This year's Venice Biennale began under the shadow of great political tensions, resignations, cancellations, and controversies that accompanied it long before its official opening.
Several venues withdrew, artists left, exhibitions were canceled, and protests became part of the atmosphere from the very first days. Amidst all this, the death of curator Koyo Kouoh, who did not see her artistic vision through to its conclusion, gave the event a painful dimension.
Her concept for this edition, titled “In Minor Keys,” aimed to move away from directly political art and focus on calm, healing, deep listening, and spiritual rest.
However, at a time when the world is facing wars, the climate crisis, rising political extremism, and rapid technological developments, this approach has been met with reservations.
The main exhibitions at the Giardini and Arsenale appear as a vast mix of works, often without a clear connection between them. The focus seems to be placed on artists from the Global South, but without sufficient curatorial explanation. The result is a large exhibition, rich in material and artistic voices, but often fragmented and difficult to read as a whole.
Ceramics, textiles, natural paints, abstract landscapes and serene visual forms dominate the Giardini. Some works stand out for their artistic strength, such as Seyni Awa Camara’s hybrid creations, Celia Vásquez Yui’s ceramic figures, Mohammed Z Rahman’s matchbox paintings, Tammy Nguyen’s complex canvases and Wardha Shabbir’s monumental works inspired by the Pakistani tradition of miniature.
However, the exhibition often remains overloaded and without clear direction. Arsenale works better, especially because of the larger and more experimental works. Guadalupe Maravilla addresses his experience with cancer and emigration to the US, Theo Eshetu places a slowly rotating and withering olive tree at the center, and Alfredo Jaar creates a dazzling red corridor leading to a cube of rare minerals as a critique of the exploitation and greed that are harming the planet.
The national pavilions are more vibrant and provocative than the main exhibition. Denmark presents a high-tech sperm bank, Luxembourg an absurd installation, Japan places visitors in front of artificial babies, while Malta displays a life-size figure of Russell Crowe made of chocolate.
One of the most commented pavilions is that of Austria, where artist Florentina Holzinger brings a harsh, physical and disturbing performance. At its center is a woman with a diving mask, immersed in a tank connected to portable toilets, where urine is filtered and returned to the system. The work is heavy, uncomfortable and direct, but that is precisely where its strength lies: it speaks to the climate crisis, to the invisible systems that keep society functioning and to our proximity to collapse.
The Slovenian pavilion also brings one of the strongest moments of the Biennale. Turned into a space of ruins, with concrete blocks and construction debris, the installation by Nonument Group recalls a mosque built in 1917 among military barracks in the Slovenian Alps. The work deals with loss, militarization and the erasure of historical memory.
In contrast to these interventions, the Vatican pavilion offers a sonic experience of tranquility in the gardens of the Carmelite Confraternity. Musicians such as Devonte Hynes, Terry Riley, Meredith Monk and Brian Eno have been inspired by Saint Hildegard von Bingen to create a meditative space, where nature, sound and silence come together in one of the closest interpretations of Kouoh's original theme.
Meanwhile, the unofficial exhibitions around Venice seem to carry more political and emotional weight than the main program itself. Belarus Free Theater deals with life under totalitarianism, while Gabrielle Goliath, after canceling her participation in the South African pavilion, presents a video installation in a church dedicated to women lost to colonial and sexual violence. The singers’ agonizing voices fill the space with a powerful and unforgettable lament.
At the Fondazione Prada, the exhibition with Richard Prince and Arthur Jafa explores America through appropriated and transformed images, addressing racism, sexual exploitation and cultural emptiness. While at the Pinault Collection, Lorna Simpson’s retrospective focuses on racial violence and historical memory.
In a Biennale where technology is noticeably absent from the main exhibition, it appears more strongly in other spaces around the city. Eva and Franco Mattes address artificial intelligence and meme culture, while Holly Herndon and Mat Dryhurst explore the art of protocols, AI networks, and the impacts of technology on politics, the military, and society.
However, one of the most special exhibitions remains that of Lydia Ourahmane at the Nicoletta Fiorucci Foundation. With scents, objects, Venetian materials and minimal interventions, the artist creates a sensitive reflection on belonging, memory and the hidden layers of the city.
In the end, the 2026 Venice Biennale remains a large, messy, and contradictory event. The main exhibition often seems vague and avoids the politics of the time, but the pavilions and other spaces around the city offer powerful, provocative, and unforgettable moments. Amidst the chaos, Venice continues to be a place where art, even when it fails as an overall concept, still manages to hit hard in the details. /GazetaExpress/
t7 live
