Venice Biennale previews this year’s edition, its most contested

Political Tensions Erupt at Venice Biennale’s 61st Edition

The Venice Biennale opened its preview week on Tuesday amid unprecedented controversy, as global conflicts spilled onto the grounds of the world’s oldest contemporary art exhibition. Just days after the entire jury resigned over the participation of Israel and Russia, the 61st edition finds itself navigating through political turmoil that threatens to overshadow the art itself.

At the Biennale’s historic Giardini, the political division was on stark display. Ukrainian artists stood beside a truck carrying an origami deer statue evacuated from Ukraine’s eastern front, while nearby, participants in the Russian Pavilion danced to house music played by an Argentine DJ. Simultaneously, Palestinian protesters marched through the grounds wearing the names of artists killed in Gaza.

The jury’s pre-resignation announcement that it would not award prizes to countries whose leaders face International Court of Justice investigations effectively targeted Russia and Israel. This decision has intensified debates about the Biennale’s traditional structure of national pavilions, which some argue has become outdated in today’s globalized art world.

“I think what has been contested very much is the existence of the nation state within the space of the exhibition,” explained Marie Helene Pereira, one of the five curators who took over the main exhibition “In Minor Keys” following the death of lead curator Koyo Kouoh. “We can see how much that can bring tension, especially in the midst of the political chaos we find ourselves in.”

The controversy has reopened fundamental questions about the Biennale’s format: Does the national pavilion system give states an undue platform for propaganda? Should art be separated from politics? And how can such a prestigious international platform maintain its integrity during times of global conflict?

Israeli artist Belu-Simion Fainaru, whose installation draws from Kabbalistic traditions, defended his right to participate. “I should be treated as an equal artist, and I should not be discriminated against because of my race, that I am a Jew, and not because of my nationality or passport,” he said. “The Biennale should be a place where you can feel safe to create and do whatever you believe in.”

Meanwhile, the Ukrainian Pavilion’s centerpiece, “The Origami Deer,” carries profound symbolism. The sculpture was created to replace a nuclear-capable Soviet fighter jet that had long stood in a park in Pokrovsk, in Ukraine’s embattled Donbas region. Curators evacuated the statue earlier this year with the front line just three miles away.

Ksenia Malykh, co-curator of the Ukrainian Pavilion, strongly condemned the Biennale’s decision to allow Russia’s participation. “You can’t stay neutral in these times. You can’t be neutral when people are dying every day because of Russians,” Malykh said. “They say that art is beyond politics, but they are using art as a weapon in a hybrid war in Europe.”

The Russian Pavilion’s presence has already cost the Venice Biennale dearly. The European Union withdrew €2 million ($2.3 million) in funding over three years due to Russia’s inclusion. Despite this, Biennale organizers have maintained that any country with diplomatic relations with Italy is free to open a pavilion. The Russian space will only be open during the preview week and will close when the exhibition opens to the general public on Saturday.

Without a jury, the Biennale faces another unprecedented situation – the absence of its prestigious Golden Lion awards for best national pavilion and best participant in the main exhibition. Instead, visitors will vote for winners, with results announced on the exhibition’s closing day, November 22.

Malykh criticized this populist approach: “If the prize is given by the public, it’s as if the Biennale came to Eurovision. It’s not a professional institution after that.”

The turmoil at this year’s Biennale reflects broader questions about how cultural institutions should respond to international conflicts. As the art world’s most prestigious gathering navigates these tensions, the exhibition itself becomes a microcosm of global political dynamics, forcing visitors, artists, and organizers alike to confront questions about art’s relationship to politics, national identity, and institutional responsibility.

Despite – or perhaps because of – these controversies, the Venice Biennale remains a vital barometer of contemporary cultural discourse, even as it struggles to maintain its artistic focus amid the pressures of a fractured world.