Exploring an art fair in heels
Five days, 12 hours and 10 minutes and I will be La Serenissima in stilettos. The 55th Venice Biennale inaugurates its pavilions during next week’s press preview and my heels are in hand, ready for 72 non-stop hours in Il Palazzo Enciclopedia. Yes. . .the Biennale is my vision incarnate of heaven: contemporary art and art watching, fashion and fiction all walking around in a decaying, floating city that loves you or hates you depending on the color of the sky.
If the Biennale is the 7th chakra, then the press preview is a crystal meth ride. Hundreds, if not thousands, of artists, journalists, gallerists, authors, curators, critics, collectors, models, musicians, friends and all of their assistants congregate in Venice’s Biennale Giardini and Arsenale compounds to visit the country pavilions (structures the size of a small duplex at best) and overflow into the city to the off-site events, bars and restaurants and consistently talking about art and what/who they are seeing. Every corner is an editorial shoot waiting to happen, and tiny calle are infuriatingly crowded with post-modern fashion and shoes so uncomfortable that you would take them off it no one was around. But every one is, and they never stop. At night, the Grand Canal is water-taxi game of Frogger with brightly lit taxis frenetically zipping back and forth to whatever palazzo or yacht party is de rigeur. And then ricominciamo da capo. . . It’s heady and frustrating and arty and I love it.
To keep up with the Biennale, search hashtag #Venicebiennale on Twitter et al. If you want to know where I am, Twitter is best- @Moscerina, If you want to see what I am doing. (There will be some articles to come as well). And if you want to know what I am thinking, read The Passion by Jeanette Winterson and watch Nicolas Roeg’s Don’t Look Now.