At Venice Biennale, the art of politics and the politics of art

At this year’s Venice Biennale, its first Latin American curator Adriano Pedrosa might have intended for the event to be a celebration of diversity and tolerance with its theme, “Stranieri Ovunque” — Foreigners Everywhere. But rumblings of discord, heard in the lead up to the opening of the international exhibition today, are an indication of the enormity of the task

In February, this year, Italian Culture Minister Gennaro Sangiuliano quelled pro-Palestinian petitions calling for Israel’s exclusion from the Biennale, asserting that it will always be a “space of freedom, meeting and dialogue and not a space of censorship and intolerance”. But artist Ruth Patir and curators representing Israel rocked the boat. Their exhibits are inside the Israel Pavilion in Venice, but the doors are locked. Taped on a window is a sign that reads, “The artist and curators of the Israeli pavilion will open the exhibition when a ceasefire and hostage release agreement is reached.” Across the canal city, meanwhile, are protestors chanting “Viva, viva Palestina!”.

Advertisement

The “Olympics of the art world” may stand for free expression, but since its first edition in 1895, the Venice Biennale has seldom managed to remain distant from political influences. The permanent National Pavilions once belonged solely to imperialist powers, starting with Belgium in 1907, followed by Germany, Britain and Hungary in 1909. In Mussolini’s Italy, the event became a means for propaganda.

In 1974, a year after Augusto Pinochet grabbed power in Chile, the event stood in solidarity with the South American nation, reportedly under the direction of the Italian Communist Party. While there was a ban on South Africa until 1993, when Apartheid was rolled back, the Russian pavilion has not been included since the invasion of Ukraine two years ago. That the Biennale and its curator are now making room for all, regardless of political convictions, is surely a step forward.