Venice Redux

These are the Biennale beasts of the the art world, the artists, curators, collectors, gallerists, and institute directors. Like most art fairs now, and most Insta bios of our culturally polygamous times, they are joined by the the fashion world as well. At the Biennale, it infiltrates through collaborations, patronage and parties hidden under the guise of deejays, performers and influencers who collab their way onto guest lists and crash their way into pavilions. They are joined by the wider network of the creative industries, the agencies, the producers, the makers, the department stores, all descending on this sinking city for this global art event. Everyone is here to gorge on the 360 glocal cultural narrative that this Biennale always delivers: it’s a hybrid of the Olympics, Eurovision and made-in-Chelsea, with each country having a represented artist or collective, and curator there to deliver their response to the set theme.

We are all here anticipating the art world’s global response to the social, political, and ecological crises we are in. The climate alarm is ready to be sounded, the red alert will be heard streaming from the canals… or perhaps not? We can only guess what is to come—what is to be discussed, dissected, held to rights, and what is left ignored. Rugoff states: ‘Perhaps art can be a kind of guide for how to live and think in “interesting times.” May You Live in Interesting Times will take seriously art’s potential as a method for looking into things that we do not already know—things that may be off-limits, under-the-radar, or otherwise inaccessible for various reasons.’

Not only are there 90 pavilions for this to play out until late November, there is also wider central pavilions with 27 artists inhabiting Venice. A performance schedule has also been drafted for the opening week; it’s a sensory overload of delight. The schedule, devised by Rugoff, is curated by Aaron Cezar, who noted: ‘Performance is a way of processing and documenting the immediate world around us. It is both an alternative means of writing history as it forms, and rewriting history, bringing forth stories that aren’t told, which are often those that complicate the normative “textbook” narration.’

Above: 'What Are We Fighting For', part of the 'Lamyland' installation; and film still from 'Casanova x 4k' video from film series installation at 3x3x6.

Michele Lamy is also here with her ‘What Are We Fighting For’ installation, which is a part of the exhibition DYSFUNCTIONAL by the Carpenters Workshop. DYSFUNCTIONAL is a show that boasts ‘a conversation around the duality between art, design and function.’ Lamy’s installation is the continued development of her ‘Lamyland’ series, which spans the globe and exists in art fairs—Frieze 2014 featured an iteration—and nomadically spans even into department stores—Selfridges Ultra Lounge just last year. For the Biennale, she invited some other artists to collaborate: The Campana Brothers, Ingrid Donat, Kendell Geers, Studio Job, Morgane, Tschiember, Giovanni Leonardo Bassan and Connor Tingley. The works hang together as a collective whole from the sky as a surrealist mobile boxing club. Lamy states: ‘They exist and unite to provoke you to contemplate what you need to conquer, face, challenge and celebrate.’ The bags cascade into a cosmic alliance, the objects themselves are made from resin, quilting, cheese wheels (a nod to the Italian diet), woven bark, and raffia. They spin and hold the attention of the space throughout the night, like a dream you’ve never quite had, or one that you are in.

The next stop is 3x3x6, presented by the Taipei Fine Arts Museum of Taiwan (TFAM), with artist Shu Lea Cheang. As we enter, we are warned of 3D-mapped cameras as we are maneuvered through a prison-like corridor—in fact the building was a prison in the sixteenth century. All this feeds into the work of Chaeng, who is an internet art pioneer, her BRANDON (1998-1999) was the first web art commissioned and collected by the Guggenheim. It’s a must-see show, especially the video highlight of a cannibal chat room, which was one of the depictions by Cheang of the ten historical and contemporary cases of subjects incarcerated because of gender or sexual dissent.

The main spanner in the works on your iron man art mission around the Biennale is the pop of the pavilion Prosecco, nothing manifests a crowd like that subtle noise—at any given point it can cause a stampede. Post-Prosecco avalanche, it’s a disaster zone, left littered like a Glastonbury site, the Biennale beasts have the ability to transform a white table cloth of lined glasses into Tracey Emin's bed in seconds. Avoid this at all costs.

Above: film still from 'Sade x 4k' video from film series installation 3x3x6 by Shu Lea Cheang; and installation view.

Knowing Florence and Eve from London and witnessing their work firsthand already, I knew the pair were really challenging the state of art and the sensitivities of living. The performance ‘Apparition Apparition (2019),’ ‘Explores the notion of materiality and the nature of our physical selves/bodies within the frame of ecological devastation.’ As we enter, their naked forms are wrapped in leather harnesses and modest knickers, we as the viewer are beckoned to draw on their flesh, curating marks and surface colour for their later performance. They’re conversational and laid back as they clamber across the chairs and bodies of the audience. They hand felt tip pens from their holsters and regulate their body back and forth as you lay your pen on their bodies. In the second half of performance, they take to the stage and the pace changes: a video work is screened as a backdrop for their sculptural dance, set to crescendos of sounds and an ASMR voice, the aural notes push through your vision and the tempo changes erratically and constantly, like two magnets of varying poles, it’s mesmerizing and intense as they gyrate and repel one another.

This reminds me of something Cezar said about performance art: ‘There is no denying the power of the body—the significance of human presence, especially in the age of the Internet (and also in the context of a major Biennale which centers mainly on objects). The experience of engaging with or bearing witness to the human body, with all of its vulnerabilities, imperfections, and strengths, brings a certain urgency to our collective concerns and it also reminds us that the capacity for change starts within our own body. The power of the live experience is also due to the temporal nature of performance. One has to be “there” to experience it fully; however, these temporal moments can create lasting memories - and this is what Ralph and I were keen to do.’

Next I stopped by Cosmo-Eggs at The Japan Pavillion, curated by Hiroyuki Hattori and featuring works by four artists who are working in different specialties—artist Motoyuki Shitamichi, composer Taro Yasuno, anthropologist Toshiaki Ishikura and architect Fuminori Nosaku. An orange, inflatable doughnut against a marble floor was a welcomed visual retreat from the madness. As you sit (in fact I laid), you notice tubes that wrap around your line of sight, your bottom was assisting the composition of the tune, this delicate interplay between your physical self and physical actions in the world felt like a moment we rarely experience these days. The project aims to ‘create a platform to consider the ecology in which humans and non-humans coexist, as well as questions of how and in what places we can live within our world.’

Above: performance shots of 'Apparition Apparition' by Florence Peake and Eve Stainton.

Artists Sun Yuan and Peng Yu presented ‘Dear’ at the Arsonali. This installation has a provocative allure: at first glance it’s a richly crafted piece of solid marble, with a contemporary steel and glass frame. Then the hissing starts, and you also recognize the chair—it’s Abraham Lincon’s seat from the Washington Memorial, then the whips and thrashes are cast by the A.W.O.L hose as it batters the glass, the force of the air propels the snake-like hose to expel its energy in a manic multitude of directions before it then wheezes and crashes to a standstill. This work delivers a poetic description of the state of our social, political, and environmental landscapes. Drop the mike, Yuan and Yu.

After outputting the energy needed to come to make our way around the pavilions, the satellite experiences, the parties and the general maneuvering you need to get around Venice, I felt beyond exhausted and visually overwhelmed. But really, where else on Earth can you see such a broad range of collective artist considerations, experience a concentrated pinpoint of the world at large. Go visit IRL, if you can, it’s so much better than the Instagram explore page.

Leanne Elliott Young at the British Pavilion Party.

Paul Ettlinger, collector, in the Art Lounge.

'< “a” not “I” [{“”(})]', performance by Cibelle Cavalli Bastos

Lead image: 'Apparition Apparition', Florence Peake & Eve Stainton is first up, Courtesy Delfina Foundation and Arts Council England, the artists and Bosse & Baum.

Art

Pamela Sneed’s Speaking Tongue opens at Dashwood Projects

November 15, 2024

Pamela Sneed’s latest exhibition, Speaking Tongue, will be on view at Dashwood Projects from November 20 to December 21. The show features twenty watercolor and ink paintings inspired by her recent trip to Kenya, where she was deeply moved by the elegance of giraffes, the landscapes, and the energy of Nairobi.

Blending her background as a poet and visual artist, Sneed’s work reflects on themes of identity, nature, and connection. Her paintings capture the beauty and spirit of the animals she encountered, alongside reflections on her own experiences as part of the African diaspora.

This exhibition marks Sneed’s first solo show with Dashwood Projects and will be accompanied by a new book, also titled Speaking Tongue, to be released in December.

By Enzo Holdt
Artworks by Pamela Sneed

Art

Tiebreaker - Alvin Armstrong

November 15, 2024

There is a moment of silence right before the play. Just before the racket strikes the ball as it hangs weightless in the air, breathless and charged. It’s the fleeting yet decisive instant that can alter the course of the match, determining who wins and who loses.

Alvin Armstrong depicts this crucial moment in his new exhibition Tiebreaker, symbolizing the risks and rewards of competition. It’s an implication of something else at stake, where athletes push not only their bodies, but their spirits to the absolute limit.

The dynamic figures embody the strength, grace, and agility juxtaposed by the vibrant color palette evoking not just the joy of competition but the charged energy of the court.

Tiebreaker is opening Thursday, November 16th at Anna Zorina Gallery.

By Rea Brayshaw
Artworks by Alvin Armstrong

Art

The Things People Are Ashamed To Take Photos Of: The Photography and Films of Yuhan Cheng

Yuhan’s latest exhibition of photo and video work titled 窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里 takes its namesake from what could’ve been a mundane encounter. A month after moving to New York City from Chengdu, China, they stumbled across an abandoned fish tank left curbside. It reminded them of “the rotating fish in a tank that faded into the background of their mother’s home in Chengdu”, a thread connecting childhood familiarity that transformed into a symbol of greater significance in adulthood. A tank is a world within a world; a microcosm secluded from the broader chaos of the outside. Since then Yuhan has captured the other kinds of “fish tanks” closest to them in their photography and short films. Not literal ones necessarily– but intimate confined spaces in Chengdu and NYC where time stands still.

In the midst of taking snapshots of loved ones, Yuhan decided to turn their tender but examining lens on themselves. They realized shooting self-portraits unraveled a deeper understanding of their own nonbinary gender and queer sexuality. Yuhan admits in one of their short films “I hide from looking at my own body.” Yet, in the seclusion of their room which doubles as a dark room, Yuhan began to develop their first nude photos chronicling the subtle wounds; bitten cuticles, bruises, and scrapes they’ve accumulated involuntarily, once again documenting the things people choose to hide.

窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里, debuted at FAR-NEAR Studio Hours a gallery in Chinatown focused on expanding the art world's view of Asia and Asian artists curated by Lulu Yao Gioiello. The event merged Yuhan’s works from the past three years, including 70 photographs, three short documentaries, and one installation. There was something uncanny about the gallery’s atmosphere – from the dollar store teal green curtains obscuring every window to the clusters of framed photos mimicking how photos of relatives are displayed in one’s childhood home, to the darkened lighting that was both disorienting and cozy. All these details were meticulously chosen to imitate the rooms depicted in Yuhan’s films and photography. In other words, the audience was invited to Yuhan’s “fishtank”, to share the odd balance of comfort and unease of being known intimately. We talked to Yuhan at Cafe Reggio to understand how their latest body of work came into being.

Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity.

Ora Margolis— Were any memories/childhood experiences you had in Chengdu important to how you've developed as an artist?

Yuhan Cheng— Growing up in Chengdu, especially in a military household, shaped and gave me a source of contention how I understood my identity. There was always a sense of conflict when it came to my body and feeling like I didn’t quite fit the expectations around me. This tension has been a driving force in my practice, pushing me to explore identity and belonging in my work.

Tell us a bit about your latest exhibition Outside the Window, Inside the Tank at Far. What headspace were you in when taking these photos?

YC— Outside the Window, Inside the Tank is about the fluidity of self; our bodies, our environments, and our identities. The idea of water as both a symbol of confinement and freedom is central to the photos and film that comprise the exhibit. This fluidity much like how I see my experience moving between Chengdu and New York, where similar feelings follow me no matter where I am. Water mirrors the body, the frame, and the room, which are all containers of the self.

Previously, you’ve said you wanted the exhibition space to look "like your room". How did you make that happen and why is your NYC room important to you?

YC— My room in NYC is an extension of my identity. It’s where I feel vulnerable and where I explore myself most openly. It’s a manifestation of my sense of self. I recreated certain elements in the exhibition—the green sheer curtains, the dollar store shower curtain with bubbles, and the center installation depicted a self-portrait deteriorating in water, reminiscent of a fish in a tank. This room, like any other room or container, magnifies the tension of self-exploration.

Has your idea or comfort with your gender identity and /sexuality changed since you’ve delved into photography?

YC— Yes. The process of photography and filming has been a mirror to my own understanding of self. Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity. The process of photographing my queer friends and then myself allowed me to come to terms with who I am.

How did you and Lulu Yao of FAR-NEAR Studio meet, and what makes her a good collaborator?

YC— We first connected when I reached out with my series Princess of Funan River. Lulu understood the struggles and complexities in the work and she invited me to expand on those ideas with her. Our collaboration has worked because Lulu truly resonates with the themes I’m drawn to, like fluidity, transformation, and the intimacy of navigating belonging.

After completing Fish Tank and Remnants of an Amateur Film, what kind of movie do you want to make next?

YC— Right now, I’m more focused on writing. I need to understand what I want to say before making another film. Writing helps me find clarity;it’s a crucial part of my process.

What kind of camera do you use and why?

YC— I use a Canon AE-1. I started with it and I still love it. It's small, spontaneous, easy to use, and light. It allows me to capture moments naturally without overthinking.

What's your biggest fear?

YC— Being disconnected from my sense of self, from others, and from the things I love.

When do you feel most like yourself?

YC— It’s during those fleeting moments when I complete a project. That feeling fades quickly, leaving me searching for the next project to reconnect with that sense of fulfillment.

How do you want people to feel when they interact with your art?

YC— I want them to feel whatever resonates with them. I don’t want to prescribe the experience; it should feel right for each person.

Your work focuses on the close knit communities that surround you or various metaphorical “fish tanks”. What communities do you feel closest to?
YC— The queer artist community, both in Chengdu and NYC, has been a source of comfort and understanding for me. There’s something about shared struggles and shared creative language that feels like home.

What's the biggest difference between living life as a queer artist in NYC and in Chengdu?

YC— In both NYC and Chengdu, I’m learning more about myself. NYC offers a sense of freedom, while Chengdu is home, a place of comfort and history. Neither place defines me but both are significant parts of my path.

What are your next moves/goals?

YC— I want to continue exploring both film and photography, expanding my narrative style and experimenting across mediums. During my show, I found new ways of seeing my photographs such as by adding a window screen between frames or letting a self-portrait fade and grow mold in water. These approaches allowed me to see my work not just as 2D images but as 3D objects.

I want to keep pushing the boundaries of how photo and film can interact, and I’m also interested in trying photojournalism. My focus remains on collaborating across mediums and continuing to accumulate experiences that I can translate into sincere honest work.