Memo from the World:
You Say Potato and I Say Potahto, You Say Biennial and I Say Bienale

by Anna Roxas

I attended a recent panel discussion billed as: Biennials, Bienales, Triennials: Agendas and Effects. Its stated agenda was to examine the explosion of international survey exhibitions worldwide, asking why an exhibition form that was conceived in another era continued to flourish. Whom does it benefit? How is it organized? What are some new models that could be constructed?

I added a title of the Gershwin song, because that's how the whole discussion seemed to me. Everyone had their own definition of what a Biennial was and wanted theirs to be the right one. But in the end, it seemed there was no right one, and no wrong one.

As described in their invitation, ArtTable, the women-only art world association, did gather a group of prominent curators to complete a panel. Members and friends of ArtTable and the Drawing Center came to fill up three-fourths of the gallery to listen. The moderator was Paolo Herkenhoff, the chief curator of the 1998 Sao Paulo Bienale and adjunct curator at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. The speakers for the evening were Madeleine Grynsztejn, curator, Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh and organizer of the 1999 Carnegie International; Llillian Llanes, founder and curator of Havana Biennial; Andrea Miller-Keller, one of six curators of the Whitney Biennial 2000; and Rosa Martinez from Madrid, curator of the 1999 Site Santa Fe Biennial and the 1997 Istanbul Biennial.

The moderator, Paolo Herkenhoff, began, speaking of curators like him who "hang before we know, choose before we see, read before we turn on the light." To him, curating is "an existentialist experience; otherwise it would not be rewarding." He recalled the first world exhibition, held in 1851, in London. It was a commercial show and an effect of capitalism; a peaceful arena for commerce, and a symbolic space. Then came the Venice Bienale amidst times that weren't so peaceful. The effect was globalization. Herkenhoff perceives the biennial exhibition as an act of power - of transparency.

Each panel speaker talked about their respective Biennials. Madeleine Grynsztejn of the Carnegie came first: The Carnegie International was founded in 1896, originally with a narrative and thematic approach to exhibiting new European art and sculpture. The exhibition's primary objective was purely for information and education, modeled on the Parisian salon. Its emphasis was interpretation. For her, the following are elements of their Biennials: regularity of location and schedule; a forum on the content of the artwork for the purpose of conveying meaning; a visual narrative; an extension of the individual.

Next to speak was Andrea Miller-Keller, one of six curators of this year's Whitney Biennial. She referred to herself as the "country bumpkin in the group" because she is only involved in an exhibition going on in this country. She said that this year's Whitney Biennial made a deliberate effort to involve artists not working from the US. She described the evolution of the Whitney Biennial, from Gertrude Vanderbilt's 1914 Whitney Studio Club composed of 157 artists, no juries and no prizes, to the first American Biennial in 1931, intended to support living artists.

The Whitney Biennial changed as its home transformed: By 1945, the museum had decided to go modern all the way and opened itself to abstract work, thereafter deaccessioning their Nineteenth Century works to create bigger acquisition funds for contemporary art.

Stressing that Bienales are connected to history and territory, Paolo Herkenhoff introduced Llillian Llanes, the founder and curator of the Havana Biennial. Llanes was an entertaining speaker. Although she struggled with her English, she managed to inject passion and made her audience laugh with the comment: "ArtTable is an all woman organization, and they got a man to moderate the all female panel." Llanes got her inspiration when she was at the Venice Bienale and saw few Latin-American artists, and no one representing Asian or African art.

She began in 1984 to establish the Havana Bienale. The close community of Cuba's art world influenced her choices: For example, she decided to eliminate awards because she felt it was not good to compete among equals. She likened the creation of the Havana Bienale to a young girl preparing for a party and inviting her friends over.

Herkenhoff recounted his first experience of a Biennial - the Carnegie in Pittsburgh - where he saw financial capital converted into service to the community. The Whitney Biennials, he said, serve to connect to society, while in Havana the Biennial developed as a symbolic tool. Next he introduced Rosa Martinez, curator of the 1999 Santa Fe (New Mexico) Biennial as well as the 1997 Istanbul Biennial.

Rosa Martinez referred to her Biennials as "young biennials," founded to invent political territories for contemporary artists. She sees them as permanently emerging creatures. For fourteen years, Martinez has worked to create peripheral biennials in Barcelona, Bologna, Athens, Ireland, and Kathmandu. The first Manifesta &endash; European Biennial was nomadic, featuring five curators from the Mediterranean and Europe; the second Manifesta included curators from all over Europe. At Istanbul, Martinez wanted to use everything, all the monuments, public spaces as exhibition venues, using as her motto, "while we dream of the impossible, we construct what is possible."

At this point, Herkenhoff had to leave. He had informed us earlier that he would have to go, to attend the opening of a show he curated at MoMA. The discussion went on, guided by Andrea Miller-Keller, who ended up assuming the role of moderator.

Rosa Martinez asked the first question: What is it with the label, why does it seem so prestigious? Are we attracted by the name? Why do cities desire a Biennial? Madeleine Grynsztejn, of the Carnegie, responded: Some Biennials can spring from a desire to promote a new city, but there can be other quite specific motivations as well. For example, at Johannesburg the Biennial was a force toward reintegration; Germany's Dokumenta rose from postwar trauma; while the Asia Pacific Triennial in Australia grew from an opposition to West-centric notions of judging art; and the Taipei Biennial formed a symbol of a new economy. It is generally understood, she said, that the Biennial exhibition is a sign of a metropolitan place, West-centric, the sign of a rising international profile.

To Llillian Llanes, the Biennial is about accepting the challenge of the future (although at this point, she finds that all Biennials are boring). She recently resigned from her position with the Havana Biennial to give herself some time to reflect. As the discussion began to take a philosophical turn, and a feeling of debate, Miller-Keller asked Llanes: Why do you want to reflect (at this point)? Martinez was the one to answer. She said she is energized by the cities and told Llillian Llanes that she need not resign from putting up her Havana Biennial. Martinez sees the Biennial as an interpretation of the present, artistically, socially, and politically. She cited her exhibition in Istanbul as a spiritual experience, deriving from the locale. There are no museums in Istanbul, she explained, so she had to find other places. A Biennial is related to the places where it happens, she said, explaining that she feels suffocated by the museum setting. Instead she creates alternative sites such as airports (she mentions one artist who put up a work in the airport, called Gates of Migration), train stations, maintenance towers, etc. In Santa Fe, Martinez saw an opportunity to celebrate the integration of three cultures: Anglo, Indian, and Spanish.

The Carnegie's Grynsztejn reacted to Rosa Martinez's anti-museum statement and defended the institution, pointing out that holding a show in the museum is like a quantum leap for the artist. She added that events in Museums should not run against alternative venues but rather beside them.

The Carnegie International Biennials are also related to their place, and the other institutions around it, Grynsztejn added, and provide a "platform for the fully mature foreign artist," not aimed at discovering the new. In addition, Grynsztejn stressed that museums remain a critical site for evaluation, and that their sheer longevity - a benchmark for collecting consciousness - has permanent effects. Quoting Hans Haacke, she said the museum is about " …consciousness being shaped…" Believing that museums provide the context for exhibitions, she sees the Carnegie International exhibitions as a history of taste: " The Old Masters of tomorrow should be purchased from Carnegie…."

Martinez responded, in opposition to Grynsztejn, that a Biennial is about thinking in the present. The Carnegie, however, is less interested in discovery, replied Grynsztejn. It exists for an international audience, in a very rooted place. The artist's names may be too familiar now, but not when the Carnegie first began following the careers of these artists.

Llillian Llanes finally responded to Andrea Miller-Keller's question on why Llanes saw the need to pull away and reflect. Llanes explained that to educate the public is very difficult - her frustration is that she ends up isolating the public that she originally intended the Bienale for. She made a comment on the Istanbul Bienale, saying that it was very sensitive and beautiful, but when the exhibition was finished, it did not have an effect on the people of Istanbul - she said it was for the elite.

Andrea Miller-Keller summarized the frustrations of Rosa Martinez and especially Llillian Llanes: The initial intent of a Biennial is to fully integrate itself with the community; a form of validation is to connect with the local audience. Following up, Miller-Keller asked Llanes: What do you think would change the feeling that the Biennial is elitist? Llanes replied: Opportunities. Unfortunately, she continued, the downside is that there are people who want to become artists even if they truly don't have the talent!

From the audience came the questions, what is the future of the Bienale and what is its impact on the artists of today? Martinez answered that it is a sign of the periphery's desire to speak.

As I sat there, taking this all in, I began to draw some conclusions of my own (not much conclusion-drawing had been taking place up on the stage). My summary: It would have helped a lot if another moderator had taken Paolo Herkenhoff's place instead of a panelist being the one to moderate. Andrea Miller-Keller from the Whitney could then have answered more questions on the role of the Biennial today, since she had just been organizing the most current one.

It was informative and enlightening to hear various organizers and curators of these international Bienales. But, although they all called the exhibitions Biennials, it became more and more apparent that not all Bienales are alike. Each one has its own purpose dependent on the curators, be it their personal mission, an ideal worldview, aesthetics, whims, or biases. Why has the form continued to flourish? It seems that as long as there are people committed to organizing them, Biennials, Biennials, Triennials will always continue to exist. Rosa Martinez, who organizes peripheral biennials, is the one who is able to concretely broaden the audience for art, simply by organizing them in unlikely cities. Perhaps, after her biennials in cities like Istanbul and Santa Fe, when the circus does pack up and leave, the community will take the initiative to continue the dialogue. And this is what Madeleine Grynsztejn from the Carnegie was probably trying to emphasize: the need for institutional support, a sense of history, an identity, and rootedness.

Also, globalization is one of the bigger characteristics of these Biennials - almost every other city in the world wants to hold one. However, I would heed Llillian Llanes's desire to reflect and evaluate her past achievements. If the art starts to look the same on every continent, and so does the audience, then there must really be a need to step back and reflect. Biennials are clearly not a dying breed. In fact, the Gershwin song says it, too: the last line of the last verse begins "Better call the calling-off off..."

About the Author:

Anna Roxas attended the Sensation exhibition and wrote about her experience in the December 1999 Arts4All Newsletter.