping. A wonderful meditation on facades, cycles and decay.

Back into the fray, namely the German Pavilion next door. Liam Gillick's much derided lengths of unfinished kitchen cabinetry appealed to Boxo. Hints of Judd and Zittel, modernism and the promise of social betterment. The stuffed cat on top of one cabinet, as well as the thick pamphlet being distributed to explain the work, were both ignored. Boxo's allergic to cats anyway.





Across the way, La France. A mysterious production of barred corridors, waving black flags, large, noisy fans and gilded walls. Apparently recalling the night before the Revolution and the height of the monarchy's decadence, this one should have had bars at the doorway.



To round out the neighborhood, it was time for Korea - a wonderfully realized construction of louvered blinds. Quite how this connected to the title, Condensation, just wasn't clear. Next door, Japan - humongous images of large breasted, threatening women housed in heavy, heavy black frames were more than somewhat predictable. Then to Switzerland, simple drawings that were not quite as exciting as the lovely modernist chairs scattered around the sleek pavillion.







Lastly, Russia, promising Victory over the Future. A large, warm pavilion filled with several interesting works. Notably, a large blacklight mural of football spectators that disappeared when the floodlights went on. Adjacent, a noisy set of dated machinery hissing and clanking as it pumped viscous liquids through icons encased in plexi. A quasi-religious take on capitalism perhaps?





5.30pm and time for a second pannino and cappucino. This art viewing is hard work! Spain beckoned across the way from the outdoor cafe. Luscious paintings and ceramics by Miguel Barcelo. Abstracts and gorillas in thick paint, muted pallette. Very exciting and a welcome discovery.



Suddenly, a huge storm broke loose and Boxo ducked back into the Italian Pavilion to buy an official umbrella. Then across the canal to some of the outlying pavilions. And another wonderful surprise. The Polish Pavilion featured gentle and absorbing projections by Krzysztof Wodiczko. Titled Guests, the piece dealt with the status of guest workers - seen as a series of shapes washing windows, climbing ladders, clearing leaves. The figures, faceless in a soft haze, were reminiscent of Bill Viola's characters, yet abstracted to the point of melancholy.




The adjacent Greek Pavilion was somewhat bling and the line for Roumania was one Boxo was advised not to brave. Venice featured some beautiful glass works, including that pirate Dale Chihuly. Egypt housed some striking paintings by Adel El Siwi.





As the day faded, it was time to return across the bridge to snap the marvelous neon words by Nauman, magically praising and criticizing his home country simultaneously. A quick peek into the Israeli Pavilion revealed works by Raffi Lavie that were reminiscent of BoxoFFICE's very own John Luckett. Idiosyncratic, accomplished, colorful.











You might have thought this would be a good time for a break - yet no, Boxo had some life in him yet. Off to the Teatro Goldoni for "an abtract opera'" titled No night No day by Cerith Wyn Evans and Florian Hecker. Arriving just before the curtain, Boxo wondered if he could snag a ticket. Luckily, a thoughtfdul woman returned a seat her friend was not going to use. Inside, it became clear that the word was out - the house was empty. The work was much like one Boxo recently experienced in Chelsea and described as a near death experience - soporific music and bright lights. Yike!

The silver lining on the evening was meeting a curator in the neighboring seat, who introduced Boxo to another curator friend. Off we went for an evening of dissection, discussion and seafood. A great day by any standards.