XV. International Architecture Exhibition in Venice - National Pavilions
National pavilions at the biennale are traditionally a mixture of successful, average, and quite obscure presentations. The competition among nations that led to their emergence is not taken seriously by many anymore, but the competition for visitors' attention is increasingly fierce: this year there are 65 participating countries; in addition to the original pavilions and new halls in the Arsenale complex, they are also scattered throughout the city, including Scotland and Catalonia. Therefore, it is worth spending at least three to four days in Venice.
A popular strategy is to place one, often simple object, a "one-liner," at the center of attention that immediately captures the viewer and subsequently leads them to more complex plans, analyses, or diagrams. Some countries drown interesting themes in confusing exhibitions, while others are simply off target. An increasingly important criterion is the connection to the overarching theme of the exhibition.
At first glance, it seems that the Belgians continue their long-standing obsession with the worn-out, shabby, and slightly ugly. This year, they even deliberately did not whitewash their pavilion, as is usually customary, but rather preserved the slightly tarnished coats bearing the marks of past years. The pavilion fits exceptionally well into the central theme of Aravena's exhibition: how to make do with little while still – in the words of the Belgians – conducting oneself brilliantly. The selection of everyday architecture and minor interventions curated by Architecten De Vylder Vinck Taillieu, interior architects Doorzoon – such as the reconstruction of a post at the gate or ventilation led through a door opening – intertwines with disturbing photographs by Filip Dujardin. Much more than what is visible at first glance is elucidated in the accompanying book Bravoure – Scarcity – Beauty.
The Baltic States
this year won the most interesting exhibition space, a functional brutalist sports hall right next to the Arsenale. The three post-Soviet countries are trying to explore what they have in common. They dig deep – literally, starting with geology and exhibiting underground probes. Besides depth, there is also width: the exhibition rises along the stands and offers a wide, perhaps overly loose range of themes. 86 different installations, exhibits, and videos are quite a lot for three countries combined.
Portugal
A trip to Giudecca Island is worthwhile. The exhibition When Álvaro Meets Aldo unusually ties into modern history, namely the beginnings of architecture exhibitions in Venice in the 1970s and 1980s (at that time, it wasn't a biennale yet, as they did not occur at regular two-year intervals). Of course, the names in the title refer to Aldo Rossi and Álvaro Siza. The plans for social housing originated in the 1980s, right on the traditionally poorer Giudecca Island. The location of the exhibition is unique – in the ground floor of a block designed by Siza himself. In newly filmed videos, the eighty-three-year-old architect visits tenants of his buildings, is invited for coffee, smokes cigarettes, and engages in conversation. We get the chance to glimpse not only into the already completed part of the Venetian complex (just around the corner) but also into his other social housing projects in Porto, The Hague, and Berlin (the well-known Bonjour tristesse building near Schlesisches Tor).
Spain
The presentation of architecture in this country is traditionally of high standard, and this year the Spaniards – perhaps also considering the merits of previous years – were awarded the main prize. The installation Unfinished is somewhat misleading by its name – it only features a photographic installation in the middle regarding buildings unfinished due to the economic crisis. Otherwise, the curators "could not resist" and showcase completed contemporary realizations that have been developed in close connection with the older context. They have classified them into groups that cohesively lend broader meaning.
Ireland
The installation Losing Myself attempts to simulate the perception of space experienced by someone with Alzheimer's disease, losing the concept of the whole. In contrast to this is the architect's vision, who sees the house through plans in a way that even another healthy person doesn’t see. Both perspectives intersect in an act of drawing.
Germany
The theme this year could hardly have been anything else – immigration, just like in Austria and Finland). The installation Making Heimat showcases the issue freshly, in provocatively dissonant typography among white plastic chairs. The Germans traditionally struggle with their overly monumental pavilion, and this year they literally took this to heart by breaking (temporarily) through door openings. The metaphor of openness therefore took on a surprisingly literal form.
Canada
This year, you might miss the Canadian pavilion, as its building is not open at all. The installation made from bags hints at an important attempt to open the issue of extractivism, the exploitation of natural resources, in which Canada ranks sadly at the top. This is fundamentally related to architecture – even if not directly to its design – since every building is a transformation of resources taken from the earth in one way or another. It is clear, but we often forget about it anyway. The minimalist installation is accompanied by a printed brochure that explains everything in much more detail. The latest book by Canadian Naomi Klein This Changes Everything may perhaps serve as a more digestible introduction to this immensely important topic than the radical installation from her country.
New or irregularly participating countries often try to highlight that they actually exist, but interesting exhibitions are also created here with the help of external curators. Among them, Peru stands out with the installation Our Amazon Frontline, presenting a robust educational program for inhabitants of the Amazon rainforest (it received a special mention from the jury).
Some less successful exhibitions are worth seeing for the questions or reactions they provoke. The pavilion of the United States became the target of "digital occupation." The official exhibition The Architectural Imagination, which places speculative and often contextually detached projects in the depopulated Detroit, provoked the activist group Detroit Resists to respond: they created an augmented reality app that virtually overlays the real installation with slogans and posters of local protest movements. The Russian exhibition, which had been interesting in previous years despite expectations, this year evidently reflects the gloomy state of this country: in the monumental celebration of the Stalinist V.D.N.Ch. exhibition hall, it is hard to find any trace of detachment or irony.
A popular strategy is to place one, often simple object, a "one-liner," at the center of attention that immediately captures the viewer and subsequently leads them to more complex plans, analyses, or diagrams. Some countries drown interesting themes in confusing exhibitions, while others are simply off target. An increasingly important criterion is the connection to the overarching theme of the exhibition.
Personal selection of the seven most interesting pavilions, in no particular order:
BelgiumAt first glance, it seems that the Belgians continue their long-standing obsession with the worn-out, shabby, and slightly ugly. This year, they even deliberately did not whitewash their pavilion, as is usually customary, but rather preserved the slightly tarnished coats bearing the marks of past years. The pavilion fits exceptionally well into the central theme of Aravena's exhibition: how to make do with little while still – in the words of the Belgians – conducting oneself brilliantly. The selection of everyday architecture and minor interventions curated by Architecten De Vylder Vinck Taillieu, interior architects Doorzoon – such as the reconstruction of a post at the gate or ventilation led through a door opening – intertwines with disturbing photographs by Filip Dujardin. Much more than what is visible at first glance is elucidated in the accompanying book Bravoure – Scarcity – Beauty.
The Baltic States
this year won the most interesting exhibition space, a functional brutalist sports hall right next to the Arsenale. The three post-Soviet countries are trying to explore what they have in common. They dig deep – literally, starting with geology and exhibiting underground probes. Besides depth, there is also width: the exhibition rises along the stands and offers a wide, perhaps overly loose range of themes. 86 different installations, exhibits, and videos are quite a lot for three countries combined.
Portugal
A trip to Giudecca Island is worthwhile. The exhibition When Álvaro Meets Aldo unusually ties into modern history, namely the beginnings of architecture exhibitions in Venice in the 1970s and 1980s (at that time, it wasn't a biennale yet, as they did not occur at regular two-year intervals). Of course, the names in the title refer to Aldo Rossi and Álvaro Siza. The plans for social housing originated in the 1980s, right on the traditionally poorer Giudecca Island. The location of the exhibition is unique – in the ground floor of a block designed by Siza himself. In newly filmed videos, the eighty-three-year-old architect visits tenants of his buildings, is invited for coffee, smokes cigarettes, and engages in conversation. We get the chance to glimpse not only into the already completed part of the Venetian complex (just around the corner) but also into his other social housing projects in Porto, The Hague, and Berlin (the well-known Bonjour tristesse building near Schlesisches Tor).
Spain
The presentation of architecture in this country is traditionally of high standard, and this year the Spaniards – perhaps also considering the merits of previous years – were awarded the main prize. The installation Unfinished is somewhat misleading by its name – it only features a photographic installation in the middle regarding buildings unfinished due to the economic crisis. Otherwise, the curators "could not resist" and showcase completed contemporary realizations that have been developed in close connection with the older context. They have classified them into groups that cohesively lend broader meaning.
Ireland
The installation Losing Myself attempts to simulate the perception of space experienced by someone with Alzheimer's disease, losing the concept of the whole. In contrast to this is the architect's vision, who sees the house through plans in a way that even another healthy person doesn’t see. Both perspectives intersect in an act of drawing.
Germany
The theme this year could hardly have been anything else – immigration, just like in Austria and Finland). The installation Making Heimat showcases the issue freshly, in provocatively dissonant typography among white plastic chairs. The Germans traditionally struggle with their overly monumental pavilion, and this year they literally took this to heart by breaking (temporarily) through door openings. The metaphor of openness therefore took on a surprisingly literal form.
Canada
This year, you might miss the Canadian pavilion, as its building is not open at all. The installation made from bags hints at an important attempt to open the issue of extractivism, the exploitation of natural resources, in which Canada ranks sadly at the top. This is fundamentally related to architecture – even if not directly to its design – since every building is a transformation of resources taken from the earth in one way or another. It is clear, but we often forget about it anyway. The minimalist installation is accompanied by a printed brochure that explains everything in much more detail. The latest book by Canadian Naomi Klein This Changes Everything may perhaps serve as a more digestible introduction to this immensely important topic than the radical installation from her country.
Other Interesting Pavilions
Other countries also deserve attention, but this year none stands out significantly in the overall impression. Even in the case of the "usual suspects" like Scandinavia or Denmark , someone following the architecture there for the last eight years will find little new. The wooden pyramid in the Scandinavian pavilion allows a close look among the beams of Sverre Fehn’s magnificent building. France presents its very first project for the biennale, selected in a competition and somewhat unusually engaging in the logic of “small and sensitive interventions.” Younger and "smaller" architecture is also presented in its traditionally excellent display by Japan. Switzerland invites viewers into an artificial cave in a project by Christian Kerez, which so thoroughly ignores everything around it that it is actually a welcome distraction. An original perspective on architecture is brought by Poland through several videos depicting workers on construction sites. Albania, with its interesting installation thematizing the departure of millions of Albanians abroad, strays the farthest from architecture, employing strategies on the boundary between documentary and art. Montenegro presents strategies for developing the areas of former salt mines in Ulcinj, right at the southern tip of the country (curated by Bart Lootsma).New or irregularly participating countries often try to highlight that they actually exist, but interesting exhibitions are also created here with the help of external curators. Among them, Peru stands out with the installation Our Amazon Frontline, presenting a robust educational program for inhabitants of the Amazon rainforest (it received a special mention from the jury).
Some less successful exhibitions are worth seeing for the questions or reactions they provoke. The pavilion of the United States became the target of "digital occupation." The official exhibition The Architectural Imagination, which places speculative and often contextually detached projects in the depopulated Detroit, provoked the activist group Detroit Resists to respond: they created an augmented reality app that virtually overlays the real installation with slogans and posters of local protest movements. The Russian exhibition, which had been interesting in previous years despite expectations, this year evidently reflects the gloomy state of this country: in the monumental celebration of the Stalinist V.D.N.Ch. exhibition hall, it is hard to find any trace of detachment or irony.
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