The Venice Biennale is not a beauty pageant. Established in 1895 to provide a forum for Italian art and invited foreign guests, the biennale has always had the capacity to shock. In 1910, its secretary had a work by Picasso removed and the Spanish artist did not exhibit in Venice
again until 1948. Today, Picasso would be considered tame.
Exhibitions are spread around the national pavilions in the Giardini gardens and various sites around the city. New Zealand has not yet secured a site for et.al's installation next year.
Anything goes in the biennale. Last year's highlight was the appearance of the artist Lala, a 20-year-old ape prone to throwing diva tantrums. She kept audiences waiting for hours for her to appear in a glass cage and spell out "Utopia" with dice, but was unable to complete the word. That's the message. In her second appearance, Lala spelt "Tit" and "Out", then threw a wobbly and had to be taken away.
A Spanish "installation" called Bad Boyz showed film of men urinating into each other's mouths. (Imagine how that would play here). The Venezuelan show was blocked off - supposedly to symbolise political anarchy, and the Spanish pavilion also bricked up its entrance, forcing visitors to trot around the back and produce Spanish passports.
Aussie Patricia Piccinini horrified and fascinated with her genetics vs ethics models - a dog woman suckling pups made of sausage meat and animals with children's faces.
Works have been made out of every material imaginable, from elephant dung to sculptures made of dog tags. Immigrants from Africa have had their hair bleached on-site. One artist sent a peacock in his place, which strutted around on a lead, while a German artist reconstructed his terrible childhood house, smells, trapdoors, crawl spaces and all.
In an environment which accepts sink plungers, planks of wood, gin bottles, sexual secretions and unidentifiable muck, et al's Fundamental Practice - a critique of religious and technological fanaticism - may seem positively gorgeous.
