It has taken me a week to decompress from an intense four days of contemporary art at the Venice Biennale. I’ll admit, the rientro to Rome was a bittersweet denouement. In Venice, I shirked responsabilities and lived in a world where I was only beholden to the sluggish vaporetto and my Twitter thumb, a unique tendonitis based solely on RTs*. The return to Rome was an immediate jump into the deep end. And in order to process it all– by all, I mean the visual information overload of Venice, one must always adhere to Radio Silent.
With a return to communications, my overall feelings for the Biennale can be summed up in this photo taken of the German Pavilion. Ego– art is about ego, its about presence and about showmanship. Likewise so art its viewer, whether in stilettoes or sweats. The entire Biennale experience may go unparalleled this year- it was like being in an alternate art reality Venice where fashion and VIP parties dominated a sinking city sugar coated in contemporary art, where mega-yachts were mistaken for cruise ships, and where I dined with my cousin and friend to a live serenade of Superstition by Maroon 5 coming from the palazzo across the street. It was amazing to be a part of the press week and I can’t wait to do it again.
*Thanks for all the tweets and RTs — I felt like I was walking around with my own gang. And of course, thank you for the birthday wishes…