photo and text by Sergio Pirrone

gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?"},{"caption":"photo and text by\nSergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?"},{"caption":"photo and text by\nSergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?"},{"caption":"photo and text by\nSergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?"},{"caption":"photo and text by\nSergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?"},{"caption":"photo and text by\nSergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?"},{"caption":"photo and text by\nSergio Pirrone -
gallery gallery
photo and text by Sergio Pirrone - [gallery ids="7729,7730,7731,7732,7733,7734,7735"]“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?
“It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi... that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?"}];
It is what we have in common. The title refers above all to shared thought, to culture. But also to the city, the ground on which buildings stand, and the ground between them, which is common. In this ambiguity between the intellectual and physical dimensions, I am interested in the debate that can be triggered by this common heritage, in connections between people and ideas”. These were the words of David Chipperfield, prior to the opening. An almost immediate reply comes from Wolf Prix of Coop Himmelb(l)au: “From the outset, with the Strada Novissima of Paolo Portoghesi in 1980, the Venice Architecture Biennial has continued to lose theoretical depth. It is no longer that lively moment of discussion and criticism on the themes of architecture, but just an empty, tiresome, boring event”. If the director replies by accusing the Austrian architect of offending the entire category without even having visited Venice, what do the architects involved in the exhibition have to say? How critical can the positions be of those who have been invited to show their works, and how much can their opinions be influenced by relationships of friendship with Chipperfield? The thinking of Norman Foster is absolutely aligned: “As well as being quite unified, this Biennale is a splendid flow of extraordinary diversities. It is accessible to everyone, even outsiders, and has avoided one of the main difficulties of architecture Biennials: architects who talk only to architects. In a Biennale, an architect should feel a great responsibility to communicate his ideas to all visitors, because in the end architecture has a direct impact on the general public. That is what I am trying to do here”. The Japanese sense of responsibility is pure and stoic, coming from a country that is mobilizing to recover, using all available means. This was the key to the Leone d’Oro for the Japanese pavilion curated by Toyo Ito and installed by Naoya Hatakeyama, Akihisa Hirata, Sou Fujimoto and Kumiko Inui, who serenely explains: “Personally, I have no desire to become a famous artist or to get foreign commissions. I was only interested in the theme of our project, and I am here to ask people what they think about it… Japan is facing difficult times, like the European countries, and we architects have to give our contribution for our country. This is the moment to do it”. Winy Maas of MVRDV criticizes the Biennial’s lack of vision of the future: “I would like to push the pavilions out, to extend the exhibition into the city, the gardens, the water. If I compare it, for example, with Documenta, here people are lacking, speed is lacking, the sensation of never being able to get enough of it. This year I think there is too much analysis of what exists, and not much thinking about the future. I see repetitions of things already seen in the past, just for the sake of repetition. No big inspiration”. Steven Holl, a frank person, an American with a Chinese accent, an architect accustomed to the exceptional, sees the temptation of a generic neutrality: “Common Ground is everything and nothing, it can be anything. As at the Arsenale, a trying succession of spaces whose sequence seems incomprehensible. For example, I find it strange that there are 7-8 Swiss architects, many English architects, but no Chinese. If the Biennale is a global forum, then it is necessary to go a little beyond Switzerland! It is a very provincial selection that is not a snapshot of the present”. The map of the Common Ground, of the horizontal domain to which we all somehow belong, underlined the differences, the tones, the reflections. On a white page in which two drops of ink can never be equal, Peter Eisenman narrates the past, with rational nostalgia, a story of bygone days: “After the two terrible Biennials directed by non-architects, and after the last one by Kazuyo Sejima, this is finally a return to architecture, with lots of different ideas. This is my seventh Biennale. I was here at the first one, in 1976. I still have the photograph of us 26 architects, together. We were all there, Hollein, Rossi, Venturi… that was truly a learning experience, a grand discussion on architecture. Now it is just a show”. Michel Rojkind is half Eisenman’s age, and comes from Mexico City. He shares the critical opinion of the American architect, but expresses it with force, with that progressive tension one senses in the Mexican metropolis. A contemporary talent, Rojkind hopes for a Ground Zero after Common Ground: “I would like to see a Biennale that talks about resurrection. To erase it and reconstruct it from scratch. The world in which we live is changing so much, but not the Biennale. Let’s choose the curator through a competition, not for his name. Let’s forget about pavilions and move the exhibition out onto the water, as happens with art, which has more courage. We live in an unstable world, with many problems. The question should be: how can we deal with this instability? How can we imagine the future and how can architecture play a key role? Instead of looking for what we have in common, which is too comforting, and personally doesn’t interest me”. He has a multidisciplinary, integrated approach, which only in method calls for the synergic collaboration Chipperfield proposes. Ultra-contemporary vs. modernist, those who want to change the world vs. those who want to pacify it. To challenge a status quo, whatever it is, has always required force and awareness. What Olafur Eliasson describes as “…the belief that it is possible to change things. The possibility of reflecting on new ideas and understanding how I can exist in the world, thus discovering my body. Which here, at the Biennale, is not stimulated. Only my eyes are stimulated. How are the rest of my senses challenged?” Will the 14th curator also remember these comments?