Today I had a second chance to see a Venice Biennale, the first being two years ago. Last time there was much art that engaged some of the more difficult things going on in the world at the time, especially things to do with war and its aftermath, and the violation of human rights. It was tough to get through in some places, but I felt it was worth the effort.
This time, I’m not so sure. There was certainly enough art to wear me out, but I didn’t really get a relationship going with much of it, even after reading the signs, which were drowning in artspeak. I get that at these upper echelons of formal art exhibitions, artspeak is necessary, and a valid form of communication with other artspeakers, but I also feel that perhaps it can be used in an exclusionary way, keeping those of us with less art theory and criticism education at arm’s length. Do we really only want to make art for other artists? Or should we aim to reach a broader audience? Interesting questions to ponder.
In the end, though, formality and artspeak aside, I think we just plain love what we love. When you are moved by art, it doesn’t matter how you got there. If you find beauty in a piece of asphalt (and yes, there was a work that was a patch of asphalt) then that’s where your beauty is. I don’t think we can allow the critics to tell us what good art is. I think we know it when we see it.
And so on that note, I offer you a couple of pieces I liked. The first is by Lygia Page, and it was made of delicate strands of gold thread that created beams of ethereal light. The second, all made from black bungee elastic, was by Tomas Saraceno. The pix don’t really show the dimensionality and the geometry of the work, but it was wonderful to see, and we could climb into the installation.
The last piece was outside the venue. I thought it was a hoot – I guess anyone can be an art critic!
