Politics is art, art politics at Venice Biennale
Gone are the days when the Philippines could represent itself with the abstract art of Jose Joya and Napoleon Abueva. Nowadays, it’s about delivering a geopolitical message.
At the 56th Venice Biennale, strong political statements, it seems, trumps art for the sake of aesthetics or shock value. Gone are the days when the Philippines could represent itself with the abstract art of Jose Joya and Napoleon Abueva, who exhibited at the 1964 Biennale. Nowadays, it’s about delivering a geopolitical message.
Case in point: Armenia, which won the coveted Golden Lion, happens to be commemorating its 100th year since the Armenian Genocide. Their pavilion, called “Armenity/Haiyutioun,” features contemporary artists from the Armenian diaspora who reflect on their native identity through works tied to the concept of memory.
Another show fraught with political significance is “My East is Your West,” in which India and Pakistan unite for the first time. In this shared exhibition at the Bien-
nale, the two nations reflect on the theme of borders.
Our Philippine pavilion had its own message about borders — and intrusions upon those borders — but I don’t foresee a shared exhibit with China anytime soon.
Considering the 51-year gap, our country represented itself admirably. In an exhibition that has almost doubled in size since the late ’90s, with 89 national pavilions, 44 collateral shows and countless unofficial events, the Philippines got lots of positive attention from critics as well as casual viewers, with institutions like Christie’s putting the Philippine pavilion on its “best of the Biennale” and “must-see” lists. The fact that we were able to shine in such a melee is, without doubt, a historic victory for the country and our artists.
ART IMMERSION, SENSORY OVERLOAD
What’s it like entering the Biennale? There are two main areas, roughly divided between up-and-comers and more seasoned entrants. Most established countries like the USA, Great Britain and Japan have permanent pavilions in the Giardini, so named because the pavilions are surrounded by gardens and flank a peaceful canal. It’s a stunning, serene setting in which to view art.
Arsenale, on the other hand, is an industrial labyrinth of shipyards and armories, where newer powers in the art world like Ireland, Indonesia, and Mexico are housed inside barracks-length structures made of brick and stone.
The Philippines and first-timers like Bangladesh, India, and Iraq were set up in spaces outside the Arsenale and Giardini.
Technically we are not among the newcomers, having made our debut in 1964, so, does a celibacy of 51 years restore our virginity again?
No one seems to know why our “first time” was also the last time; one can only surmise that the Marcos government had other concerns through the late ‘60s onward, and funding further participation in the Biennale was not one of them. (Credit goes to Senator Loren Legarda, who spearheaded the Philippines’ return to Venice, as well as curator Patrick Flores and participating artists Jose Tence Ruiz and Manny Montelibano.)
Open to the public since May 9, the Biennale runs until Nov. 22, 2015. In case you find yourself in Venice during that period, here is my personal pick of the pavilions among the ones I saw:
‘ALL THE WORLD’S FUTURES’:
DAYS OF FUTURE PAST
Art historian and critic Okwui Enwezor curated the official exhibition, “All the World’s Futures,” about the way capital is used in the world, and it’s a provocative and disquieting vision.
To get to American art star Bruce Nauman’s neon marquees, whose flickering creates random statements about sex, pain and death, first you have to step over Algerian artist Adel Abdessemed’s sheaves of knives on the floor.
In other rooms, artist Tetsuya Ishida’s acrylic paintings of Japanese students staring blankly at an unseen future follow German photographer Andreas Gursky’s large-scale pictures of Asian laborers crammed into factories like ants. At Arsenale, Chinese artist Xu Bing’s twin phoenixes built entirely from industrial parts hover majestically over the water in two boathouses, looking poised to take flight.
There’s almost too much to absorb, and the assault is not just visual but auditory — a young black woman sings “work songs” live in the midst of the Giardini exhibit — but Enwezor’s assemblage of artists from all over the world is an all-encompassing view of not just the state of contemporary art today but also the state of human evolution.
JAPAN: WEB OF MEMORIES
Though it didn’t win, the Japanese pavilion was the universal favorite among Biennale goers, who raved about Chiharu Shiota’s large-scale installation “The Key in the Hand.” Like the most benign of spiders, Shiota wove a web of red yarn suspended from the ceiling, from which hundreds of keys dangle. Caught like flies in the net are two boats — encrusted with the briny patina of ocean voyages — a metaphor for traveling through life and memories.