Though ILLUMInations⎯the fifty-fourth iteration of the Venice Biennale⎯is ambitious in scope, finding the worthwhile is sometimes arduous. Eighty-nine national pavilions organized by various non-profits, hundreds of official and unofficial collateral exhibitions and events peppered throughout the city and one large exhibition split between the Arsenale and the Giardini’s central pavilion (organized by Swiss curator Bice Curiger) comprise La Biennale proper. Curiger’s ILLUMInations, the Biennale’s hub, aims to present eighty-three international artists under a professedly clear rubric; that is, to define and “illuminate” the various international developments in contemporary art—a point further driven home in the exhibition’s emblematic title. Such a heavy-handed thematic premise calls for coherence and accessibility, in which the show equally succeeds and fails. ILLUMInations tends to rely on the literal illumination of light-based installations (some even dating back to the 1960s), which lends the otherwise broadly curated exhibition a thinly veiled façade of consistency. Yet once this formulaic pattern establishes itself, it is soon thoroughly muddled and leaves one to wonder if a clear direction is possible with such a sprawling presentation of contemporary art.

Proclaimed to commence ILLUMInations are three large sixteenth-century paintings by Venice’s own Tintoretto. According to Biennale organizers, Tintoretto’s canvases are modern, subversive and speak to the general rule-breaking sought by the exhibition’s other artists. Most experimental in light and perspective is Tintoretto’s The Stealing of the Dead Body of Saint Mark (1562-1566), which provides an apt entry point to the city’s artistic and historical milieu and serves as a reminder of Tintoretto’s historical vanguardism. Although it is a novel preface to the Biennale and appropriate to the site, Tintoretto is an odd choice for introducing an exhibition emphasizing a global approach, and it further confuses the exhibition’s basis.1 Perhaps a more suitable introduction to the Biennale is Philippe Parreno’s Marquee (2011)—a glimmering sculpture comprised of eighty light bulbs, cantilevered above the doorway leading into the darkened gallery of Tintorettos—which essentially enforces and makes light of the theatricality and entertainment powerhouse that is La Biennale. 

However overwhelming the Biennale may be, it offers several highlights. Within both the Giardini and Arsenale venues of Curiger’s exhibition are five architectural para-pavilions made by artists to house works by other artists—an innovative approach that smartly recalls the system of national pavilions scattered around Venice and within the Giardini. The most notable is Antechamber, an expansive star-shaped room created by Polish artist Monika Sosnowska. Each of the star’s points provides disorienting corners mostly devoid of artworks, save for a small sculpture by Haroon Mirza and a photographic installation by David Goldblatt; Antechamber offers a quiet refuge within the Biennale that fosters a sharpened concentration on the works it houses. Goldblatt’s Ex-offenders pairs photographs and personal texts of South Africans who have committed crimes ranging from burglary to murder, captured at the scene of the crime. Goldblatt provides a platform for the ex-offenders to reflect on and rationalize their offenses while ultimately underscoring South Africa’s class tensions and its seemingly lenient judicial system. Goldblatt’s series was apparently larger than Sosnowska planned for, so it is installed on the drywall supports of the star’s inner wall, much to Goldblatt’s disapproval.2  

ILLUMInations also tends to shy away from the title’s synonymous implications to enlighten by giving spatial prominence to many well-established artists, including Maurizio Cattelan, Sigmar Polke, James Turrell and Christopher Wool. One artwork proven successful at its spring screening at the Paula Cooper Gallery in New York and already receiving much acclaim⎯including this year’s Golden Lion award for best artist⎯is Christian Marclay’s The Clock, which lives up to its hype. Through filmic clips of timepieces sourced from nearly a hundred years of film and television, The Clock’s ability to profoundly address time’s passing and fundamental presence is just as moving as it is hypnotizing. However, as the clocks within the 24-hour work correlate with the screening’s real time, the unfortunate urge to rush off surmounts within the Arsenale’s sprawling context and it’s difficult to give Marclay’s work the time it deserves.

Artworks concentrating on current political events have less of a presence within Curiger’s exhibition, though many of the national pavilions make up for this lack elsewhere in the Biennale. Inside Curiger’s show, however, the collective Norma Jeane presented #Jan25 (#Sidibouzid, #Feb12, #Feb14, #Feb17, …), an interactive room-sized installation filled with visitor-produced graffiti sourced from a tri-color Plasticine block. Before it was whittled down, the block mirrored the Egyptian flag. Touching on the collaborative power of social media in the recent Egyptian uprising, Norma Jeane’s contribution reminds how individuals sometimes have the power to collectively form and guide their political surroundings.

Outside in the Giardini, Ahmed Basiony’s installation in the Egyptian Pavilion also focuses on the revolution in a powerful installation of alternating video footage of Basiony’s performance, 30 Days of Running in the Place, and the daily footage he filmed of the protests in Cairo, where Basiony died. Basiony was selected as Egypt’s representative before the time of his death, so the pavilion subsequently pays tribute to both Basiony’s art and cause. Although it is unclear if the Cairo footage is part of his artistic practice, the installation imparts a heroic and ultimately tragic viewpoint of the struggle towards tangible change. Basiony’s portrayal of the Egyptian revolution operates forcefully within the context of the Biennale due to its depicted violence, straightforwardness and personal perspective. While Norma Jeane’s installation offers a more hopeful and collective stance regarding the uprising, its message is subtler and may therefore get lost in the mix.

Perhaps the best conclusion for ILLUMInations—and the Biennale’s historically hasty, subjective and fickle nature—appears in the Biennale’s Latin American pavilion. There, Regina José Galindo’s False Lion focuses on the Biennale itself. It is an exact replica of the Golden Lion award she won for best young artist at the 2005 Venice Biennale. Galindo was forced to sell her award to another artist during financial difficulties, so the copy cast in bronze and Guatemalan gold stands in its place. Speaking to the arbitrariness and false promises of such awards, Galindo exposes the grim reality of many working artists—including those once championed in one arena or another—and the undoubtedly fleeting nature of what may be currently selected to “illuminate.”

• 1. The selection of Tintoretto is also redolent of Western patrimony within an “international” exhibition, but perhaps this reflects more on the established Eurocentric art-historical narrative, and thus what subsequently informed and came to be considered as international art.
• 2. There’s really not a lot of information about this process or who actually chose the artists exhibiting within each para-pavilion. Some sources say the decision was up to the pavilion designers and some say it was up to Curiger. For further information about Goldblatt’s feelings on his showing in Sosnowska’s pavilion go here: http://www.artthrob.co.za/Reviews/2011/06/Sue-Williamson-reviews-IllumIN...