Canada's entry at Venice Biennale shows how glass beads shaped the modern world

Over the years, 60 Canadi‐ an artists have won the ho‐ nour of showing their work in a small, angular, woodand-glass pavilion that sits on the end of the Venice la‐ goon.

But this is the first time an artist has draped the pavilion in luscious strings of cobaltblue beads that shift and soften the outline of the building.

The beads provide the opening glance of Trinket by Hamilton-born, Paris-based artist Kapwani Kiwanga, Canada's representative at this year's Venice Biennale, the world's most prestigious art show.

In her exhibit, Kiwanga lit‐ erally and metaphorically connects the dots - glass bead by glass bead - of trade that radiated out around the globe from Venice, once one of Europe's most important ports, and the impact that had.

For centuries, the beads, called conterie, were pro‐ duced on the nearby glass‐ making island of Murano and used as currency and for barter, taking off in the 16th century as European traders and explorers expanded their global reach.

"These little, tiny, minis‐ cule units of glass shaped our modern and postmodern world," said Kiwanga from her studio in Rome before the opening of the Venice Bi‐ ennale on April 20.

"I'm interested in how ma‐ terials can be documents themselves of human, social and political interaction."

As chance would have it, the very same year she was selected to represent Canada in the Biennale, commis‐ sioned by the National Gallery of Canada, she's been living in Italy as an artist-inresidence at the beautiful Vil‐ la Medici, part of the French Academy, near the top of the Spanish Steps in Rome.

Interest in power imbal‐ ances

The conterie, from the Por‐ tuguese word "to count," were exchanged for every‐ thing from tropical wood to gold that was brought to Eu‐ rope and used to construct and adorn everything from chairs in homes to soaring cathedrals.

In the South American and African communities the beads were traded, though, they disrupted local economies and social cohe‐ sion, says Kiwanga, whose work is concerned primarily with power imbalances, from the geopolitical to the institu‐ tional.

Inside the pavilion, the walls are adorned with more conterie, these ones inlaid with different raw materials that were once exchanged for them - Pernambuco red‐ wood from Brazil, gold leaf and metal. Four sculptures of the same material inlaid with beadwork form physical and narrative points of contact.

Kiwanga, who is now in her mid-40s, grew up in downtown Hamilton in a working-class family with roots in Tanzania. Her moth‐ er was the one who exposed her to art - from the mosaics at Hamilton City Hall and paintings and sculpture at the Art Gallery of Ontario to museums when they trav‐ elled - while her family en‐ couraged her to value per‐ sonal expression over the pursuit of wealth.

"I've never had this pres‐ sure of financial success, and that defined for me quite early what freedom meant: being able to choose what I wanted to do," she said. "It was a great gift."

Early schooling

The idea to become an artist didn't come until her mid20s, after she studied anthro‐ pology and comparative reli‐ gion at McGill University in Montreal and worked for a few years as a documentary filmmaker in Scotland.

"I found it a bit too limit‐ ing for me," she said of film, and the idea of not being able to have a full say in the final cut. "But I didn't really know what art was, so it was really just this open question: could this be a space, and what could I make of it?"

Kiwanga won a small scholarship to attend the Beaux Arts de Paris for two years, followed by another two-year postgraduate pro‐ gram in the north of France. Those four years "of explor‐ ing," as she calls them, con‐ vinced her to make a go of it as an artist.

The choice has paid off, both in terms of freedom and recognition. Kiwanga has exhibited at top galleries around the world and won international prizes, includ‐ ing France's prestigiousPrix Marcel Duchamp, which came with 35,000 euros for her installation Flowers for Africa at the Centre Pompi‐ dou in Paris, Canada's Sobey Art Award and the U.S.-based Frieze Artist Award.

Before becoming an artist, she was tempted to become a scholar, but wanted a wider audience for her work. Still, the drive to go deep is core to her art.

"I just ask myself a ques‐ tion and then I say, 'Well, who's thought about this as well?' and then read people who have dedicated decades to research an area, and then ask more specific questions," she said.

What emerges from those questions, and the creative shaping that follows, are spa‐ cious, abstract works that el‐ egantly synthesize complex histories and ideas.

They take the form of everything from wafting, di‐ aphanous, desert-coloured sheets and gleaming sculp‐ tures to pairing colours used by industrial designers to cre‐ ate moods or control move‐ ment in offices, psychiatric wards and prisons.

In Trinket, as well as inan exhibit that was part of a group show at the last Venice Biennale, Kiwanga often hones in on a particular as‐ pect or material related to colonial and mercantile economies. That could be containers, sisal, sand and glass, as well as floral arrangements she recreated from diplomatic dinners that were part of African nations' bid for independence.

In other exhibits, she's ex‐ plored racialized surveillance, featuringpolice floodlights melted down into tiny beads to form a massive metallic veil, inspired by the writing of American scholarSimone Browne.

'There are many layers of my person'

While race is at times part of her work, it's one of many as‐ pects related to power imbal‐ ance that she explores. She says being the first Black fe‐ male artist to show at the Canadian pavilion in Venice doesn't hold much meaning for her.

"If it's important for other people to [use] these labels and be interested in the firsts, then that's fine, it's their narrative," she said. "Just doing one's work and existing is what I'm interested in. There are many layers of my person and it's some‐ times hard to see it essential‐ ized or simplified."

Despite her international success, she says she gives little thought to strategy in an art world that has largely ig‐ nored female talent and, un‐ til recently, all but shut out Black artists. She says her family's emphasis on free‐ dom - that as long as you can pay the rent, do what you love - still shapes her life choices.

"I just really go with what I desire, my love of things, my interest, my curiosity," she said.

"I have very little expecta‐ tions, but I have a lot of am‐ bition in terms of the work. After that, the rest is kind of noise. It's other people's game."