Venezia
Concussion Protocol, Art, and the Floating City
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Now on to this week’s musings…
Biennale di Venezia 2022 - Milk of Dreams
Four years ago, Kim took me with her to the Venice and the Art Biennale as she did research for what would become A Spy Like Me. I was so overwhelmed by the pleasure of being at the Biennale that I kept spontaneously attacking her with hugs as the only outlet I had to express my gratitude. The Biennale was so far beyond my wildest dreams that I promised myself there and then that I would never miss another one.
Biennale de Venezia 2024 - Foreigners Everywhere
Two years ago, Kim and I returned together, A Spy Like Me newly released into the world, and my own art on the brink of leading me to my PhD. The city was as obscenely beautiful as I remembered, and impossibly the Biennale was even better than it had been two years prior. Both the central exhibit and the country pavilions overflowing with an embarrassment of riches that inspired me beyond measure.
Biennale de Venezia 2026 - Minor Keys
Six weeks ago, the day after my last letter to you, I fell on the way to work, hitting my head on a dry-stone wall, blacking out and ending up with a nasty gash and a horrible concussion. That single moment derailed everything. I just about managed to complete my commission of book roses for Hay Festival before collapsing in a darkened room for weeks on end…
I couldn’t work on my PhD. Couldn’t look at my computer screen or get to my studio.
I couldn’t get the train to London for the launch of the final part in Kims Double O trilogy.
I couldn’t drive to Hay Festival for a weekend of books with Kim and Nick, David and Antony.
After weeks of resting I could weave for a while.
After more weeks I managed to read a little.
I kept my patience and my spirits by reminding myself every day that perhaps, if I just kept resting, I would be healed enough to make it to my flight to Venice for my bi-annual trip to the floating city and the 2026 Art Biennale di Venezia.
Thankfully, the resting worked. Still tired and slightly achy, I made it.
The City
Arriving back into Venice felt like sinking into the welcoming embrace of a beloved. With a week in the city, I had time to slowly and gently (mindful of my still healing concussion) take in the splendour of the city and the art waiting to unfold before me.
I took in all my favourites:
The paper shops whose artful creations are now carefully wrapped in my suitcase to adorn a new batch of notebooks for myself and my family
The Ghetto with its quiet square, crooked houses, and delicious bakery whose biscuits make the most wonderful breakfast.
The lions across the city, with wings and without, whose resemblance to a lion varies from sculpture to sculpture. I even found some new ones whose mournful expressions made me kiss their noses.
The gelato, served from ice cream parlours that stay open late into the night.
The light playing off the water, casting patterns across buildings and the underside of bridges, highlighting the cities glorious and unique colour scheme.
The gondola repair yard which I find as deeply satisfying as I did the first time I laid eyes on its messy and chaotic charm.
The incredible Ocean Space, a gallery in an old church and the only non-biennale related museum I visited. After all, how could I of all people skip a gallery dedicated to environmental ocean art.
This visit also included a few new adventures:
Grocery shopping in Rialto Market, returning to my rented apartment laden with glorious fresh produce for dinner.
A morning walk around Murano, my first visit to the island of glass, which though beautiful has a noticeable sense of the industry that makes it famous in the warehouses and workshops that line the water. The open studio at Wave allows you a peek at the artistry and craft of the islands master glass workers.
Sitting along my favourite canal for hours upon hours, first a restaurant and later in the week a cafe/bookshop/bar, eating impossibly delicious food while reading and creating art. I’ve literally had this dream and unusually for a dream, it was better in waking life than anything I dreamt up.
The Art
As if the unrelenting and unstoppable beauty of the city wasn’t enough, I also had a week of the Biennale at my fingertips. I lost count of the number of hours and exhibitions I visited. For those who have never been the Biennale it fills the entire city, overflowing from the Biennale Gardens and Arsenale. The Central Exhibit spreads across the Gardens and the Arsenale, curated by a specially selected team every two years. The pavilions, which bring countries from across the world to Venice, are half permanent and architecturally unique spaces belonging to longstanding participants and half temporary homes in warehouses, churches, palaces, and galleries. All of that is complimented by official and unofficial satellite exhibits (or collateral events as they are termed). It is a gluttony so vast there is no way to take it all in.
However, for the first time ever I managed not only two visits apiece to the Gardens and the Arsenale, but at least twenty other sites across the city for pavilions and collateral exhibits. As I wandered the calli and crossed canals on old stone bridges I ducked through every door I found with a Biennale sign outside.
I filled page after page in my notebook, attempting to capture the inspiration and ideas I found in room after room, building after building. Time and again I came across concepts, colours, materials, lighting, sound, and curation that reframed and supported my PhD research.
The biennale brings together a greater variety of truly global, truly contemporary art than you will likely ever see in one place at one time. This is the cutting edge of art, and among the incredible artists on show is the specific field in which I am creating and research. Spending days within the Biennale is as inspiring to me as days spent among the most glorious places in the more-than-human world.
I am bringing so much home with me that I can’t begin to write about it properly yet. I have so much to say about this year’s exhibition, my favourite works, the tragedy and political mess behind this year’s show, the importance of art in this moment in time. But I need a few more days for the magic and its meaning to fully sink in before I can share these thoughts with you.
Death and Birth
You might notice that unlike my previous two visits, I did this one solo. I missed Kim and her incredible company every step of the way, but as she is due to give birth any day now, she had a fairly good excuse for staying behind. Still, we sent messages back and forth, particularly as my trip coincided with the first anniversary of our father’s death.
I ate dark chocolate ice cream in his honour, grieving the fact I couldn’t message to tell him I was stood in Venice. Papa loved history, particularly Tamarlane and the Mongol Empires, the silk road and Marco Polo, whose story starts and ends in Venice. During Marco Polo’s time Venice stood as a doorway to the world. Today the Biennale di Venezia continues to hold that doorway open, as art from across the world fills this improbable floating city.
More soon...