Have you been to the Biennale di Venezia this year? If not, don’t worry, you still have time. This one-of-a-kind biennial runs until November 24, 2024, so there’s a chance to experience it before it closes. We’ve got you covered with the must-see highlights, so pack your bags, cause autumn in Venice has its own charm, with the city revealing a softer, more intimate side as it slows down from the summer rush. It’s an ideal time to experience the lagoonside city in its truest form, more quiet and atmospheric. “The gorgeous and wonderful reality of Venice,” wrote Charles Dickens, “is beyond the fancy of the wildest dreamer.”
The title of this year’s Biennale, “Foreigners Everywhere,” hits home, as being a foreigner is more than an artistic statement; it’s a state of mind with political implications. I believe all of us have, at some point, felt like foreigners, out of place in certain situations, even in familiar surroundings. The phrase originates from an ongoing work by the Palermo-based “readymade artist” Claire Fontaine, a duo who borrowed their name from the well-known French stationery brand. They have queered the phrase, adding fresh layers of meaning and ambiguity that enrich the Biennale’s introspective theme this year.
What sets this Biennale apart is its commitment to highlighting artists who have rarely been shown before, artists representing a greater ethnic and geographic diversity than ever, a significant step forward. This exhibition centers around experiences of foreignness, from artists who are immigrants, expatriates, diasporic, exiled, or refugees. The “Nucleo Contemporaneo” section highlights the voices of queer artists, outsider artists, and Indigenous artists, while the “Nucleo Storico” celebrates 20th-century modernist works from Latin America, Africa, the Middle East, and Asia. The international exhibition gathers 331 artists and collectives from roughly 80 countries, with an emphasis on those making their Biennale debut.
Artists from Indigenous communities are pivotal to this year’s Biennale. In his curatorial statement, Adriano Pedrosa emphasized that these communities, present in Brazil long before Portuguese colonization, are still regarded as “foreigners” in their own land, a contradiction at the heart of national identity. To honor the country’s linguistic diversity, the Brazilian pavilion this year has been renamed “Hãhãwpuá” (Ancestral Territory) in the Pataxó language, acknowledging over 300 Indigenous languages spoken nationwide.
Once in the Giardini, the Central Pavilion greets visitors with a monumental mural by the Huni Kuin Artists Movement (MAHKU). Originally founded to preserve ancestral musical traditions, MAHKU has transformed these rhythms and spiritual meanings into vibrant visual expressions. This mural, in particular, recounts an ancient journey across the Bering Strait from Asia to the Americas, with travelers guided by an alligator. In this tale, the alligator offers safe passage in exchange for food, but as animals become scarce, the humans ultimately hunt a smaller alligator, betraying the trust of their benefactor. In response, the large alligator submerges into the sea, leaving them stranded and reflecting a complex story of survival, trust, and consequence. Throughout the exhibition, art from Latin American ethnic minorities shines, featuring vibrant, multi-material pieces like embroidery, stitching, patchwork, and recycled materials from Guatemala, Chile, Haiti, and the Amazon. Reflecting on these works, we may ask ourselves: Can minorities in these countries be considered foreigners? After all, it’s their land.
The Biennale’s structure also includes spaces dedicated to feminine and feminist art, such as the hauntingly beautiful work of 20th-century Swiss artist Aloïse Corbaz, who created intricate outsider art while living in a mental institution. Her pieces, recognized by Jean Dubuffet and included in his initial collection of psychiatric art, offer a captivating window into marginalized creativity. Contemporary artist Giulia Andreani’s work also stands out; she uses archival documents to recreate scenes of women in sewing workshops, bringing these overlooked moments of labor to life with watercolors and acrylics. These pieces raise questions about the role of women in society: Are they foreign to the world they inhabit, outcasts in a patriarchal structure, or merely disadvantaged by it?
Other rooms celebrate queer art with striking life-sized works depicting male lovers. Lebanese artist Omar Mismar’s mirror mosaic of two lovers, inspired by ancient Roman techniques, is particularly poignant, exploring love’s resilience across time and space. The Biennale’s central exhibition ultimately ties the experience of being a foreigner to that of minorities, whether defined by ethnicity, nationality, gender, or sexuality. The theme of migration inspires some of the exhibition’s most powerful work, including “Human Imprint on Cloth” by Mexican artist Teresa Margolles, who resides in Berlin. This haunting piece carries the blood imprint of a Venezuelan migrant whose body was found on the Colombian border. Margolles laid a piece of cloth on the man’s body during the autopsy, allowing his blood to transfer, capturing a stark reminder of the human cost of displacement.
If the Central Pavilion is a must-see, with its intriguing mix of Yuko Mohri’s living sculptures, Koo Jeong-A’s scented pavilion, Austria’s conceptual ballet by Anna Jermolaewa, and Israel’s unique “non-pavilion” pavilion, the Giardini also offers several other standout exhibitions this year. One of the highlights is the Spanish Pavilion, which completely reimagines the concept of a museum with a provocative and fresh approach: the “Pinacoteca Migrante.” Curated by Agustín Pérez Rubio and brought to life by Hispano-Peruvian artist Sandra Gamarra Heshiki, this temporary museum explores migration in all its dimensions, placing it at the center of everything. For the first time in 60 editions, a foreign artist is representing Spain, a decision that has stirred some controversy at home. But this is a rare opportunity to re-examine Spain’s colonial history and grapple with the complex questions it raises. Through her work, Gamarra Heshiki challenges traditional perspectives, unearthing narratives that have often been left out of the historical record.
The exhibition is divided into five rooms, each with a distinct theme, from “Virgin Land” to the “Cabinet of Extinction,” and “Illustrated Racism” to “Mestiza Masks.” Each section offers a powerful, layered look at Spain’s colonial past. In “Virgin Land,” the first room, landscape paintings from various Spanish museums capture both current Spanish territories and former colonies in Latin America, the Philippines, and North Africa. Quotes from writers, ecofeminist thinkers, and intellectuals are layered over each painting, prompting viewers to consider the perspectives and histories each image holds. Next is the “Cabinet of Extinction,” which ties colonialism to extractivism, displaying “treasures” from European botanical expeditions of the 18th and 19th centuries. Here, works include facsimiles of illustrations from the “Royal Botanical Expedition to the Kingdom of New Granada,” showing human hands alongside plants and animals as interdependent parts of a fragile ecosystem. In the “Cabinet of Illustrated Racism,” we see how anthropology and science were once wielded as tools for racial discrimination. The room includes images and objects once labeled “scientific,” used to justify Western ideals of hierarchy and impose supposed superiority over the Global South. “Mestiza Masks” explores the colonial use of portraiture as a way to immortalize social and political norms. Here, Gamarra Heshiki exposes how societies either include or marginalize people through these visual “time capsules.”
Finally, the “Migrant Garden” offers a counternarrative to the museum itself. This garden is a place of symbolic restitution, challenging colonial hierarchies and reclaiming space for previously unseen or unheard stories. The garden is populated with painted replicas of twelve monuments alongside depictions of “alien” or “invasive” plants, symbolizing the journeys of those who, like these plants, have found a new home and a place to grow.
In a similarly reflective tone, Australia’s pavilion, quietly powerful and awarded the Golden Lion for Best National Participation, showcases a monumental family tree hand-drawn in chalk by artist Archie Moore. Over months of dedicated work, Moore traced his Kamilaroi, Bigambul, and British ancestry back 65,000 years, creating a genealogical map that is both a tribute to First Nations’ deep sense of lineage and, as organizers say, “a window onto deep trauma.” Floating in a surrounding moat are redacted State records, symbolic of Moore’s intense research and a sobering reminder of the high incarceration rates among First Nations people. This installation is striking, not only in its visual impact but also in its poetic portrayal of shared loss and forgotten histories. Through thousands of names meticulously recorded, Moore offers a glimmer of hope for connection and healing.
Last but not least in the Giardini, Yuko Mohri’s Japanese Pavilion offers visitors a sensorial journey, filling the space with shifting sounds, lights, movements, and scents that respond to the environment, transforming the architectural space itself. For the first time, the Japan Pavilion has appointed a curator based outside Japan: Korean Prof. Sook-Kyung Lee, Director of the Whitworth at the University of Manchester, UK. The exhibition, titled “Compose,” brings together two of Mohri’s works, “Moré Moré (Leaky)” and “Decomposition,” each exploring themes of adaptation, resilience, and creativity in crisis.
“Moré Moré (Leaky)” takes inspiration from the inventive measures Tokyo subway staff use to handle constant water leaks, small “crises” made familiar by Tokyo’s frequent tremors. In this piece, Mohri recreates these improvised solutions, patching quick fixes with everyday objects sourced near the Biennale, echoing the survivalist creativity of Venice, a city constantly at risk of flooding. The piece turns the everyday act of mending these intrusions into a poignant metaphor. “Decomposition” creates an immersive experience by using electrodes inserted into fruits, converting the moisture within into electric signals that generate sound and flickering light. As the fruits slowly wither, they release the sweet scent of decay, while the fluctuating sounds and lights shift with each stage of decomposition. Spoiled fruits sourced from local grocery stores add a visceral touch, their gradual decay giving viewers an intimate, almost organic reminder of impermanence. The exhibition’s title, “Compose,” suggests “to place together,” asking us to consider what it means to coexist and collaborate amid global crises. Mohri’s work invites us to see resilience in the simple, imperfect actions we take to address a world in flux. Just as water leaks in Tokyo subway stations can never be fully fixed, and fruits in Mohri’s installations ultimately rot, the exhibition offers glimpses into the possibilities of human creativity, even in seemingly futile efforts.
Moving to the Arsenale, the Central exhibition brings together thirty-nine Italian artists who, during the 1900s, lived abroad, were born outside of Italy, or spent long periods away. Among them is the celebrated Anna Maria Maiolino, the Calabrian-born artist who now lives in Brazil. Winner of the Biennale’s Golden Lion for Lifetime Achievement, her piece ”Ano 1942” (1973) traces the migratory experience with an emotional depth that leaves a lasting impression. The work references her birth year, 1942, during World War II. Italy is depicted in silhouette, blackened by fire, representing the Allied bombing that indelibly marked her homeland in the year of her birth. This piece creates a poignant mental map of loss, resilience, and the complex journey of finding oneself far from home.
In the Arsenale, among other must-see pavilions, is the Mexican Pavilion, where multidisciplinary artist Erick Meyenberg, a Mexican of German and Lebanese descent, presents ”Nos marchábamos, regresábamos siempre” (“We marched away, we were always coming back”). Meyenberg transforms the space into a powerful scene of reunion around a whitewashed dining table, evoking both the comfort and complexity of home. The installation, curated by Tania Ragassol, invites viewers into a recreated gathering of an Albanian family who migrated from Tirana to northern Italy over 30 years ago. Objects on the table, ceramics, cutlery, candles, are all ghostly white, suggesting that while one culture may overlay another, deep roots are never lost.
During the Biennale’s opening, an emotional, two-day performance titled ”On reliefs of a time” by ”was bleibt kollektiv”/Gentian Doda brought this theme to life. Dancers moved gracefully around the table, wearing stones tied to their wrists, tracing shapes in the half-light, each movement a tribute to those who carry their heritage through generations. Though the performance was fleeting, its impact lingers, a memory woven into the Pavilion’s quiet yet profound space
Meyenberg’s installation blends elements from Mexico, Italy, and Albania, reflecting themes of migration, resilience, and belonging. ”As we marched away, we were always coming back” captures the constant pull between leaving and returning, exploring the complex identities that arise from journeys across borders and through generations.
While some countries lack pavilions in the Giardini or Arsenale, they’ve set up across Venice, bringing powerful installations to unique spaces. Taiwan presents ”Everyday War,” an immersive experience by Yuan Goang-Ming at the Palazzo delle Prigioni, one that leaves you unsettled from the moment you step into the darkened room and face a massive screen. In this work, Yuan captures Taipei from above, utterly deserted during the annual Wanan Air Drill, a haunting, real-life scene of empty streets, bridges, and buildings, without a single human in sight. The visuals aren’t CGI but a stark documentation of a city emptied for a drill, offering a sobering glimpse into a potential wartime reality.
Another highlight of the installation is ”Prophecy,” a kinetic piece where a seemingly ordinary Ikea table, set with empty dishes, vibrates to the syncopated sounds of explosions, suggesting how war disrupts even the most mundane aspects of daily life. Sirens, blasts, and pounding sounds fill the space, evoking a chilling sense of emergency.
Yuan’s work is a layered allegory, exploring how “war” intrudes into everyday life, both in Taiwan and beyond. What appears at first like an ordinary living space slowly reveals an absurd yet plausible reality as the camera pulls back to show signs of destruction, a window blown out, scattered objects, only for everything to reset as if nothing happened. The looping scenes of a life interrupted hint at a larger question: How close is this world to collapse? ”Everyday War” is not only a meditation on Taiwan’s own precarious peace but a universal reflection on survival, resilience, and the fragility of modern life.
After the Taiwan Pavilion’s powerful installation, let’s move from the main island of Venice to Giudecca, where the Vatican’s Pavilion offers a unique and deeply reflective experience within a real women’s prison. Hosted inside this unconventional space, the Holy See’s pavilion, titled ”Con i miei occhi” (“With My Eyes”), transforms an unlikely environment into one of art, empathy, and connection. Curated by Chiara Parisi and Bruno Racine, the exhibition brings together works by a range of artists, including Maurizio Cattelan, Bintou Dembélé, Simone Fattal, Claire Fontaine, Sonia Gomes, Corita Kent, Marco Perego, Zoë Saldaña, and Claire Tabouret. The title ”With My Eyes” is drawn from both sacred texts and Elizabethan poetry, hinting that true empathy requires seeing beyond appearances. The pavilion’s aim is to create a dialogue between art and humanity, where the boundaries between viewer and subject begin to blur. Each piece encourages us to “see” in a new way, especially in a setting that itself challenges our perceptions. Several works were created in collaboration with the prisoners, who also serve as guides, adding layers of depth to each encounter.
Claire Fontaine’s neon installation on the prison’s exterior shines in both day and night with a comforting message, ”siamo con voi nella notte” (“we are with you through the night”). This glowing piece adds a warm, almost watchful presence to the stark building. Inside, Simone Fattal’s poetry-inspired lava stones and Claire Tabouret’s portraits of the women’s children bring warmth and humanity to this stark space, bridging the distance between art and everyday life. While some visitors feel the pavilion opens a powerful dialogue on empathy and encounter, others question the use of an active women’s prison as a setting for the Biennale. Maurizio Cattelan’s installation on the prison’s exterior, a mural of his own feet, invokes the traditional religious act of foot washing as a symbol of humility. For some, it resonates as a tribute to Pope Francis’s more inclusive vision; for others, it invites a layer of critical irony.
Though this pavilion is unlike any other, its presence here raises important questions about art’s role in overlooked spaces, leaving visitors to reflect long after they’ve exited Giudecca’s walls. ”Con i miei occhi” encourages us to look deeply and compassionately, to understand others through their eyes, and perhaps to expand our view of art, life, and what it means to connect.
As a last tip for Venice, make sure to catch ”Breasts” at Palazzo Franchetti, an exhibition that offers a thoughtful exploration of femininity and form. And of course, don’t miss the exceptional private collections: Fondazione Prada, the Pinault Collection, and the ever-enchanting Peggy Guggenheim Collection. Since Venice is also the birthplace of the Aperol spritz, end your day with this classic by the canals, watching the world drift by, perfectly Venetian.
Text by Maria Nitulescu
