Patterns, emotions, everyday things: la biennale 2026 ‘in minor keys’
I did a lot of queuing at the Venice biennale this year. I’ve not been in May before, normally I wait for the quieter and cooler time in October but that means missing the early buzz and a number of presentations that close before the end. So I thought I’d go for the big experience this year, going as close to opening week as I could. Inevitably that led to some of the queuing, many more people waiting for the gates to open at 11, or to use the (always inadequate) facilities.
But queuing was also at the heart of some of the big-ticket pavilions this year, with the spectacle and performance on show getting a lot of the media coverage that I saw in the run up. Florentina Holzinger for the Austrian pavilion got the most attention, with female performers forming part of a giant organic machine complete with water and bodily fluids. But Dries Verhoeven for Holland also challenged the very principle of pavilions, closing and shuttering the space at set points with visitors inside, to challenge the seemingly open, collaborative nature of the biennale during a time of violence and political upheaval. Choices around the Israeli, Russian and US pavilions have also had a lot of coverage.
The theme of the biennale is ‘In minor keys’ described by its curator Koyo Kouho, who died last year, as things that “come alive in the quiet tones, the lower frequencies, the hums ... The minor keys ask for listening that calls on the emotions and sustains them in return …the small islands … an archipelago of oases, gardens, courtyards, compounds, lofts, dance floors; the convivial universes that refresh and sustain, especially in terrible times.” For me this guiding principle came alive much more in the quieter, more reflective pavilions, which may not have got as much attention.
Pattern and texture came out across multiple works, as did a focus on natural materials and traditional modes of making, ceramic, textile and sculpture , a sense of ornament as care. The Indian pavilion stood out for me, with a series of dramatic but detailed immersive works, reframing Indian building practices, materials and nature, by artists Alwar Balasubramaniam, Sumakshi Singh, Ranjani Shettar, Asim Waqif, and Skarma Sonam Tashi. Likewise, Amina Agueznay for Morocco produced a layered space of traditional woven hangings engaging with the complex nature of thresholds.
Full engagement of all five senses was also a strong feature. A number of artists used smell in their presentations: Carsten Höller, Cauleen Smith, Khaled Sabsabi to name just three. But the tactile experiences of walk and touch were also key. Haitham Al Busafi for Oman combined the gentle music of hanging silver items with deliberate walking through desert sand, while Matías Duville for Argentina made a monumental drawing in salt and charcoal through which to pace. Both Armen Agop for Egypt and Fiona Pardington for New Zealand asked you to engage with stone pieces through touch.
Pardington also asks you to consider the natural world and its entanglement with colonial histories, presenting monumental photographs of taxidermied endangered or extinct native bird specimens from New Zealand museum collections. Uriel Orlow similarly considers plants from sites of colonial and racist violence, and invites your attention on the often-unnoticed plants of the biennale giardini itself. In the entrance to the central pavilion, María Magdalena Campos-Pons’s monumental paintings and glass flowers commemorate curator Koyo Kouho alongside writer Toni Morrison amid magnolias, symbols of solidarity.
The other standout theme for me was an attention to human things, both the enormity and domesticity of the archive. This appeared in the Venetian pavilion, where local contributors had been invited to submit objects of meaning to them with a brief description. For Serbia, Predrag Dakovic turns the entire pavilion into a collage of photographs, personal archives, maps, administrative documents and suitcases to think about how we remember recent history. For Spain, Oriol Vilanova compiles thousands of postcards acquired from flea markets - pictures of sunsets, statues, ski slopes, cathedrals, museum objects, popes, trees, and monarchs. It makes a vast grid of the everyday and the extraordinary, the pictures we take, and throw away.
For me, these were the moments that spoke to ‘in minor keys’: the quiet emotions and senses, the practices of care and community, the harmonies, and the connections across islands, whether those be Venetian, global, or people.